Porter: Men of Lovibond (Mend of Lovibond Book 3)

by Georgia Cates

  “Don’t worry. I can handle anything she throws my way.”

  Charlotte is a special kind of crazy. There’s definitely something off in her head, but I’ve not yet figured out what it is.

  “Come here.” Porter lowers the tailgate of his pickup and lifts me to sit on it. He steps between my legs and I wrap them and my arms around him tightly. “Mmm… damn, girl. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “I want you to see your friends before they go, but I hate being away from you this weekend. I’m fucking addicted to you.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  I should be getting on the road to beat the Friday afternoon traffic, but I don’t want to release my hold on Porter.

  “Watch it, boss.” Porter and I turn at the same time to see my dad coming out of the brewery. “Daddies don’t like seeing their little girls make out.”

  “You know what, Scott? You’ve called me boss for the past five years, but it suddenly feels like I’m the one who should be calling you boss.”

  My dad points to the warehouse. “In there, you’re the boss.” He points to me. “When it comes to my baby girl, I’m the boss.”

  “I think we can agree on that one.”

  “Your mama said you’ll be gone for the weekend.”

  “I’m going down to see Ava and Dillyn before they leave.”

  “I guess I’d be moving you to Texas next week if this guy hadn’t swept you off your feet.” My dad points to us. “I’m not disappointed this is happening, especially since it’s keeping my baby home where she belongs.”

  Porter squeezes me. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping this girl right here with me. She’s not going anywhere.”

  “Be careful and tell Ava and Dillyn to not be strangers.”

  “I will. See ya, Dad.”

  Porter helps me off the tailgate and pulls me into his arms. “Have a good time with your girls.”

  “Always do.” It’s impossible not to have a good time with those two. I’m going to miss them terribly.

  Ava’s curling her hair and Dillyn is applying makeup when I arrive at the apartment. I guess that means we’re going out.

  Ava looks at my Lovibond T-shirt and denim shorts. “I hope you brought something besides that to wear.”

  “I came straight from work. Of course, I brought something else to wear.”

  “Good, because we are going to par… tay tonight.”

  Dillyn tugs my hair. “Hope it’s okay if Brendon comes.”

  I was hoping for a girls’ night, but I don’t mind Dillyn’s brother going with us. He’s sort of like one of the girls anyway.

  “And Chad’s coming too.”

  Well, hell. I would have brought Porter for sure if I’d known this was going to turn into a group thing.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere we can get drunk and dance our asses off.”

  There was a time when I’d have been super excited about those kinds of plans but not so much now that I’m with Porter. I get far more excited about hanging out with him at his condo.

  Damn. Have I become domestic?

  The taxi drops us at a bar we’ve been to no less than a million times. “I haven’t been here in months but looks like nothing’s changed.”

  “New semester. New faces.”

  Yeah. And most of them younger than us.

  I prefer my older man. These guys look like they should be drinking beer from a sippy cup.

  We luck out and lay claim on an abandoned table. “We could sit here all night waiting on a waitress to come around. Go get us some drinks, Brendon.”

  “Ever hear of the word please?”

  “Pleeease,” Dillyn says.

  Chad goes with Brendon to the bar and I’m glad; I want to talk to Ava. “How are things going with Chad?”

  “Good, but apparently not good enough since he didn’t ask me to stay. I think this was just a summer fling for him.”

  I know she must be disappointed. “There’s still time. You have the weekend to convince him it’s more.”

  Dillyn punches my arm. “Don’t encourage her to flake on moving. I can’t go to Austin by myself.”

  “It’s been fun. The sex has been one to two levels above mediocre. But I don’t think it’s the real thing. Not like what you have with Porter.”

  Dillyn nods. “I expected you to bring him.”

  I wish I had. “He wanted me to have fun with y’all.”

  “I’m so glad he’s not one of those possessive assholes,” Dillyn says.

  “Oh, he’s very possessive… but in the hottest way.”

  “Is the sex still good?” Ava asks.

  “Phenomenal.”

  “You need to hang on to that one.”

  “I am. We’re talking about getting married.”

  Dillyn’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. “Shut the fuck up. When?”

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t proposed, but he told my dad they’d be having the talk soon.”

  “He plans on asking your dad first. That’s so sweet. Is he okay with you being with his boss?”

  “Yeah. He likes Porter a lot. They’ve always sort of been boss-employee-friends.”

  Brendon and Chad return to the table. “White for you. Red for you. And a mule for you.”

  “We have to make a toast.”

  “Here’s to never letting distance come between us.”

  “Good one.”

  “To frequent flyer miles.”

  “Another good one.”

  “To the two best friends… I’ve ever had.” I choke up on the last part, and Ava and Dillyn come around the table to hug me.

  “We’re still going to see each other.”

  “That’s right. Porter will propose soon, and we’ll come back for your engagement party.”

  “And of course, we’re going to be your bridesmaids. We’ll be back so we can pull all kinds of shenanigans before the wedding.”

  “I know. It’s just sad seeing you leave; I never had good friends before the two of you.”

