by Bijou Hunter
Sissy and Lily were tight by then, but they hid their friendship from everyone. Johanssons don’t ever belong with Mullens. So they often snuck around, meeting up in the next town or in the woods. During one of their rendezvous, I tagged along. One look at Lily and I knew she missed seeing me too. Hell if I understood why she’d have any interest in my loser ass, but some things can’t be controlled.
That night, I kissed her, and Lily swooned. Sissy giggled and clapped. The evening felt momentous.
Now years later, Lily finally owns a safe place where I can spend more than a few fleeting hours with her. We’re together, but it’s temporary. With her, everything always will be.
“I love you, Lily Bear,” I whisper in her ear as we dance around the living room of her nifty little duplex in the heart of Ellsberg. “I’m going to love you long after you get sick of me.”
“That’ll never happen,” she says, staring into my eyes with her rich brown ones.
“Oh, I’m quite certain I’ll love you until I die.”
“I meant the other part wouldn’t happen.”
My smiling lips enjoy the soft flesh of her throat. I’ve tasted her a million times without ever getting bored of her sweet flavor. She’s my fucking addiction, and I don’t believe in rehab.
Lily Johansson is it for me. I’d love to dream of us finding our forever, but I know how life works.
No, love doesn’t conquer all, and not everyone gets their happy ending.
THE CHAPTER WHERE THE LOVEBIRDS MAKE THREE
THE PRINCESS
Dash agrees to meet me at an apple orchard in nearby Wanamaker. Arriving first, I park my blue midsize SUV where it won’t be spotted from the street. Wanamaker is only twenty minutes from Ellsberg and any of the Reapers—or their allies—could drive by and recognize my car with its distinctive “Get Off My Tail” rabbit bumper sticker.
I zip my blue faux leather jacket and walk across the two-lane road where I pass a mother with several children. She tries to explain to them why the apples are gone. Uninterested in learning, they complain about the autumn cold and asking for hot chocolate sold at the orchard’s small coffee shop which remains open year-round.
Five years ago, Dash brought me here. Or was it even farther back than that? I feel as if I’ve been sleepwalking through my twenties. Though I woke up long enough to agree—and then dump—a man I didn’t love. Another failed effort with nothing to show for it.
My hand protectively caresses my stomach hidden under the jacket. Inside me is a choice to do something big after too long doing nothing. I want what’s always been out of reach. Now I have what I want, and I refuse to allow anyone to steal this joy from me.
Not even the man I love.
I don’t recognize the car Dash arrives in, but I rarely do. His family runs a dumpy used cars dealership out of a small one-and-a-half-story white house on the east end of town. Dash lives there with Sissy and her kiddos. Cy occasionally moves in when between women.
The Mullen siblings often drive the cars in their gravel-covered lot. Today’s choice looks older than my parents. I’m surprised it still runs.
Dash appears from the white Oldsmobile and stretches as if his long frame hadn’t fit comfortably in the clunker.
From behind a barren tree across the street, I spy on him. He’s always different when he doesn’t know I’m watching—less aggressively indifferent, more melancholy. In these moments when I see him look so gloomy, I pretend it’s because he misses me and wishes we had what I want and not what he settles for.
Dash struts across the road, only pausing to glance at the mother and her whiny kids. I don’t know what he thinks upon seeing them, but he tugs down his cap over his hair and keeps moving.
I’m suddenly terrified to talk to him. My big plan felt inevitable, obvious really. No one could disagree with it. The strong pact between my heart, mind, and body didn’t prepare me for the reality of Dash learning I was carrying his baby.
“Look at you hiding like a little mouse,” he teases upon catching sight of me. “No one but you, me, and that poor sad mommy know of our secret rendezvous.”
“The staff inside the orchard cafe will know,” I say.
Dash shrugs before wrapping me casually—yet somehow possessively—against his long, lean body. I lift my lips, knowing what he offers and how it’ll empower me to be the strongest version of me.
