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—Isaiah—
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After my appearance on the Trudy Kallant Show—and before the fallout hit from going behind Ned’s back and not getting prior approval to be a guest on her show—I jumped on the first flight the next morning from LA to Idaho Falls, with Gatlin Falls and Holly set in my sights.
I arrived at Idaho Falls airport and failed to keep a low profile despite keeping my head down, then drove north out of that m’fuckin’ town in the fanciest rental car available. The next hour passed with me alternating between wringing the shit out of the steering wheel and singing along to the freshest mix of Black music my money could download.
Gatlin Falls snuck up on me out of the fir trees. I’d passed through a few small towns along the way and hadn’t expected this one to arrive so soon.
My heart met my throat. Nerves like I only ever got when facing my opponent’s pitch flipped in my stomach.
I hid the reaction to the outside world by leaning back in my seat, slinging a wrist on the wheel, and rolling the driver’s window all the way down.
Isaiah Morillo had officially arrived in Gatlin Falls.
I cruised down Main Street, music pumping and looking for a place to pull in because this m’fucker was hungry.
Just past the center of town, an outdoor restaurant with alfresco dining sprawled out onto the footpath. There, a woman leaving a table caught my eye.
My lungs lurched.
I did a double take.
Cursed.
Slowed on the street until the driver behind me honked.
I cursed again and took off, eyes searching for the first place to park.
I’d put money on that woman being Holly. Though it was kinda hard to tell from the baggy casual wear and large sunglasses, I swore it was her.
Two blocks down, I reversed into a parallel parking spot and cut the engine. My music immediately cut off, plunging me into silence until I stepped from the vehicle. I beeped the locks with adrenaline coursing through my body. My fingers flexed. Balled open and closed while acknowledging the kick.
Converting the surge into focus was a skill I’d become adept at, and as I approached the restaurant, my senses homed in on the table in question.
The young guy who’d been lunching with my girl gave off college vibes. From the basketball kicks to the backward cap and jiggling foot, I tagged this guy for a jock. One who was about to get served.
I stopped at his side and pointed at where he sat. “Is this seat taken?”
He glanced up, did a double take, then had the audacity to give me the stink eye.
“The fuck does it look like? Yeah—it’s taken.”
A bitter bite of possession nipped in my chest. I dropped my voice and gave it to him straight. “Move your punk ass.”
The kid’s face split into a grin that threw me. He seemed weirdly familiar, and I narrowed my eyes as I struggled to place him.
He kicked back in the outdoor dining chair and linked his hands behind his head. “Nah, I’m good right here. Feel free to pull up a seat though. You know... join us and all that shit.”
“Ha, not fucking likely,” I barked.
When the little twerp scoffed and looked me up and down, I puffed myself up to my full height and glared harder. “You can’t take a hint, can you?”
Light-brown eyes holding humor met mine, and the accompanying smirk triggered my recognition.
I bent into his space and studied him at close range. “You’re a Gatlin, aren’t you?”
“Dude, what’s with the hundred fucking questions?”
I chuckled under my breath. “I fucking knew it. You have Gatlin written all over you.”
He snorted. “And what would you know?”
Quickly visiting the adjacent table to steal a chair, I pulled it up next to the little punk. “I know Scout well enough to know you’re one of them.”
He threw his head back and laughed. I shook my head, both amused and floored at how similar he was to Scout. Not so much in coloring: this guy had sandy hair and light-brown eyes where Scout’s features were darker, but they shared the same cocky personality I was accustomed to at the clubhouse.
“What’s your name, bro?” I asked.
“Sawyer.”
I offered my hand. “Isaiah.”
Sawyer leaned forward to shake it, then relaxed back into his seat again.
“So, you’re Holly’s...?”
“Brother,” he deadpanned.
A moment of silence stretched out before he set an elbow on the table. “So, you think that coming here will magically fix everything after last night?”
My brows lifted in surprise. “You saw?”
“Yeah.”
A foreign kick of insecurity knocked my pulse off its normal rhythm. “Did Holly?”
“Yeah,” he said in a tone that implied it was a stupid fucking question.
“And?” I snapped.
Sawyer rolled his eyes. “She cried.”
That revelation grabbed my lungs and dragged them into my stomach.
I resisted rubbing my chest. “Fuck, it wasn’t meant to upset her.”
Her brother waved me off. “Nah, it wasn’t that. We’ve got family shit going down too. Your scandal is bad timing, dude.”
I laughed and ran a hand down my face. “Should have compared schedules first, huh?”
“Then maybe the Bears wouldn’t have lost yesterday.”
Christ. If that wasn’t a punch to my ego, then I didn’t know what was. My spine straightened of its own accord, and I faced off with Sawyer.
“Anyone ever tell you that you need a fucking filter?”
He shrugged, completely unphased by my intimidation tactics. “Yeah, man. All the time. I literally don’t give a shit.”
“Literally,” I drawled. “Anyway, where’s Hols at?” I was itching to get my hands on her.