  Ava picks up my Moscow Mule and holds it to my mouth. “Drink. Tonight is about a good time. No more of this crying shit.”

  And that’s what we do.

  Drink.

  Two nights of partying with Ava and Dillyn have kicked my ass. I feel like I need to lie down and sleep for a week.

  Frankee: On my way back.

  Porter: Come by and see me before you go home.

  Frankee: Ok

  As per my routine, I go inside Porter’s without knocking. It’s as though his place is becoming my home as well. “Porter?”

  I find him on the couch in the living room, an angry scowl on his face. “Hey.”

  He doesn’t reply.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He points to a stack of photos on the table. “That’s what’s wrong.”

  “What are those?”

  “I don’t know. You take a look and tell me what the fuck those are.”

  I pick up the photos and thumb through them.

  Brendon kissing the side of my face.

  Brendon hugging me from behind.

  Brendon and I dancing.

  This is creepy. “Where did these come from?”

  “Charlotte hand-delivered them to me this morning—with a huge fucking smile on her face.”

  “These pictures are from this weekend. How in the world did she get her hands on photos of Brendon and me?”

  “His name is Brendon?”

  “Yeah. That’s Dillyn’s little brother. He goes to Alabama. He went out with us.”

  “He’s kissing and hugging and dancing with you.”

  “That’s just Brendon. It’s how he is. He’d have acted no differently if you’d been there with me.”

  “I fucking doubt that.”

  “I’m not lying. There’s nothing between Brendon and me. We’re just friends.”

  “Those pictures say otherwise.” Porter’s raising his voice
at me. He’s never done that before.

  “This is ridiculous.” I take out my phone and go to Instagram. “Look at his profile and tell me what it says.”

  Porter looks at it and a big wrinkle forms across his brow.

  “Read the profile out loud.”

  “Gay as fuck.”

  “Yeah. And that ain’t no lie.”

  Porter rubs his hand over his scruff. “Fuck. I’m sorry, baby.”

  “I’m not upset that you got pissed off by these pictures. If I saw you hugging and kissing on some girl in photos, I’d get mad too. But I am hugely disturbed by the fact that Charlotte has photos of me from this weekend. That means she wasn’t at her house on bed rest like her doctor ordered. She was out risking the welfare of the baby so she could follow me in an effort to get evidence that would make you leave me. That’s fucked up. And I think we need to go to the authorities.”

  “What are they going to do? She hasn’t broken any laws.”

  “Yet. There needs to be a formal complaint for the records. You don’t know what’s going to happen with her down the road. If she turns out to be an unfit mother, you can’t let that baby stay with her. We already know she’s crazy. And if you have to pursue custody, you’ll need some kind of record of her putting the baby’s safety at risk.”

  “I don’t want custody.”

  “I don’t either, but you can’t let an innocent baby stay with a crazy woman.”

  “This hole just keeps getting deeper and deeper.”

  “And she’s not even close to being done with us.”

  “Happy birthday, old man.”

  “Thank you, young lady.”

  “Are you excited about going home?”

  “I’m excited about getting away from here for three days so that woman can’t bother me.”

  “Oh, I know. Me too.”

  It’s going to be like a fucking vacation.

  Charlotte has been upping her game, especially after Frankee and I went to the police.

  Multiple trips to the emergency room for a variety of reasons. Contractions. Bleeding. Water breaking. Pain. Falling in the shower—of course, because I wasn’t there helping her. There is no end to the hell she is inflicting upon us.

  I don’t go to the hospital because I know everything she’s doing is a ruse to get me there.

  The boy who cried wolf. One day there’s going to be something legitimately going on with her or the baby, and I won’t know. At least probably not until it’s over.

  “I hope she’s not crazy enough to show up at your parents’ house.”

  “Are you kidding me? She’s totally crazy enough to do that. She’d love nothing more than to meet Katherine—the baby’s namesake.”

  “It irritates the fuck out of me that she’d choose your mother’s name when she doesn’t even know her. She probably snooped around on my social media before I blocked her and figured out that I have a close relationship with Kit. She’s probably choosing her name because she thinks I would want to name our daughter after your mom.”

  “I love hearing you say our daughter. Say it again.”

  “Our daughter.”

  Porter pulls me to him and presses our foreheads together. “It’s so unfair that our lives can’t move forward until this shit is over with her.”

  I use the word over but that won’t be the case if the paternity test says the baby is mine. It’ll only be the start of my hell. And as much as I love Frankee and want her as my wife and mother of my children, I don’t know if I can drag her into this burning hell with me.

  “It’s your birthday. I want you to enjoy it without stressing. Let’s agree not to talk about her the entire weekend.”

  “You. My mama’s cooking. And zero conversation about Charlotte and the baby. That’s exactly what I need for the perfect birthday weekend.”

  “What time do you want to leave?”

  “I was thinking two, but I say let’s hit the road right now.” I want to get out of here before anything happens.

  “I don’t have anything pressing, so let’s do it.”

  Things are quiet when Frankee and I enter my parents’ house. “Mom? Dad?”

