by T. S. Joyce
“I have a memory of you, Raina,” Morgan said softly, peeling at the corner of a napkin that had been sitting at her spot at the table.
“I know which one you’re about to say, but you go on and tell the boys and Bre,” she said as she poured moonshine into the cups.
Morgan chewed the side of her lip and dropped her gaze to the napkin. “Once upon a time, there was this little pipsqueak ten-year-old swamper kid. She wanted to keep up with the boys, so she took a dare. The dare was to egg the Lachlan House where a witch lived and not get caught. Be fast. Not get cursed.” Morgan inhaled deeply and met Raina’s eyes. “And she did. She egged it. Used two cartons of eggs, making a mess on the door and the porch and even the witch’s car. The boys praised her like she’d done something amazing. It was the first time the little girl felt special. So she snuck home, climbed through her window, got in bed, and went to sleep feeling like she’d won some prize. Feeling brave. But the next morning, she was makin’ breakfast for her daddy and some of his friends, and she dropped an egg on the floor. Her dad got pissed, and she rushed to clean it up. But as she was kneeled over cleaning it off the floor, the victory of the night before sure started tasting mighty bitter. She started thinking about all the wrong she’d done to the witch the night before. Started thinking about how hard it was going to be for the witch to clean all that up. Soon as her dad left that morning to hunt, the little pipsqueak swamper girl snuck out again with towels and a trash bag for the eggshells. If she was lucky, she could get it all cleaned up before the witch woke up. Only when she got to the Lachlan House, the witch was already cleaning with two little boys.” She glanced at Holt and Liam. “I didn’t have much to give to make up for it, and I didn’t know how to say a sorry that was big enough. So I went and got my two favorite marbles from a bag of them in my room. The big ones with swirls of color. I put them in a little box and wrote a letter, but I wasn’t good at writing, so I just put two words on it and left it on the doorstep.”
“I’m sorry,” Liam murmured, staring at his clasped hands on the table. He looked up and gave her a small, crooked smile. “All your note said was ‘I’m sorry.’”
She nodded. “I was pretty sure I got cursed that night for my devil-deeds on that witch because things got real bad in our house. A few months later, my momma left. So from then on, I stayed far away from that witch and her grandsons.”
Raina sat at the head of the table, right beside her. She slid her hand over Morgan’s and said, “Do you remember the food that kept showing up on your doorstep after your momma left?” she asked.
Well, that sparked a memory. Morgan sat up straight. “Yes. In glass dishes. The fancy kinds. Casseroles, gumbo, barbecue chicken. My dad was in the drink from my momma leavin’, and I didn’t know which way was up. He wasn’t hunting, there was no money, I was ten and trying to keep us fed, and then the magic food started showing up. One pan of food every few days. Just as we ran out of one, a new one would appear. I waited up a few nights to try and catch who was doin’ it, but I always nodded off too early.”
“I didn’t curse you, child.”
No. She’d blessed her instead. Morgan dipped her voice to a whisper. “I don’t know how we would’ve made it if it wasn’t for you feedin’ us. You know who my daddy is? You know he’s a poacher? You know he goes after the gatah-men? The shifters?”
Raina dipped her chin once.
Baffled, Morgan shook her head. “Then why would you make food for him?”
“It wasn’t for him. It was for you.” Raina squeezed her hand gently. “A little pipsqueak swamper kid egged my home, but then she came back and gave a present and an apology.” She twitched her head toward Liam and used his words, “Liam’s right. You ain’t your daddy. Never were.”
Well, fuck a duck, now Morgan’s eyes were tearing up and her lip was quivering and everything she thought she knew about everything was getting all blurred. So she did the only thing she could do to stop the sissy-baby emotion from leaking out of her face and chugged that Solo cup of moonshine. And it. Was. Delicious.
“Apple pie flavor?” she rasped out around the burn in her throat.
“It’s the best one I make,” Raina said.
“It’s the only one that won’t poison you,” Holt enlightened her. And then he chugged his. Raina downed hers but Bre only stared into her cup with wide eyes.