Sawyer nonchalantly thumbed over his shoulder. “Bathroom. Don’t hold your breath—she’ll take forever.”
I snickered. He ain’t lying. That first night I hooked up with Holly in the restaurant courtyard, waiting for her at the table afterward was fucking agony. She took forever in the bathroom. Even Scout was like where the fuck? When she finally emerged, that was the first time my heart had actually missed beats purely from a woman walking toward me. I knew from that moment that Holly was somethin’ special.
Sitting here at the table with empty plates in front of me, my hunger—for both her and food—resurfaced. I was on the verge of hailing a waitress for a menu when a woman’s screech rang out.
“You fucking bastard!”
“Oh shit,” Sawyer hissed, surging to his feet.
A middle-aged woman rushed at me, her long, dark hair wild in the wind. Sawyer bolted around the table but not fast enough to stop her tossing a full takeout coffee at me.
Shocked from both the burn and her unexpected aggression, I stood panting with my arms wide. “What the fuck, bitch?”
The woman leaned around Sawyer and stabbed an accusatory finger at me. “How fucking could you? You ruined my family!”
“Ex-fucking-scuse me?” I spat, now pissed at being accused of shit I didn’t do.
I rounded the table, intent on giving the woman a full piece of my mind until Sawyer shoved her away. “Mom, stop. You’re causing a scene.”
Mom? Fuck! This was Holly’s mother?
I stepped back in a hurry, thrown by the revelation.
As if summoned by the commotion, Holly rushed from the restaurant and stopped in her tracks when she saw me. The elation on her beautiful face took my breath away but slipped a second later when her mom spat more venom at me.
“Oh my god, Mom! What the hell?” Holly cried. “Get her out of here, Sawyer!”
Not needing to be told twice, Sawyer bear-hugged his psychotic mother and near-dragged her from the scene.
Shocked onlookers murmured among themselves, and phones followed my every move as I whipped my stained, wet shirt over my head and wiped the cooled coffee from my arms.
I blindly tossed it onto the empty chair next to me while my eyes roved over Holly. My blood heated with possession. Jesus Christ, she looked hot as sin even in a baggy tracksuit, hair bundled high on her head, and oversized sunglasses perched on her nose.
Her attention switched from her family to me, and she mouthed, “Oh my god,” in disbelief.
I prowled toward my girl and smirked. “Hey, Mama.”
An excited squeal left her mouth as she threw herself at me. I caught her and boosted her high into my arms. With my hands gripping her ass, I secured her to me and kissed her hard when she sealed her mouth over mine.
A hum knotted in my throat as I leaned into the kiss. Holly’s tongue lashed mine, and her arms tightened around my shoulders. The lush thighs I’d buried my face between earlier in the week squeezed either side of my hips, gripping me like a pole.
When a single wolf whistle cut through the air, followed by an uproarious cheer from the Sunday lunchers, my seal on Holly’s lips broke as I smiled.
She pressed her warmed cheek to mine and giggled. “You’re causing a scene.”
I snickered, utterly and entirely under her spell. “You kissed me, babe.”
When her legs loosened, I lowered her feet to the sidewalk and kept a possessive hand on her waist.
She took one look at the crowd, then linked our fingers. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
I let her lead me down the street since she seemed to know where she was going. Half a block on, Holly tucked into an inset doorway of a fancy clothes shop, flicked up her sunglasses, and pulled me close.
“Isaiah?” Holly murmured, setting her palm in the middle of my tattooed chest when I angled closer.
My voice came as a nervous whisper. “Yeah, Mama?”
Her attention flicked downward, then returned to my face. “Where’s your shirt?”
I glanced down at myself and laughed. “Shit. I forgot it. It’s back at the restaurant.”
Holly’s laughter echoed off the windows around us. “Why did you take it off in the first place? I mean, I like this, but flashing strangers during their meal is a little over the top...” She trailed her fingers down the center of my chest, tickling the fuck out of me.
I snagged her hand and held. “Coffee was tossed on it.”
Her concerned gaze searched mine, and I saw the moment of her comprehension. “Mom?” she hissed.
I shrugged. “She’s a real piece of work, but don’t sweat it.”
Outrage sharply angled Holly’s eyebrows down in the center. “What the actual fuck?”
“It’s fine,”
“It’s not fine, Isaiah.” She tugged her hand from my grasp and scrubbed both up and down her face. “It’s not okay.”
My heart panged to see tears threatening in her eyes. Riding the overwhelming need to comfort her, I took her face in my hands and drew her close. “I’ve endured worse, babe. It’s okay.”
While outwardly my words intended to soothe, inside I was pissed. The fault lay entirely with her mom, so I refused to take it out on Holly.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, looking up at me with a pain-filled expression.
I kissed her mouth tenderly, then smoothed my hands down her arms. This was it. Our moment. The moment that would define our future... or our history.
“Come home with me, Mama,” I asked softly.