His lips own mine. They don’t hesitate before claiming what I’ve offered for so many years. Even after so long, I almost forget to breathe when I’m in his arms. No one else could make me feel this way. Even if someone could, I refuse to let him. I love Dash, and I refuse to stop. I tried once with Jay. What did I gain from embracing that lie?
Dash’s lips only retreat when one of the nearby children screams in defiance. “I don’t think hollering like that will help one bit.”
“No, likely not.”
During our kissing, I muss Dash’s cap, revealing a lump just above his left eyebrow. My gaze quickly brushes over it, but that’s all he needs.
“You’re a worrywart,” he says, snuggling me closer so he can open his jacket and wrap it around my shivering body. “How long do we intend to freeze before moving our date to the coffee shop?”
Basking in his heart-stopping smile, I would without a doubt run away with him if he asked. Not that Dash has any interest in leaving Ellsberg. He refuses to imagine a life outside of our hometown and the people who long ago judged us to be the princess and the loser.
“I’m pregnant,” I say without warning. A little part of me wants to upset him in the same way I’m hurt every time he refuses to demand more from me.
Dash doesn’t freeze in shock as I expect. I often assume situations will play out as if I live in a sitcom. Except Dash is no Ross Geller from “Friends” and he won’t have a meltdown about the reliability of condoms.
“Who’s the father?” he asks, struggling to keep his gaze flat, but I know he’s just giving me grief.
“I don’t know,” I say, playing along. “The odds are fifty-fifty on it being yours.”
“You should probably get to a clinic and fix that problem before it gets too big for its britches. Mullen babies are more than a sweet filly like you can handle.”
“Never going to happen,” I growl, enunciating each word.
“Look at those hormones already making you wild.”
“Is that all you really want to say?”
Dash pretends to think. He rubs his bearded jaw and taps the side of his head. “Oh, I know what I ought to ask. What did your big bad daddy say when you told him? Was he ever so fucking pleased to hear his princess was knocked up by the trash of the town?”
His question deflates my confidence. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“No, of course, you haven’t.”
“I’m waiting until I’m farther along.”
“No, you’re waiting until you’re sure you’re keeping it.”
I look into his pale gray eyes and spell it out for the know-it-all. “I got pregnant on purpose. There’s no figuring anything out. Nothing accidental about my life. I choose what I do and who I do it with.”
“So you planned to have a kid with my blood running through its veins.”
“Again, it might not be yours.”
“Of course,” he says, fighting laughter. “As if Miss Priss would leave something like that up to chance. I bet you had a chart to organize the pros and cons of your many, many possible lovers.”
Sighing, I ask, "Why do we have to play these games?”
“Let’s stop then. Why don’t you hurry to tell your pop about me while I dash over to Topher’s to share the good news with my father?” Dash says, as always enjoying when he can use his name as a verb. “What could possibly go wrong with honesty? Can’t help wondering why we’ve waited so long to go public.”
I tug his cap over the lump on his forehead and ask, “How did you get hurt?”
“Was on the floor putting together a puzzle with Hart when To
pher decided the house was too messy. He kicked a toy across the room, nearly hitting Hart as if the kid needs more brain problems. When I told Daddy Dearest to be careful, he responded by trying to kick my head across the room.”
“I hate him,” I mumble, wishing Topher Mullen would do the world a favor and die a painful death.
Dash leans down and grins. “He hates you too, Lily Bear. Thinks you’re a secret slut.”
“Fuck him.”
Laughing, Dash reaches up to grab a withered leaf from the tree. “If you think he’s got a poor view of you, I can assure that you never want to hear him talk about your mother. Wow, he must have gotten shot down by her at some point because only women who tell him no suffer such rage-filled insults.”
“My mother would never date your scummy father.”
“No, I don’t suspect she would.”
Taking the leaf he hands me, I step closer until our bodies are again attached. “You’re not him,” I whisper and then add, “That’s why he hates you.”
