I felt like doing it again. Letting my feelings out in a rush and throwing shit at my house. I picked up a pinecone and turned it over in my hand a few times, my eyes locked on the siding.
Then, another memory. The night Asher and I had taken a walk together. He’d held my hand and told me he loved me. Kissed me for the first time in front of this house. We’d said if we stayed together, we’d buy it and fix it up.
Make it a home.
With a deep breath, I dropped the pinecone. I locked my car and went inside. Without bothering to take off my shoes, I fell onto the couch.
Asher was home.
I had so many questions, I didn’t know where to begin. How had this happened? Why had no one told me? Most importantly, why was I here, feeling like shit by myself, when Asher was less than a mile away?
He’d said he couldn’t do this yet. Couldn’t do what? See me? Why?
There was something very wrong about the fact that he was home and I wasn’t currently wrapped around him like a pretzel.
I felt sick to my stomach. I’d just been hit in the face with every fear I’d ever had about Asher’s homecoming. Every worry I’d tried to set aside—tried to kill with stubborn belief.
The fear that he’d meant it when he’d said we were over, and I’d been waiting for nothing.
My phone binged again. With a groan, I got up to check it.
Gram: It’ll be all right, Mama Bear. He just needs some time. Keep hanging in there for him.
Letting out a long breath, I sank back onto the couch, staring at her text. I desperately wanted to believe her. Gram never told you what you wanted to hear. Sometimes she wrapped the truth in stories or metaphors that didn’t make sense until later, but she didn’t coddle anyone. If she said it would be all right, it was because she believed it.
Regardless, contemplating whether I’d just wasted the last seven years of my life waiting for a man who no longer wanted me was too much for my body to contain. I needed to do something with all this anxious energy. I texted Gram back to thank her, then dug out my safety goggles and a sledgehammer. There was a section of cabinet and countertop in the kitchen that needed to be taken out.
So I did what I always did when life was overwhelming. I got to work.
I hesitated outside the Caboose, wondering if this was a good idea.
I’d finished smashing the cabinet and wound up with a few unintended holes in the drywall. But I’d decided not to get bent out of shape over it. Everything was fixable. That was one of the things I loved about remodeling that old house. It didn’t matter how broken, old, or damaged something appeared. It could always be made new.
But spending my Saturday night alone with a sledgehammer probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how awful I felt. A few holes in the drywall had almost turned into me spontaneously removing a wall—a wall I wasn’t actually sure could be removed without compromising the integrity of the entire structure.
So I’d put the sledgehammer down and come out to meet Cara.
The Caboose hadn’t changed much since I was a kid. It still had a family-friendly restaurant that closed early on the weekends, and a bar separated by a half wall. Old railroad signs decorated the walls and model trains from Hank’s extensive collection were displayed everywhere. And it still had the best onion rings in town.
As usual for a Saturday, it was packed. I spotted Cara at a table in the bar, her red hair loose around her shoulders. She sipped a drink, casually watching the people around her.
Absently, I wiped my hands on my jeans. Was it my imagination or were people staring at me? Had they already heard? Rumors spread through this town faster than summer wildfires, but this was ridiculous. It had only been a few hours.
Trying to ignore the eyes following me, I went to Cara’s table.
“There’s my sparkling moonbeam.” She put down her drink. “But god, what happened to you?”
I dropped like a rock into the chair across from her. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“How about start with why you’re wearing safety goggles. Then we can talk about…” She paused and gestured up and down. “All this.”
I brought my hand to my face. Oh my god, I was still wearing safety goggles. No wonder everyone had been staring at me. I took them off and set them on the table.
She reached across and started wiping my forehead and running her fingers through the front of my hair, like a mother trying to clean up her filthy child. “Why are you so dirty?”
“I was doing demo.”
“And you just dropped your tools and walked out of the house without looking in the mirror? When are you going to let me hire you a contractor?”
“Never.”
She stopped fussing with my hair. “Boo, what’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost or something.”
“Asher came home.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“He’s home.”
“Are you drunk already? You didn’t drive here, did you?”
“I’m not drunk.”
Her mouth opened, but she hesitated. “Asher as in Bailey?”
I nodded.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I saw him at Gram’s.”
She pushed her drink across the table. “Drink this, then keep talking, because I’m lost.”
I picked up her gin and tonic and took a long swallow. “He’s at Gram’s house. I don’t know why. I saw him and then I went home and almost took out a wall with a sledgehammer.”
Leaning back in her chair, she looked over her shoulder toward the bar and wiggled her fingers. “Hank? We need something stronger over here. Immediately.”
“He was in the kitchen,” I said. My voice didn’t sound like me. “And he told me to leave.”
Her face went stony. “What?”
“He said he can’t do this yet. And then told me to go.”
“So you went home and started breaking things?”
“Basically.”
“Can’t argue with that.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, I wasn’t prepared for this level of damage control tonight, but we’ll improvise.”
Hank arrived at our table and slid two shots of what looked like whiskey in front of us.
