by Jamie Magee
Trish was going to be in a cell tonight one way or another if she showed up, and if he got her to say what they needed it would not be a short stay by any means. All they needed was an admission—one that would open the Pandora’s box of shit Trish had pulled.
He was determined to get one.
Just to be an ass, Easton ordered lunch for himself and was almost done when Trish walked in the diner. He never glanced to the undercover officers that were all around him. He was betting there wasn’t a civilian in this place beyond the wait staff.
Trish looked like hell, nothing like the eighteen-year-old girl who’d spilled a beer across his lap years ago. Her hard life was apparent. Her skin was white and pasty, and she had too much makeup on. She wore so much to cover the freckles across her cheeks, nose, and chest. She had always been self-conscious of those, told him they made her feel like a kid.
Her hair, which at one time was long and a deep red, was short and dyed golden, looked like she had run an iron over it or something. She had on faded jeans with holes in them—way too tight—and a halter-top, smacking on gum as she smiled then sat in front of him.
“God, how do you get hotter as you get older?”
She was nervous. He could tell by the way she moved her hands against the table, the blotches of red on her chest. She would speak with confidence, make you think she didn’t have a fear in the world, but he knew her before all this makeup, hair dye, and dressing like a slut.
“Clean living.”
“Oh, here we go. Do I look high to you?” she said as she leaned forward and widened her dark eyes.
“Why were you at that bar last night?” he asked in an even tone.
“Who said I was at a bar?”
“You knew about that fight.”
“Of course I knew that my daughter’s father was in a fist fight. A good mother would know that.” She glanced over him. “I also know you were hurt in a fire a while back.” She shook her head. “Apparently her godfathers were trapped right beside you—you really do want to leave our baby alone in this world, don’t you?”
“There was no danger.”
She smoothed her hand across the table. “The news pegged you as a hero, saved your boys—father like son.”
“You keeping tabs on me?”
“Constantly,” she said unabashed. “The flesh and blood we created because we’re meant to be together would want me to.”
“Would she? What is your daughter’s name again?” Easton asked with a wry grin as he leaned back in his seat. You’d think he was out with a friend from how at ease he was which was ticking Trish off, and he knew it. She always hated she could not get a rise out of him. She said he had no emotions. She’d figured out two years ago how to push his buttons: through Grace.
“Easton, you changed her name, right after you convinced me to give her up. I was so distraught, confused, in pain, and you sent your lawyers to me, calling me unfit.”
“My lawyers found you in a drunk tank.”
She lifted her hands. “Who would not need a drink when they knew their daughter could die at any moment?”
“Someone who actually gave a damn.”
Trish moved her hand across the table, drawing invisible circles. “You found her…gave her my place…that’s my daughter not hers.”
All this hell, her setting fires, hooking up with Hunter, robbing Georgia, trying to rob Easton…was all because Easton had always been in love with her, only Trish figured it out long before Easton had.
He recognized that look on her face. It was the same one she had used in the past. It was an innocent, hurt one, a look he’d fallen for more than once because when he saw it, he saw who she was before she’d gotten twisted, saw her before she’d fallen into more than one wrong crowd.
“You never had a place. You never wanted your daughter.”
“I wanted you,” she said with a slow smile.
“I’m sure Hunter’s heart would break if he heard you say as much.”
She looked down, a ghost of a smile edged on her lips. “Jealous?”
“The boy didn’t have a chance against you. You’ve fucked his life.”
She shot forward. “And I’m sure Georgia will be glad to help him fix it.”
“That was your plan?”
“One of many. They were close, Easton. He said he met her senior year. She was thick with grief. Lost. He was sure it was more than her parents, her dad dying and all but he didn’t care—they got through it all together.” She leaned forward. “He picked up your trash…I picked up hers.” She grinned. “Now, we can trade back…or come to other arrangements.”
“Trade back?” he said with a look of disgust. “There never has been and there never will be anything between you and me.”
He saw her clench her jaw, ball her fist. She wanted to hit him like she had before. She was always so desperate to get any reaction out him that she would try anything.
“What do you want, Trish?”
“My daughter.”
“Then let’s go to court.”
“You want to do that? I may have made a few fuck ups but I’m still her mom. Mothers have sway with the courts.”
Bluffing like pro.
“You are not really giving me much of a choice.”
“I gave you a choice.”
“I didn’t hear one.”
Trish shifted in her seat. “You want that cunt to raise my daughter? Nice, big house, perfect little life?”
Nothing from Easton. She was stabbing in the dark, trying to spark his protective side.
“Fuck you, Easton. I’m being nice. I gave you a daughter. I went through hell carrying her, could have died. You took her from me with legal mumbo jumbo. You owe me, and you have the means to pay up.”
“So you assume.”
“I don’t assume. I know. I’ve seen you block me. Tired of the games. It was fun at first, now you pay up or we are going to court. Even if I know I will lose, you will spend every dime you and the whore have, and at the end of the day you will never sleep without worrying about me.”
“Pay up, Trish?”
