by Jewel, Bella
“So what’s your favourite subject at school?”
“None.” Every day passes painfully slow, and each lesson is just as boring as the one that came before it. “They all suck. I mean, maybe one day those polynomial equations might come in handy, but I’m pretty sure there’s a better chance of a meteor falling from the sky and hitting me on the head. Wouldn’t we all be better off learning how to change the oil in a car?”
He laughs. “You just told a joke, Little Warrior.”
“Huh.” My dad is gone and I’m here making jokes as if I’m actually okay. The thought leaves a sick lump in the pit of my stomach. “I guess I’ve met my quota for the year.”
“I’m sure there’s more in there somewhere.”
Ten minutes pass in silence and I’m left wondering why Bear bothers coming out here to talk to me at all. Isn’t he sick of my surly attitude? I am. I’m sick to death of myself, but I can’t escape me. He can. Doesn’t he have better things to do?
“Bear?”
“Yeah?”
“Shouldn’t you be out playing rugby?”
“Games are on weekends.”
It’s Wednesday. “Oh.” Another minute passes. “What about practice?”
“We train Tuesday afternoons and early Friday mornings.”
“Oh,” I say again. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you play?” It’s a rough sport. There’s a lot of hard-core contact and violence and no padding or head gear. Just a mouthguard and a mass of blazing testosterone.
“Because it’s fun. And it keeps me fit.”
I get that. My sparring sessions were something I anticipated. They weren’t easy, but I left feeling strong as if I accomplished something.
“But it’s not just that,” he adds.
It’s not?
I don’t voice the question, but he answers regardless. “We’re a team. A family. Brothers. That’s why we win all the time. Because all that matters is giving it everything. We don’t let our mates down.”
I pluck at the blades of grass while I sit cross-legged, listening to Bear, his voice infused with enthusiasm for the sport.
“Mateship is everything, Little Warrior.”
“Is that why you keep banging on about me making friends?”
“Yeah, but at least you’ve got one, right?”
I’m pretty sure I just told Bear I’ve made no friends.
He huffs loudly, as if he can see my confusion from the other side of the fence. “Me, LW. Geez!”
“Oh.”
“You don’t think of us as friends?”
Friends? He’s so much more than just a friend. He’s … Bear is … I sigh. “I don’t know what we are.”
My eyes burn.
But I do know my world would be a little darker without you in it.
* * *
“So I was planting flowers the other day and—”
I snort. “You? Planting flowers?”
“Come on, LW, you’re interrupting my story. So I was planting these flowers, and it was so bloody hot—”
“What kind of flowers?”
There’s a pause and I tip my head back against the fence, appreciating the sun’s warmth as I listen to Bear tell his story.
“What does it matter what freaking flowers they were?”
“Because I’m trying to picture your story in my head, and I can’t do that if I don’t know what kind of flowers they were.”
We’re sitting back-to-back against the fence. It’s late on a Sunday afternoon, and I’m tired. Sue is slowly renovating her house. I offered to help chip out the old tile from the second bathroom. It wasn’t the best time I’ve ever had, but it gave me something to do.
“They were purple ones,” Bear says, and I can practically feel him rolling his eyes at me. It almost makes me chuckle. “So, like I said, it was bloody hot and I was sweating and getting sunburned, and my old neighbour from next door stops in and says you need to wait until the sun goes down. Either that or plant them in the morning when it’s coolest. So, I say I can’t do that. The instructions said to plant them in full sun.”
My lips press together, fighting the smile. But it comes, and then I laugh, and he laughs right along with me. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard! You didn’t really plant any flowers, did you?”
“God no, but I made you laugh, didn’t I? And that’s better than purple flowers any day.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Bear.”
“What?”
My heart pounds a little harder. You’re so … everything.
* * *
I rush to the fence straight after school, squinting through the slats, looking for movement. Nothing. “Bear, are you there?”
I made a friend today. Her name is Erin Tennyson, and I hit her with a text book. I was throwing it in my locker when it bounced off the open door and whacked her as she walked past.
“Hey, what did I ever do to you?” she asked jokingly, stooping to collect the book from the floor before I got the chance. When she straightened there was a teasing look on her face. It dropped a little when she handed it over, recognising who she was talking to.
“Sorry,” I said.
“That’s okay.” She went to move on and hesitated.
Don’t, I thought.
“You’re Jamie Murphy, right?”