“What makes you think he hates me?” Dash balks before giving me a wink and taking the leaf back in his hand. He tosses it into the pile nearby. “A woman in your fragile condition shouldn't shiver in the cold this way,” he says and takes my hand. “Rumor has it Sissy’s mom stood in the cold too much, and that’s why she’s so dumb. Baby Johansson doesn’t need that strike against him.”
“Is that true?” I ask, walking with him through the fallen leaves in the now empty orchard.
“About Sissy? No. She’s dumb for the same reason most people in my family are dumb. Too much inbreeding some time back and too much pregnant drinking just recently. Not a positive mix.”
“Our baby will be perfect.”
“If he’s not, I can’t imagine a better woman to raise the little fuckup.”
Rolling my eyes, I want to be angry at the way he’s already sentenced our baby to a lifetime of the same ailments suffered by other Mullens. Why can’t he enjoy the fantasy of a perfect life with our perfect baby?
“It’s probably a girl,” I say before we step into the orchard’s tiny, four-table-occupancy coffee shop.
“No, it’s a fella. I can feel him already thinking about how to score with the ladies.”
I shake my head dismissively, uninterested in imagining my tiny baby on the prowl.
“What if the baby is like Sissy?” he asks after ordering our coffees. “Or worse, what if he’s a combination of Tucker and Cy. At least, my sister gets by with charm and decent looks. Put that brain in a stupid, grumpy man, and she’d be hated by the entire world.”
“Like your father,” I mutter, thinking of the lump on Dash’s forehead.
“You mean, Grandpa?”
When I roll my eyes very dramatically for his benefit, Dash smiles casually. “You shouldn’t get so worked up. Women are delicate in your state. I remember when Sissy got knocked up, and she needed me to do everything for her because she was so very fragile.”
Snickering, I hide my smile behind my gloved hand. “She was very proud of how much she played you and Cy.”
“I know she was, and that's why I never mentioned how badly she lied.”
“Did Cy believe her?”
“Probably not, but he was sure she would die in childbirth. He said she’d push wrong and kill her and the baby. I thought to explain why his worry was stupid, but I figured him helping out Sissy wasn’t such a bad thing. Most days, he treats her like the kind of woman he hates the most.”
“The kind he can’t fuck.”
Dash lifts his brows as if shocked by my profanity. Waving off his feigned horror, I sip my pumpkin spice coffee and think of the family I’m forever attached to now. In reality, I’ve been linked to the Mullens for years. Soon, though, I will no longer be able to hide this fact.
“Are you excited at all?” I ask Dash when he silently stares out the window at arriving visitors.
“I don’t think those people are my sort,” he whispers, “if you catch my meaning.”
I look outside to find the uppity types that Wanamaker suffers in spades. Many work at the college in Ellsberg, but live in this swankier town next door.
“Who cares about them?”
“No one, but I don’t think they’re clued into that reality. Should I inform them?” he asks, giving me a half smile.
“Do you think they’d cry?”
“Hard to say. The women look pretty sturdy, but those men would sob like soiled babies.”
These are the times when I can feel the bad in my DNA. The clean-cut fakers outside aren’t my people. Lily could survive in their world, but Delta would never embrace them. Deep inside, both sides of me know these types of people won’t truly accept me either. When I was with Jay, his friends remained offish around me. They knew the Johansson family is backed by the Reapers Motorcycle Club. Angering me was the equivalent of poking a bear. Jay ignored my family’s legacy, more interested in how perfect we looked together in pictures. That’s how his world worked—image trumped reality.
With his thick, brown beard, scarred face, and chilly gaze, Dash Mullen is better suited for a sexy mugshot than an overly photoshopped Christmas card. When his arms wrap around me, he feels solid like the men I grew up with. When Jay held me, he seemed as if he was playing a role. There was nothing primal about his needs. He liked what he liked because others liked the same things.
