Chapter 41
Shaking out my hand, I growl in frustration as I pick Jaxon’s drunk ass off the floor and bring him up to my face. “I suggest you choose a very different way to end that sentence, yeah?”
There’s no way I’m going to let this self-centered snob utter another word if it’s an insult to the mother of my child. With a shove, he pushes me off and touches his chin, then checks his fingers, undoubtably to verify he’s not bleeding. He’s not.
I’m impressed he handled the much-deserved punch well. Won’t be telling him that, though. Fucking prick.
“Saint,” he grits out. “The town saint.” Looking at Griffin, then me again, he rolls his shoulders and mutters, “She’s always ready to give a helping hand, it would seem.”
Griffin regains his spot on his stool and leans back with crossed arms, staring at the two of us. “So, you boys wanna tell me why you’re so interested in what’s goin’ on with Edith? Mason I get, neighborly concern and all that. What about you, Jaxon?”
Jaxon whips his head toward me, not answering Griffin. “You’re the neighbor? Her boss?”
“Yeah,” I drag out. “Why?”
He snorts. Griffin mimics him, but Jaxon and I ignore the ass. Jerking his chin toward me, he hits me with a question I wasn’t prepared for. “Had a bit of friends with benefits sort of thing going on with her?”
“Don’t know how that’s any of your business.”
Griffin runs his mouth again. With a wave toward me, he smirks. “Oh, they weren’t friends at all! He only planned to stick his dick in her to piss off her daddy; at least that’s what I assume. Didn’t go so well, though, did it? Good ol’ Clay took it out on the wrong person today.” His tone starts light, but changes to accusatory.
“The hell are you going on about?” Whipping his head toward me, Jaxon growls, “You were only messin’ with her? She was torn the fuck up over the thing you all had going on! You confused the hell out of her.” His nostrils are flaring as he glares at me.
I swear to God, let him come after me. I’ll knock him out this time.
“Again, none of your goddamn business.” It takes everything in me to contain my rage. Who the hell are these guys to think I need to explain anything to them?
I’m surprised he gets in my face after I already knocked his ass down once. “It’s my business because I’m the reason that shit was coming to an end. I’m the one who had to convince her not to be so hard on herself when she was feeling guilty over it!” He sneers down his nose at me, and I really fucking hate that he has extra inches in height over me. I’m six-foot-one, for Christ’s sake. “How the hell are you gonna just use her as a fuck buddy? Her? That woman deserved more than a tumble in the barn!”
My fingers curl into a fist and I’m ready to throw it again when Griffin barks out a laugh, only it’s filled with disbelief. “You gotta be kiddin’ me. You actually did it! You, Mason Cooper, enemy numero uno to the Hughes’ clan, was actually bangin’—”
Lunging forward, I fist his shirt to shut him up. “If you don’t wanna end up on the floor like that asshole, I suggest you keep your fuckin’ mouth shut. Just sit there, look pretty, and drink your drinks.”
“I just find it pretty strange… wait.” Griffin sits up straight and narrows his eyes on me. “When the hell did you start fuckin’ her? Like the actual date?”
Throwing my hands out, not giving a shit who’s listening to us at this point, I start yelling. “How the fuck is it anyone’s business what I’ve got goin’ on with Edith?” These two fuckheads are ruining my evening to celebrate. Instantly, I regret my next thought as it pours from my mouth. “I just wanted a fuckin’ drink to toast my kid!”
“Your kid?” Griffin shouts back, surging back to his feet. “How the hell do you figure? It could very well be mine!”
Jaxon is laughing manically as he shoves himself between Griffin and me to wave down the bartender. I slam in elbow in his side, but he’s too fucking drunk to react outside of a grunt. “I really need another goddamn drink, man. You still got my kids?” He pauses, then laughs even harder. “Keys! Fuck me, I meant keys.”
I’m too busy battling my need to go for Griffin’s throat and swirling disappointment that maybe I’m not the father of her baby to give a shit about Jaxon’s slip of the tongue.
Did she say I was?Fuck, I can’t remember a thing after she announced her pregnancy.
Griffin is gaping at how insane Jaxon is acting right now, but it makes sense when Jaxon turns around and jabs his finger into Griffin’s chest.