Liam tinked the lip of his cup against Morgan’s and gave her the prettiest smile she’d ever seen on a rugged man. And then he drank his, too.
When they looked at Bre, staring at her cup like it was a slug, she blurted out, “I’m going to have a baby.”
Raina’s gasp was immediate, and she snatched the drink right out of her hands. “A baby?” she crowed, her smile lighting up the room. She pulled Bre into a back-cracking hug as she made a whole slew of happy “ooohs” and “aaahs” and “oh my Gods.”
Liam slid his arm around the back of Morgan’s chair, and she leaned into his side. He was looking at Holt, but whatever he saw on the proud daddy’s face, well, he seemed to approve if his smile was anything to go by.
“Maybe it’ll be a girl,” Raina said.
“Oh, I don’t care either way. I just want him to be okay,” Bre gushed. “I didn’t even know I could have a baby! I tried with an ex, but it never happened, and now I’m going to be a mom and blub-fuff-kilgs-duddle…” She sobbed something unintelligible into Raina’s cushiony boob. Her shoulders were shaking with her crying, and it pulled at Morgan’s heart so much.
She stood without thinking and hugged Bre, too. “You’re gonna make a great momma,” she whispered.
“What if I don’t? What if I’m terrible and I can’t keep him safe and the first time he turns into a little alligator, I—”
Morgan cut her off and pushed her back to arm’s length, gripping her shoulders. “Girl, the fact that you’re worried you won’t be? The fact that you’re already scared you won’t cut it? That’s good-momming already. And look at them boys behind me. They won’t let you be bad at it. They’ll just fuckin’ eat you if you’re terrible at raising a gatah-boy.”
When Bre eased back a little and smiled at Holt, the tears slowed.
“And furthermore,” Morgan continued, on a roll now, “you got a great-grandma witch who can curse the shit out of anyone who messes with your kid. You aren’t alone. Plus, I saw how you went after the whole world in that news story to protect your man. You got half of Uncertain stickin’ up for shifters now. Heaven help anyone who messes with your people.” Morgan squeezed her shoulders gently. “You’ll do just fine.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to make you some orange juice,” Raina said. “Morgan, you drink her ’shine.”
“But…I’m already buzzing,” Morgan muttered, releasing Bre. Apparently no one heard her but Liam.
The dog was barking again, but not in aggression, thank the Lord. He just sounded excited. Raina was a storm in the kitchen, heating up biscuits and pouring OJ. Holt pulled Bre into his lap from where he sat, a big old grin on his face and the mushiest look in his eyes as he whispered something in Bre’s ear. And Liam…hot, sexy, smoldering Liam…sat leaned back in his chair, rocked back on two legs, head cocked, his smile looking downright feral as he studied her like she was a good steak and he was hungry.
Her stomach dipped with an instant excitement. God, she was in trouble. That man demanded way too much of her heart’s attention to escape him clean.
He twitched his head. Come here.
And like an infatuated schoolgirl, she came a-trotting over. His chuckle was deep and filled her soul as she sat next to him and nestled into the space he created by holding his arm out. He reached forward and drank half of Bre’s moonshine, then handed her the cup.
“I don’t want to drink after you,” she teased. “I’ll get your germs.”
He snorted and whispered into her ear, “Woman, you still have my cum in your throat. That excuse will never fly with me.” He bit her earlobe gent
ly, and she did her best to stifle the gasp. And as heat flared up into her cheeks, she drank down the last half of Bre’s moonshine.
She’d never felt so much emotion in one day. She had hell to pay tomorrow with leaving the house, and she had to figure out what she was going to do about Cal. But tonight, she was buzzing. She’d had a man she liked take care of her body and then bring her straight to his family. The moonshine was potent so she was already relaxing. She was warm and safe against Liam’s ribs, and as she looked around at everyone smiling and chattering, the atmosphere warm, like she always imagined a real family to be, she decided that tonight she was just going to enjoy life.
Tomorrow would have to take care of itself.
Chapter Seven
Did she know? Could she tell?
