“Go and fuck yourself, Aldridge,” Bennett grunts, rushing out of the house. “Just don’t call me again. You want out? It’s over!”
I stare at him and then at Vance. We Aldridges know how to fuck shit up, don’t we?
“Want me to catch up to him?” I ask Vance, who is leaning against the door frame sweating and flinching with what I can only guess is pain.
He shakes his head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he grunts.
“I’m in the middle of a divorce,” I remind him. “I might be able to get the hang of the ordeal.”
He stares at me for a couple of beats and says, “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to get you the information you needed.”
“Why not?” I ask, not upset but confused. What changed from Friday to today? I understand why he’s redirecting the conversation. Bennett didn’t leave just because it was Monday and he’s running late for a meeting.
They had a fight, but Vance doesn’t want to acknowledge the problem.
He points at the gate. “I just quit and chose you, asshole.”
I’m confused by what I saw. That wasn’t you quit and I’m mad. It was more like a fine, we’re over, but don’t come begging back when you regret it moment. Instead of asking, because that’s more like something Blaire would try to do, I say, “Thank you.”
“It better be worth it,” he warns me and cringes when he takes a step back.
“You shouldn’t be on your leg,” I remind him and walk closer to him so he can lean on me. “Let’s take you back to your room or at least the couch. The doctors should check you.”
“What happened?” Beacon asks from the kitchen.
“Bennett left, Vance tried to walk, and…we better not fail him, or he is going to kill us in our sleep,” I simplify as I help Vance take a seat on the couch. He sets his feet on the couch’s armrest and his head on the other side.
Beacon smirks. “Was that a lovers’ quarrel, or did you two break up?”
“Shut the fuck up. Nothing is happening between us,” Vance warns him.
Beacon raises his hands and says, “I’m just saying we share a wall, and I know what I heard. You’re lying to yourself. But what do I know? Is ‘Yes, more…deeper…fuck me, babe,’ some kind of code you use during your missions and you were practicing?”
Vance glares at him and flips him the finger.
“Listen, this might not be the best time to bring this up,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck and looking toward the door to see if I have enough time to run before he tries to kill me. “But do you know of any agency or private investigator that can get me the information I requested?”
“What kind of information are you looking for?” Beacon approaches, a slow smile builds on his mouth. “The kind where you try to find dirty shit on a lawyer?”
I frown and nod. “Good guess. How did you know?”
He lifts a shoulder and says, “It’s a gift. What kind of dirt are you searching for?”
I stare at him and then at Vance. It’s a long shot, but maybe Vance knows someone who can help us. It’s not for me, but for Leyla. I explain to them who I’m investigating and why. When I’m done with the story, I hear Hayes ask, “Are you adopting because one of you can’t have children?”
Looking around, I realize all my brothers are in the room. What happened?
“Why are you here?” Maybe I should ask, “How long were you standing there?”
“Leyla called Blaire,” Hayes explains. “She heard the commotion. They are at the bakery with Arden. We came to check on Vance since his—”
“Don’t say another word, or I’ll take you down,” Vance threatens him.
“He’s grieving. He just broke up with the boyfriend,” Beacon says. “Denial is the first step.”
“I was going to say his leg hasn’t healed yet, and he shouldn’t be walking,” Hayes claims. “But, thank you for sharing the rest with us, Beac.”
“Any time,” Beacon says, turning toward me and saying, “I can help you with the investigation. Send me everything you have. Are you sure you want to know all the dirt?”
I nod.
He sighs. “Just don’t come crying to me. They dig deep, and there might be dirt that you won’t want to know about them.”
I grin and say, “I do, but who is helping you with the investigation?”
“That’s top-secret info,” he states. “I know the right people. I wish you had told me something like, ‘We’re spying on Parrish.’”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll get to him soon,” I offer. “By the way, he’s going to be visiting us often. He claims we won’t see him. Just be on the lookout, and make sure to follow the fucking rules. It’s not hard.”
“About the kid, you’re trying to adopt?” Henry circles back. “How would you do that if you left Colorado?”
“Not to be the bearer of bad news, but you can’t leave town for six months. Also, his family screwed Ley,” Beacon whispers the last part. “Clearly, some of us weren’t paying attention to the conversation.”
I glare at him. Henry mouths, asshole.
“Did you try IVF?” Hayes asks. “Trying to adopt when things are so shaky, not only between you two but living here, will make it almost impossible. You should try couples counseling first.”
I shake my head and say, “I’m going out for a ride.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Leyla
Two weeks and five days post-move, everyone is beginning to settle into their new roles. We’re still getting the hang of things. Blaire and I watch the guys fight, and sometimes I have to break up the brawls. For some reason, they listen more to me than to anyone else. Blaire says that it’s because I keep comparing them with animals, which Carter used to do a lot.
Today is Mills’s day off at The Lodge. Since I don’t have anything to do just like Blaire, I ask if I can tag along with her.
