My aunt was in her kitchen, like I knew she would be.
She loved to cook, and if ever I needed to talk to her, I always came looking for her there first. Not for the first time since arriving, I took her in, wondering what was wrong with her. Because she looked fine.
Just like she always did.
Her faded brown hair streaked with silver was pulled back in a tidy bun at the nape of her neck. Her tan slacks looked freshly pressed, and her floral blouse, one of many, was neat and tidy.
She turned to me, brushing her hands down the apron she was wearing to wipe away the flour on her fingers. “I’m making biscuits to go with dinner. How about you get started on the potatoes?” she said.
I moved around the familiar room, gathering potatoes from the pantry, chopping board from the middle drawer, peeler from the one above, and a knife from the wooden block on the kitchen island, and began doing what we had many times before.
I’d finished washing them and was in the process of peeling when I worked up the courage to say what I’d been wanting to since I arrived. “You’re not sick, are you?”
She was at the counter down from me, the sink between us, and I watched her go still.
Her spine straightened. “Stop asking ridiculous questions and hurry up with those potatoes.”
I turned to her. “I didn’t ask you a question. I stated a fact that is easy to see.”
She busied herself placing her biscuits on a tray, not looking at me. “Well, how else was I going to get you home?”
I mean, I knew it as soon as I saw her. I knew that she’d lied, but still I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to find some other reason that she’d lie about her own health to get me there.
“Have you even been sick?” I asked.
“You’ve been gone months,” she said, giving me more excuses.
“I call you all the time and I’ve visited regularly.” I curled my fingers into a fist and let the bite of my nails into my palm remind me to stay calm, not to show just how angry I was.
She turned to me, and her blue eyes that had a hardness, a directness, that had always made me squirm, locked on mine. “I’ve heard reports from a reliable source that you’re fraternizing with undesirable people.”
It was my turn to still. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She turned back to the counter and lifted her tray, carrying it to the oven and sliding the biscuits in. She set her timer and turned back to me. “I thought it was time you came home, thought about where you came from, remembered your values, the things that are important.”
I was stunned silent for several long moments before I finally found my voice. “The people I’m spending time with are good people, Aunt Julia. I’ve made real friends, have a job that I love. I don’t know who’s told you that about me, but they’re wrong.” Stay calm. Hysterics, emotions of any kind really, did not work on my aunt. An abundance of any feelings only made her dig her heels in deeper.
I’d learned that the hard way. My teenage frustrations, the odd outburst, and my tendency to cry when I was angry or upset had only gotten me grounded. It didn’t matter the subject or how upset I was. Even the subject of my parents, how much I’d missed them, had made her purse her lips unhappily.
Being overly emotional was not tolerated in this house. Was considered a weakness.
So I’d learned to lock it all down around her.
She started putting away what she’d used to make her famous biscuits, and on her way back from the pantry her blue eyes fixed on me. “So you’re not spending time with that boy?”
That boy. She’d never said Dane’s name, not once, and after what happened at the diner a year and a half ago, any mention of him, even when I didn’t say his name, caused her mouth to turn down and an unmistakable look of disgust to twist her features.
“Dane’s my friend,” I said, because telling her the truth at this point would have been the absolute worst thing I could do.
“He’s a thug and a liar,” she said, her disgust deepening.
We’d had this conversation many times, so many times my stomach clenched and I felt instantly nauseous. “He was protecting me. Clayton was going to hurt me, Aunt Julia.”
“I’ve known Clayton since he was a child. I can’t believe that of him.”
“Then why is he in prison now if he’s so innocent?” Evidence of Clayton’s other crimes surfaced not long after he’d dropped the charges against Dane. I knew Bull or Cal or both had had something to do with that. Somehow they’d found out that creep’s secrets, dug up evidence, and made sure he was put away, but my aunt was convinced he was set up.
“The police were lied to,” she said, voice rising uncharacteristically.
“Are you telling me you think the police in Rutherford are so incompetent they would lock someone away for several years on a lie? That someone from another town could walk into the station and they’d believe anything he said without real evidence? Without looking into it themselves?” My voice had risen as well, and I took several steadying breaths to gather my composure.
Her expression shuttered, locking me out, refusing to listen to what I was saying because she didn’t want to believe it. If she believed it, that would mean her church friends would turn their backs on her again like they had when I was almost drugged and raped by their beloved pastor’s son.
It would also mean Dane wasn’t who she thought he was. That the boy I’d told her about when she first brought me there, before I knew what she was like and shared more than I should have, was the good guy in this.
My aunt had a lot of twisted ideas about many things, and even though I’d been in that foster home along with Dane, she was convinced that every child who was taken into care went bad. That lack of a real family, blood family, affected them in ways they would never recover from.
What would she say if I told her my family was Dane? Was Cassy and Cal, and Bull and Quinn. Trix and Lila. That a found family could give you everything you needed. More.
That my found family meant more to me than anything or anyone. That they loved me in a way she never had been able to and accepted me as I was.