Liam’s heart was beating so fast as he drove her back to his Changing woods, the ones he always used now because she’d seen him there. The ones he used because he didn’t feel so alone when the pain took him. When the gator took his skin.
Could she tell how hard it was for him to look away from her?
One hand guiding the wheel of his mustang, Liam slid his other to her thigh and squeezed it gently. Morgan did the cutest thing and rested her hand on his, right on top, like she wanted him to stay there, touching her. Him. Monster. Invited to touch a strong, funny, quiet, independent, amazing woman. A human woman. She really wasn’t afraid of him. Not even after the stories Gram had told of when he and Holt had started Changing into the dominant male gators they were now. When they’d started fighting and bleeding each other for territory. She hadn’t been scared. She’d been wide-eyed, but she’d smiled and held his hand under the table.
The gator and the poacher’s daughter.
Did she realize how amazing he thought she was?
“I’m not good with words,” he admitted over the sound of the country song she was humming along to.
She was relaxed, tired, her smile slower.
“I ain’t either. I learned to be real quiet around boys except when I’m working at Tacky’s.”
“You don’t ever have to be quiet around me,” he murmured, squeezing her thigh again. God, he loved her accent. Deep swamper, deep south, that bayou drawl.
“If you ever have babies, I hope they talk like you,” he said before he could change his mind.
Her pretty soft green eyes did that round shape again, and there was that slow smile. “I never thought about babies. Too much to do before I could be good at being a mom.”
“Mmmm,” he responded. He disagreed, but it was too soon to voice that. His gator didn’t scare her like it should, but she was a tough one. Sometimes the tough ones got flighty with emotions. Sometimes they bailed if things got too serious too quick, and Liam wasn’t in the mood to test that right before he dropped her at her truck.
It was four in the morning. “I wish you could stay a little longer. Watch the sunrise over my Changing place. It’s a sight.”
She rested her head back against the seat and leveled her eyes on her truck that appeared in the headlights through the trees. “For as much as I want to escape the situation I’m in, I sure love the swamp. There is no prettier sunrise than right here in Uncertain. I believe that.”
“Someday we’ll watch it together,” he promised.
But the smile drifted from her face as he pulled up next to her truck.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing in the world is wrong tonight. It’s tomorrow I gotta worry about.” She chewed her bottom lip, and trouble swirled in her eyes.
Liam didn’t like it, wanted to prolong this night when they could forget about the rest of the world, the rest of their problems. He slipped his hand to her neck, gripped it gently, dragged her gaze back to his. “We will have that sunrise, Morgan. Someday. I swear it.”
She lifted his free hand to her lips and pressed a kiss there, right on his knuckles. “I’ll think about it all the time. Goodnight, Liam.” She pushed the door of his car open and then closed it when she got out, turned back around and leaned into the open window. “Thank you,” she said, a soft frown furrowing her dainty brows.
“For what?”
“For sharing your place. For letting me meet your family. I know that was a big sign of trust, and I haven’t earned it all the way.”
“You have.”
She shrugged. “I still gotta poacher’s last name, Liam. You took a risk letting me in. I won’t forget it.”
“You saying you’ll keep protecting my secrets?” he asked, teasing, hoping for a little smile to return to her pretty pink lips.
It didn’t.
“Always,” she said.
A promise for a promise. He would give her a sunrise with no troubles someday, and she would protect him like she’d done for months.
God, did she know? Did she know her value to a man like him?
“If you ever need anything,” he rumbled, the gator unsettled at their impending separation, “you call me.”
“I don’t have a cell phone.”
“Mmmm,” he rumbled again. “I’ll see you real soon, Morgan.”
There was that little smile. “I’ll see you real soon, Liam.”
But her voice didn’t hold the same conviction his had. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like her walking away when he didn’t understand what was wrong. He needed to dig deeper into her father and Cal. See how dangerous they really were. See how big a threat they were—not to him…but to Morgan.
She mattered.
Did she realize?
Did she realize how she really mattered to him?