My heart began to pound so hard in my chest it hurt. The need to slam my locker door shut and scurry off was strong, but I thought of Bear and his repetitive question. “Make any new friends today?” Maybe today I could give him a different answer. Shock him a little. The thought almost made me grin.
I arranged a smile on my face, my lips curving slowly. It felt forced and she could probably tell, but it was better than none at all. Wasn’t it? “That’s me.”
She smiled back. It was bright and beaming as if my response gave her a thrill. Did she not read what happened in the tabloids? No one smiled at me like that. “I’m Erin Tennyson.” She even held out a hand. I shook it. “Walk to class with me?”
“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself, turning to close my locker. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
“Honestly?” We started walking together down the hall. Erin was tall, at least a head higher than me, with a blond braid and blue eyes. She had that wholesome look to her. Athletic. I was pretty sure she played volleyball. “You’ve got this whole fuck off vibe going on, but I decided today that maybe I wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what?”
She looked at me sideways, giving me a duh expression. “Fuck off.”
“Oh.” I laughed a little.
“Wow.” She waggled her brows. “You have a great smile.”
“Yeah, Dad spent a huge amount of money on my …” I faltered, caught off guard at my slip.
“Sorry,” she replied, wincing as she re-shouldered her bag. “I meant you’re really beautiful. It sort of smacks you in the face when you smile.”
“Kinda like my text book?”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “Like that.”
Bear was right, of course, like he always seemed to be. Human beings aren’t made to be isolated, yet here I was, pretending to be the only person in the world. Walking back to Sue’s house after school that afternoon felt a little less … solitary.
“Bear?”
There’s still no response. Then I remember it’s Tuesday. He’s at rugby training.
My shoulders sag against the fence.
* * *
The next day I’m back at the fence after school. I still haven’t told Bear about Erin. I sat with her ‘group’ at lunch today. I didn’t say much, but that sense of belonging with people made the day a little easier to bear.
“You there?”
Nothing.
Where are you?
* * *
Thursday I’m back again like a sad little puppy missing its owner.
“Bear?”
* * *
Sunday a
fternoon I stare at the fence from the kitchen window, where I hold a cereal bowl under the sink, rinsing it absentmindedly. The other fosters eat like a famine is imminent and Wheaties was all I could find for afternoon tea.
The lack of food never usually bothers me, but that empty growling from my belly was my first hunger pain in months. All because I decided to join a Goju-ryu Karate school yesterday, taking along my old uniform and the black belt it took me eight years to earn. And today I quit. Because yeah, it seems like I’m a quitter now.
The smell of the mats. The muscle memory. The entire discipline. It was too much being there without Dad. I almost threw up all over myself.
I set the bowl upside down on the rack and open the window. The sound of laughter rings out. Two bodies are moving in the yard behind ours, shouting friendly slurs as a ball flies between them both. Bear is back. And he has a friend over.
I grip the edges of the sink as longing swells in my chest. I haven’t lost the urge to tell him about Erin, but there’s a new urge there too. One that wants to tell him about my failed attempt at returning to karate. But I can’t do that without talking about Dad, and talking about Dad means he’ll know what happened too. And maybe if he knew …
If he knew …
He might decide I’m not worth talking to anymore.
Reaching over, I grasp the handle of the window and slam it shut.
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Books By Kate Mccarthy
The Biker and the Thief
The End Game
Fighting Redemption
Fighting Absolution
The Give Me Series
Give Me Love
Give Me Strength
Give Me Grace
Give Me Hell
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https://www.katemccarthyauthor.com/
Acknowledgments
To my readers, I thank you for your constant encouragement, and for reading The Biker and the Thief. Your support inspires me daily, motivates me, and makes me strive do better with each book. I’m eternally grateful for all of you.
To my darling kids, how loved you are. You (and my writing) are what gives my life meaning. Every day I am grateful for you, the two brightest stars that shine in my sky.
To all the bloggers, reviewers, and bookstagrammers who have helped spread the word about this book. There are no words to express the level of my gratitude and appreciation of your constant hard work and support. Thank you so very much.
A special thank you to Maree Hunter. You have been there for me through every step of this book (and all the others) but we both know it’s been an especially tough year, with lots of learning life’s lessons, and I just know this book would not be what it is without you.
Thank you to Terrena. Girl! You are my rock and I am your barnacle. I love you.
My editor, Max. I am so thankful and lucky to have you. You are the reason I continue to grow.
