“Are you serious? You’ve been…born again?”
“Jesus says that unless you’re born again, you cannot see the kingdom of God.”
I sat in silence. Baffled by this turn of events. Did Hoop know this? Why in the hell wouldn’t he have warned me? Christ, I laughed, here I thought it was something like death and it was this? Finding out both parents had turned their lives around.
I wouldn’t have believed this could happen, if I hadn’t seen it for myself.
“This is great, Dad. Just great. So, you’re going to church, believing in God and asking for repentance for your sins?”
“Yes. I wanted to apologize to Reba and ask for her forgiveness. I wanted her to know that I am truly sorry for all of the problems I caused.”
His eyes were remorseful. His demeanor had changed. He wasn’t loud and obnoxious, cussing out the government for putting him in this place. I believed he was doing his best to become a changed man.
Holy shit.
“It’s good news. I hope everything works out for you. You need any money or anything while I’m here?” I reached into my back pocket and pulled some bills from my wallet.
“Nope. It’s not necessary. I’ve been doing just fine. You’ve helped me out a lot and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for every dang thing I ever did that affected you.”
Now it was me who was choked up. I coughed, clearing my throat. “It’s fine, Dad. I’m almost forty, I’ve gotten over it all.”
Had I, though? As I hopped on my bike, I considered our conversation. Had I really gotten over my childhood? No, not really. Not when I used that and my marriage to Candi as an excuse to not have a relationship with Grace.
Making it a banner day, two and a half hours later, I found myself pulling over on the side of the road staring at the wooden sign The Champion Horse Therapeutic Center. It wasn’t yet dark out, but it was getting close. The sun was a perfect back drop along the sprawling acres of the Center. Its red tones casting glorious prisms of light across the sky, dropping down along the trees and bushes. All you could see from this spot was the gold metal roof and how it burned in the light like a cache of diamonds promising anyone who dared that they would get burnt if they touched it.
“What the fuck am I doing here?”
My kickstand went down and I rested the bike but I didn’t hop off. I didn’t turn to try and glimpse the log house with its beautiful flowers and screwed up habitants. I just sat there a few minutes and stared at that sign. Thatcher was right. I had to give the guy credit. He called it. My gut told me I should have listened to him but I didn’t want to. I wanted Grace.
I still wanted Grace.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was falling for me. Hard. Much like she had fallen for that dog. The question was what in the hell was I going to do about it. Sit back and enjoy fucking her like I had no cares in mind? Enjoy that sugary taste of her and pretend to believe her when she promised this would only be temporary? Pretend that I didn’t care about her? That I, too, wasn’t falling for her?
Or end this.
I shouldn’t go on with Grace. I owed her that much. Once I got back to Lone Star, I would let her know that our temporary was over. Since the dog was gone, it was going to be easier. I wouldn’t have to smell her. I wouldn’t have to look forward to her stopping by. I wouldn’t have to look forward to her lemon bars or her apple tarts. I wouldn’t have to look forward to her damn puppy talk. Come here, baby. Did you miss me, baby? I love you, too, baby. Are you hungry puppy? The kids in my classroom would love you. Maybe I could take you to show and tell in the fall. You would like that wouldn’t you, baby?
Yes, ending whatever it was Grace and I had going on, was the right thing to do. I wasn’t looking for the same thing she was looking for.
“Well, Lori MacArthur, you’ve done fucked me up.” I blamed her for my inability to not want to have a relationship. All the love loss that happened between her and my father. Between the fifteen-year-old me and her. How did a fifteen-year-old ever cope with losing his mother? Even if the memory of her was tainted with dirty men’s hands. Needles and plastic gloves.
When I found Candi, she had healed my wounds. Or so I thought. I thought she held the answers to all my prayers. I barked out a laugh. Still stupid at twenty-four. Still believed in fairy tales. That someone could save me from myself.
Boy, she had, too. For a while. Up until her accident. Now I’d grown into a cynical old bastard because I hadn’t been saved. My wounds hadn’t healed. Which was why I drove here. I needed closure.
When Grace and I came that day, it had been the tip of the iceberg. It had reopened all my old wounds. As much as I tried to ignore them for so long, it was amazing how close to the surface I still held on to them.
I needed to let go.
I revved the engine and drove down the winding driveway of the center. Once again, I flipped the kickstand and this time, I hopped off my bike. I tilted my head back and surveyed the log building. In every window, the lights shined bright. Welcoming. A place to assure you that you and your addiction problems were welcome. No judgements.
The air was still moist and my shirt clung to my skin. My boots automatically dug into the pavement. Their usual position.
Before I could tell my boots to ease up, Lori came slinking out the front door. As I watched her walk to the top of the stairs where she gave me a small wave, my brain went into overload. Remembering the way she used to be. She could change her name and hair color. But her walk was the same.
“Evening, Maverick,” she said as she let go of the now-steady railing at the last step.
“See you took my advice,” I nodded to the rail.
“Yes, thanks. It was much needed. We almost called you because I was so excited to have seen you, but Peter suggested we give you some time to think. What brought you all this way again?”
