Pursue (Portland Street Kings Book 4)

by Evie Harper

  I roll my eyes. The fucker thinks he’s won. He’s a fool. My V8 comes to life, and I’m eager to rev the engine a few times to piss him off, but choose to let it go and drive off.

  Peeking into the rearview mirror, I watch him turn away and march to his daughter’s house. I hope Ivy can get through to him, because there is no way I’m staying away from her.

  5

  Blind

  Ivy

  Watching out the front window with my best friend beside me, I see my father spit on the ground at Kelso’s feet. My pulse speeds up and my fists clench. How dare he treat Kelso this way.

  “Oh shit,” Becca whispers.

  Moving back from the window, I hobble to the front door. However, before I step outside I notice Kelso’s body language, his frame still, like an unmovable wall, with sunlight highlighting every muscle. His eyes are engaged with my father’s, unwavering and unconcerned by my father’s anger. Kelso doesn’t need me coming to his rescue. He’s the strongest person I know. As much as I’d love to put my father in his place, I don’t want to undermine Kelso’s ability to hold his own when it comes to my dad.

  It’s Kelso who yields and decides it's time for their confrontation to come to an end. My heart soars and my lips tip up into a smile.

  Kelso and fights go hand in hand. I haven’t seen him turn away from a dispute yet, not until today, for me, for us. He knows how much family means and proved I can trust him to treat the ones I love with care, which is more than I can say for my father.

  Leaning on the white wooden door, I watch as Kelso drives away, and then my eyes swing back to my father, who’s storming up the steps to my home.

  Breathing in deeply, I ready myself for a fight. I wish with everything in me I was about to talk with my father and not the man who took over after my mother’s death.

  I hop back from the front door. The sadness that fueled me for two weeks is seeping through me and turning to molten lava, and it’s my dad who deserves every spit of fire that sparks from me. The rightful owner of my heartache.

  “Ives, would you like me to stay or go?”

  I want to scream, stay, but Becca shouldn’t have to deal with my messy family problems. “Whatever you want, Bec. This is your house too, but if you want to run for the hills, I wouldn’t blame you at all.”

  Becca takes a seat on the sofa. “What I want is to stay and support you.”

  A small smile grows on my face. “Thanks, Bec.”

  “Ivy,” my father calls in a gruff voice as he strides through the front door.

  When his eyes settle on me, I cross my arms against my hospital-gown-covered chest. I reply with cold formality, “Dad.”

  “What are you doing up?” he questions, and attempts to pull me to the lounge.

  I swat his hands away. “Don’t you dare try to play the caregiver now. You kept me as an almost prisoner in the hospital. Barely came to see me, and when you did, you lied. I asked you if I’d had any visitors apart from Bec, and you told me no.” My dad’s posture grows rigid and he pinches the top of his nose. “How could you?” My voice comes out low and rough; tears prick my eyes.

  My father shifts his head and exhales. “I did what any parent would have done. Their family is bad news, and I won’t allow you to get mixed up with them.”

  Suddenly any energy I had left in my body falls away, and an ache burns in my chest. “I was heartbroken, Dad,” I declare with thickness in my throat. “Couldn’t you see I was hurting?”

  My father scrubs a hand over his face, revealing a flash of regret. “In time you’ll heal and find a good man. This is a foolish bad-boy phase. You need to meet someone from the right side of the law who won’t get you in bloody car accidents.” His voice drops to a guttural growl at the end. It’s his tone for overtaking our conversations and shutting me down, but I won’t stand for it this time. He may be my father, but he’s acting like a dictator. My mother brought me up to be stronger than this, and not to allow a man to decide matters for me.

  “Stop it,” I yell, my voice clear and full of authority. My father’s head jerks and his brows snap together at my tone. “Stop pretending you know me. Stop trying to protect what you can’t even be bothered to know anymore. You are not helping me, you’re hurting me.” A tear escapes, and I wipe it away. A long time ago I would show my father I was upset, but not anymore. Him ignoring my pain hurts more than anything.

  My dad pales and takes a step backward. Did I wound him? Did I get through to him? He rubs a hand over his chest, as if something is stuck and he’s trying to dislodge it.

