[Southern Roots 01.0] Coming Up Roses

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[Southern Roots 01.0] Coming Up Roses Page 20

by LK Farlow


  By the time we walk out of the theater, the sun has set, and we can’t stop talking about the movie. It was good enough that once my brain told my heart to shut it, I really got into it.

  “Aren’t you glad I pulled you outta the house today?” Azalea asks with a proud smile.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, pausing to dial Simon’s number. I’ve watched all the rest of the Pirates movies with him, and seeing this one with Azalea feels like betrayal, and I need to confess.

  “Oh, no, Myla, don’t—”

  Her words fall away when Simon answers on the third ring. “Myles, hey. What’s up?”

  “I’ve gotta tell you something, Sim. Don’t be mad, okay?”

  “I could never be mad at you.”

  “Gonna hold you to that. I just saw the new Pirates movie with Azalea.” I duck my head, waiting for him to give me shit about breaking tradition.

  “Huh. Guess you’ll just have to watch it twice.”

  “That I can do,” I tell him just as there’s a loud commotion in the background on his end. “What’s going on, Sim?”

  It’s then that I hear it. Cash. He’s with . . . Cash. “Simon, are you with Cash right now?” Azalea shakes her head, but she doesn’t look the least bit surprised. Placing my hand over the speaker, I ask her, “You knew?”

  “Yeah, I knew. Drake’s with them too. It’s not what you think though, Myla.”

  “Someone’s gotta talk some sense into him,” Simon tells me.

  “Simon McAlister! No. Please, no. As much as I love y’all—and Cash—this is my battle, not y’all’s. Please leave him alone. I’ve already caused him enough trouble and hurt. He doesn’t need you going all Big Brother on his ass.”

  “Might be too late for that. Gotta go—talk to you later.” He disconnects the call before I can say anything else, which pisses me off because I have a lot to say.

  “Azalea Josephine, I can’t believe you right now. You set me up!”

  “We did this because we love you and we hate seeing you hurt. Please don’t be mad.”

  With a frustrated shake of my head, I resume walking toward her car. “I’m not mad, AzzyJo, just annoyed.”

  “Well, hang on to that feeling then, because there’s more coming your way.” Her words are ominous, and I’m not quite sure what she means, but I’m too annoyed to ask.

  God, I wish I would’ve asked.

  42

  Cash

  Four days. Four days without her smile. Her laugh. Her voice. Fuck. Four days without her touch. Four days, and I’m a goddamn mess.

  I kept thinking she’d call again—praying she’d call again. But she didn’t, and I’m too prideful to call her. No, instead, I keep listening to her voicemails on repeat. I’ve read her texts so many times I’ve memorized them. I miss her so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.

  But I’m also so fucking angry with her and hurt. She knows everything I went through with Kayla, and yet she so readily put me through it again. Makes me wonder if I ever even knew her.

  My phone rings on the coffee table, and I lunge toward it, hoping it’s Myla Rose. Mad or not, I ache to hear her sweet voice. She’s like a sickness I can’t seem to purge. I deflate when I see Drake’s name on the screen, but I answer his call anyway. I’ve shut everyone out, and it’s well past time to rejoin the rest of the world, broken heart or not.

  “Hey, D, what’s up?”

  “Not much. You wanna drive out for lunch?” He sounds oddly hopeful, and I really do need to get outta the house.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you in twenty.” I disconnect the call, hop in the shower, and throw on what I hope are clean clothes before hitting the road.

  When I pull up to Drake’s, I’m instantly on edge. There are familiar vehicles scattered throughout his yard. Doing a quick inventory, I see Simon’s truck, Jake’s SUV, and . . . my mom’s Camry. What the hell is going on?

  To ease my building anxiety, I reason that maybe it’s just a big BBQ, and all our families will be coming. Yeah, that’s it. Now if only I believed that.

  I bypass knocking and let myself in. Shockingly, or maybe not, everyone is gathered in the living room as if they’d been waiting for me.