“Honestly?” I chuckled. Damn this was harder than I thought. “I came to let go.”
Her smile faltered and her shoulders slumped. “Ah.”
“I came to forgive you.”
“You did?”
“Shocking, right? Sorry. Look, I’m not good at this. I’ve lived my entire life without you. I don’t need you in my life. I came to accept your apology from the other day. I think that is a good place to start.”
“You came here for my apology but you don’t want anything to do with me?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that I’m almost forty and I’ve carried this grudge around long enough. I’m tired of holding on to it. I’m tired of holding onto the memory of the way you used to be. Especially since you don’t look like the drug addict you used to be.”
“I’ve been clean for twenty-two years.”
“Congratulations. But my gut has been warring with my mind that I can’t continue to begrudge you. Even if you left me. You’ve changed, any fool can see that.”
“Yes, I’ve changed,” she whispered.
“So has my dad. I stopped by the prison. He just wanted to apologize for everything he’d done to you. He’s been born again.” I managed without a smile. Because it was funny. My father, who was a prankster and a man who broke the law, had become his own worst nightmare.”
“Your dad? Born again?” She mulled this over in her mind and then suddenly, both of us were laughing so hard, my jaw hurt.
“Look, I don’t know what this will mean for us in the future. Maybe nothing. I just wanted to come and accept your apology. To get all of this dead weight off me.” I kicked at the blacktop, unsure of what to say when she came barreling into me.
Her arms went around my shoulders in a tight embrace. I hesitated for only a second thinking of how Grace would mime how I should put my arms around her before I hugged her back. I let it all go. For those few seconds, I forgot about my childhood. About the way she used to be when she was around me and my old man. I forgot about the burnt-out lightbulbs and the needles. All the other men.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed th
e way it felt to be hugged by a mother. Her smell. Her wide, cushiony body against mine. The way her wrinkled arms and hands held onto me like she simply loved me because I existed.
I cherished her hug.
As a mother and a son should.
When we pulled away from one another, I think we were both surprised by the unshed tears in our eyes.
“I have to go,” I murmured.
“Okay,” she gripped my hand. “Please think about keeping in touch. I don’t care if it’s in a day or a week or another month or two or three, just promise me you’ll give me something to look forward to.”
I swallowed, “I promise, Lori MacArthur.”
“Y’all are welcome anytime. Let Grace know I said hello.”
I didn’t answer, only nodded as I hopped on the hog and tore the hell out of there.
There was no way I was telling her that I was putting a halt to whatever the fuck it was Grace and I shared.
Sex, I told myself. That’s what we shared.
That was all.
Chapter Seventeen
Grace
“Can you tell me if someone’s brought in a Maltese? All white, female. She has a little kidney bean birth mark on her belly.”
“Please hold, I’ll check.”
While I waited on hold, I prayed that Surfer Boy Will had brought Echo into the shelter, convincing myself that he decided he didn’t want the dog after all and dropped her off at the Humane Society of Deer Creek. Or at the very least, the smart puppy ran far, far away from his grimy clutches.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes,” my heart rate picked up as I waited for her response.
“I’m sorry. No dogs matching that description have been brought in.”
“Oh. Well, thanks for checking.”
“No problem. Have you tried the Blue Heeler Animal Sanctuary?”
“No. I haven’t heard of that. Is it like a humane society?”
“It is. It’s newer but they intake dogs and cats like we do. You might give them a try and see what you find.”
“I will. Thanks, a lot.”
“Sure, no problem. Good luck.”
I disconnected and propped my feet onto my coffee table and quickly found the number to the sanctuary the humane society had given me. I didn’t have a promising feeling that was confirmed once I called and neither had they taken in Echo.
Just my luck.
I hadn’t seen Maverick since he tore out of my house the other day and I was in a peculiar position. We agreed that everything would be temporary. We never discussed the rules about texting each other or calling. Whether, without Echo, I could still show up on his doorstep. With no reason to use my key, I don’t think he meant it as an open invitation. Certainly not to let myself in and sneak into bed with him. Only to let the dog in and out. But boy did I want to.
I wanted to show up naked. Because the sex. Oh, God. The sex. It was better than anything I had anticipated. What I had anticipated was pretty damn good, too.
Those hands of his were everything I’d dreamt about. Firm and yet soft. Unyielding and yet giving. He weaved magic with those hands. He gave me all the things I’d been looking for. I orgasmed easily with him. Which I surmised was simply my problem all along. One, not having boyfriends who cared about my needs and two, not letting myself go completely to experience the benefits.
Boy, had I experienced them with Maverick though. He made me come alive. Feel things I hadn’t felt before. Even the thought of him now had me tied up in knots. I wanted to go over to his house and let him have his way and take the lead.
For being so…rough around the edges, he was the most amazing lover I’d ever had. I could still feel the outline of his fingers as they trailed down my neck and across my breasts. The way he whispered into my ear as he made love to me, coaxing me to relax in his arms as he took the lead and made us both orgasm with bliss. I couldn’t forget how he fucked me too. He was right about that. He did that expertly and without shame. He listened to his body and let it guide him into doing what it did best. Perfection. I tightened the muscles between my legs. Muscle memory.