“Perfect, Hank, you’re a gem.” She gave him a bright smile, but something behind me caught her attention, and her expression melted into a glare. “Oh great, just what we need. Prince dickhead.”
Logan pulled out the chair next to me and plopped down, setting his beer on the table.
“That seat’s taken,” Cara said.
Logan scowled at her, then shifted so he was facing me. “Has Evan talked to you yet? He said he was going to call.”
“I saw Asher.”
He held my gaze for a second, nodding slowly, as if he could guess how it had gone. “Well, shit.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“We didn’t know until the last minute. Gram got a call this morning and she sent us out to get him. Hell, it wasn’t until we were halfway there that I woke up enough to realize what was going on. I’d just gotten off a twenty-four-hour shift when Levi started banging on my door saying we had to go. Anyway, Evan said he’d call you.”
“He did, but it was after I’d been there. Levi did too, but I haven’t called them back. It was just… I don’t know.”
Logan winced. “What did Ash say to you?”
“Very little, and none of it good.”
“Damn it. I’m sorry, Grace. He’s pretty messed up. I think the whole thing caught him off guard and he’s not dealing with it very well.”
“What happened? How did he get out early? I didn’t think that was even a possibility.”
“None of us did, even him. But get this. You aren’t the only one that scum-bucket attacked. Apparently he assaulted a girl before you, and she happens to be the new governor’s niece. I wish I knew how it all went down, but the bottom line is, the governor found out about Asher somehow and I
guess he said fuck that, and told them to let Asher out.”
“The governor does have the power to grant clemency,” Cara said. “Usually it requires a hearing and then a review by a committee. Although technically, he could issue an executive order.”
I glanced at Cara, trying to push away the sick feeling I got at Logan’s use of the word assaulted. I didn’t like thinking about that. “How do you know all that?”
“Your fiancé was in prison. I did some research to find out if there were any strings I could pull.”
“Of course you did.”
Logan looked at Cara with confusion, or maybe surprise. “Anyway, Ash had no idea he was coming home, and the guy’s been locked up for years. I mean, you saw him. He looked like he’d been in a brawl right before they let him out.”
“Yeah, he was hurt. Did he say anything about not wanting to see me?”
“He wouldn’t even let us talk about you. Gavin asked if we’d called you yet and Ash looked like he wanted to break him in half.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Cara said. “Where is he right now, because I’m going to go talk to this guy and—”
“Cara.” I reached across the table and put my hand on hers. “Retract the claws, honey.”
“No, this is fucked up.”
“Stay out of it,” Logan said.
“Excuse me? Your asshole brother comes home after seven years of not speaking to my best friend and the first thing he does is tell her to leave? I don’t fucking think so.”
“Watch who you’re calling asshole. You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t have to; I can smell an asshole ten miles away. Speaking of, you’re ruining the ambiance with your douchebag cologne. Maybe cool it on the Axe body spray.”
He waved his hand in front of his face. “Pretty sure that’s you. Even your rich-bitch perfume can’t mask the scent of evil.”
“Eat my dick, Logan.”
“Will you two shut up?” I snapped. “You’re not helping.”
Logan cast another glare at Cara. She flipped him off.
I rolled my eyes at both of them, although their bickering was waking me up from my stupor.
“Just give him a little time,” Logan said. “You saw him. He’s fucked up right now.”
“Yeah, that’s what Gram said, too. The time thing, I mean. She didn’t say fucked up.” I eyed the whiskey. “I don’t know what to do.”
“If you can trust anyone, it’s Gram,” Logan said. “Even Scarlet Fever over there can’t argue with that.”
Cara rolled her eyes again.
I took a deep breath. He wasn’t wrong. I could trust Gram, and if she said it would be okay, maybe it would. Maybe he just needed some time.
Logan rubbed my back a few times. “Hang in there, kiddo. Asher’s still in there. He’s all big and prison-scary right now, but with a little Tilikum therapy, he’ll be fine. Gram will stuff him with pie, we’ll go fuck with the Havens a little, then have a few beers around a bonfire. He’ll come back.”
“I’m sure spending time with you will be great for him,” Cara said, her voice thick with sarcasm.
Logan swiveled in his chair. “I swear to god, Cara—”
“Shut up, Logan.”
“Oh my god, will you two go beat the crap out of each other outside or fuck in the bathroom or something? You’re driving me crazy.”
Logan smirked. “Nah, bathrooms are gross. Supply closet, maybe.”
“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last dick in a ten-thousand-mile radius.”
He put his forearm on the table and leaned toward her. “That’s okay. Gram always says don’t stick your dick in crazy.”
I smacked Logan’s arm. “Gram never said that.”
“Not in so many words, but the message was there.”
Cara reached across the table and took my hand in hers. I could see her pretending Logan was no longer here. “What do you need? Tacos? Ice cream? Or maybe something more direct. Give me an hour, and I can get my hands on a taser.”
“No tasers.”
“Are you sure? I don’t care how big and scary he is, he’ll drop like a rag doll.”
“Cray-zee,” Logan muttered under his breath.
