Fight for Me: The Complete Collection

by Jackson, A. L.

  I cleared the emotion from my throat, wondering how I was going to do this when the road took another sharp curve and the speed limit dropped. “I better go. I’m getting into town.”

  “Good luck, babe. You’ve got this. I want you to know I’m proud of you, even though I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

  “Thank you, Mace,” I told her.

  I was definitely going to need it.

  2

  Rex

  My eyes went round, and I came to an abrupt stop in her doorway.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want to wear?” Sweeping a hand through the long pieces of my damp hair, I gave it my all to keep the panic out of my voice.

  Honestly wasn’t sure if I wanted to bust out laughing or drop to my knees and cry.

  Such was my life.

  We were already ten minutes late, and there she was on her bedroom floor, wearing a hot pink tutu over a bathing suit.

  “Uh-huh. We gots to look so pretty for dance. Annie said all the best dancers wear leg warmies, and her mama bought her all the pretty colors. Like a rainbow,” she rambled as she tugged on the black high-top Converse she’d talked me into at the mall last weekend.

  Right over a pair of old tube socks she must have found in one of my drawers.

  The hideous kind with the two blue stripes at the top that should have been burned years ago.

  “So I gots these.” She rocked her heels on the ground as she sat back and admired her handiwork.

  She suddenly looked over at me with that smile that melted a crater right through the stone that was my heart. Her single tooth missing on the bottom row and her attempt at a bun that looked like she’d just walked out of a windstorm were about the damned cutest things I’d ever seen.

  “I’m the best dancer, right, Daddy?”

  “You’re the best, prettiest dancer in the whole world, Sweet Pea Frankie Leigh.”

  I just was betting that uptight bitch, Ms. Jezlyn, wouldn’t agree. I’d already gotten one bullshit letter about “appropriate ballet attire,” which was strictly a black leotard with salmon tights (what the fuck?) without any runs in them. Apparently, Frankie wasn’t living up to those standards.

  That was what I got for picking Frankie up late from Mom’s and then coming home and telling her to get ready while I grabbed a quick shower. I’d been at the work site the entire day, had been drenched in sweat and grease and grime, and was trying to put my best foot forward.

  Problem was, I was having a hard time figuring out how my best could ever be enough.

  I pressed my palms together in some kind of twisted prayer. Then I dropped them and blew out a resigned breath. “All right, then. We need to get out of here before I get you in any more trouble.”

  Frankie hopped onto her feet and threw her hands in the air. “Ready!”

  I chuckled beneath my breath, grabbed her dance bag from the pink bench right inside her room, slung it over my shoulder, and extended my hand. “Let’s go, Tiny Dancer.”

  Giggling, she pranced over to me and let me take her miniature hand, so small and vulnerable in the massiveness of mine.

  Following me out the door and down the hall, she skipped along at my side.

  Innocently.

  Joy lit up my insides. I swore all her sweetness held the power to blow back the thousand pounds of blackened bitterness built up around my heart. Like when this kid was around, it weighed nothing at all.

  The day she was born, I’d sworn an oath to myself. I’d never allow her to be torn up by this vicious, cruel world. Refused to let it tarnish her the way it had me.

  My entire life was protecting her from it.

  I snagged my keys from the entryway table when I heard the sound of a door slamming somewhere outside. Frowning, I leaned back so I could get a glimpse out the window and across the street.

  An older white Jeep Grand Cherokee was parked in the driveway of Mrs. Dayne’s old house.

  Guessed they had to finally be putting the place up for sale. Mrs. Dayne had lived there forever, long before we’d moved in across the street from her five years ago, but the place had been sitting empty for the last two months.

  A fist tightened in my gut, grief I really shouldn’t be allowing myself to feel. She’d just been so good to Frankie that it’d been impossible to keep her shut out. Hell, she’d barged right into our lives like she was supposed to be there, constantly bringing over dinner and those delicious pies from the diner-style restaurant she’d owned downtown.

