Vote Then Read: Volume III

by Aleatha Romig

  Mrs. Hathway's accusing glare burned into me. Filled with the shame her stare condemned me with, I pulled the covers over my head in hopes of hiding from the entire encounter. Not sure why. I was a grown-ass woman this time, and I didn’t care if she did run off and tell Daddy like last time. Brenton would protect me.

  “Now, Mrs. Hathway.” The cold command sent a shiver down my spine. I loved Brenton's commands, but when directed to me, they were warm, provocative, not distant and authoritative like the one he just gave. “And if you ever look at Rebeka like that again, you'll find your ass off this property and never allowed back. Do I make myself clear?”

  Sweat beaded along my forehead from the heat building beneath the comforter. With my pulse thundering in my ears, I didn't hear her response. A dousing waft of cold air sprouted goose bumps down my arms and chest when the comforter was ripped back.

  “You don't ever hide, do you hear me? There is nothing to be ashamed of. Not with me.”

  Eyes locked with his, I nodded. The harsh lines along his forehead faded, and he fell back to the bed.

  “I need clothes,” I said to the ceiling.

  “Huh?” he said, clearly still ticked, popping his knuckles.

  “You told her we were catching a flight. I need clothes and need to know where we're going.”

  My yelp rattled off the walls as he rolled on top of me to press his naked body against mine.

  “I'll take care of it.” The happy, boyish smile he wore warmed my heart. I loved seeing him like that. Carefree and happy.

  After a deep, leave-me-breathless kiss, he leaped from the bed. One elbow against the mattress, I propped myself up to watch him pull last night’s jeans over his bare ass.

  With one last confident smirk, he stepped out the door, disappearing down the hall.

  In the quiet of the morning, I stretched out along the bed, savoring the soft cotton against my skin. They were way better than the Dollar General ones I bought the previous year.

  After wiping the morning out of my eyes, I groaned at the black on my fingers.

  Of course tipsy and horny me didn't think about washing my face.

  With a sigh, I sat up, flipped the covers back and tiptoed to the en suite bathroom.

  After a long hot shower, the sense of someone watching had me shutting off the hair dryer and flipping my dark hair back over to survey the room. Brenton stood expressionless, leaning against the doorframe. The distant look in his eyes ticked up my nerves.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, clutching the towel wrapped around me tighter to my chest. His eyes stayed fixed on the wall behind me. “Brenton?”

  “Your bag is on the bed. I need to shower too. Then we go,” he muttered more to himself than me. After removing his dark denim jeans, he stepped into the shower and turned on the water.

  That was odd.

  “Hey,” he called when I stepped out to rummage through the bag he’d packed. “We need to talk. Do not go anywhere.” The harshness of his words and intenseness of his tone left no room for debate.

  While he showered, I dug through the clothes, searching for something to wear on the plane. I was still looking for my underwear when the water shut off.

  “Seriously?” I shouted. “You didn't pack me any underwear?”

  In all his freshly showered, naked glory, he stepped into the bedroom while rubbing his dark hair with a towel. “I didn't want them getting in the way again,” he said with a smirk and turned back into the bathroom.

  The man had a point.

  Wow.

  I turned, my mouth gaping, to a grinning Brenton. Inside the small jet, I took the seat he pointed to and immediately fiddled with all the gadgets around me.

  “Brenton, this is way over the top.” I shifted side to side in the seat, amazed at the comfort of the soft leather. “Is this yours?”

  “Technically it's the company’s. The board bought it a few years back and let the family use it whenever we want.” He took the seat directly across from me but kept his gaze out the window, almost like he was lost in thought.

  “Okay, I'm done with this avoiding shit. Spit it out, Graves,” I demanded with a sigh. The entire ride here, the tension between us had gnawed at my nerves, and I was done. “What the hell do we have to talk about?”

  His green eyes flicked to mine. A nervous pulse of energy passed through his brief glance before he looked to the still-open door. “I need a drink.”