  My mom is the first to greet me. “Cash, baby, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Yeah, Mom, me too. Not to be rude, but why are y’all here?”

  This time, it’s Simon who speaks up. “We have shit to say, and you need to listen. Drake volunteered his house. Figured you wouldn’t step foot in mine.” And he’d be right about that.

  “Talk about what?” I ask, lowering myself into the only available chair. In the very center of the room. Seriously, I’m the middle of a goddamn circle. Yeah, this isn’t a family BBQ. Not at all.

  “About Myla Rose,” Drake tells me.

  Hearing her name has my spine straightening and my hair standing on end. “So, it’s like that?”

  “Yeah, Cash, it is,” Drake says solemnly.

  Glancing around the room, I feel caged and cornered. “Can’t say I’m really feeling that right now.”

  “Oh, baby. You need to listen to your friends,” Mom supplies.

  “Do I? Why are you and Jake even here?

  “I’m here because when I ran into Drake at the store the other day, I mentioned not hearing from you, and being the sweet boy that he is, he informed me as to why. I’m not gonna let you throw this girl and her baby away over some little misunderstanding.”

  “Yeah, because being lied to for a month and catching her lip-locked with her ex is some ‘little misunderstanding’,” I tell her using air-quotes. “And why are you here, Jake?”

  “I’m just here for the show, brother.” Fucking asshole.

  “Of course you are.” Shaking my head, I slump down, resting my elbows on my knees. “Let’s just get this shit-show on the road, yeah?”

  “Be glad everyone else favored talking sense into you. My idea was to beat it into you.”

  “Thanks, Simon. Really, thanks.” My sarcasm drips, coating the room.

  Simon bolts from his chair. “I’d be more than happy to beat the shit outta you. Follow through on my promise—I told you not to hurt her.”

  I laugh a dry, hollow laugh. “Me, hurt her? Riiiight.”

  Simon lunges at me, and I’m up from my seat lickity-split. “You wanna go there?”

  “Damn right, I do,” Simon snarls, teeth bared.

  We stand there, toe-to-toe, both ready and wanting for a fight. “It’s not my fault Myla Rose lied to me and went behind my back with that ass. Not my fault she couldn’t have her cake and—” Before I can finish my sentence, Simon decks me, the force knocking me back down into my chair. Rubbing a hand over my cheekbone, I wince from the pain. Fucker hits hard.

  “Okay, boys,” my mom says, her voice scolding and full of mirth all at once, “Let’s all have a seat and say what we came to say.”

  “Think I said all I need to,” Simon tells the group with a victorious smirk. As much as he pisses me off, and even though I’m still angry with Myla Rose, I’m glad she has him in her life. Such is the nature of the spell she’s cast on me. She rips apart my very soul, and I’m worried about her. Talk about pathetic.

  Drake clears his throat. “Well, I haven’t. I’m not gonna say who’s right or wrong or pick sides. Y’all both messed up. However, with that said, you need to listen to her. Let her say her side. You don’t like what she has to say? Walk away. At least you’ll both have some closure.” I bristle at his words because I know—deep down—that he’s right.

  “Baby, you need to let that sweet girl have the chance to explain herself. I know Kayla” —I groan at the mention of my ex— “did a real number on you, but Myla Rose isn’t Kayla. And even if this feels similar, that’s just your brain overriding your heart. Listen to your heart, Cash.” My mom, I swear. Such motherly advice, God love her.

  “Listen, brother. You know how many times I almost lost Paige, but she was patient and stuck it out with m
e. Look at us now. Talk to your girl. You won’t regret it.”

  Deep down, and I mean way deep, I know they’re right. Even more than that, once I look past my hurt, I know Myla Rose. Regardless of what I saw, she’s not capable of two-timing me. She’s not Kayla. There has to be an explanation.

  After a long pause, I cut myself a big ole slice of humble pie and address this group of people that loves us both so much that they ambushed me. “Y’all are right. I know y’all are right. Guess I’ll give her a call.”

  “No need. She’ll be here soon.” Yeah, that edge I was on? Pretty sure I just fell from it.