Chapter Eight
Dad was in the drink.
When her headlights graced the front porch of their house, Morgan could see him sitting there on the porch, holding a bottle of cheap whiskey. It was half-empty. He took another swallow of it as he glared at her through the front window of her truck.
She wasn’t a runner, but it was pretty damn tempting to make a U-turn and get the fuck out of here.
Steeling herself, she pushed open the Chevy door and made her way to him. Slowly.
Why couldn’t she meet his eyes? All night long, she’d felt different from her bones outward with Liam. She’d felt confident and safe, but it was different now, facing reality on her own. She’d always been on her own but, damn, it had been a relief to feel safe for a little while.
Safe with a dangerous, murderous, dominant gator shifter. Ha. She was ten times more scared of her dad than of Liam.
“Where you been?” he asked.
“Clearing my head.”
“Clearing your head,” he repeated slowly.
“Yep.”
Dad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Clearing your head with who?” he asked, raising his bushy brows nearly to his hair line.
She didn’t answer. Just stood there with her head drooping.
“With who?” he yelled suddenly, standing.
Morgan jumped, and she hated it. Hated being startled by someone who should be nicer to her. Hated being scared by the man who should’ve always taken care of her, not bullied her into this…this…quiet, submissive… “With whoever I want,” she gritted out, lifting her eyes to him so he could see the hatred there. “Since you seem to be confused on how proposals go. It’s my choice whether to marry Cal or not.”
“No, it’s not,” he scoffed.
“It is. It always was. I been saying no for years, and you never opened your goddamn ears long enough to hear me. I don’t want him.”
“Yeah?” Dad stood to his full height and threw the glass bottle against the porch railing so hard it shattered into a million pieces. “Who do you want to ask my for blessing then, girl? Cal is swamp. He’s a hunter—”
“Poacher!”
“So the fuck what?” Dad yelled, his face turning a shade of red she only saw when he was a bottle in. “It’s an honest living.”
“Honest? Honest? You take animals without tags, when it ain’t the right season for
it. You don’t pay for conservation. You take from the swamp and sell the carcasses. You’re a taker, Dad! So is Cal. I don’t want no taker!” The last five words she screamed so loud her throat went scratchy and the words echoed through the woods.
Dad froze, the veins in his forehead popping, the rage in his eyes infinite. “Well, I sure kept food on the table with my dishonorable living. If it wasn’t for me, you ungrateful little bitch—”
“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be working so hard to keep electricity running in this shit-shack.” Her voice shook, but fuck it all now. “If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve died in a puddle of your own whiskey vomit a hundred times over. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have food on your table every night, and if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have anyone to blame for mom leaving except for yourself.” Morgan made her way up the stairs, about ninety-percent sure she was gonna get hit, but when Dad charged, he only slammed his hand on the door and kept her from going inside. She flinched. Weak.
His face was so close to hers she could smell the drink on his breath. “What’s happened to my baby girl that she would talk to me like this?” he whispered.
Morgan was shaking so bad. She closed her eyes, her hand gripping the knob of the screen door. “Let me pass.”
“Whose been filling your head with these lies, baby? Who? We’re happy here. We’re a family. Me and you and Cal and the boys. Whose trying to take you away from me?”
She’d seen him switch tactics like this before. He was just as dangerous pretending to be patient. He could flip that fury-switch any second, and she needed to be in her room where she could lock the door. “Let. Me. Pass.”
He grabbed her jaw and yanked her face toward him. “Look at me,” he growled. “Look at me!”
Breath trembling, she opened her eyes and forced her tears back down.
“You will marry Cal. It’s what’s right for our family. He’s been patient and good to you, and I’ll see you with someone you deserve.” Dad was slurring. “You’ll stop this nonsense, creepin’ out late at night, not doing your chores. You’ll go back to being a good girl, Morgan, won’t you? I forgive your mistakes today because you have your momma’s fire in you. It ain’t your fault, but I won’t let it ride again. It’s safest for you to do as you’re told. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” The last words were a growled threat that chilled her blood.