Complicated

by Kristen Ashley

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, twisting their hands so their fingers were facing up and he could run the tips of his along the insides of hers.

  Her head turned again so her eyes could light on their hands before they lifted to him.

  “Keith gave us this.”

  His fingers quit moving.

  “Keith?”

  “My ex-husband. Keith. He’s . . . um, very wealthy. I didn’t, uh . . . want it, but he impressed on me that I needed to take it so the divorce settlement was exceptionally comfortable. For me. And for Andy.”

  Hix just stared at her.

  “He was . . . we were . . . we were dating when Andy got hurt. They were close even before. He, well, he always took care of Andy,” she shared. “He still does, kind of. And me. Well, just in the sense the settlement bought my house.”

  Shit.

  “And my car.”

  Christ.

  “And my furniture.”

  Fuck.

  “And it pays for Andy’s home and will for a good time, so I can, you know, not having a mortgage or a car payment or, um, other stuff, I’ll be able to do it for, maybe, um . . . ever.”

  She stopped talking.

  “That’s very wealthy, Greta,” Hix said low.

  He watched her swallow.

  Hix looked to the street and threw back some more beer.

  He did this thinking he could never do that. Buy her a house outright. A car outright. Hell, he couldn’t even help her take care of her brother, not with setting up his own house and what would be coming up with his kids as they finished high school and entered life. He’d already dipped into his uncle’s inheritance to buy furniture and pay for the divorce and he’d need more.

  He didn’t get paid shit but he’d never be able to buy anyone a new car outright.

  No way a house.

  Not in his life.

  “Hixon?” she called hesitantly.

  “And he divorced you because of your mother?” Hix asked the street.

  “He took care of Andy, and obviously gave me a really good life. I mean, I worked and sometimes I sang but, you know, we had a comfortable life mostly because of him.”

  He bet they did.

  “But, well, I gave her money and he hated her and it bothered him that I did.”

  Uh.

  What?

  He looked again to her. “Sorry?”

  She did another shrug. “He really hated her. Like I said, we were together when the accident happened. He knew Andy before and after. She hurt him. And she wasn’t ever nice to me. So me giving her money—”

  “She’s your mother.”

  Greta shut her mouth.

  She opened it right back up to say a loaded, “Yeah.”

  He didn’t know what that was loaded with but he didn’t ask after that.

  He asked, “So that’s it? He had you and gave you up because your mother is a parasitical bitch?”

  “Well, that and I, um . . .”

  She tried to slide her hand away.

  Hix kept hold of it.

  Her focus sharpened on him and she whispered, “I didn’t want to have a family.”

  “And he did,” Hix guessed.

  “Yes.”

  “And you two didn’t talk about that before you got married?”

  Her head twitched. “No. We did. He knew.”

  That made Hix’s brows draw together. “So what was his beef?”

  “He thought he could change my mind.”

  “That’s not a beef, Greta. That’s bullshit.”

  Her fingers convulsed around his.

  “Why didn’t you want a family?” he asked.

  “I had one.”

  He twisted her way. “I get your mom isn’t great, Greta. And it goes without sayin’ I hate that you and your brother gotta live with what she did to him. But I mean a family that’s yours.”

  “I had one, Hix.”

  “The one you make,” he explained.

  “I raised Andy, Hixon,” she told him. “He was mine. He was never hers. I took a bus to the hospital when she called me after she had him and the nurses got him for me and put me in a little room where I sat in a rocking chair and held him and that was it. He was mine. And I mean that in an emotional sense. But also in an everything sense, because she had nothing to do with him.”

  Uh.

  What?

  “Come again?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “No bottles. No diapers. No forcing him out of bed for school in the morning. We weren’t latchkey kids who had to look after ourselves while Mom was out making a living. She lived her life with two kids in her trailer she had to put up with and maybe throw some money at so we could eat, I could buy Andy diapers or go to Goodwill to get him clothes. I mean, in the beginning, I had to go to school and someone had to look after him. But if I couldn’t get a neighbor to help out, I’d come home and he’d be bawling because he had a dirty diaper and she barely pulled it together to give him some food so she’d hand him off to me and then she’d vanish. Other than that, we didn’t exist until I started making money and she could lean on me to give some of it to her.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “You’re joking,” he growled.

  She shook her head, again trying to slide her hand away but Hix held tight.

  She gave up trying to get away and kept giving him her story.

  “Normally, he would walk. But it was raining. So she was the one who picked him up from that party, because I was out with Keith and Andy didn’t want to interrupt us so he called her for a ride. And unfortunately, she felt in the rare mood to give him one.”

  Hix looked back to the street and the amount of beer he threw back was a lot bigger.

  “So now you get it,” she noted in a strange voice that regained his attention.

  “Get what?” he asked.

  “Get how Keith felt about her. About me not wanting a family because I’d already raised a son and started doing that at fourteen so I wasn’t feeling doing it again, this also because of her. How all that, being what she made, could . . .” she gave a tentative tug on her hand but when he didn’t let go, she quit doing it, “make him divorce me,” she finished.