  Frankie rushed out the front door and onto the deck at the side of our house.

  It was the way all the homes were situated in our neighborhood. The houses were elevated from the ground with the main doors located on the side rather than out front. Each had an open deck that extended out from the side of the house, giving a view of the street and neighbors’ houses. The porch steps angled that direction and led down to the driveways that came up to the far side of the houses.

  It probably would have looked strange if not for the big, leafy trees that outlined each of the lots.

  They made everything feel cozy and secluded.

  Just the way I liked it.

  It was one of the main reasons I’d insisted on this place when I’d been looking for a fixer-upper to renovate.

  Frankie released my hand and pointed across the street. “Hey, Daddy, look it. Someone’s at Mrs. Dayne’s house!”

  Stepping out behind her, I closed the door before I attempted to tame a few pieces of hair that’d fallen from her bun and were now flying around her face in the hot breeze. I dropped a kiss to her forehead. “It’s probably a realtor putting it up for sale, Frankie Leigh. Remember how we talked about that?”

  With her head tipped back, she peered at me with confused but hopeful brown eyes. “She wents to heaven?”

  “Yeah,” I murmured softly.

  The screen door at the side of Mrs. Dayne’s house slammed, and I jerked my head up to find a woman crossing the small deck and jogging down the steps back toward the SUV.

  Goddamn.

  Maybe I was just caught off guard.

  But just looking at her knocked the air from my lungs.

  Let’s just say I was unprepared for a woman that looked like that. Guess I’d been expecting someone dressed up. Older. And there was this girl, disheveled in a sexy, careless way. A massive mound of hair that was wilder than Frankie’s was piled haphazardly on her head, wavy pieces falling out all around her. She wore a super tight white tank that disappeared beneath high-waisted jeans.

  Those jeans should have made her look frumpy and unkempt, but instead, the whole package sent a skitter of lust racing through my veins and prodding at my dick.

  She was the kind of woman who could make a grown man stumble on his feet.

  Stunning.

  Gorgeous.

  Too sexy for her own damned good.

  Or maybe mine.

  I could call it a complication of abstaining for too long, but I was sure no woman had ever incited a reaction like this in me with just a glance.

  She raked her arm over her sweat-drenched forehead as she headed straight for the cargo area of the SUV, which was crammed full of moving boxes. I wouldn’t mind all that much if she were hauling stuff out of that house directly across the street, but it sure as shit looked like she was moving her things in.

  Tell me this girl is not moving in next door.

  I clenched my jaw and grabbed Frankie’s hand, needing to get the hell out of there.

  “Come on, Frankie Leigh, we’ve got to get a move on. You’re already late.”

  But Frankie was already moving, bouncing down the stairs and along the walkway, waving her free hand in the air. The kid just adding to the stark sunshine that burned bright in the waning day. “Hi, hi, hi! I’m Frankie. Whose are you?” she shouted across the street.

  Startled, the women’s gaze darted our direction, and the determination in her step slowed when she caught sight of my daughter.

&n
bsp; An amused smile grew on the rosy bud of her mouth when her gaze swept the ridiculous outfit Frankie was wearing. She seemed to hesitate for a second, eyes glancing around her like she was looking for something before she changed direction, heading our way. “Hey there, Frankie, I’m Corinne Dayne, but everyone calls me Rynna.”

  Rynna Dayne.

  What the ever-lovin’ hell?

  Could damn near feel the bewildered excitement roll through my daughter while I stood there cursing the world that just fucking loved to curse me. “Your name’s C’Rinne, too? That’s Mrs. Dayne’s name. She worked at the restaurant called Pepper’s Pies and cooked all the pies, and my daddy ate them all, all, all the way gone. Sometimes we wents to go eat there, but mostly we ate at my house right here, but now she wents to heaven.”

  A bolt of sadness streaked through her expression, and fuck, if it didn’t hit me, too. Still, the smile she wore only grew. “She made the best pies in the whole world, didn’t she?”