For the first time in my life, I was craving a man.
Not just any man.
Maverick Carter.
The same man who wouldn’t help me up when Echo had pushed me over on the curb that long-ago day in front of his house. The same man who thought it was humorous to wear a patch that read if I let you ride on the back, I get anal. Anal? My gosh that may be the worst one he had.
He had plenty of obscene patches but that one may take the cake. Each patch embarrassed me but it didn’t seem to stop my wandering eyes from reading each and every one. Another one, it might be my favorite, read Ride me. Ride me to your heart’s content. Probably because it was the least embarrassing. And because that was the moment he entered my mind beyond being just Thatcher’s friend.
It had been when I joined my book club and that had been the book of choice. I only agreed to join because my friend Gina from work invited me and left out the details that their book club was called The Raunchy Readers. Otherwise, I would have never shown up. The first book I had to read was Ride Me. Book one in the Delta Motorcycle Club Series. It couldn’t have been more embarrassing. My bag snagged on a shelf inside my brother’s feed store and all my contents spilled out onto the floor at Maverick’s feet.
“Ride me?” His mouth quirked up into the hottest grin I’d ever seen. He was amused. I tried grabbing it from him but he held it out of my reach and I didn’t dare get any closer.
“That’s my book!” I’d told him but it didn’t stop him.
A low, airy whistle escaped from his mouth, “What’s a prissy princess like you doing reading a dirty book like this?”
“It’s for book club.” I was so embarrassed and turned on at the same time. In that moment, I thought he could see right through me. See how much I was enjoying the book and how turned on I was getting standing there, all the while thinking about how much he resembled the main character and wondering what he would do to me if I gave him the chance. Sort of wishing he would do those dirty, naughty things to me.
I held my breath. Just waiting for the book to touch my hands. All the while dying inside.
His tongue came out and ever so slowly he gave it back to me.
“Book club, I see. Well, if you ever want to expand your knowledge in regards to MC’s, I’m your guy. I can promise you that I will teach you more than this book ever can.”
“I-” I began to tell him that I didn’t think he could possibly live up to the expectations I had about the main character. Only because deep down, I thought he could. It was more of a goading tactic, my way of trying to flirt subtly in front of my brother and whoever else had been there at the time. But Thatcher cut me off and I was never able to get the words out.
I started at the knock on my door. Who could that be? Probably Thatcher. Which I didn’t want to get into the whole Maverick thing with him. I didn’t want to sort out all the feelings I was having about him and try to explain everything to my brother. Who didn’t agree with me having anything to do with his friend.
“What do you want? I don’t want to talk about it.” I said to Thatcher as I peeked through my peephole.
Only Maverick stood there. Hands at his sides. His large frame taking up all the tiny space in my hallway. His do-rag hugged his head as he stood there. I opened the door.
“Sorry. I thought you were my brother.”
“Clearly. Hope you aren’t disappointed it’s only me.”
Now my mouth turned up into a half-grin, “Only disappointed that you didn’t come over sooner.” Like yesterday sooner.
He cleared his throat, “I’ve been busy. Do you have a minute?”
Had he heard something about the dog? “Sure, come in.” I winced at my manners, embarrassed he had to ask to be let in.
When he passed, his vest brushed against my arm and I wished he would take me like he had the other day. Hard and unyieldin
g up against my wall. But something was off. He was off. Even though he was always stoic, he’d begun to let some of his guard down with me and right now I felt like he’d put it right back into place.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not much,” he answered.
That’s what he claimed, but the second he turned around, behind his poker face, I could see a tinge of regret. He was here to tell me that he was done with me. I could feel it deep in my belly.
“You’re done with this.” I hated how my voice sounded, the raw pit of hurt in my belly making its way out of mouth. Like I was in agony.
“You knew it wouldn’t last long.” His attitude reminded me of the same, unhelpful Maverick from those first few weeks I started coming around. Not the Maverick he’d became with me. The one between the sheets. The one at his favorite fishing spot or even the one driving his motorcycle with me on the back. No anal required.
“No,” I scoffed, “I just thought it might be a little longer than this. Thatcher got to you, didn’t he? You’re listening to him?” Ugh. I hated the way my voice sounded, all dry and void of power.
“I’m not a forever kind of guy, Grace. You knew all this the day you showed up on my front porch. Or should I say back porch?” His eyes darkened as heat simmered from him to me. It was still wild between us and he knew it. He wasn’t done with me just like I wasn’t done with him. I could feel it.
I shook my head. “Are you really going to stand there and pretend there’s nothing between us anymore?”
“Don’t fool yourself, Little Gracie. I’m not attached to you anymore than I am to Tiffany.”
My heart stuttered at his words. “How could you say that to me?” I was somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to push him to the ground. Damn Thatcher.
“Why are you acting like you’re surprised? You were the one that suggested this be temporary.”
Wicked: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 3) Page 18