  43

  Myla Rose

  Despite my best efforts to push the worry Azalea’s words caused from my mind, it lingered. The entire car ride, I obsessed over what the more could possibly be.

  When she turned down Drake’s drive, my worry eased a bit. At least until I saw a yard full of cars—familiar cars. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

  “It’s not. Y’all need to talk. Go talk to him.”

  “No, please, let’s just go.”

  “Not gonna happen. Now, get out before I drag you kicking and screaming. Don’t think I won’t.” She has me there, because I know full well that she will.

  “Fine. But I’m not happy.”

  “You weren’t happy to start with.” She pins me with a look, daring me to argue. I keep silent because once again, she has me.

  As we’re approaching the house, the back-gate flies open and Cash stalks out. He’s on a path straight for us, and I’m helpless to do more than stare. My eyes eat him up and my heart squeezes in my chest. I’ve missed him so much.

  It’s been less than a week, but he seems so different from my Cash. His mouth is hard, and his eyes are angry. I shake like a leaf as he continues toward me. He doesn’t speak, not a single word. He merely grabs my hand and pulls me back the way he came.

  I’m so scared, so nervous—my anxiety’s rolling through me like waves, and yet his presence is calming too. My emotions are rioting in my chest, banging and clanging around. My feelings are being tossed every which way, but I put on a brave face and take the seat next to him on Drake’s back porch.

  “So . . .” I hedge, not quite ready to spill my guts.

  “So . . .” he echoes me, his voice rough. “Everyone says I need to let you try and clear the air. So, have at it, Myla Rose. The floor’s yours.”

  There’s an edge to his voice that pisses me off, but I guess I deserve it. After a few calming breaths, I launch into my side of the story.

  “The first time Taylor texted me was the day you went to his house.”

  “Figured that.”

  “He was threatening me, saying I was his whether he wanted me or not. Saying he was going to take the baby.” My lower lip trembles, but I power through. “I didn’t want to tell you then, because we were having such a special night, and I didn’t want Taylor Mills tainting it.

  “I know I should have told you the next day. Jesus, looking back, I should have told you right then. But everything just sort of snowballed. He would go days, sometimes weeks, between texts. Every time, I’d get lulled into this false sense of security. I’d convince myself that it was over and that his threats were empty.” I risk a look at Cash and the vein in his neck is popping. He’s so very angry.

  Sinking lower into my chair, I pick back up. “The day at the salon was actually Kathy’s appointment—and just so you know, I was planning to tell her that day that she needed to find a new stylist—but Taylor showed up in her place. I told him to leave, and he started to cause a scene. He told me he’d consider not stripping me of custody if I would listen to whatever he had to say. We had clients in the salon and I was desperate to get him out of there, so I gave in.

  “I’ll sure say you did.”

  I suck in a sharp breath. “Not like that. I listened as he droned on and on about the pressure he was under to do well in school. I listened to him lament about his mother pressuring him to marry ‘up’, like I fucking care, right? Anyway . . .” I laugh, but it’s empty and hollow.

  “He went on and on and on about nothing. Finally, I got fed up and told him to get to the point, and you know what he said? He told me he really didn’t want anything to do with this baby. Said he should’ve made me get an abortion. Said he was only harassing me to watch me squirm. It took every ounce of willpower not to kill him. And this whole time, he’s holding my wrist so tightly that it physically hurts.” By this point, Cash is gripping the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles are a painful white.

  “I was trying to get Azalea’s attention, and there you were, with eyes full of dark clouds. And he hears me say your name, and that just sets him off all over again. Next thing I know, his lips are on mine and my world is slowly ending because you’re hauling outta there like a fire’d been lit under your ass. I chased after you, but . . .”

  “Damn, darlin’. I had no clue. I really wish you’d have just talked to me.” His calling me darlin’ has my hope soaring. That has to be a sign, right?