Her medical practice hasn’t opened yet, but she’s been doing house calls.
“I’m heading to the shelter,” she informs me.
“There’s a shelter?” I ask, surprised because I’ve walked all around town with Buster and Daisy several times.
It’s a lovely place, and it also helps them get to know their surroundings in case they ever wander outside the property. I trust them but not the adults in this house. We’ve caught them leaving the gate open several times.
“It’s right by the church,” she explains. “I’ve been meaning to visit it since I arrived. I doubt there’s a doctor giving them services if they need medical attention.”
“Probably not,” I confirm and suggest, “We should set up a dispensary around there.”
She sighs, “Let’s add it to our list of projects. We can probably build a hospital and make sure we provide care for everyone. I can see myself working on that list way after you guys leave.”
“We’ll be around for a long time,” I say, not knowing how long I plan on staying.
The time I’ve spent here hasn’t given me any answers about my future. Today is the one-year anniversary since I moved out of the house. One year and I still haven’t been able to leave him. Is having a child an excuse?
As a single woman it will be difficult to get approved, but not impossible.
To avoid overthinking, I offer my help, “Do you need an assistant for the day?”
She gives me a thoughtful look before responding, “I’d love the company if you don’t mind.”
During the walk, we discuss the weather. It’s boring yet impressive how we can manage to talk about that subject with so much depth every single day. It’s a way to avoid saying something that might end up on the town’s social media. The guys do enough damage while venting all their stuff at The Lodge every single day.
When we arrive, there’s no one using the shelter, just one person who volunteers every other day to open and clean. She explains to us that people seek shelter more often during
winter. Those who come are usually stranded hikers, campers, and runaway teenagers.
“We’d love to help,” I offer. “Do you have a list of supplies you need?”
“How about food?” Blaire asks.
“When we can, we use the church’s kitchen. Some days we just give them the leftovers from the diner.”
“We should make a deal with Toni,” I suggest. “We’ll have them bill that to us. Everyone, including the volunteers, should have a meal.”
Blaire gives me a curious look when I say, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”
“Parrish might not approve the expense.”
“Who is Parrish again?” I ask, confused.
“The lawyer,” she responds.
I shake my head. “This shouldn’t be an Aldridge project. I’ll pay for it.”
Before we leave, the volunteer gives us a list of what they need. They get some help from the town, but not much. We give her our information and ask her to call us if anyone needs medical attention or when she has a teenager that might need help finding a good place to live.
“Where is this ‘good place’ where we’re going to send the runaway teens?” Blaire asks when we arrive home.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “It’s something I’d have to figure out when we get the call. I’m just giving them an option.”
“I have a friend who has a home for runaway teenagers,” she states. “But, it’s in San Francisco.”
“Then we fly them there, or we ask your friend to help us set up a house like that here. When you are out of options and you think the world is about to swallow you, it is good to know that there’s hope.”
She studies me and then hits me with a question I should’ve seen coming when I opened my big mouth.
“How do you know?”
I shrug. I’ve never gotten this far into a friendship. Everything is always superficial because not many have time to pay attention to what the people around them have to say. Nobody cares. I don’t know if it’s the people I deal with daily, how modern society has evolved, or me.
“My last set of foster parents weren’t bad. But when you’re a teenager, you feel like the world is about to end and that no one understands you.” My voice is casual, my eyes remain glued on the floor. “Before them, there were times when I felt unsafe, and I wanted to run away. Fortunately, I was a problem child, and they’d kick me out almost as fast as I arrived.”
“I wanted to run away for different reasons,” she sighs. “Sometimes it was because I wanted to go to the mall, go to prom, or just see the outside of my room. The days I packed my stuff and almost escaped were the days before treatment.”
“Treatment?” I ask, and she shows me her arms that have discolored lines, almost like scars. “They didn’t know how to poke you, did they?”
She shakes her head. “It was chemo. There was a point where I was too skinny, and the veins were too thin.”
“Still in remission?” I ask, and she nods happily. “Is that why you’re keeping the news of the baby to yourself? Just in case—”
She gasps, “How do you know?”
“Early symptoms, your fiancé touching your belly every two seconds and asking if you feel alright,” I answer and smile, because after everything she’s gone through, this is beautiful. “Congratulations.”
“It’s too early. I’m a little scared, but I guess we should tell everyone at home. We’re like a family, aren’t we?” Her voice has a hint of confusion and a bit of joy to it. “Do you mind if I ask about your parents?”
I touch my arm, rubbing the scar, and tell her the story. The short version. Abused mom, alcoholic father, a terrible night to celebrate a birthday.
“That’s…I’m sorry,” she says.
“Hey, if you start pitying me, I'll pity you back.”
“It’s not that,” she answers. “You’re the second person outside the Aldridges who knows I had cancer.”
“Why is that?”
“I have plenty of friends, but the friendships aren’t deep. It’s hard to have something meaningful when you jump from one country to the next,” she explains, and I understand where she comes from. I’m there. “I’m sure it sounds stupid.”