“I can only assume you’re the fucker who took her virginity, then walked away the next morning with the fantastic advice that she ought to just forget it happened. Do I have that right?”
Both Griffin and I start hollering at the same time. “How the fuck do you know all of this?” Turning to Griffin, I snap, “And you walked away from her after that?”
“Who the fuck are you to her?” he shouts at Jaxon, then to me, he bites out, “And that’s not what happened!”
Instead of holding up one finger, Jaxon holds up three, forcing us to wait on his dramatic ass. After he takes his time to down his entire drink, he sets the glass on the counter, then continues to wave those three fingers in our faces.
“I’m daddy number three.”
There comes a time when a man learns a valuable lesson in life, which is to always think before he speaks. Especially when surrounded by intoxicated assholes trying to piss on the ground and mark territory over a woman we’ve all been involved with in some way or another.
I forgot that lesson.
All of us pay no mind to the bartender shouting for us to take it outside as those two pricks fight each other for the chance to take me out first. Thankfully, they slowed themselves down, so when a balled fist swings for me, I manage to avoid it.
Shoving myself away from the bar, I deliver a solid gut punch to Griffin since he was the first one to swing this time. Grinning as I let him fall sideways, I turn to the other asshole and charge. Mason is fucking ready for me, too.
Feet planted wide, he hunkers down and drives his shoulder into my gut as I wrap my arms around him. We both fall to the floor hard. Normally, I wouldn’t have difficulty in this sort of scenario. Considering I’ve lost count of the number of whiskey glasses I’ve downed, it’s embarrassing how quickly Mason flips me to my back.
With a hand pinning my shoulder to the sticky floor, his arm rears back and he gets his second solid punch in for the night. Then a third and fourth. Maybe I’m looking for punishment after losing my shit on Edith because I welcome every hit like they’re cleansing me from my sins.
Leaning down, Mason is enraged as he screams, “If you think there’s a chance that kid could be yours, then where the hell have you been for the last twelve hours?”
Another blow is heading toward me, but Griffin interrupts, yanking him away so the two of them can tussle. Sitting up, I spit the metallic tasting blood from my mouth and take a moment to catch my bearings.
My head is spinning from the alcohol and punches. I eye the two of them, debating if I should throw myself back in the mix, but honestly, I need a minute. Edith’s fearful eyes slam into my memory and I grip my hair, squeezing my eyes shut as I tug at the strands in an attempt to drive that vision from my memory.
“I don’t want any fucking part of that kid, especially if it’s got Hughes’ blood in its veins.”
I groan when I hear my words echoing in my ears. Something is sitting heavy in my stomach and I don’t think it’s the whiskey making itself known. This feels like deep-seated remorse. My sister’s smiling face makes an appearance and I groan louder when I can practically hear Clayborn’s laughter ringing through my ears.
When a chair collides with the floor and shatters right next to the three of us, we all pause and turn to the bartender who’s now leaning over the bar top, glaring down with a snarl.
“I know who all of you are, so this is your final warning. Get the fuck off my floor and either plant your asses in a chair and have a civilized conversation, or get the hell outta here.”
I don’t know about those two, but I’m thankful for the distraction with the way my head was diving deep into a really fucked up place. I can’t go there tonight, not all of it at once. It’s too much!
Griffin and Mason are grumbling as we stand and brush ourselves off, then find a table in the corner away from everyone else as they’re cleared from the space. Shortly after closing early, the bartender comes over with three fresh glasses and a full bottle of liquor. Setting it in the middle, he lowers his voice.
“Now, clearly ya’ll have some shit to work out, so I’m goin’ against my better judgement here, but I’ll give ya the time to work it out. I want the rest of your keys and you can sleep off the hangovers you’ll surely have out in the lot when you’re finished fuckin’ each other up.”
As if he knows they’ll comply, he shoves his hand out as Mason and Griffin, albeit a bit testily, drop their keys in his palm. Before he walks away, Griffin stops him.
“Paul, you seen Edith around town before you opened up today? We got people out lookin’ for her, but I’ve been tryin’ to ask everyone I run into.”
The bartender, apparently named Paul, shakes his head slowly. “No man, sorry. I’ll call the wife and ask, though.” Pointing at me, then Mason, he adds, “Your asses don’t leave those chairs.”
