-“Ain’t Always Pretty” by Logan Mize
- -
“You ready to head out, Starch?” Tate jumps when I step out on the porch, and I stifle my laugh. “Whoa there, cowboy. What’s got you so jumpy?”
His eyes flash at my joke, but just as quickly as it comes, it’s gone, a neutral expression in its place. I frown but write it off as him just being overwhelmed and exhausted from our trip. Even though the trip was tough for me, the quick back-and-forth must have taken its toll on him, too.
“Just tired, darlin’,” he answers, confirming my thoughts. “You sure you don’t want to stay here tonight?”
I smile and wrap my arms around his stomach, looking up at him as I hug myself to him. “As much as I appreciate you makin’ sure I don’t want to be with my brothers right now, my place is with you, honey. Mav is about to head home and Clay’s headed over to Coal Creek tonight to meet up with some friends of his. They know where I want to be, so they didn’t make plans to be here tonight.”
His lips hit my forehead and I close my eyes in contentment, his arms tightening slightly around my shoulders.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“Well, then take me to bed or lose me forever, Starch.” I giggle, trying to keep a straight face.
He starts to smile, but when I feel the vibration of his phone under my clasped hands resting on top of his belt, he frowns, lines of stress forming between his eyes as his lips thin.
He doesn’t move.
“What is it?” I ask apprehensively.
“This time? Not sure.”
“Then what has you holdin’ yourself so tense?”
I feel his heartbeat pounding against my chest, and a slight ripple of unease twists through my body.
“Someone called from my parents’ number a few hours ago.”
A flash of cold slams through my senses before I can prevent it. I know what he’s said about his parents, and that alone makes me feel panic. I know he meant what he said about never letting them control us again, but still . . . They probably aren’t calling to get a status update on our relationship and ask when the damn wedding is.
“And?”
“I’m not sure what to do with it, to be honest.”
“Do they know about us?” I ask, trying to push back the worry.
He nods. “They know I was set on gettin’ back what they stole from us. I doubt they know that I’ve been successful, though.”
I take a deep breath and calm my roaring heart. I didn’t get this far just to let someone else come between us again. “Well, honey, let’s get in the truck and call them back on the way to your house. No sense in letting them darken our day any longer,” I tell him with a deadly calm tone. His body deflates slightly at my words and I roll up to my toes to press a kiss against his jaw. “I love you, Tate. One battle at a time. We’re almost at the finish line of the past and it’s time we take those final strides so we can finally start our new life together.”
Some of the harshness in his face softens and he takes a deep breath. “I love you.”
I wink. “I know.”
His chest moves as he laughs, and I feel my own worry wash away when he seems to return to his normal, confident self. I get a deep kiss from him after I climb into the passenger seat of his truck before he shuts the door and walks around the hood. He climbs in a moment later and starts the truck, turning and driving to the end of the long driveway.
When he reaches the turnoff, he pulls his phone out, looking down at the screen before glancing over at me. “You mind if I call them before we pull out of here? No offense to your family place and all, but I hope one day my house will be yours too, and I don’t really want to bring my parents near there . . . even if it is with just a phone call.”
Jesus Jones, if my heart could get any bigger, my love for this man just continues to grow. I shake my head and relax in my seat, letting him know I’m good. He nods and looks back to his phone, his fingers moving over the screen. It’s only a short few minutes’ drive to his house, but still, I’m glad he’s making this call before we get there.
Tate presses the call-back button and puts the phone on speaker.
“Too busy in that backwoods town to answer the phone, Tatum?”
I jump when a nasal, high-pitched male voice answers. The man I assume is Tate’s father sounds just as spineless as I know him to be. Good Lord, I’m glad his son didn’t get his voice.
“What do you want?” Tate asks, voice harsh and tense.
I scoot as close as I can, with the center console in the way, and see his fingers tense around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. I place my hand on his thigh, giving him a gentle squeeze so he knows I’m here if he needs me. He looks down and the second my touch registers, he rips one of his hands free and wraps it around mine.
“What do I want?” The man laughs and I suppress a shudder when the mirthless, vile sound echoes around the cab. Tate’s hold on my hand jerks. “A few months ago, my good-for-nothin’ son told me he was runnin’ back to the trash in Fisher’s old town. You made it clear then that any association between us was to be severed. What I want is to know why your bullshit is floatin’ up to darken my doorstep again.”
I don’t flinch at the implication that I’m the trash Tate was returning to. His father’s words don’t hurt me. They might have two months ago, before Tate and I made it to the solid ground we’re on now, but not anymore. Tate looks over, eyes searching, and I give him a small smile and a shake of my head, reaching over to hold his hand between both of mine. I hope he realizes that I’m not affected by his father’s hateful words.
“You hear me, Tatum?”
“I heard you, but I also heard you insultin’ my woman. Don’t make that mistake again.”
His father grunts. “The last thing I want to do is think about that woman you’ve run back to despite all attempts at me trying to get you to see your error in judgment. What could you possibly see in a mechanic, of all things?” He spits out mechanic like other people would say hooker.
Tate’s eyes spark with ire and I try to soothe his temper by shaking my head and rubbing my hand over his arm. I can feel his rage growing to be a palpable thing and I’m helpless but to witness the effect his father has on him. I can’t imagine what it was like dealing with the man while he held the upper hand for so long.