This was about her and how my actions had affected her, not me. Never me. And knowing that Dane was in my life again, and the risk of her friends finding out, would not be tolerated.
“I think you need to calm down,” she said, her composure restored. “You’re far too emotional about this. You’re not thinking straight.”
And there it was. When I was younger, her saying that to me would make me lose my mind, and I’d give her more ammunition to pull the “I was being irrational” card. I ignored the angry tears prickling my eyes, fighting them down ruthlessly, because I’d learned not to do that in front of her or give her that.
“There’s nothing to think about. I know exactly what I’m doing,” I said, voice as monotone as I could get it.
Her eyes narrowed. “I think you need to take a good hard look at yourself, at why you want to spend time with that boy. What it is inside you that makes you seek out someone like that, spend time with a…a man like that?”
“Aunt Julia—”
Her hand shot up, and I clamped my lips together, the only acceptable response to the hand, and a response that was automatic, something that happened before I could stop it.
“I want you to see what else—who else—is out there before you make choices you will live to regret,” she said, stunning me.
I forced myself not to fidget or squirm under her probing stare. “I don’t need to see what else is out there.”
We were talking around it, but she knew. She knew Dane was more to me than a friend, and she was making it clear in her usual indirect way when it came to things that made her uncomfortable that she was aware of the situation.
She smoothed her hands over her apron. “If you make the effort to do as I ask, maybe I won’t be so harsh a judge…if you find I’m wrong, that is.”
I had no idea what she was gettin
g at. What? She wanted me to date around, and if I didn’t find someone better than Dane she’d give us her blessing? Anger welled inside me. “So you want me to spend time with other people?” I said, being as indirect as her.
She folded her hands together in front of her. “Yes.”
“And if I do, and I still want him in my life, you’ll accept it? My…friendship with Dane.”
Her spine stiffened at the mention of his name. “Yes.”
I didn’t want to play her game, but if I didn’t, I’d never hear the end of this. She’d never let it drop. And for all her faults, she never went back on her word. But there was no way I’d date anyone else. Never. “What do you actually want me to—”
“I’ve arranged for you to have a meal with Martin Renshaw next week. I was talking to his father, and he’s looking to settle down. And I know you had a close friendship with him before he went to college. He’s from a good family, has a good job on his father’s ranch now, and he’s always admired you.”
“What?” I whispered.
“You will go, and you will be polite.” She pointed at me, something she very rarely did, but when she did, you knew she meant business. “If you refuse to go, if you embarrass me, I will never forgive you.”
Her eyes were sharp, back to probing. She thought Martin was her golden ticket, that I’d see the boy she knew I once had a crush on and he’d turn my head. That I was so fickle I’d fall head over heels and forget all about Dane.
She was so sure of it, she’d all but agreed to give me her blessing to be with Dane if this dinner didn’t work out.
Little did she know Martin had taken my virginity, and we’d continued to share some extremely inadequate sex in her barn on numerous occasions. That there was no crush; there had barely ever been one. As a matter of fact, we were still kind of friends. And even if he was the hottest guy on earth, nothing—no one—would make me give up Dane.
I owed her. She’d provided me with a safe home when I desperately needed one. I hated to think what would have happened to me in that house when Dane reached eighteen and had been forced to leave me behind. Without him there to protect me, my life would have been unbearable.
Which was why I’d do this, why I owed her this. I knew in her own way she wanted the best for me. I hoped so anyway. I hoped this wasn’t just about how she looked to her church friends.
That’s what I’d told myself all these years, what I’d needed to tell myself.
“If that’s what you want, then I’ll do it.”
She dipped her chin. “Now go finish unpacking, then come back down for dinner.”
I turned away, but not before I saw a smile curl her lips.
She thought she’d won.
Chapter Eighteen
Dane
I stared up at the ranch house that Everly had lived in for a lot of years, and my gut tightened.
She’d come here after we’d said goodbye the first time. Everly had been fifteen. I was seventeen. I felt like my whole world was being torn from me, even though I knew it was for the best, even though I was relieved that she’d be safe.
The memory was etched in my mind.
“I don’t want to go. Please, Dane, don’t make me go.”
Tears ran down Everly’s face. She was crying so hard each sob shook her. I was scared she was going to hurt herself crying like this.
“Please, stop, baby girl,” I said, throat tight, fighting back my own tears. “I’ll visit you, I promise. I get out of here in six months. I’ll come and see you as soon as I turn eighteen.”
Everly clung to me, fingers trembling, those big tears rolling down her face. “I don’t want to go with her. She’s not my family. You are.”
I took her chin in my hand, swallowing hard, desperate to control the emotion trying to get free. If she saw it, it’d only make this harder on her. “It doesn’t matter how far away you are. That will never change, Eves. Not ever. Understand?”
There was a knock at the door. “Time to go.”
I’d promised to take her with me when I turned eighteen, that I’d take her to Rocktown, and no one would find her there. But as we got older, we both knew that was impossible. She had to come here to her aunt’s.