Unfortunately, as much as Pop mocks buttoned-up, superficial types like Jay and the people now walking through the barren orchard taking selfies, he’ll embrace them any day over poor white trash like the Mullens.
How can I ever tell my father the truth when I already know his reaction will be unacceptable?
THE LOSER
Lily’s been threatening to kick the hornet’s nest since the first time I kissed her out by the “Monster Face Tree” in Huffman’s farm. In fact, I nearly didn’t plant my lips on her upturned ones despite her looking more beautiful than anyone ought to. No, I was certain kissing her would lead to nothing good.
And I was right!
Of course, she got herself knocked up by a fucking guy her father will want to end. And of course, she believes everyone can get along and magically live happily ever after. The turd in the punch bowl of her big plan is that no one in my family is truly capable of happiness and she just chose to add a new Mullen to a world already sick of them.
But I can’t tell her any of this shit because she’s wearing her most hopeful expression. I never wanted anything from life until I met Lily and even then I needed to make her happy more than I needed to make myself happy by having her. If my leaving her would bring her joy, I’d walk out without a second thought.
Lily ought to be like one of those uppity fuckers posing for selfies in the orchard. In so many ways, she made sense with Jay even if he was sugarless vanilla and deep inside she craves spicy chocolate. Anyone could easily imagine them sending out photo Christmas cards complete with their kids and pets in matching outfits. Lily deserves to be in a relationship so uncool people barf at the thought of it, but she refuses to enjoy the easy path stretched out before her.
She wants me. I’d say she was rebelling, but nothing about her desires are temporary. My girl’s got a taste for dysfunction. There’s no other explanation for why she’d want Sissy and me in her life. One Mullen could be a fluke, but two proves Princess Lily covets the gutter.
“When do you plan to make things official with your papa?” I ask before gulping down my formerly too hot coffee as we sit at a small table in the orchard’s coffee shop. “I’ll inform mine using an Ouija board.”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, Lily Bear,” I say, taking her hand, “your father is so going to kill me. Please promise you’re emotionally prepared for that obvious outcome. I’d hate for the stress of my death to harm you and the little mutt you’re carrying.”
Scrunching her nose in irritation, she mutters, “Don’t call our baby a mutt.”
“Get used to h
earing shit about the kid because people will never let you or him forget our baby’s lineage. They sure never let me.”
Lily squeezes my hand. “Well, I believe one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. People can think and say what they want, but I’ll always know the baby’s worth and she will too.”
“Girl Mullens don’t fare well in this world, so you better cross your fingers real tight and pray to have a boy.”
“The sex is already decided at this point.”
“Bummer news, baby, because I’ve been crossing my fingers since you told me.”
Pulling her hand away, she wraps both hands around her mug. “I think I’d prefer if you were angry at me rather than this morbid pessimism.”
“No, Lily, you really wouldn’t prefer anger. If I’d yelled at you or stormed off, you’d be in tears right now. You overestimate your ability to handle bad news.”
“I’m stronger than you think.”
“True, but you’re also weaker than you think. If you weren’t, you'd have told your father long ago about your nasty little addiction to the asshole sitting across from you right now.”
The woman at the counter leans forward and announces, “Can you keep your voice down?”
Frowning at her, I hadn’t even realized I was speaking in more than a whisper. Yelling is my family’s version of an indoor voice. Lily flashes the woman a dismissive look, and I admittedly smile at her willingness to go uppity on the commoners. I don’t know what the clerk sees in the princess’s pout—or her impossibly dark eyes—but she quickly turns away. Lily lifts a single brow, feeling rather proud of herself.
“My dick got a little hard when you did that.”
“Only a little?” she asks, pouting. “Has the romance left our relationship already?”
“Already? You’ve been giving me hard-ons for nearly a decade. That’s a long fucking time.”
“My pop remains extremely impressed with my mom.”
“As a reward for your bragging, my dick has gotten a little harder. Do you have anything else to offer it besides excitement without relief?”