  Frankie’s excitement only amplified. “Yes! You know Mrs. Dayne, too?”

  She started to cross the narrow street, all chestnut hair and java eyes and a body that was built for temptation.

  Awareness ridged my spine like a steely stake of lightning, and I stepped back, my jaw tightening at the same time I protectively took hold of my daughter’s hand.

  That was all that women were.

  Temptation.

  Trouble.

  Forbidden fucking fruit.

  Because all they did was condemn you in the end. So, I stayed away. Kept my distance. If I didn’t step into the fire, then I wouldn’t get burned.

  Kneeling in front of my daughter, she stuck out her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Frankie. It sounds like you were a good friend of my grandma’s.”

  So yeah.

  I’d already figured it out.

  It didn’t stop me from flinching.

  Frankie had stars in her eyes as she enthusiastically shook her hand. She might as well have been meeting Taylor Swift. “She told me I was her favorite, favorite friend, and sometimes she even let me go to her house and make some pies.”

  “Is that so?” Rynna said with a tease in her voice.

  “Yep.”

  Rynna leaned in, and I caught a whiff of something sweet. “Want to know a secret?” she whispered.

  Frankie bounced on her toes. “Oh, yes, yes please, I love secrets. I won’t tell nobody.”

  Soft laughter floated out from Rynna’s mouth, a mouth that was getting harder and harder not to stare at, all plush and pink and perfectly pouty. “Well, this is a secret I hope you tell everyone, because guess what? I have some of the recipes for those pies.”

  Frankie’s mouth dropped open, and damn it if my stomach didn’t fucking growl.

  “You gonna make me some?” she gushed.

  “Definitely,” Rynna said, taking that moment to look at me with the threat of a smile on her pretty face, the angle of her jaw sharp while everything else about her was soft.

  That sweet scent was back. Billowing in the breeze. This warmth surrounding her. Hot cherry pie.

  My teeth ground together, and the smile slid from her face when she saw what must have been my irritated expression, and I swore I heard the slight catch of her breath when she met my glare. Could see a slight quiver in her throat when she straightened and took a step back.

  Still, she stood her ground.

  There was something unwavering about her. Like she had something to prove. To herself or me, I wasn’t sure.

  “Hi. I’m Rynna Dayne. Was named after my grandmother,” she managed, though the words were rough as she stuck her hand out toward me like she’d done to my daughter.

  I just stood there staring at it like it held the venom of a viper bite. Finally, I lifted my chin at her and gathered all the pleasantness I could summon. It wasn’t much. “Rex Gunner. I’m sorry about your grandmother. And we’re late . . . so if you could excuse us.”

  I gave Frankie a gentle tug of her hand. “Come on, Frankie Leigh. We’ve got to get you to dance.”

  Frankie trotted along at my side, looking back over her shoulder with what I knew had to be one of those adorable grins.

  “What a jerk,” I heard Rynna mumble behind my back when I turned and led my daughter to the passenger side of my truck.

  Bitterness burned.

  Yeah.

  I was a jerk.

  An asshole.

  Whatever.

  Better to burn bridges before anyone had a chance to cross them.

  Shaking it off, I hoisted Frankie into the high cabin, making her squeal and pretend like she was flying. I strapped her in her car seat and jogged around to the front. I hopped into the driver’s seat, wondering if it were possible for the roar of the engine to cover the hurt that sagged Rynna’s shoulders as I took to the street.

  Wondering why I felt like a complete piece of shit when I caught a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror. She just stood there in the twilight like she was caught in a dream.

  Watching us go with disappointment on her face.

  Befriending a sweet old lady was one thing.

  Allowing a girl like Rynna Dayne into our lives—a girl that made my body react the way it did? Now that was pure stupidity.

  3

  Rynna

  Why am I doing this?

  Anxiety convulsed through my nerves as I waited for my computer to fire up. The truth was, I couldn’t not know. I connected to my hotspot and logged on to Facebook. It felt like forever while I sat there, the screen churning, lighting up like a window to the past. I could almost feel it stretching its fingers out to touch me. To tease me with the control it’d held over me for so long.