  “Do I?” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest while giving him my best annoyed glare.

  Instead of responding, he shook his head and moved to the front of the plane. When he returned, he slid a Coke across the table and popped the top of a flavored sparkling water.

  “It takes the edge off even if there isn't any alcohol in it. Buckle up,” he ordered as he snapped his own seat belt together. “We're about to take off.”

  The door slammed shut and the plane rolled smoothly toward the runway. I stared out the window, watching the surrounding buildings whiz by as we took off when he said, “I remembered.”

  My stomach dropped as the plane lifted off the ground. “Remembered what?”

  Reaching across the small table between us, he gripped my clammy hand. “Today, I walked into your dad's place, straight to your room, and started packing your bag. Your dad came in yelling about something and I froze.”

  “You blacked out?”

  “No, I froze because instead of seeing what was going on in front of me, I had a whole scene replaying in my mind of what happened that night. I remember. Everything.”

  My hand trembled as I tried to open my Coke. Giving up, I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. “Tell me what you remember.”

  “I remember walking in to you and your dad screaming at each other and Bradley holding him back. What’s crazy is I can almost feel the rage I felt then at seeing your bleeding lip, your eyes red and swollen from crying. I grabbed you, pulled you into your room, and packed your bags. I threw whatever I could find into a small duffel you had, and we left.”

  “You told me you'd take care of me,” I whispered over the roaring engines.

  “You know what else I remember feeling?”

  “What?” I choked out.

  “Fucking happy.”

  “You were high, Brenton. Of course you were happy.”

  “It had nothing to do with drugs, Rebeka. Hey, look at me.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, took a deep breath in for strength, and opened my eyes. “You were pregnant.”

  Air stopped filling my lungs and my heart slammed against my chest as I stared wide-eyed into his.

  “That's what you texted me. You told me you were pregnant, and that's why I came to you. Last night you said you never imagined I would come to you after you sent that text. Was I that much of an asshole? Did you have that little faith in me that you thought I wouldn't give a shit?”

  Fuck it.

  We were doing this now or never. It wasn't like I could walk out, which was probably part of his genius plan all along. Get me in this floating tin can with zero exits a sane person would take at this altitude.

  I twirled the Coke can between my hands. “Do you have anything stronger?” Brenton nodded and unbuckled his seat belt. “Bring the bottle.”

  “It's an hour flight.”

  “Then you might want to bring two.”

  “So bossy,” he grumbled, but a corner of his full lips pulled up in an almost smirk.

  After he returned with two travel-size whiskey bottles, I cracked one open and tipped it back. When the burning down my throat subsided, I leaned back in the seat and shrugged.

  “Like I said last night, I was seventeen. I was scared, and we never had the whole ‘we're doing this forever’ talk. Hell, you never even said you loved me. For all I knew at the time, I was just a fun distraction when you were at the ranch.”

  “That doesn't sound right,” he said with enough anger behind it that I looked up through my lashes. “I might not remember ever
ything, but you knew you were more than a distraction. What we had was more than sex.”

  Again I sighed and leaned against the window. I took another swig from the bottle and grimaced at the bold flavor. “Okay, yeah, that was an asshole thing of me to say. I knew I was more than that, but still, I was seventeen and pregnant with my father’s boss’s grandson's baby, who happened to be way older. Oh, and to top it off, no one had a damn clue we were even together.”

  “How did your dad even find out? Did you tell him?”

  “Hell no. I went to someone, someone I thought I could trust.”

  “Who?”

  “Mrs. Hathway. She'd been like a mother to me all those years, and I thought she would give me advice, let me cry on her shoulder. But it didn't turn out that way.”

  “I'll deal with her when I get back,” he said with an undercurrent of rage in his tone. “I was happy about the baby. Shocked, but happy.”