Leaving us alone, I’m staring hard at Griffin. “Why the hell are you looking for her?” My pulse pounds as soon as I ask, and I’m actually afraid to hear the answer.
“Because she’s fuckin’ missing. One would think you’d know that if you’re under the impression she’s team Jaxon right now,” Mason hisses. Griffin stays silent as he fills our glasses, then pushes one toward me.
Nausea has me swallowing hard as I watch the liquid swirl, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. I really need to stop pushing shit off until tomorrow. “Explain,” I bite out. Forcing my hand out, I pick up my drink and bring it to my lips.
“Say please,” Griffin sing songs, loving every second he’s getting under my skin. He waits with a shit-eating grin I want nothing more than to slap away. Mason is glaring hard enough that I know he clearly would love to do the same.
Backed in a corner, I feel an ache in my jaw with how hard I’m grinding it, plus from the bruises I’m sure I’ll be sporting tomorrow. “Please,” I bite out.
Satisfied, he fills in both Mason and me with the events that transpired at the Hughes home. Mason seems to know some of it, but when Griffin gets to the details, his face grows tumultuous and I can read Clayborn’s death written within the depths of his stony demeanor.
The longer Griffin speaks, the sicker I feel, realizing she had tried to tell me what she was facing with her father. She fucking told me before she was in a shit situation. I knew this, but my own past trauma and history swallowed all of it up and spit it out at her feet.
I’m no better than her sperm donor…
“When you manage to push it out, I’ll submit to a test and if it turns out to be mine, all you’ll get is money. Nothing more.”
Swaying in my chair, regret and shame drown me. I sent her away. “Get the fuck out!” That’s what I said to her.
Jesus, she fucking ran from me like I was going to beat the shit out of her, too. What have I done?
“Here.” Paul’s voice sounds like it’s coming from within a tunnel, but the trash can he shoves in my hand is perfectly timed as I lean over and hurl up every drop of whiskey I’ve ingested tonight. Once I’m finished, a cool glass of water is placed in front of me and I down it.
“Thanks,” I murmur, leaning back.
I hear a huff, then a scathing, “Pussy.”
Probably Griffin, but I ignore him as well as Mason’s snort in agreement.
With my eyes closed, I make sure I’m following everything. “So, you’re telling me that earlier today, the guy who killed my sister almost killed his daughter? Right? That’s what you’re saying?”
Mason cuts in. “Hughes killed your sister?” There’s no empathy, but he does manage to keep the question somewhat civil.
“Yes.” My answer is sharp and I crack an eye open to peer at Griffin.
Hiccupping, he slumps to the side, supporting his head up with a fist on the table before he falls over. Apparently, he’s more drunk than I realized. With a slurred voice, he finally answers. “He didn’t almost kill her ‘cuz I got in there fast enough, but she was all sorts of banged up. I’ve been lookin’ like crazy and can’t find her anywhere.”
Mason seems to be the most sober of us all, but his eyes are definitely glassy, so maybe he’s just holding it well. Without blinking, they narrow into slits, focused on me. “Why do you think you’re the guy she was tossin’ me to the side for?”
“I was gonna actually date her.” Pissed that he’s acting like he’s done nothing wrong and Griffin seemingly fine with walking away from after one night, I throw in an extra jab to hit them both hard. “Instead of just fucking her and saying thanks for a good time. Although, I’m sure my dick would’ve been enough of a reason for her to walk away from both your asses.”
Fuck, I forgot that fucking lesson again.
“You cocky sonofabitch!” I’m already launching my drunk ass over the table before I’ve even finished shouting. This time, Mason actually helps instead of hindering me by clearing the glasses out of my way. Wrapping my hands around Jaxon’s throat, I ride to the floor with him as his chair tips straight back. “Since when are you such a hateful motherfucker? You’re actin’ like you’re pissed at all of us and her!”
Throwing up must have cleared his head because the hits I’m getting pummeled with hurt like a bitch. Mason, again super helpfully, slaps him across the cheek. Hard. Jaxon stops, stunned that he was just bitch-slapped like that.
“Answer. Why are you this mad? How the fuck do you not know anything about today if ya’ll are such good friends?” Mason snarls down at him.