  “Mom would hate to see us like this, fighting and distant,” I announce, another tear falling helplessly down my face.

  As if waking up from a dream, my father snaps his eyes to me, and like all the other times I’ve spoken of her, his expression turns emotionless. Any hint of my dad disappears, and he’s replaced by this empty shell of a man.

  “She’s dead, Ivy,” he says in an achingly sad voice, but with enough blunt cruelty that Becca gasps and I grab hold of the windowsill. “She doesn’t have wants or needs anymore. She can’t see what’s going on and who you’ve involved yourself with.” He can’t even say her name anymore. “If she did, she’d be as disappointed in you as I am.” My father points his finger at me, and it's as if he popped a bubble I was stupidly living in. Where I hoped we might one day get back to a familiar place. Best friends. The father I looked up to and admired.

  “Enough,” Becca says, and I realize she’s right beside me. She was fast, or maybe because the world around me has gone blurry and everything seems far away right now. She’d be disappointed in me? “It's time for you to leave, Mr. Johnson. Maybe come back another day when you’ve calmed down, before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

  With quivering lips, I scream, “I hate you!” My hands still in front of my chest, curled and tense. I want to strangle him, knock sense back into him. “When did you become so cruel? How can you forget what kind of woman Mom was? She’s the one who encouraged me to stand up for myself. Mom always told me to follow my heart, no matter what society deemed okay or normal. She taught me to create my own path, as she did when she married a cop and her parents told her she was a fool because she’d be a young widow. You’ve forgotten so easily who you married and what kind of daughter you both raised.”

  My father’s throat bobs and he glances to the front door. “I can see this situation has gotten out of control. I’ll leave.” He takes one step, and then suddenly swings back around. I’m not sure what he sees on my face. He doesn’t appear to be a father watching his shattered daughter attempt to stop her tears from falling. “Ivy, I might have gone too far in keeping Kelso King from you, but I have no regrets. I only have your best interests at heart.” He turns and leaves. No soft embrace or gentle kiss to say “even though this was a bad fight, I still love you.”

  The little girl inside me wants to call out to him. Come back. I still need you. I crave the familiar and safe feeling of family. Knowing no matter what happens in life everything will be okay.

  “Ives,” Becca whispers.

  I drag my eyes from the door. Becca’s frowning, and her usually bright-spirited eyes are dull and full of worry.

  “That was rough,” I admit with a low tone and a fake smile.

  Becca hugs me. “It’s going to be okay.”

  I grasp on to her, needing the support. I use all my strength to hold back the onslaught of pain that begs to emerge. We can overcome this. I can let this go and try again with my father; he will get better.

  After my dad took off, I washed and dressed in my matching gray cotton boxers and sleep shirt, threw my hair up into a messy bun, and settled down on the sofa. Becca waited on me hand and foot for the rest of the day.

  Right before bed, and after Bec passed out snoring in her room, I stick a printout on the fridge. It’s an award that announces Becca as the Greatest Best Friend for 2017.

  A tap on the front door causes me to smile for t
he first time since my dad left. Kelso. With one crutch I maneuver my way over and open the door.

  Kelso's adorable face breaks out in a grin. “Hey, Red.” He kisses my head and steps inside smelling like soap and aftershave. He’s carrying his backpack, which means he’s planning to spend the night.

  “Hey,” I reply breathlessly.

  We’ve slept together a lot, either at my place or his. Kelso is the definition of a great snuggler. No matter which way I lie, he’s attached to my back or front, arms wrapped around me, and there’s no moving without him knowing about it. A small part of me wonders if it has something to do with wanting to control the person he’s sleeping with. If it is, I don’t care. I love being with Kel; I’ll take him any way I can. Kelso makes me feel whole, like I did before my mom died.

  Kelso disappears into my room and I slowly crutch my way behind him. He walks back out of my room, bagless, and reaches for me. He bends and wraps his arm around my waist, tosses my crutch aside, and picks me up and carries me into my bedroom. I laugh softly and put both hands on his cheeks and kiss him on the lips.