  I didn't hold back my smile. “Yeah you were. The wreck happened about five minutes after we left the ranch. Something darted out into the road. You swerved and then overcorrected us right into a deep drop-off. But in those five minutes, you had our whole lives planned out. You talked so fast, got me excited about our future. You made me believe it.” With the back of my hand, I wiped away a rogue tear. “You made me believe in a future with you.”

  All the color drained from his face. “Then I took it away.”

  Unable to get another word out without turning into a bumbling mess, I nodded and looked out the window to the white fluffy clouds.

  “No, Beks.” He wrapped his hands around mine and pulled them close. “I wouldn't have. I swear to you I didn't do that. I didn't make the decision to walk away. Yes, I was high, but my feelings were real. I remember that much. I wouldn't have said all that to you and then walked away. I won't believe it.”

  “It's the question I've been asking for thirteen years. Why?” I choked out, then downed what was left of the bottle in my hand.

  “The fact that I have zero memory, not even a damn hint of what you're talking about when everything else is coming back to me, makes me believe I had nothing to do with it. I'll find out the truth. I'll prove it to you, Beks.” Looking down to the table, he took a deep swallow. “I know I have no right to ask, but I have to know. What happened to our baby?”

  The world spun. I slammed my eyes shut and leaned back to regain my equilibrium.

  Our baby.

  Hearing that phrase from his lips, his voice, was too much. My shoulders trembled with every short breath between sobs. A quiet commotion went on in front of me before the pressure from the seat belt disappeared and I was hauled onto his wide, solid lap. Unable to look at him, I buried my face in his hot neck and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him closer.

  Even the soothing swipes of his hand down my hair did nothing to ease the pain. My still-raw heart had sliced back open at those two words.

  Our baby.

  Yeah, our baby.

  The chin resting on the crown of my head trembled. Pulling back far enough to look up, I found his eyes sealed shut. A single tear dripped slowly down his tan, scruffy cheek. His pain at the memories, at the raw gash I knew was across his heart like it had once been on me, had me pressing a palm against his cheek, pushing the other against my own.

  “You can't even say it, can you?” he choked out. “I killed… it's my fault.” His broad shoulders shook in what seemed to be restrained anger or sadness.

  “It's not your fault, B.” I turned my face to press my lips to his trembling ones. “It was an accident. You didn't make the animal run out into the road. You didn't plan on being in Odessa, saving your underage pregnant girlfriend. Nothing that night was anyone’s fault. It was just a tragic event that tore us apart for thirteen years.”

  Brenton's breaths turned rapid against my skin.

  “Brenton, breathe.”

  “It's my fault. Everything about that night and after was my fault. I ruined your life and took another.” He buried his head into my neck and squeezed his arms tighter around me. “Beks, I can't breathe. This hurts worse than when Caleb died. I left you alone with all that. I left you alone to deal with it all.”

  “Stop,” I said soothingly. “It's done.”

  Internally I was begging him to stop. I couldn't go down that path again. I'd been down it too many times, though less frequently in the last few years, but I couldn't look back now. I was almost whole, mostly due to the man breaking beneath me.

  Yes, he might’ve ruined my life thirteen years ago, but right now he was saving it.

  “Nothing we can do about it now. I hurt over this for years, and honestly, I don't want to relive that pain. It still hurts, but never once—not once, Brenton—did I blame you for me losing the baby.”

  “Our baby.”

  My bottom lip quivered. “Our baby.”

  “How old… I mean, how far along were you?”

  “Six weeks.”

  Warm, salt-slick lips pressed against my own, and I moaned at the desperation that leached through the kiss. An unknown urgency had him devouring me, licking and teasing my tongue with his own. He needed this, needed me, needed control, and at that moment I'd allow him to have it if that was what he needed.

  “I'm so sorry,” he whispered against my lips before sealing them back over mine.