This place, those years of her life here, I hadn’t been a part of. Yeah, we’d called and texted, and I’d seen her when I could, but it wasn’t the same after having her pretty much every day, all day for three years.
Going to bed at night without her had felt wrong. I’d felt wrong, empty without her there beside me. For a long time after she left I’d wake expecting to feel her warmth beside me. She was on my mind constantly. Always there.
She’d only been a kid, and what I’d felt for her back then wasn’t what I felt now. There was no resemblance. But it had been deeper than anything I’d ever experienced. We had a connection that was unexplainable but undeniable from the start.
I didn’t feel whole when she wasn’t with me. I hadn’t for the eighteen months I’d stayed away from her, and I didn’t now.
Having her back with me—then not. A whole damned week without her. I couldn’t do it. My heart wasn’t beating right. I couldn’t think straight. My body actually ached with the need to have her in my arms, under me, to just fucking have her close to me.
Anticipation pumped thickly through my veins as I climbed off my bike and made my way to the front door.
When I’d visited Eves in the past, we’d meet somewhere else. A field down from the house, usually. She’d ride her horse across the property to meet me, afraid her aunt would find out we were still friends.
Not anymore.
There would be no more hiding. Her aunt had to know we were together by now, and she needed to get used to the fact that I was here for good. Everly said she had everything under control. She’d asked me to stay in Rocktown, and told me she’d be back soon.
No, she didn’t need me to fight her battles. I knew that. And I wouldn’t where her aunt was concerned. But I was done waiting. As soon as I found out Julia had faked an illness just to get Everly home, had manipulated her, I was done.
I wanted my girl with me.
A week was enough.
I knocked and didn’t have to wait long. The door opened, and a small woman with brown hair streaked with gray, a pinched mouth, and eyes that were surprisingly similar to Everly’s, despite the color difference, opened the door.
There was no greeting, but her eyes hardened. “What are you doing here?” she all but hissed.
Okay, so that’s how this was going to be. “I’ve come for Everly,” I said, not even trying to sugarcoat my words. The woman despised me. I already knew this, of course, but I’d hoped we could start to build bridges.
Her eyes actually lit up, confusing me for a spilt second. For a moment, I thought I was looking at something else. Like warmth or happiness, until she spoke again.
“My niece is on a date.”
My instant reaction was disbelief, because there was no way—zero chance that Everly would date some other guy. “You’re lying,” I bit out.
“Martin came and picked her up three hours ago.” Julia crossed her arms. “They’re obviously having a nice time. Such good friends, the two of them. Neighbors while she lived here. Everly had a crush on him, you know, when she moved here. Such a good, upstanding boy. Good family, works hard, goes to church.” She gave me a disgusted look. “Everly couldn’t do better than a man like him, of that I’m sure.”
“Bullshit,” I said, even as my mind whirled. Martin? Then it came to me. The fucker she used to hook up with in her aunt’s barn. Everly was with him? What the actual fuck was going on?
I needed to find her now. I took a step back, but the small woman in front of me grabbed my wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, and it took all my effort not to shake the bitch off.
“I saw her phone, the one you’d sent her. I found it right after what happened, right after you beat our pastor’s son bloody. I read the messages before she left me.
I read nearly all of them. You controlled her, even from another town. You inserted yourself in her life and you wouldn’t leave her alone.” Her face flushed with rage. “How dare you?” she said so harshly I flinched. “How dare you play with that girl’s emotions? She was vulnerable, and you took advantage of that, of her.”
That’s how she saw me, as some kind of fucking predator? Some monster who preyed on her niece? “That’s not how—”
“You’re selfish and violent and untrustworthy. You will never be good enough for her.”
The breath I sucked in was so sharp and deep it hurt. There were so many things I wanted to say. But there was no point. None. She’d already made up her mind about me. And in her eyes, I was the lowest piece of shit in existence.
So as carefully as I could, I pulled her hand off my arm and took a step back. I took another of those harsh breaths, because her words had struck. They’d found their mark and they’d buried deep. I already knew deep down what she said was everything I’d tried so hard to ignore, to bury.
But I hadn’t buried shit.
I turned and strode back to my bike.
“Leave Rutherford and leave her alone,” Julia called after me.
I climbed on my bike, started it, and roared down their winding gravel driveway and out onto the road, heading for town to find Everly.
I ignored the pain in my chest. The ache, I realized, had been there for so long I was used to it. It had driven me to walk away from Everly a year and a half ago, an ache that was made of fear, that I was no good for her, that I was hurting her. Would end up hurting her even more.
Christ, I didn’t want to think about that, not now. I had to find Everly.
Not one part of me believed she would cheat on me, not one, but I needed her. To see her, touch her, make sure she was okay.
I spotted her twenty minutes later. She was coming out of a restaurant, a rustic-looking building with flowers planted all around it and a gravel parking lot to the side. Everly was standing by a truck, her auburn hair lit up in the light of the setting sun, and there was a guy standing in front of her.
Meant For You: Rocktown Ink, Book 3 Page 18