“And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.”
― Byron
~Cletus~
I was going to miss the quiet of this house. Memories, both good and bad, were loudest late at night, when everyone was asleep but me.
Presently, I was sitting in my grandmother Oliver’s favorite chair next to a fire, covered by her favorite quilt, and reading her favorite book, the second volume of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Complete Sherlock Holmes. The woman loved mysteries, and she loved rereading the same ones time and time again. Even when she knew what was going to happen, she liked finding new clues, said it made her more observant.
If everything went according to plan, Jennifer and I would be moving into Claire’s farmhouse just after Thanksgiving, and everything was going according to plan. My time in this old house with these old memories was drawing to a close.
It was the end of an era.
It’s true. As a rule, I didn’t like change. My Jennifer continuously surprised me, and her surprises were a thing of beauty. She’d forced me to re-evaluate my priorities and she’d pushed me beyond the contented circle of my comfort zone. She’d changed me.
For the first time in my life, change was synonymous with hope and anticipation. I looked forward to it. And that was revolutionary.
But for now, drinking my grandmother’s recipe for moonshine and reacquainting myself with the Red-Headed League, I let the past speak—both good and bad—and enjoyed my quiet time.
“Why do you wear that thing?”
I lifted just my eyes from the page of my book and glared at Beau, the interrupter. “You’ll have to be more specific. Are you referring to my smoking jacket or my expression of concentration?”
“The smoking jacket.” Beau set a bag of what appeared to be groceries by the console and shut the front door. He was still in his work clothes.
Still in his work clothes past midnight AND his hair is wet from a shower. Ah ha! The chase is afoot.
“It’s cozy. And the lapels are velvet. You know how I like the feel of velvet.” Setting my book down, I pointedly stared at his coveralls. “And why are you still in your work clothes?”
Beau glanced at himself. “I—uh—went to a friend’s house.”
Based on the love bite on his neck and the way he was avoiding my eyes, I translated his statement to mean, I went to Shelly’s house and we had a lot of sex.
Usually I couldn’t abide having my quiet time interrupted, but Beau’s appearance at this late hour was actually fortuitous. It was past time to clear the air about Shelly Sullivan.
“Sit down, Beau. I think we should talk.”
He removed his jacket, hanging it on the console hook, and shook his head. “Can it wait ’til tomorrow?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
He huffed, rubbing a tired hand over his tired face. “Fine. What is it?”
I placed my book on the table at my elbow and tented my fingers. “There comes a time in every young man’s life when—”
“Oh, brother.” Beau rolled his eyes and turned for the stairs. “I don’t have time for one of your speeches, Cletus. I’m exhausted.”
“Fine, I’ll just say it plain. I’m not interested in Shelly Sullivan. But I’m happy you are. Good for you both. Go forth and prosper.”
Beau halted suddenly, his foot on the first step of the staircase. The tense line of his shoulders told me I’d caught him off guard, a suspicion confirmed by the clear shock in his eyes as he swung them to me.
“What did you say?”
At just that moment a knock sounded at our door, several urgent rappings against the solid wood. Beau looked over his shoulder and turned back to the door. We swapped confused stares.
Despite Repo’s assurances over the phone on Saturday that he’d keep Catfish on a leash until we met, had the Iron Wraiths’ captain ignored his leader? Except I hadn’t heard any motorcycles.
“Who is it?” Beau called. I could see by his hesitation that he had the same suspicion.
“It’s Jennifer Sylvester.”
I jumped from my chair and jogged to the door, beating Beau there by three paces. I swung it open, revealing my woman’s tear-stained face. She was still in the same clothes as earlier, jeans and a T-shirt, but she wore no jacket or sweater. Her eyes were big and sad, red and puffy from crying, and she was holding herself.
Alarm hit me square between the eyeballs. I pulled her into the house and wrapped her in my arms.
“What happened? What happened to you? Are you okay?”
She was ice cold. Her teeth were chattering. I rubbed her arms.
Jennifer nodded against my chest, sniffling. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt. Well, except my feet.”
I glanced down, horrified to find her barefoot. “Where are your shoes?”
“At my parents’ house. It’s a—” she sobbed, her breath hitching, “a long story.”
“Beau, go put on some tea.” I glanced over my shoulder, but found my brother was no longer there.
Frowning at his disappearance and frantic over her state of disarray, I plucked her from the ground and carried her to my grandmother’s favorite chair. I wrapped her in my grandmother’s favorite quilt, constructed from her old party dresses, and placed the moonshine I’d been drinking against her lips.
“Drink this, just a little. It’ll warm you up.”
Her lips were blue, almost purple, and she nodded, taking a sip. I had to hold the glass because she was shaking so badly. I pushed my fingers into her hair, which was loose and tangled around her shoulders, and she leaned her cheek against my palm.
“What happened?” I pressed, unable to curtail the question.
I needed to know who to maim.
She sighed, closing her eyes. “My father was waiting for me . . . when I got home.”
Cold dread seized my heart, sending ice and wrath through my veins.
I worked to keep my tone even. “Did he hurt you?”
It didn’t matter what the answer was, I was going to tear his world apart. I was going to destroy him, grind him to dust beneath the heel of my boot.