“Ten.”
“Ten what? Ten more minutes of listening to this bullshit?”
“You were always an asshole, Mr. ‘I’m-better-than-everyone-else-because-I-don’t-love-anyone.’ No attachments. You fucked up. Now you have a daughter, one I gave to you. She’s half of me, and I am a nightmare that will not go away until you pay. That’s right, everything has a price and today I’m selling baby girls, your down payment is due.”
“Down payment?”
“Ten fucking grand, you asshole. We’ll start with that number.” She seethed as she stood from the booth. “You have that money here in three hours, or I’m going to show up at the Emergency Room and tell them I called to check on my daughter and my ex hunted me down and beat the shit out of me. Bet when they look on your record and see those charges for assault that will ring true.”
Easton had no charges against him, but Trish wouldn’t know that because she stayed too high to keep her facts straight; at least she did back then.
“You want me to pay you ten grand in three hours? And if I don’t, you are threatening me?”
“Yes, you fucker, and she is mine. I know how to look innocent. Put me in front of a woman judge or jury, and at the very least our daughter will know who I am. You will not be able to insert some cold bitch in my place.”
Easton smiled when he saw the undercover officers behind her stand up. Trish jerked away from their grasp. “Let go of me, you stupid hick!” she yelled.
***
Knowing it was Memphis that sent Easton to her and not Easton overreacting the night before, changed the whole fight in Georgia’s mind. She felt like an idiot.
That wasn’t the point right now, though.
“Wait. Just wait,” she said raising her hand. “This has to do with the fire?”
“They think she set the fire to get his attention, not to kill him but s
he still aimed to hurt people, could have.”
Before Georgia could asked another question, to understand exactly how long Easton had been silently struggling with Trish because these police gave him no option, black unmarked cars pulled up with lights flashing, along with other cop cars. Georgia jerked back in her seat.
“You were serious.”
“Like I would make this shit up.”
“Where—where is he?” she asked as her eyes frantically looked everywhere.
Men were walking out of the diner with a girl in cuffs.
Georgia’s veins filled with fury.
She hated that girl. Not because of who she was or because she took anything away from her, but because she was in her town.
“That’s her!” she said to Memphis.
He shot a look to Georgia, then to the diner. “You get it now?”
“Get what? That’s the girl that fucked Hunter.”
“Trish?”
“Do what?”
“Trish. Apparently the second Trish signed her papers she went on the hunt for you—Hunter was the easiest way to hurt you. She kept him around afterward because he knew all your shit—his high ass was twisted up with her. She’s the reason he knew how to con you. It’s been the pair of them after you two for a while now.”
“Why did you not tell me?” Georgia raged, not sure if she should feel sorry for Hunter or not.
“You figured it out, really. When you pressed charges it flagged him and her in the same spot—they didn’t tell Easton or me for sure they were hooked up until last night, and that was only because Easton figured it out. Something Hunter said to him made it click.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Hunter made his own bed. He won’t go away for as long as her. He had nothing to do with the fire, but you can’t help him now.”
“I made peace with that.”
“When? In the last five seconds? Not possible.”
“Months ago.” She moved her head side to side. “His choice.”
Memphis reached for her hand, squeezed it. “Still waters run deep. Easton is as placid as they come. Even without some fed telling him to keep his business to himself, he might have. Not to be an ass, but because he doesn’t know how to show many emotions.”
“He does…he shows me.”
“So you’re not going to jump his shit for not telling you—the fighting is over?”
A sinful smile nearly met her lips. “Sometimes the fighting is fun.”
Memphis lifted a brow, then shook his head deciding he didn’t want her to elaborate.
Easton had spotted her, gave her a deep stare filled with sorrow as he answered the questions the men around him were asking.
***
Almost an hour later, the excitement had faded, the cars pulled away. Georgia didn’t say goodbye to Memphis. Rather, she slid out of the truck and walked straight to Easton, holding the severity of his stare.
He started to tell her that he was sorry, explain, but she pulled him to her lips, opened his mouth with the power of hers, and he took the lead, pulling her against him and deepening the kiss.
He didn’t understand why he was forgiven so instantly, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.
Chapter Twenty
The rest of the day Trish and Hunter were arrested was spent with Easton and Georgia devouring each other. They barely made it to her house a few blocks away. They fell to the floor in the entry hall, and by the time the sun had fallen they had loved each other all the way to the master bedroom, only pausing for brief bouts of sleep.
In the silence of the night, Easton was lying side by side with her, tracing his fingertips over her beautiful face, feeling as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders.
“Do you believe in fate?” she whispered, holding his stare.
He gave her a half-smile. “More so than not.”
Her stare questioned him.
He caressed the side of her face as he spoke in a deep whisper. “I’ve seen enough in my life to believe in miracles, to know that nothing is impossible.”
She hooked her leg over his waist and pulled him closer. “I’m going to tell you something. I swear to God it’s the truth, but it makes no sense to me. It scares me.”
He pulled her closer to him, feeling the warmth of her flesh mold to his body.