  No answer. “I’m not sure they’re home.”

  “Both cars are in the drive. Would they be out on the four-wheelers?”

  “Mom’s not a big rider.”

  “Maybe they didn’t hear us because they’re out back.”

  I poke my head out the patio door and call out for them. Nothing.

  We go into the house. “Maybe I’m unnecessarily on edge, but I don’t like that no one is answering me.”

  We walk down the hallway toward the bedrooms, my fear growing with every step. “Ohh… uh… ooh…”

  I stop dead in my tracks. “Turn around. Go back,” I whisper.

  “What is it?”

  “Gabe…”

  Frankee’s eyes widen and her mouth parts before she chuckles. “Oh shit.”

  “Go. Now.”

  We tiptoe to the living room and sit on the couch, both of us bursting into laughter at the same time. “I can’t believe we just almost walked in on your parents having sex.”

  “It’s the middle of the day.”

  “We have sex in the middle of the day. All the time.”

  “But we’re not in our sixties.”

  “Well, we will be one day. And when we are, I hope we still have sex in the middle of the day.”

  “I hope I’m still getting some of your pound cake in thirty years.”

  “My pound cake?”

  “Yes, baby. I love your pound cake.”

  “You are so silly sometimes.” Frankee pinches my mouth and kisses my lips. “They’re going to know we’re sitting on the couch because we went looking for them. Should we go to the truck and come back in, so they don’t know we caught them?

  “Mom caught us. Seems only fair to return the favor.”

  “Porter? Is that you and Frankee?”

  “In the living room, Mom.”

  “Okay. Give me a minute. I want to put on my head scarf.”

  “No rush.”

  “I bet she needs to put on more than a scarf.”

  “Shut up, Frankee. That’s my mom.”

  “I think it’s wonderful they haven’t let her illness stop them from being intimate.”

  “I don’t want to talk about my parents being intimate.”

  They come into the living room and my mom goes to Frankee first, pulling her in for an embrace. “Sweet Frankee. I’m so happy to see you.”

  My mom doesn’t say the words, but I know they’re in her head. She didn’t think she’d ever see Frankee again after she found out about Charlotte’s pregnancy. She thought she’d leave me for good.

  “It’s good to see you, Kit. You look well with your rosy cheeks.”

  “I got some red blood cells earlier this week. It’s helping with my color. And my stamina.”

  No kidding. I know Dad doesn’t mind that.

  “Glad you’ll have some energy during the birthday boy’s visit.”

  We’re sitting at dinner when Charlotte’s first text makes my phone vibrate. Frankee cuts her eyes at me, and I know she’s unhappy. “It’s on silent.”

  “This would be so much easier if you could block her.”

  “I know. I wish I could.”

  “Ignore it for now. Let’s enjoy being with the family, and we’ll deal with it after dinner.”

  I love being home. And I love seeing Frankee bond with my family. I can’t wait until she is officially a Beckman.

  Frankee is in the bathroom washing her face. “What does clusterfuck want?”

  I take out my phone and read the series of texts that came through during dinner.

  Charlotte: Where are you?

  Charlotte: Stop ignoring me.

  Charlotte: I’m coming to your house if you don’t answer me.

  I read the texts aloud to Frankee. “What do I say?”

  “Let her know you�
��re out of town. If she knows you can’t be reached, then maybe she’ll leave you alone.”

  Porter: Out of town.

  Charlotte: Where?

  “She wants to know where.”

  “Lie. You sure don’t want her to suspect you’re here.”

  Porter: Nashville.

  Charlotte: I wanted to give you your birthday present.

  How the hell does she know it’s my birthday? I didn’t tell her.

  Frankee comes into the bedroom and I turn my phone around so she can read her response. “What do you think my present could be?”

  “She’s probably wanting to give you some dookie chute.”

  Fuck, no, she didn’t just say that. “You’re gross, Frankee.”

  “I’m gross? She’s the one trying to get you to bang her in the shitter.”

  “That didn’t happen with her. It’s never going to happen with her. So let’s stop that conversation right there.”

  “Did you check the room?”

  “Forgot.”

  I get out of bed and look under it. No Bennett or Callan.

  Frankee points to the closet and I yank it open. No Bennett or Callan.

  Her eyes widen and she points to two pairs of feet sticking out from beneath the drapes. “I don’t guess the boys are hiding in here tonight.”

  “Nope. I think we’re in the clear.”

  We prowl toward the window like predators after our prey. I hold up one, two, three fingers and yank the curtain back. “RAWWWR!”

  Bennett and Callan scream and two streaks take off running for the door. Serves their little asses right.

  “Do you smell that? I think one of them shit their pants.”

  Frankee grins. “I think you’re right.”

  It’s impossible not to fall across the bed laughing our asses off.

  “That was sort of mean of us.”

  “No way. They deserved that.”

  “We have to start checking the room earlier. They do not need to hear conversations about dookie chutes.”

  “I don’t need to hear conversations about dookie chutes.”

  “Power off your phone. I don’t want our sexy time to be interrupted.”

  “Ooh. We’re having sexy time?”