  “I know, Cash, truly, I do. I’m only human, and I was so scared and so confused. I messed up. I get that. You have to know I’d never be unfaithful to you, right?” Mustering every bit of courage I possess, I clasp his hand in mine. “Remember when you said my heart was enough? Well, it’s yours—take it or leave it.” I release his hand and lean in, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before walking toward the back gate. From the edge of the deck, I turn and call to him over my shoulder, “Hey, Cash? I really hope you take it.”

  As I round the gate, I pull out my phone to text Azalea that I’m ready to leave. Only I never make it that far. Because standing in front of me is the sweetest-looking middle-aged woman I’ve ever seen.

  “You must be Myla Rose,” she states as she comes to a stop directly in front of me. “I’m Sandra, Cash’s mom.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it’s so nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, sweet girl, I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like I already know you. Now, I expect to see you at our next Family Dinner Night.”

  “Oh, no, Ms. Carson—Cash and I . . . we aren’t—”

  “Maybe not right now, but I raised my boy right, and he’ll come around. Just you wait and see.”

  44

  Cash

  Turns out everyone was right. Talking to Myla Rose changed everything. Turns out she was as much the victim as me. Her only true crime was her silence. Talking to me would have literally changed everything.

  But that’s okay. Now that I know the truth, nothing is gonna keep me from her. Not one goddamn thing. Myla Rose and her baby are my whole life, and I can’t wait to fucking prove myself to her. Again.

  There’s just one little thing I have to do first, though. A score to settle, so to speak. So, with a fire in my gut, I head back to the place this shit started. The Mills’ residence.

  I don’t knock on the door. I pound on it, and when their butler answers, I skip the pleasantries. “Tell Taylor to come down.” He doesn’t put up any fight. He simply presses the button on the intercom and summons Taylor. Smart man.

  “What are you doing here?” Taylor seethes when he sees me.

  “We need to talk.” I step into his space, forcing him back against the front door. “You leave Myla Rose alone, you hear me? Ask me how many fucks I give about your old money and fancy lawyers. None. I give none. That girl’s never done a thing to you, and your tormenting her ends now.” I’d love nothing more than to knock the smug look off his face, but I reel it in. He’s not worth the jail time, not with Myla on the line.

  “You may have been dumb enough to let her go, and that’s on you, but she’s mine now. Mine to worry about. That baby’s mine too. Know that. He’ll never so much as know your name.”

  “You’re gonna raise my bastard?”

  “Not. A. Bastard,” I grit out. “My blood may not run through him, but my love does, and that’s more than your sorry ass will ever be able to say. You stay. The.
Fuck. Away.”

  “Whatever. I’m over this little soap opera anyway.” He shoves me away from him and scurries back into his house, which is okay because I’m so done here.

  45

  Myla Rose

  Today’s my baby shower, and this small, itsy-bitsy, teensy-tiny part of me is scared Cash won’t show. Crazy talk, I know. It’s been a week since Cash and I sat down and talked at Drake’s, and a lot has changed. All for the better, too. We see each other most days, and we text and talk every day. It may’ve only been four days, but we had a lot of making up to do.

  I even joined him at his mom’s for Family Dinner Night. I’m now the designated bread bringer. The only thing better than Sandra’s cooking is her ability to wrap you up so good in her love that you never wanna leave. She’s everything a mama should be, and I know with one hundred percent certainty that Grams would approve of this family I’ve found myself a part of.

  Though we haven’t made up that way. Not from lack of trying on my part either. My hormones have me wanting him like never before. I’m damn near insatiable, but Cash puts the brakes on every damn time.

  We haven’t even spent the night together again, and it’s literally killing me. Like for real. I’m ninety-nine percent sure Cash is planning something special for us, and I have a feeling that the waiting will be oh, so worth it.

  Another upside to our patching things up is that I finally felt little man move! Even better, Cash was there for it. It was damn near magical, and while I was a sobbing mess, Cash just smiled and smiled like he’d won the damn lottery.

  He’s convinced that the baby waited for him and me to get right before landing any big kicks, though countless people have tried telling him that sometimes, first-time moms take longer to feel it. He’s not having any of that, though.

 

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