“She is so much more than that, you son of a bitch,” Tate practically growls. “She’s everything that you will never find and would have never found in those idiotic women you had such high hopes of me ending up with.”
“Oh, you stupid boy. Tell me, son, if she’s all that you claim, care to tell me why I had to deal with one of those so-called idiotic women early this morning?”
I frown at the same time Tate does.
“Excuse me?” he asks in a calm voice that I know is just for show.
“Even when left to your own devices, you can’t even find one that isn’t fucked-up. Could’ve seen it with the hick, at least she was a looker with some great tits, Tatum. This girl that showed up, though, not sure you understood what I was tryin’ to get you to go after if that’s the side piece you’re attemptin’. Want them mute and compliant, not mouthy and fuckin’ crazy, goin’ on about how you two are meant to be together and wantin’ to see if you were around.”
I feel a tremor of fear shake through my hands, something Tate doesn’t miss, because his other hand drops from the wheel to hold mine tight. Confusion is still written all over his face, but, even not understanding what his father is saying, he’s pleading with me to believe in him—in us.
Jesus Jones—can I do that, faced with something that has the potential to gut me deep, carving out a hole in the part inside me that had finally healed?
“I don’t know what game you’re playin’,” Tate fumes through clenched teeth, and I pray for the strength to calm my breathing. “I don’t give a shit if the goddamn president shows up lookin’ for me next—you lose my number and forget that I was ever alive. I’m not your son. If in some unfortunate event we’re to cross paths, look through me like I will you and pretend that we’re strangers. I have a good life started here and I’m not going to let you rip it away again.”
That evil-as-hell laugh booms through the line even before Tate has finished speaking.
Then, a ball of doom is thrown into our court.
“Well, I gave your crazy little bitch directions to Fisher’s, so she should be well on her way. Have fun cleanin’ up that mess, Tatum.”
The phone disconnects and all that’s left is silence between us.
“Tate?” I ask, my voice shaking as fear gets the best of me.
“Fuck!” he bellows, slapping his palm against the wheel.
“Tate?” I try again, feeling my throat get heavy with emotion, making my voice sound weak.
“I swear to fuckin’ God, Quinn, I don’t know what he’s talkin’ about. There isn’t anyone else, goddammit!” He ends this declaration with a roar so loud my ears ring.
I swallow thickly, my eyes stuck on the man I love with all my heart. All logic is gone when it comes to my feelings for him. This scared me nine years ago when I was too young to realize just how powerful things were between us, but now that I know what it feels like to lose him, that fear is multiplied tenfold.
I gave him my heart again. I took the promise of his affection because I know he meant it. The man next to me now is lost in the madness of his anger, but it isn’t the fear of a cheating man caught in the act that I see. When his eyes flash on mine, anger and just as much fear as I’m feeling burning bright in them, I know he wouldn’t have come back if there was even a chance that what we have could be snatched away from us.
He fought for us when that wasn’t even something he had anymore. Sure, he might have lived his life during that time, but he did it with half a heart—just like I did—because we each held the missing part of the other’s. He fought for my family. He fought for his grandparents. All the man I love has done for nine long and lonely years is fight for something he didn’t know if he would ever have back. No one does that, endures that kind of debilitating pain, without meaning it. No man strives so hard to obtain a second chance at something without being sure that’s what he wants.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
A sense of calm that I can’t believe I’m feeling envelops me, giving me the strength I need. The strength he can’t find through his raw anger. All the weapons I need to mentally take onto a battlefield to fight for him.
To fight for him.
To fight for us.
To protect him with my love and unwavering support.
To win.
“Whatever it is, we handle it together, Tate. I won’t lie and tell you that what he said doesn’t freak me out, but I’m here, and you’re not fightin’ for us alone anymore.”
“Fuckin’ Christ,” he hisses, closing his eyes as my words take root. His chest is still heaving when he opens them again, but I feel better seeing some of his anger dissipate. “There’s no one else, Quinn. You have to believe me.”
I smile, trying to give him courage even where I feel none. “I know, Tate. One step at a time. Just start drivin’.”
I wish I could say more, but right now I have so much swirling in my mind that I don’t know what to say to make him understand my thoughts. I know what he’s saying is true. I honestly do, but I also know that there were a lot of years when we weren’t together and we’ve both admitted that we didn’t spend all that time alone. I can’t fault him for what he did while we were apart, because I know how overwhelming the loneliness got.
Had I not just spent the past two days banishing fears that I held onto for so long, I might have looked at this moment and run far away, but I’m not that person anymore. I’m stronger, and I’ve gained that strength because of the man behind the wheel now. With every turn of the tires, I feel his uncertain fear growing. He looks over every half mile or so, begging me without words not to run.
He’s been working to win me back for over two months. He’s spent every second leading up to his return to Pine Oak gearing himself up to give us both back what we’ve been missing—not stopping once. He’s been open, honest, and truthful since day one. He’s not had a single moment of having someone else lessen his burdens in years, not had someone willing to take on the world for those that he loves, and it kills me to see the panic in his eyes that all that work has been for nothing.
I might not know what’s going on with this unknown woman, but I know the man I love, and it’s time I show him that he’s not the only one willing to fight the hounds of hell to win the life he wants.
Not when he’s got a hell-raising badass on his side.