“I’m sure I don’t want a taser. I might take you up on the ice cream, though.”
She pushed the whiskey toward me. “I’m on it. In the meantime, drink this.”
“Fine.” I tossed back the shot and winced. It burned going down.
“Good job, boo.” She got up, flashing a glare at Logan. With a little flip of her red hair, she shouldered her purse and headed for the door. In search of ice cream, apparently. Knowing her, she’d bring it right in and sweet-talk Hank into letting us eat it here. Of course, he was used to her. He also knew how well she tipped.
Logan’s eyes narrowed, but he was totally watching her ass while she walked away.
“She looks good in those jeans, doesn’t she?”
Logan chewed his bottom lip, then blinked. “What? No.”
“Right.”
He shook himself, like he was getting rid of a disturbing image, then patted my leg. “Don’t worry. It’s the first day. We’ll get him back.”
“Thanks, Logan.”
He leaned closer to kiss my forehead, then ruffled my hair. “You should think about showering before you go out in public, though. You’re a mess.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Anytime.”
He took his beer and left.
I slumped back in my chair and fiddled with the empty shot glass. My stomach was warm from the whiskey, but the hollow space in my heart was awfully cold. I’d thought Asher’s release would mean the end of our ordeal, not the beginning of another.
Apparently, I’d been wrong.
6
Asher
My eyes flew open and I jerked awake. For a few seconds, I had no idea where I was. Narrow bed, but the sheets were soft. Light peeked in through gaps in a curtain.
Right. I was home.
Sitting up, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cool wood on my bare feet. I took a deep breath and tried to ground myself in the solid wood floor. There would be no cafeteria today. No scuffles or jockeying for space. No fights in the yard.
I could close the fucking door when I went to the bathroom, and it was amazing how much that felt like a luxury.
After a hot shower, I dug through my old clothes and found a t-shirt and some jeans. The jeans didn’t fit over my thighs—apparently I’d put on some size. The shirt was tight, but it would work, and I found a pair of sweats that fit.
I needed all new clothes. In fact, I needed just about everything. I didn’t have a phone or a car. Everything I owned fit in one half of my old bedroom. Of course, I didn’t have any money, either. I’d have to do something about that, too.
Once again, I had the strange sensation that I’d been living in another world and had suddenly been dropped back into this one with nothing.
Downstairs, I found Gram at the kitchen sink. She hung her mug on a hook and gave me a warm smile.
“Morning,” I said.
“Did you sleep?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Good. Help yourself to some breakfast if you’re hungry. The keys to Grandad’s truck are on the hook if you need to go somewhere. Don’t be thinking you can take my car.”
I chuckled a little. She’d always been adamant that her car was hers alone, and she’d never let any of us drive it. We’d all had to learn to drive Grandad’s old truck—a 1960 Ford F-100. It was a beast, and we’d had to become amateur mechanics just to keep it running. But it had gotten us around.
“Thanks. Does it still run?”
“It might. The boys take it out now and again to keep it working.” She shrugged, then her eyes narrowed. “You remember how to drive?”
“I think so. I’m sure it’ll come back to me.”
“All right, Bear. I need to go feed my peckers.”
&
nbsp; I tried, and failed, to suppress a laugh.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. Enjoy feeding your chickens.”
She patted my arm, then headed for the back door. “Your shirt’s too small.”
I cracked a smile as she walked out the back door. “I know, Gram,” I said quietly to myself. “A lot of things don’t fit anymore.”
I poked around the kitchen for breakfast, glad she hadn’t been down here cooking for me. Her assumption that I could fend for myself was reassuring. I made some eggs and toast, and the normalcy of that simple task made the ground beneath my feet feel a little steadier.
After breakfast, I went out to the shop next to the house to see if the truck would start.
The shop was big with room to park—and work on—the truck, plus Grandad’s old woodworking area. He’d built half the furniture in the house out here.
I opened one of the garage bay doors. Inside, it still smelled like sawdust, wood stain, and engine oil. Tools hung on pegs on the wall and old parts and supplies cluttered the shelves. There was probably half of a second truck in pieces with all the stuff we’d picked up at junkyards over the years.
Grandad’s truck was two-tone white and blue. It had some rust and wear, and there were dings on the body. It had always been a working truck, not something for show. I just hoped it ran. Otherwise I was going to need a plan B. Or a better pair of shoes, because I’d be doing a lot of walking.
I got in—the bench seat wasn’t any more comfortable than I remembered—and turned the key. The engine roared, the sound vibrating through me. I revved it a few times, enjoying the throaty sound.
It was loud, but it ran.
After turning it off, I spent some time making sure it didn’t need any immediate attention. Checked the oil, tinkered with a few things. It had been a long time since I’d gotten my hands greasy under the hood, and it felt good. Normal.
I wiped my hands on a rag and closed the hood. The back of my neck prickled and I glanced over my shoulder. It kind of felt like I was being watched, but I didn’t see anyone.
That was weird.
Fighting for Us: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 2) Page 4