“I know Trish meant to hurt me…and it backfired because I ended up coming home.” She reached to trace his face. “But the second I saw her passed out next to him, I was so calm…I smelled lavender—I whispered the word Grace.”
Easton drew his brow together.
“Weird, huh?”
“Lavender,” he whispered, pulling a stem of it from her hair. They’d had a little too much fun with the flowers he had sent to her.
“I think it was the same time.”
His jade stare questioned her. “I think when I felt calm, when I smelled lavender was when Grace and me both made a turn…when we both came back to you.”
He felt his heart skip a beat, there was no way to prove her theory, but he didn’t doubt it, not for one moment. He’d watch Grace go from one extreme to the other across one night, watched her get stronger each day. He’d seen Georgia do the same, over all the time he’d known her he saw her grow into a woman, a beautiful, powerful woman.
The truth was, the pair of them had healed him. They made him who he was, woke him up, made him feel things that at times seemed overwhelming.
He rolled into her, determined to worship her body with his lips and hands until the point of exhaustion, and he did.
***
It was Labor Day, the symbolic end of summer, a big deal in a small town and a perfect reason for a parade. Georgia was looking forward to it. Her only disappointment was Easton had to work, all the guys did.
Harley and Georgia had become fast friends. Georgia had even gone over to the Doran’s with Grace and had dinner. She made it a point to do so at least once a week. It was amusing to her to hear Beckett and Camille tell Harley and Georgia all the things the boys had gotten into growing up, even more heartwarming to hear her father’s name mingled in with those stories.
Georgia had become close friends with Ava, Wyatt’s sister, and Easton’s sister, Kate, too, but she still spent time with Cynthia. All of them were meeting her today, going to the parade together.
“I have no idea how she does it,” Cynthia said to Camille when Georgia walked outside with Grace. Georgia was in dark blue summer dress, and Grace was in a red one with blue strips with a cute white bow and priceless little white sandals.
“If she sees me wear one she’s okay with it,” Georgia said with a grin. Cynthia was telling Grace to spin around so she could see her dress, and Grace did as she laughed.
“You’re not working right?” Harley said when she saw Georgia’s camera around her.
“I wanted to catch Grace’s expression so Easton could see it later.”
Harley and Kate gave each other an odd gaze. “Tell you what,” Harley said, “let me take the pictures, that way he can see both of you.” Harley glanced to her camera once more. “Do you have a less complicated one?”
Georgia made a playful face like it was hard choice, but went back in and got a different camera for Harley.
“I hope you know because she lives with you now that gives me the right to spoil her,” Cynthia said as they all started to walk. She reached to tickle Grace’s side. “Which means that there are ice cream cones to be had.”
Georgia gave her a playful glare. “So much for the dress.”
It had been almost a month now, but Easton and Grace stopped the sleepovers. They moved in together. There was no longer a travel bed in Grace’s room, but a real bed, a bedroom decorated for the princess she was, one that looked out at the tree house Easton had started to restore.
Georgia was sure life could not get any more perfect, and as she moved closer to downtown, moved through all the people, waved at her family, and caught the s
cent of lavender, she knew she was right.
***
Every single time Easton pulled on his turnout gear, he felt his heart race, felt adrenaline pumping, but today it seemed to be more so. All day long, even days before this, he’d felt this moment building. It was in the air, prickling his skin.
He’d only felt this odd sensation a few other times in his life, so he knew it was never wrong—his life was about to forevermore change.
He kept glancing around him, to all his boys, each of them rushing by, knowing exactly what they had to do, what they needed to do.
The sound of the trucks roaring to life, the hollers echoing from one side of the garage to the other, it resonated with Easton, took him back to when he was a boy and rode in a fire truck for the first time with his father.
The sound of the motor, the smell of one, took him back to all the times he’d spent in Lucas’s garage. So many people had crossed his path, each leading him here in their own way.
“You all right, man?” Wyatt asked Easton when he climbed into the cab.
It took Easton a second to answer. He glanced around the garage, feeling the odd sensation in his gut building, all but engulfing him.
“No, man. I think I’m nervous,” Easton said in a deep even tone.
Wyatt busted out laughing, not be cruel. He honestly thought Easton was cracking a joke.
Memphis climbed in then. “Four alarm deal. You ready boys?”
As soon as they pulled out of the garage they could hear trucks from other houses in the distance.
“This is going to be insane!” Truman yelled from the truck he was in. Easton just shook his head. It didn’t take much to get Truman pumped, but he wasn’t alone today. All at once the entire house seemed to amp up, feel the adrenaline—battle cries were echoing in every direction.
“Floor it, Wyatt. It’s all about timing,” Memphis said.
Easton reached up for his wallet, for the picture he still had there. Georgia had given him more, given him some with her and Grace, and he’d stare at them when he was in his bunk.
But right now he was looking at the innocent girl with purple hair, he even unfolded it to where you could see Lucas. He felt Memphis’s stare on him but he stayed in his zone, told himself to ride out this feeling.