  Breathless from pouring all of him into all of me, he pulled back and pressed his forehead against my own. “I don't deserve your forgiveness. I deserve your hate and resentment for what I did to you. Hate me, Beks. Please, please hate me.”

  “What?” I asked, staring at his dark lashes.

  “Hate me. Hit me. Tell me to fuck off and what a hateful, terrible bastard I am. Because that's what I am. Who I am. These past thirteen years, I've lived a damn lie thinking I was better than my father, and look at me. I forgot the woman I loved, nearly killed her, and killed our unborn child. I'm a worthless human being, and that's what I deserve to be seen as by you.”

  21

  Rebeka

  Not sure how to respond to a plea like that, I tugged his head to my chest and hugged him tighter than he held me. Hate him? He couldn't be serious. He didn't understand what love was or how it worked if he thought I could ever hate him or put him in the same category as his father.

  Silence encased the cabin the remainder of the flight as we stayed sealed together. Both of us held on to the other as if our lives depended on it. Who knew, maybe they did.

  Even after we touched down, his embrace didn't loosen. The pilot and copilot stepped out, their eyes meeting mine before descending the short stairs.

  “Hey,” I whispered as I stroked through his dark hair and ran my nails down the back of his neck. “It's time to blow this joint. You're leading this adventure, remember? So where are we going? What happens next?”

  Cool air brushed the areas where his skin had suctioned against mine. Pure agony swirled behind his dull green eyes while streaks of red lined the whites of his eyes, evidence of his silent tears.

  After clearing his throat, he glanced out the window. “I can make them turn around if you don't want to stay.”

  “Huh?”

  “To stay with me.”

  The uncertainty in his tone squeezed my heart. “Of course I do, B. Maybe I should ask you the same question. I've had thirteen years to process all this, but you've had less than an hour. If you'd prefer we go back and—”

  “No.” He straightened and rolled his shoulders back. “Here I don't have to share you with anyone or do manual labor to spend some time with you.” I bumped my shoulder against his and gave him a shy smile. “Today is about you, remember? I want to stay if you do.”

  “Well, if you're buying, I'm all in for a 'me' day. Let's go, Sir Fancy Pants. Show me this terrible town of yours.”

  “Pretty sure Dallas is a city. A metroplex actually.”

  “You don't deny terrible?”

  “I somewhat agree, but I don't think I've seen
the good parts.”

  I turned before taking the first step down the stairs with a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

  “The circles my family ran with back then, Caleb and I especially, weren't filled with the best types of people. We were used and leached from for years. Those people didn't give a fuck about us.” At the bottom of the stairs, he pressed his hand against my lower back to guide me toward a small side parking lot. “What I mean is I bet there is good in this city, but I've never been fortunate enough to see it.”

  After tossing our overnight bags into the back of a black Range Rover, Brenton opened the passenger door like a gentleman and helped me in. The inside was as sleek as the outside; the dash looked like you could control the Rover on Mars with a simple flick of the fingers.

  I leaned back and rolled my head to look at Brenton, who still stood in the open door.

  “How does it work?” I asked.

  “What work?”

  “Your money? Do you have access to drop millions any time you want?”

  He chuckled and leaned against the solid metal of the SUV. “No, it's set up as a trust. Caleb, me, Dad, even Pappy had one from his father. More money goes into the trust each year based on how the company did, but still every month I get a… let's call it a monthly allowance deposited into my bank account.”

  “Ah,” I said like I understood, but I didn't.

  “If I went to the firm who manages our trust and asked for a certain amount, let's say for school or something, they would pull the amount I requested from the trust.”

  “So you have money, but you don't.”

  “Oh no, I have a lot of it.”

  “Are you what they consider the 1 percent?”

  Again he laughed before leaning in and kissing my forehead. “Sure, baby.”

  “I like that.” I sighed and closed my eyes. “‘Beks’ makes me feel like we're kids again.”

  When I opened my eyes, he was staring down at me with an unreadable expression.

  “What?” I asked.