  “No, I don’t get that.”

  She blinked several times before she asked, “You don’t?”

  “Hell no.”

  Her mouth got soft, her eyes went troubled, and she said quietly, “Hix, he lived with it for ten years.”

  “Sweetheart, maybe he feels okay about himself that he left you to your life puttin’ you in a nice house in a nice car in a nice town with your brother in a good place where they take care of him, but you’re still here and he’s wherever he is and it isn’t here with you, so no. I don’t get it. I think he’s an idiot.”

  Something lit in her eyes like humor with a whole load of something more before it faded and she said, “You haven’t even met Andy yet.”

  “I’ve met your mom and I haven’t led my life or my career in law enforcement all in this town, so I know women like her and I know they’re bad news and I knew that, babe, before she even opened her mouth. I got more of it when she did. I get it. I get it would be frustrating. I don’t think bad about the man because of that, because this shit is extreme and he obviously wanted to look out for you in a variety of ways. He just totally fell down on that job.”

  “But I was . . . I was weak about my mom,” she declared. “It wasn’t like she’d ingratiate herself or she was around all the time, being annoying. She’d come and she’d go. But when she’d come, she’d always have her hand out. And part of me giving her money was the fact that, if I did, she’d go without making a mess of things, because she’d make a mess of things if she didn’t get what she wanted. But part of it was because, well, she’s far from great, but she’s the only mom I’ve got.”

  “Greta, baby, she’s clearly even less of a peach than I expected, but I’ve seen kids take care of parents w
ho beat them. Who sexually abused them. Who let men or women into their homes repeatedly, and it was them who would administer the abuse. I get that she’d manipulate shit to get what she wants, making it hard for you to say no. I also get it’s just straight up hard to say no to a parent. It isn’t that one person is stronger, being able to cut that shit out of their lives. It’s maybe that your heart is larger that you’d look after her, but it’s also not just that. It’s like the chicken and the egg. No one can say what’s the right answer in how to handle that. It’s just one of life’s things that we deal with the way our heart tells us to do it and there’s never anything wrong with that.”

  She said nothing.

  She just stared at him with those big eyes in that beautiful face that even a broken nose couldn’t make any less beautiful, and taking that in, Hix knew even more the man who divorced her was an idiot.

  But even with all she’d just laid on him, Hix felt fucking great.

  Because he couldn’t give her a house or a car or help out with her brother (much, this being financially) until after the girls were out of school.

  But he could put up with her mother, and with the way her voice got when she talked about him, he had not the slightest hesitation of having her brother in his or his kids’ lives.

  So yeah.

  If this worked out, he could give her that.

  And he had a feeling that meant more to her than a top-of-the-line Cherokee ever would.

  Or a diamond ring.

  He threw back more beer and heard her cautious, “Hix?”

  He looked to her. “Yeah?”

  More caution when she muttered, “I just, uh . . . gave you a lot.”

  “Unh-hunh,” he agreed.

  She studied him.

  He leaned to her and whispered, “Put me to the test.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I’ll pass.”

  He watched her eyes get bright with wet.

  He did not want to make her cry. He liked she felt that much from what he said.

  But he never wanted to be the man who made Greta cry.

  “We’re new,” he stated. “Life has thrown me some curveballs lately so I have no idea how it’s gonna go. It’s obviously thrown more at you and has since birth. What I do know is how much I like bein’ with you. How good it feels. And I wanna take care of that. I let your mother put that at risk once, that was stupid but I’m not stupid, so I learned that lesson and it won’t happen again. And I think there’s nothing in my life I’ve heard that’s more beautiful than what you give your brother, before he got hurt and after. I also know I can say all that ’til I’m blue in the face, I still have to prove it. So put me to the test. Go for it. At least with all that, I’ll pass. What I don’t want is to make you cry about it, Greta. You laid it out and it is what it is and all you gotta do now is sit back and see.”

  “Okay, I really wanna have sex with you, like, right now,” she announced.

  His cock felt that.

  But his lips only smiled.

  “Baby, I’m not making love to you two days after you got your nose broke.”

  “It’s been three.”

  His lips kept smiling. “Greta, sweetheart, I’m not making love with you three days after you got your nose broke.”

  “We won’t kiss.”

  “The fuck we won’t,” he growled.

  “We can—”

  He gave her hand a firm shake and leaned to her. “Weekdays, Shaw’s curfew is ten. He’s gonna be home soon and I gotta be home with my boy. But Friday, Shaw plays ball and you won’t be singing. I’ll tell him to maneuver a sleepover with one of his buds. And after the game, we’ll have all night.”

  Her eyes instantly rolled to the ceiling of her porch while her lips moved but no words came out.

  “Babe?” he called.

  “Hush,” she shushed him.

  He started chuckling. “Greta.”

  She rolled her eyes back. “Hush, Hix, I’m counting the hours so I can count them down.”

  He stopped chuckling and busted out laughing.

  Then he leaned farther and took her mouth in a slow, gentle, wet kiss.