  Kelso lays me down on the bed and we stare into each other's eyes. He tilts his head and says, “You look sad. Things didn’t go well with your dad?”

  Facing away, I breathe out. “He said my mom would be disappointed in me.”

  “Motherfucker,” Kelso grates out.

  Tracing Kel’s eagle tattoo, my eyes slowly crawl up his arm, and I’m met with an apologetic expression. His lips are downturned and his brows low.

  “This isn’t your fault. My father changed long before we met.” A bitter laugh spills from my lips. “I’ve seen him more this month since my accident than the whole year following my mother’s death.”

  Kelso lies beside me, resting his head in his hand and placing his other arm over my stomach, holding me to him. “Grief changes people, Red. Some can’t find their way out of the desolate pit that consumed them whole when they were least expecting it.”

  My body stiffens. “You’re defending him?”

  Kelso nudges me with the hand over my body. “No. What he said was terrible. I hate that he hurt you, tonight and for the last two and a half years. Nevertheless, he’s also the man who brought you up to be this beautiful, strong woman, and he protected his daughter until I could find you. Deep down, I’m sure a decent man still resides.” Kelso bends his neck and softly kisses the corner of my lips. “Hang in there, Red, grief has no time limit.”

  I roll over onto my side. Kelso lies back on the bed and we cuddle, each holding on to the other. “Thank you for understanding my crazy life.”

  Kelso laughs. “You got nothing on me, Red.”

  My lips stretch into a smile. “Well, yes, you win, but it’s not your family that’s causing the drama. Things spiraled out of control rapidly, and I want everything to be okay again.”

  Silence fills the room, until Kelso whispers in my ear, “Once, a smart girl told me, it’s okay not to be okay.”

  My body stills. My mother’s voice drifts through my mind. A tear falls, and I fight hard to hold the rest at bay. As if it’s a sign from above, Kelso says the right thing at the exact moment I’m needing it the most. Kel has become my safe place, something I thought no one but my parents could fill.

  Things are not okay, but I have a great man, the best friend a girl could ask for, a career, and my memories. I need to have faith for the future and hope my father will accept Kelso and be the dad I once knew. Only time will tell, but as long as there is hope, there is happiness.

  6

  Welcome To The Family

  Ivy

  After five weeks with this annoying rock-hard plaster attached to my leg, finally it’s removed. I’m giddy. The word freedom comes to mind. I’m tired of the crutches and trying to dress while hopping on one leg. I’ve been walking on it a fair bit the last week, wiggling my toes to death, praying the plaster would fall off from the movement. No such luck, but thankfully today after X-rays to make sure my leg has healed well, the doctor gave me the all clear to go home plaster free!

  I haven’t spoken to my dad since he called me a disappointment. I’ve called him, stopped in to the station, but I get the same response: he’s too busy for me. Once at the station I saw him, he was looking at me with shame in his eyes. He’s furious I’m still dating a King. Most people by now might have sided with their family—who wants to lose their parents for a boyfriend, right? But any remnants of a family died when my mother did. My father made damn sure of that when he threw me out into the world all alone and lost. And now he wants my allegiance? My obedience? It doesn’t work this way. I grew up a lot since my mom passed and now I’m living life my way.

  Kelso’s driving me back from the hospital. We’re headed to his house. Della and Dom arrived home from their holiday this morning, and Slater wants a family meeting tonight. I’m invited to them now. Kelso wasn’t the one to get me in, it was Slater. Kelso doesn’t want me involved, but Slater said if we’re going to keep seeing each other, then me knowing what’s going on is better than being in the dark. “Knowledge is power.” Slater says it all the time. Warmth floods my chest, and a smile spreads on my lips.

  “What are you smiling about?” Kelso asks, and takes hold of my hand while he drives with his other arm.

  “Knowledge is power,” I reply in a gruff voice, attempting to imitate his big brother.

  Kelso barks out a laugh. “Try hearing it since you were eight.”

  Silence fills the car suddenly, and my chest tightens. I swear if it could, my heart would cry. Kelso was eight when he ran away from his then foster home, but now we know it was much more than a cage for a bad foster parent; it was a monster’s den where he did terrible things to innocent children.