  For too long.

  Fingers trembling, I managed to type the name into the search bar. A task I’d attempted at least twenty times before I’d set out on my journey back home. I had never found the courage to press enter.

  Today, I did.

  She was the third listing. A grainy picture. Almost indistinguishable. But I knew it was her.

  Missouri.

  She lived in Missouri.

  I slammed the lid down.

  That was all I needed to know.

  As long as she wasn’t here? I could totally manage staying in this town.

  * * *

  “Tell me you’re miserable without me.”

  Laughing quietly, I flitted around the kitchen on my bare feet. My cell was pressed between my ear and shoulder as I slowly unpacked the few things I’d brought. I hadn’t needed much since my grandmother had left everything she owned to me.

  “Completely miserable,” I told Macy, letting the tease wind into my tone as I hiked onto my toes to set my favorite Christmas mug on a high cupboard shelf.

  “Huh. That’s weird. I haven’t even noticed you’re gone,” she deadpanned.

  “Says the girl who’s called me like ten times today,” I ribbed.

  She giggled. “Okay, okay, I might have kind of noticed.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s just that I think the apartment is haunted.”

  “The apartment is haunted? And this happened sometime in the last three days?” Skepticism rolled from my tongue.

  “You know how these things work. Ghost girl has been stalking me, and the second she felt your absence, she slid right in to take your place.”

  “You know you’re absolutely ridiculous, right?”

  “Which is precisely why you love me.”

  Affection pulsed. How was I ever going to live without seeing her every day?

  “Honestly, though, Ryn. How are you doing there by yourself? It must be weird to be alone in that old house. God knows it’s weird around here without you.”

  I paused to look around at my dated surroundings—the floors linoleum, the cupboards hailing from the early eighties, the beige Formica countertops dingy and faded to a dreary yellow. The décor was mainly all the trinkets my grandmother had collected over the years, and the same two floral pla
cemats I remembered from my childhood were still on the small round table.

  It was as if she’d been waiting for me to return all this time. Next to nothing had changed since I left eleven years ago.

  The house needed a full renovation. That was when, or if, I ever had the money to do it. Honestly, I still didn’t know how I was going to manage to hold on to all these frayed threads, if I could come back here and take over where my grandmother had left off. If I had what it would take to breathe life back into everything she had built.

  But when I inhaled? I could almost smell the lingering memory of sugar browning in the oven. When I focused hard enough, I could almost taste the tart cherries and sweet crust melting on my tongue. When I listened intently enough, I could almost hear the steadfast belief in her voice echoing from the walls.

  “Honestly?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  An old warmth surrounded me, all mixed up with the reservations and fear that had kept me away for so many years. “It feels like home. Like I never left. Like I could walk through the door and my grandmother would be standing right in this kitchen, pulling a pot pie from the oven for dinner.” I swallowed over the lump that grew heavy at the base of my throat, the loss that echoed back her presence. “I just wish I would have come back earlier. Before it was too late.”

  My heart clutched at the memory of the phone call I’d received two months before. A social worker had been on the other end of the line telling me my grandmother had suffered a massive heart attack while behind the wheel of her car, that though the responders had tried, there had been nothing they could do. She was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital.

  Macy’s voice dipped in sincerity. “You can’t blame yourself, Ryn. Even if she didn’t know the reason you left, I think she at least understood why.”

  “Then why does it feel like such a pathetic excuse now?”

  “Maybe I was never lucky enough to meet your grandma in person, but in all the time we lived together, I don’t remember a day that passed without you talking to her. So maybe the circumstances sucked. But I promise you that she knew how much you loved her. And you want to know why it feels pathetic now? Because you’ve moved beyond it. Above it. You’re not even close to being that timid, insecure girl who answered my ad for a roommate eleven years ago. You’ve grown, changed. Your grandma got it. That was one smart woman.”