“You’d be surprised,” I argue. “Pierce was the first person I opened up to since I moved out of Maine. No one knows about my parents, my failed marriage, or where I am now—or cares for that matter.”
She squeezes my hand. “You’re not alone. Things didn’t work out with him, but whenever you leave, you have Sophia and me,” she promises. “Now tell me why you don’t just leave him. If it’s because you’re waiting to kill him and make it look like an accident, Vance might do it for us.”
We laugh, and it feels different having someone I can tell stuff to who isn’t charging me two hundred dollars but is listening because she cares. Since she has already told me her story with Hayes, it seems fair to tell her about mine. The rest of the afternoon, I recount how I first met Pierce, how we ended up together, and the sad ending.
“He didn’t apologize,” I say, resentful. “The lawyer in him doesn’t allow him to say, ‘I screwed this up, I lied, and I am sorry.’ My current therapist asked what I would’ve done if he had been upfront.”
I pause, look at the lake, then at the space where they are building the horses’ arenas. “I loved him for him, and maybe I would’ve stayed. He didn’t give me that choice.”
“You came to drop him, didn’t you?”
I nod a couple of times. “Like me, he’s not good with people. I had to make sure he’s okay. While I’m here I’m strategizing on where to go next and hoping for the best.”
“So, when are you leaving?” she asks.
“Probably when the first six months are over,” I answer. “I am already researching adoption agencies. I won’t apply until the divorce is finalized, though. Maybe I’ll buy a house somewhere in Oregon if I get the foster parent certification. There has to be a baby or two in need of a mom. I hope.”
She nods and then says, “We could reach out to the orphanages I’ve built. There’s also the option of buying sperm and getting you inseminated. We can call a fertility doctor to see if they can come up here to run the tests and then give me the protocol. It’s a lot simpler to do that while you wait for the adoption agency.”
I smile, “That’s a good plan.”
“Carter’s death affected all of us. I had no idea Pierce did something so stupid,” she snorts. “I could see Henry or Vance doing it.”
“Why them?”
“They are angry with the world,” she explains. “Pierce always seems so mature and put together.”
“He knows how to fake it,” I inform her.
“So, if you open an animal hospital, who is going to attend to it?”
I shrug. “I know people, and then there are the kids I’m putting through vet school. They are obligated to work for me. The scholarship doesn’t say where exactly.”
“Just buy one of the houses Easton is building,” she suggests. “You don’t have to leave.”
“I do. At least for a while why I do a necessary Pierce detox.”
She arches an eyebrow, and I say, “Don’t ask.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Leyla
The average small town has three things in common: the people know everybody else’s business, there are less than ten thousand citizens, and there’s almost nothing to do. Baker’s Creek isn’t as average as many places in the world. Our population is about six thousand people. Everybody knows everyone’s business. Well, not ours, though. We try to be discreet.
It’s a good thing and a not so great thing to do. The people of the town think we’re just like all the Aldridges, stuck up and not willing to be a part of them. We are anything but, and we want to be a part, but we can only handle so much at a time. Trying to get along with strangers, learning to live with a small farm, and making sure everyone follows the rules is exhausting. It’s like taking care of feral k
ittens.
Adding to the town gossip will just push us into the abyss. This will end up like a sequel of The Hunger Games.
Now, the biggest quirk of this town is its famous festivals. They are, at times, ridiculous. Well, the Hair Braiding Festival was kind of cute. I loved how one of the vendors braided my hair and put tiny flowers in between the strands. I wish she were the local esthetician because if she had more time, she could’ve dyed my hair with different shades of reds and browns.
Last week’s festival was partially disgusting. The town smelled like onions because certainly, every booth at the Onion Festival had something cooked where the ingredient overpowered everything else. This week is the Beads and Handmade Jewelry Festival.
I’m in heaven.
Pierce keeps paying for all the bracelets, anklets, and charms I keep buying. That’s something I remember well about Mom. She had a lot of jewelry. I wish I knew what happened to everything my parents owned. I don’t have anything to remember her or my sister. After my aunt picked me up from the hospital, I was taken to Colorado, where she bought me new clothes. When I asked about my toys, she said they were gone. I never knew what happened to my parents’ belongings or the house.
I should look for my aunt and demand a few pictures of Mom. Maybe she has something of hers I can save. I’d pay good money for just a memory.
“You okay?” Pierce asks.
I nod and smile.
“What’s happening?” he asks again.
I wave a hand as if saying it doesn’t matter.
“Today isn’t as bad. It could be the Garlic Festival,” he mumbles, scrunching his nose.
So far, I love it, except it reminds me too much of Mardi Gras. When I say it out loud, Pierce’s eyes brighten because when we visited New Orleans during Carnival, it was a weekend of debauchery. Up until now, we’ve behaved. Four weeks without fights or sex is a record that I’m hoping we can keep.
Defying Our Forever (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Book 3) Page 17