  Kelso glances to me, confused about why my mood suddenly plummeted. Understanding filters through his features, and he lifts the arm he’s holding and kisses the back of my hand. Kel opened up to me about his past, good and bad. I know what they did, and if I said I cared that the Kings killed their childhood abuser, I’d be lying. Justice was served.

  Kelso pulls up out the front of his house, and we get out. My right leg doesn’t feel weak, but it looks it. It’s slightly thinner than my left, and pale compared to my normal bronzed skin. Kelso walks us into the house and through the hall to the kitchen. My eyes light up when I see multiple containers of ice cream on the bench.

  “Surprise! Happy getting your plaster off day!” I jolt and grab hold of Kelso, my heart racing as Mack, Lana, and Piper jump from behind the counter and Della, Dom, and Pacer bounce up from their hiding place at the other end of the wooden table. Laughter explodes from me.

  “Hopefully plaster-free for life,” Slater adds with a grin, and winks.

  They all come up and inspect my leg. “It’s pale,” I say, and knock on my leg as if banging on a door, “but back to its perfect condition.”

  Everyone grabs a bowl with their choice of ice-cream flavor and heads into the living room for the family meeting. I’m up in front of Kel, Slater, and Mackson.

  Licking my lips, I try to decide what to have. “Gosh, so hard to choose. They all look delicious.”

  “You hear her, Kel?” Mackson calls. “Ivy loves just as many flavors as you do.”

  Confused, I glance to Kelso, who’s staring at his brothers as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle, and then suddenly it must all click into place. Kelso’s head swings to me and he stalks over and scans the ice-cream containers. Suddenly he drags me down the counter to the last tub. “You don’t want multiple flavors.” He picks up the chocolate mint and hands me the whole tub. “This is yours, all of it. The only flavor you’ll ever need.”

  My mouth falls open and I stand there dumbfounded. Has Kelso lost his mind?

  Kelso fills his bowl with ice cream from the tub he ordered me to eat from, and leaves the room, as if what he did is normal.

  I’m about to march into the living room and tip the ice cream all over Kelso’s head, when
Mack and Slater burst out laughing. My pulse slows and I see the pieces of a puzzle come together, one with sibling games written all over it. “Inside joke?”

  Both men nod, smiling more than I think I’ve seen before.

  Setting the container on the bench, I scoop ice cream into my bowl. “Good, and lucky chocolate mint is my favorite, otherwise Kelso would have had to have a come-to-God moment when I tell him his flavor isn’t my favorite.”

  Again, Slater and Mack burst out laughing, this time almost falling to the floor on top of each other.

  Giggling, I leave them to it and walk into the living room, securing a reminder in my mind to ask Kelso about it later.

  I take a seat next to Kelso; he glimpses my bowl and smiles.

  “I almost got chocolate,” I say, pointing to my bowl with the spoon. “Almost missed out on my favorite ice cream to prove I don’t take kindly to orders. Remember, buddy, you say jump and I will skip.” Arching an eyebrow, I hope Kelso gets the message: I’ll never be the kind of girl to be ordered around.

  He grins adorably. Damn him. Settling an arm around my back, Kelso leans into me. “Noted, Red.” His warm breath tickles my neck, which causes a shiver to race down my spine. Sparks shoot around my body, and I crave more of his deep, husky voice against my skin. Dipping my head and crossing my now sensitive thighs, I eat my “happy I got my plaster removed day” treat.

  With everyone seated, Slater stands in front of the television and we all stare up at him, waiting for him to begin.

  “Let’s get this shit started.” Slater looks to Della, who’s finished her ice cream and is sitting with her legs crossed and one arm leaning on Dom’s lap as he holds her hand and strokes her skin with his thumb. “No problems on the road? You swear there’s nothing to tell me about?”

  Della breathes out heavily. “For the hundredth time, I promise there were no bad guys with guns trying to run us off the road. It was the perfect holiday.” Della looks up at Dom. They hold eye contact and smirk at one another. There’s a yearning in their expressions, one I’m sure they aren’t aware they’re showcasing to us all.