Tammy, thank you for being the beta to this book that I needed. Girl, you scare me, but you are honest, and that is why I appreciate your contribution, and your friendship.
Kimberly Brower, my agent. For all the work you have done for me already. I’m excited for the future and for what we can achieve together!
To Nina at Social Butterfly PR. Thank you for everything you have done for me. You have shared so much of your knowledge, and offered so much support and advice, and for that I am eternally grateful.
Rachel Grey. I am so very thankful for your encouragement, and your advice.
To all my friends and family. Kirsty, Craig, Stephen. I appreciate the shit out of all of you.
And to little Petie, my dashchund, my sweet loyal pup. We went on a journey together writing this book, one in which you lost your leg. But you beat cancer. And now I get to keep you for longer. And while I couldn’t write you into this book because you belong to Evie in Give Me Love, I did bring in a very small piece of you. Because you are loved.
About the Author
Kate McCarthy lives in Queensland, Australia.
Website
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http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6876994.Kate_McCarthy
COWBOY TOWN
Kasey Millstead
Cowboy Town
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher.
Thank you for respecting the work of this Author.
Cowboy Town is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book are either from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, with exception to Artists named, and their song lyrics, and direct quotes from movies whose titles have been named. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2019, Kasey Millstead
To Jovi
You taught me the hard way that life is too short.
Five and a half years with you wasn’t long enough; but for a parent, forever isn’t long enough. I love you with my whole heart. I miss you even more. xx
“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
Ray Bradbury
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Untitled
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Other Titles By Kasey Millstead
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Life doesn’t always hand you the happy ever after you dreamt of. Sometimes, living happily ever after is a choice, not a given. Live happy with what you have – not what you thought you would have.
“Happy birthday, Eden,” Matt whispers in my ear.
“Hmm,” I stretch out in his bed, “Thank you.”
He kisses my cheek and then nibbles down my neck to my collarbone, “You’re most welcome.” I feel his grin against my skin. Turning slightly onto my side, I run my hands up and down his sculpted back. I have always liked Matt’s toned, long, athletic body. Just thinking about it hovering over me causes a shiver to run through my body. I run my fingers up over his shoulders and into his perfectly trimmed sandy blonde hair, ruffling it with my fingers. I moan when he takes a nipple into his mouth and laves it with his tongue. He pays each nipple special attention until he’s satisfied, then he spits some saliva on his hand and wipes it on his cock (for lubrication because he never takes the time to get me really excited), then he positions himself over me and thrusts inside in one swift movement.
“Ah,” I cry out, arching my back.
“Oh, yeah,” he grunts. He thrusts a few more times before emptying himself inside of me.
“That was great.” He kisses the corner of my mouth before rising out of bed and heading for the shower. Three years, and every time was the same. Slam, bam, thank you ma’am.
I lie there for about five seconds before I reach into my overnight bag and pull out my toy. Slipping it underneath the covers I switch it on and I’m rewarded with an enthusiastic buzzing sound.
My hips jerk when I first touch it to my clit and I moan softly, careful to keep the noise down so Matt doesn’t hear. Rolling my nipple between my thumb and forefinger, I use my other hand to work my toy down below until I stiffen, then shudder. I bite down
on the corner of my pillow to muffle the drawn out moan that rises from my throat as I convulse. I hear the shower cut off and I quickly place the toy back in its place before taking my shower and readying myself for work.
I hear the bathroom door open as I rinse the conditioner from my hair.
“I’m off to work, Eden. Can you lock up when you leave? I’m going to be pretty busy tonight with work. It’s red week starting tomorrow isn’t it? I guess I’ll see you in seven days. I’ll call you, ok? Love you.” He doesn’t wait for me to answer; he just closes the door and leaves. Red week is what he calls my period week. He never comes near me when I’m menstruating. I have no idea why, and honestly I don’t care. My heart sinks. I love Matt; well at least I think I do. We got together just before my parents passed away and along with Jules and work, he’s been a constant steady part of my life since. I do often wonder though, if my parents hadn’t died, would I still be with him? We’ve been together a long time and even though every year previously has been the same, it doesn’t mean I don’t get my hopes up every birthday that he’ll buy me some flowers or some jewelry or just … something to acknowledge me. But this year, same as the previous two, the only thing I get from him is a ‘happy birthday, Eden’ and a thirty second fuck that leaves me hanging.