  When he was done, he pulled back an inch. “Tide you over?”

  “Not even close.”

  He touched his lips even more gently on the tip of her nose before he sat back, kept hold of her hand and lifted up his beer.

  When he’d taken a tug and dropped it, he asked, “Okay, so what in the hell is a wash, rinse and set?”

  That was when Greta laughed, he turned to watch, and when she quit, she explained a wash, rinse and set.

  Having a dick, he discovered he really didn’t need to know.

  But he was glad he did.

  So We’re Good

  Hixon

  THE NEXT NIGHT, Greta met him at the top of the steps to her porch, her feet in thick socks, a slouchy cardigan on, a big scarf wrapped around her neck, her head tipped back, the swelling nearly gone around her nose, the bruising still angry but receding.

  “Beer?” she asked in a firm tone.

  He smiled at her. “Yeah. But kiss first.”

  She leaned into him, put a hand on his chest, and they exchanged a short, wet kiss before she broke away and whispered, “Be back.”

  She went in and he went to his chair on her porch.

  It was nippy. Dark. Mid-October weather in Nebraska was still nice during the day, but when the sun went down, the chill set in.

  He turned his head and saw that she had her mug of tea sitting on the table by her chair. She also had a book and some catalogs.

  He was eyes back to the street when Greta returned, handed him his beer and then adjusted her chair so it was set butted up to his. Then she settled in it so she was pressed to the side of the chair closest to him, her feet up on the pad in the seat, knees falling to his side, and her hand came out and ran down the inside of his forearm.

  He transferred his beer from that hand to his left, thinking she wanted to hold hands, also thinking he was totally okay with that.

  But she engaged her other hand, pressing his right hand flat between both of hers, her eyes watching.

  It was an affectionate touch, but there was something poignant about it that concerned him.

  “Everything okay, sweetheart?” he asked.

  “You have really beautiful hands,” she murmured, still pressing his between hers before she laced her fingers through his, dropping her other hand away, bending their linked ones toward them with elbows resting on the arm of the chair as she rested her head on his shoulder.

  He liked she thought that about his hands.

  He was still concerned.

  “Greta, something happen today?”

  “Nope, just . . . nope,” she answered. But before he could prompt further she said, “I was . . .” She stopped and started again. “Having you for a spell, then things happened and I didn’t have you . . .” He felt her head move on his shoulder like she was shaking it. “I like my house. I don’t mind being alone. Or I didn’t. Then I had you to sit on the porch with me and I minded. And I, well . . .” Her tone became hesitant. “I like having you back.”

  He twisted his neck so he could kiss her hair before he righted it and replied gruffly, “I’m glad you let me come back.”

  “Mm,” she mumbled, digging her head into his shoulder for a beat then settling in.

  He decided to move them beyond this or they wouldn’t be sitting on her porch, getting to know each other in a way he could leave and get back to his house to make certain his son came home on time after his study date with Wendy at her house.

  No. They’d be doing something else. Something they couldn’t do for as long as he’d like, and after, he couldn’t stay with her, sleep beside her, because he had to go home to his boy.

  And he knew from experience the swelling could go down, the bruises recede, but it took weeks for a broken nose to heal, and the longer he gave her to do that, the less pain he might inadvertently c
ause making love to her.

  So he had to give her as much time as they both could endure.

  Which was two more days.

  Therefore, he told her, “Shaw’s at his girl’s house, studying. Told you earlier in that text, babe, we were having dinner together tonight. That’s because I needed time with him. There’s stuff going down with Wendy’s family. Shaw’s feelin’ the need to keep an eye on her. But apparently, her folks let them study in her room. So I needed to lay some things out about that. I also need to be home when he gets there so I can give him the eagle eye to make sure nothin’ came of that.”

  “Risky business, letting a handsome, young man study in your daughter’s bedroom,” she observed.

  “Yup.”

  Greta laughed softly.

  “The stuff going down isn’t good stuff, baby, so it’s doubtful Shaw will go for anything.”

  And this, he hoped his son wouldn’t do, knowing that her dad was growing sicker, weaker and depressed from his treatments, that depression also hitting the family since they had to watch it.

  Hix had been wrong the night before. The doctors felt the treatments were working, but it was coming clear that road wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Shaw’s a good guy, so you’re probably right,” she replied.

  “I also shared I’d be disappointed if he took that road, even if it seemed Wendy needed that kind of closeness for whatever reason she would have.”

  “And you’re a good dad,” she murmured before she went on, “Not an easy chat, darlin’. I feel your pain. I remember having that conversation with Andy. He’d been young but he’d been popular with the girls. Keith had already had it but I found condoms in his room so I had to have it again.”

  “At least he had condoms,” Hix muttered, doing it thinking something else.

  Thinking he kind of hoped the kid got himself some before having the chance at any normal relationship swept away by his mother.

  Also thinking it hadn’t occurred to him how much of a parent Greta had been until she gave him that info.

  She was right. It was not an easy conversation to have with your son, your brother or any kid. He knew that from past experience and some that was very recent.