“Shit!” Jaxon shouts, then scrambles out from under me, then quickly smirks at the way I tumble to the side, whacking my head on the corner of the table in the process. “Ruth!” he adds, not clearing a goddamn thing up.
“Ya’ll good over there?” Paul hollers from behind the bar where he’s working on a crossword puzzle. He sounds bored, not even looking in our direction, but I know he’s very aware of everything happening over here.
“My head fuckin’ hurts!” I call back, rubbing away the pain.
“Who the hell is Ruth?” These may be the first words tonight where Mason doesn’t sound pissed. He seems just as confused as I am.
This whole fucking night has been a shitshow and I swear to God, I’m about to call it a night.
Lifting his chair, Jaxon sits back down, paying no mind to the trickle of blood from a split in his lip. Damn, I don’t remember doin’ that. I raise a brow at Mason, tipping my head in question toward Jaxon as he scrolls through his phone. Mason simply shrugs.
Shame I missed it.I’ve been dabbing at my nose for a bit, and Mason’s got a touch of blood near his brow, but thankfully the whiskey is making this all fairly pain free. I doubt either of them are feeling much either. Except my fucking head. Christ, it hurts.
Dismissively, Jaxon holds his phone to his ear before finally answering us. “Ruth Danielson. She’s the pastor’s wife. Called me about fifty times today but I ignored them after she started talking about Edith. I hung up on her, actually.” There’s a hint of regret in his voice, but I don’t know him well enough to know for sure.
“Why the hell would you hang up on her?” Mason roars and I’m irate all over again. Has she been over there this whole time?
Blinking slowly at us like we’re morons, he says, “Because I didn’t know she was Clay’s daughter. You know, the guy who fucking killed my sister?” That last question was aimed directly at me, but I hit back.
“What the fuck’s that got to do with Edith?” Opening his mouth to explain, he hesitates, then presses his lips together. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” It comes out under my breath, but fuck this guy for ignoring her.
“I’m calling them now.”
“You do that. Take all the time you want. I’m just gonna go over there,” Mason growls, storming toward Paul. “Need my keys, man.”
“Nnnnnnope. Wait for the call first.” Paul doesn’t even look up. I chuckle because apparently, he’s been following along a lot closer than I realized. No way the rest of the town doesn’t know about what went down by brunch tomorrow.
“Ruth, I’m sorry for—”
The louder the voice grows through the phone, the higher my brows rise. Mouthing, “What the fuck did you do to her?” I’m not even sure if I’m asking about Ruth or Edith at this point. I wait until Ruth, I assume, finishes her speech before Jaxon can answer.
His shoulders droop as he nods his head slowly to himself. “She alright, though? And there with you?… Ruth, you’re not even gonna tell me if she’s there?”
“Now can I have my keys?” Mason shouts over his shoulder to Paul. Fucking asshole ignores him and Mason is about to crawl out of his skin, pacing between our table and the bar.
Sighing, Jaxon groans, “Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker.” Setting his phone down, Ruth delivers a little speech before hanging up.
“Not a single person is coming over here tonight. I can hear one of you shoutin’ and you’ll wake the devil with all that racket. Lord knows we don’t need him to show up tonight. It’s practically midnight, and I’ll send Josiah out with his shotgun at the first sign of trespassers. Jaxon, I hope your head hurts in the morning. Find Jesus at the bottom of your glass and have a good loooong talk with him.”
Click.
We’re all silent as we stare at the phone.
I’m the first to break the silence. “Who the fuck is Ruth?”
“God, you’re so fuckin’ drunk,” Mason grumbles.
“Ya’ll ain’t gettin’ your keys. Ruth said so! Best finish off the bottle. I’m chargin’ everyone triple for my time, by the way,” Paul hollers happily.
With a sigh, knowing we aren’t going anywhere tonight, I stumble to Paul and grab fresh glasses, then bring them back to the table.
“Pour,” Mason grumbles, dropping into his chair heavily, pouting like a fucking self-absorbed tween not getting his way.
The three of us spend the rest of the night finishing the bottle without speaking. I’m certain we have a lot more to talk about, but not tonight. The last thing I remember before I pass out is thinking I’ll be able to find Edith tomorrow once I figure out where Ruth lives.