She shook her head. “He didn’t strike me, if that’s what you mean.”
A herd of elephants coming down the stairwell—or what sounded like it—had me looking over my shoulder. Billy, followed closely by a concerned-looking Beau, crossed the room and stood at my side.
“Is she okay?” Billy asked, frowning between Jennifer and me. “What can we do?”
“You can make some tea. And put a quantity of spirits in it. Better yet, heat up some chicken broth.”
Billy nodded once and then surprised me by stepping forward and squatting next to where Jennifer sat. He squeezed her shoulder briefly then rubbed her arm through the blanket.
“Cletus will tell you, but you need to believe him. You have a safe place here and should stay as long as you want.”
She nodded, but kept her eyes closed, her mouth pressed into a stiff line. She was trying not to cry.
Billy gave her arm one more squeeze, sending me a glance of support, then stood. “Come on, Beau. Let’s give them some privacy.”
“What? Privacy? Why?”
“Because, dummy, that’s his woman and they need some privacy.”
“Wait, what?” Beau’s reply was sharp and stunned.
“Beauford Fitzgerald, close your fly trap and move. I’m only going to explain this to you once . . . ” Billy’s voice trailed off as he pushed Beau into the kitchen.
Her face was still cold, so I knelt in front of her and pressed my palms to her cheeks. I forced myself not to ask any questions. I needed to know what happened, but she needed me to be patient.
So I could be patient.
Yep.
I hate being patient.
Just when I was about to lose my battle against concern-fueled curiosity, she opened her eyes and looked at me. She’d stopped shaking, mostly. Her chin had ceased its wobbling. But her eyes were still dull and dejected. I hated how powerless I was in that moment. I needed to take away her sorrow, bury it, banish it, destroy it.
“Tell me what to do,” I begged, desperate to do something.
She swallowed, shaking her head sadly. “There’s nothing to do. My father disowned me, so I left.”
“Without your shoes?”
She nodded.
I frowned at this news. “Why are you so cold?”
“I walked here.”
“You walked here?” I couldn’t keep my anger out of my voice and the sound made her flinch, and that broke my heart.
Yes. I will destroy him. He will be destroyed by me.
“Cletus—”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be calm. I’ll be that fancy iced cucumber water. Please continue. Tell me what happened.”
She licked her lips and I saw that they were chapped. But they also weren’t blue anymore. She covered my hands on her face with hers and brought them to her lap, staring at where our fingers were entwined.
“He said that we needed to talk. He was really angry, with me, about us. He knew about us and said,” she swallowed, gathered a large inhale, then continued, “he was crazy. He said crazy things.”
“Like what?”
“He said you wanted to control me. That you would leave me. That I would be left with nothing. He said that if I tried to work at another bakery, he’d sue me.”
“He can’t do that unless you signed a non-compete agreement, which I’m assuming you haven’t.”
“I haven’t. I’m not even technically an employee. Cletus,” she stared at me, worry and fear plaguing her features, “I have nothing. I don’t even have a bank account. I’ve been so stupid, trusting my parents. I should have formalized everything a long time ago.”
“Don’t worry about that.” I waved away her fear, needing her to feel safe.
“I will worry about that.” She frowned at me, her eyebrows pulling together until two fierce lines appeared between her eyes. “I need to be able to support myself. I’m going down to Knoxville tomorrow. There’s a bakery in the old district that’s been trying to hire me for years. I’ll start there.”
“Fine. I’ll drive you. But it’s nothing to fret over right now.” I tightened my fingers over hers. “What did your momma say about things? I have a hard time believing she’s willing to lose you as an asset at the bakery.”
Jennifer shook her head. “She wasn’t there. It was just him, ranting at me and telling lies.”
“What do you mean? What lies?”
“He said you were blackmailing him. That he loved me. But that he wanted to save me from you. It was so awful.”
I stiffened, and suddenly my stomach soured. I found I had difficulty swallowing past a mysterious lump lodged in my throat.
Jenn sniffled again. “So I had to leave. I had to get out of there and away from his lies.”
I sat back on my feet and studied her tired face, uncertain how to proceed. Kip may have been lying about loving his daughter, but he wasn’t lying about the blackmail.
“At first, I think he really thought he could bully me into giving you up.” She was staring beyond me, at the fire, talking mostly to herself. “I think he thought I would cave, that I would just keep doing whatever he wanted. And when I didn’t, he lied. And when that didn’t work, he tried to backtrack and guilt me into it, by saying he loves me. He’s sick.”
I had to correct her. If I didn’t, then he’d have the power.
“Jennifer. I have to tell you something.”
“What is it?” Her eyes shifted back to mine. She looked exhausted.
“I am blackmailing your father.”
Jennifer stilled. And then she blinked once, confused. “What?”
“I’m blackmailing him.”
She stared at me, her eyes growing impossibly wide until comprehension made them sharp with betrayal.
“You blackmailed my father?” she whispered, pulling her fingers from mine.
The accusation in her words cut; I had to help her see reason.
“I did. I am. I blackmailed him so he would leave us alone.”
She stood abruptly, limping to the other side of the room then spinning on me. She crossed her arms, wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders, glaring daggers of hurt and fury in my direction.
“I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you would do that.”
“I wanted him to leave us alone, to give us his blessing.”
She shook her head, her eyes growing distant and unfocused. “Tell me what happened.”
I stood slowly. “He came to see me at the shop on Monday. He told me to back off. So I told him I wouldn’t. And then I told him that he would give us his unconditional support or else I was going to tell your momma that he’s been cheating on her with Ms. Elena Wilkinson for several years.”
Her mouth opened, wide with shock. It took her several seconds, but eventually she choked out, “The school secretary?”
“That’s right.”
“He’s been cheating on my mother?” Her voice cracked with heartbreak and disbelief. “How do you know this?”
“I have proof. I have pictures and emails, sent between the two of them. They’ve been spending most weekends together, driving into Georgia. They have a place together.”
She shook her head, covering her eyes with her hands. “A place together? I can’t believe this.”
I nodded once, giving her time to absorb this information. Movement at the kitchen entrance caught my attention. Billy and Beau appeared and they were carrying a tray with a ridiculous amount of food. When they caught sight of my expression, they stopped, then began to back out of the room slowly.
Meanwhile, Jenn shifted on her feet and I winced. They were cut and bruised and likely caused her great pain.
“You should sit down.” I moved to help her, but she stiffened, taking a step away from me.
“Don’t touch me.”
Billy halted his retreat, his eyes sharpening as they moved between us.
Jennifer released a shaky breath. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Because I didn’t want to lose my leverage. If you found out, I knew you’d tell your mother.”
“Damn right I would tell her,” she shouted, clearly furious. But then she sighed and her shoulders slouched, and I watched as the fight seemed to leave her body. “I can’t believe you would do this. I thought—you said you were in love with me.”
Dammit.
Fuck.
Dammit.
“I am in love with you.”
I just wanted to hold her, but every time I took a step forward, she backed away. She needed distance, she needed space, and I needed her.
“No. You’re not. You just want to control me, like my father.”
What?
No.
No, no, no.
I balled my hands into fists of frustration.
Stubborn woman.
“Excuse me.” I barely managed to control my voice. “But that is complete and utter bullshit.”
A spark reignited behind her eyes and it was not a pleasant one. “Really? Because it doesn’t feel like bullshit. It feels like you broke my heart. I trusted you. But obviously you don’t trust me.”
“I do trust you,” I said through clenched teeth.
“But not enough.” She shook her head, her voice breaking on the words. “Not enough to trust that I would choose you over my parents’ disapproval.”
I frowned at her, startled by her claim. In truth, her words hit me straight in the heart and gave me pause. Even truer, dread filled my chest.
I trusted her.
I did.
I trust her. But her parents . . .
“They’ve been controlling you for years, Jenn. And you wanted me to, what? Trust that suddenly their good opinion would cease being the single most important factor in your life? No. I did what I had to do to ensure we would be together.”
“You did what you had to do in order to control the situation.” She pointed an angry finger at me, her face twisted in fury, making my heart feel like it was caught in a vise.
“Fine. Yes. That’s what I did. And I’d do it again. I’d do it a hundred times if it guaranteed that you would be mine and I would be yours.”
Her chin wobbled and her eyes flooded with tears. She wiped them away, huffing a laugh devoid of humor. “Well, you didn’t need to blackmail my father, Cletus. Because I did choose you.”
I frowned, time seemed to slow. “What do you mean?”
“My father gave me an ultimatum before I left. He said I had to choose—you or my family.” Jennifer redirected her eyes to the floor.
I couldn’t draw breath and my pulse strummed quickly and loudly between my ears. I watched her, waiting, fearing her next words.
“I chose you,” she whispered, turning the final screw of the vise as two fat tears left new streaks on her beautiful face. “I chose you over my family, over their disapproval, over everything. I chose you. And you chose control.”
Fuck distance. Fuck space. Fuck fighting. Fuck all of it.
I crossed to her in five steps and reached for her, needing to touch her and do something to remove her hurt. But she twisted away.
“No. Don’t touch me. I don’t want you to touch me. I can’t—I can’t do this.” She lifted her arms as though fighting me off.
I lifted my palms between us, showing her I surrendered. I wouldn’t touch her if she didn’t want me to. But then Billy was there, stepping between us. He tossed a disappointed frown in my direction that made me wince. Then he turned his back on me, gathering Jennifer into his arms giving her a tight hug.
Rationally, I knew I should thank my brother. I should thank him for comforting Jennifer when I couldn’t, when she wouldn’t let me.
Irrationally, I wanted to rip off his arms and legs and beat him to death with them.
She was crying in earnest again, the sound tearing me to shreds. I was a caged animal, listening to the cries of his mate. I was helpless. I hated being helpless.
I hated it.
Billy lifted her, carrying her in his arms up the stairs. I watched them go, took one step to follow and stopped myself. Black spots of fury filled my vision. I tugged my hand through my hair and held my forehead, staring after them.
The edges of my control were shredded and the spiral of darkness—fierce anger—and regret was upon me. My lungs were on fire. I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.
And I couldn’t stay here.
So I left.