About That Night

Chapter 3

Hank

The Swamp isas classy as it sounds. It’s a shack off of a rural road that’s off of another rural road, with the bayou in the backyard. If you don’t know it’s there, you don’t know, and that’s the way locals want it. There are no tourist dollars coming into The Swamp. It’s known as a service bar, staying open until six in the morning so restaurant workers, second shift workers, and night janitors can all come in and drink. Then it’s closed from six to seven, ostensibly to clean, but I think it’s more for the staff to nap or eat or do a shot.

I’ve come in here a few times recently because I’m looking for staff for my new restaurant. I’ve met a few prospects, but mostly it’s just been cool to reconnect with people. I’ve run into guys I went to high school with and old friends of my various siblings. Having six brothers and sisters means you know a lot of people by association, especially since our house was the hangout house.

There is always something of a crowd at The Swamp because there aren’t a lot of bars in town. It has a humid, sticky atmosphere, dark corners that I wouldn’t suggest taking a blacklight to, and graffiti on most of the thick timber walls. Tonight there are a dozen or more people milling around, mostly men. Some are clearly guys who go offshore then come back to town for a week at a time. During which they drink at this fine establishment.

My brother Conway bartends at The Swamp.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks when I come in and take a seat on a rickety stool. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“I ran into someone, and I invited her to meet me for a drink.” I pull my hooded sweatshirt off. It’s warmer than I was expecting, and the bar feels stuffy. “You remember Chastity DuBois?”

Chastity is actually closer in age to Conway than me. He’s only a year older than Faith and Chastity.

He pauses in the middle of washing a glass and eyes me. “Yeah. I remember her. Where’d you see her?”

I can’t tell from his tone if he has an opinion on Chastity or not. “She’s Pops’ nurse.”

Conway looks surprised. “She is? I didn’t even know she was back living in town. Last I heard, she went to live with her grandmother or something.”

That’s interesting. Normally, gossip runs faster than that. “Guess not. She has a son. Pops says he’s four.”

Conway finishes washing the glass and places it under the beer tap. “Didn’t know that either. Come to think of it, last I saw Chastity, she was coming out of your bedroom at first light in your high school football T-shirt. No bra. No pants.”

“You saw her?” I’m a little surprised. He’s never mentioned it. But then again, why would he? We never get in each other’s business when it comes to girls.

“Yep.” He sets the beer on a napkin in front of me. “Mom saw her too.”

That makes me grimace. “Of course she did. Mom sees everything. Good thing I’m an adult now and don’t have to answer to Jenny Young.”

Unlike my brothers, my mother has a lot of opinions about my dating and sex life. None of them good.

Conway laughs. “That’s what you think. You bring a woman around, and I can guarantee you’re going to get the third degree.”

“Who said anything about bringing a woman around? I’m not bringing someone home to meet the parents. I’m just having a drink with Chastity.” I shake my head. “You should know me better than that. I am not stupid enough to take a woman over there. Mama will be planning our wedding after ten minutes.”

“She’s probably already planning it. Bet you she knows you’re meeting Chastity.” He gives me a grin.

For a split second, I wonder if he could be right. Pops could have called or texted my mother. But then I realize I didn’t tell him I was meeting Chastity. “For a second there, I thought you might be right.” I laugh and shake my head. “That was a terrifying thought. I don’t need people knowing all my business.”

Conway snorts. “Then why’d you move back here? Everyone knows everything. You’re not in New Orleans anymore.”

It’s true. Hell, that’s half the reason I did move back here. To be around people who care about me. Sometimes caring comes with an opinion. Though maybe that’s not a bad thing.

But before I can comment, Conway raises his hand and waves. “Chastity’s here. Damn. She’s looking good. You’ve got some competition, brother.”

“You would do that?” I ask, immediately ready to fight. I will take a swing at my little brother right here.

“No, you stupid fuck, not me. Every other guy in this bar. They’re already sniffing all around her.”

I turn and see Chastity. She’s wearing jeans that show off her narrow waist and curvy hips and a red sweater that looks too small. The cleavage is plunging, the swell of her breasts spilling out the top of it. Several guys have taken notice of her, including one in his early twenties who has already approached her. She smiles at him, but she waves him off and points to me.

The young, overeager asshole gives me a death glare and proceeds to blatantly stare at Chastity’s backside as she walks over to the bar. Now I want to fight him. I consider the guy a complete and total dirtbag, even though I did the exact same thing to her earlier today in Pops’ room. It’s no different, but I tell myself it is, and I believe me because I’m a great storyteller.

“Conway Young,” Chastity says as she approaches us. “It’s been a while. Wow. It’s so great to see you.”

Her voice is husky and enthusiastic, and I’m instantly jealous. I’m straight-up petty-as-fuck jealous at the way she greets my own brother, who already assured me he wouldn’t interfere. I have no idea why I’m overreacting, but I am, so I take a deep breath and concentrate on being normal.

Conway has come around the bar and envelopes her in a hug that she returns with a big smile.

“Hey, Chas, how you been? You look amazing,” Conway says, pulling back to assess her.

“Oh, thanks.” Her voice is breathless, and she sounds flattered. “I’m good. Busy. How are you? I haven’t seen you since high school.”

Since the night she was in my room. I wonder if she realizes that.

“Hi,” she says to me, slipping onto the stool next to me before returning her attention to Conway.

I feel unnecessary to this reunion, so I just sip my beer and try not to form fists.

“I’m living the dream,” Conway says with a grin, holding his hands up to gesture to the bar. “Spending my time in The Swamp.”

Fortunately, the dirtbag yells out to Conway, “Can I get a fucking beer?”

“You can get a fucking fist in your face,” Conway says to him without missing a beat. “I’ll be right there, asshole.”

I wouldn’t mess with Conway if I were a customer. He’s not as big as Cash, who’s an overgrown beast, but he’s still a big guy. He was a tackle in high school football. I got none of my brother’s brawn. I got the speed and the ability to have a six-pack if I really work at it. In high school, I was the quarterback, and I will be my brother’s backup if he needs me in a fight, no questions asked.

Chastity looks alarmed as Conway stalks away. “Was this place always so…dark?” she asks. “It feels a little more dangerous than I remember.”

“It was always like this. Don’t worry about it, though. That guy was just showing off for you.”

“For me?” She looks startled.

“Yep. Didn’t he hit on you?”

“He asked me if I wanted a drink.”

“So, yes, he was hitting on you.”

“I didn’t notice.” She sets her purse on the back of the chair. “I think my ability to recognize flirting is broken. Actually, I probably never had it.” She glances around the bar. “I can’t believe I’m at The Swamp. Legally. And I feel unnerved being here, in a way that I should have felt when I was a teenager. What the hell were we thinking? Underage girls in a place like this. God, that was so stupid and dangerous.”

“The mom vibe is running strong in you right now,” I tell her. “You sound just like my mother.”

Chastity laughs. “I do sound like a mom. I can’t help it. I’m so glad I had a boy. If I had a daughter who did the stupid stuff I did, I would have a heart attack and die before her sixteenth birthday. She would literally kill me.”

“Did it kill your mom?”

She makes a face. “No. She just sent me to live with my grandmother when I turned up pregnant, and then she disowned me. She just started talking to me again a couple of months ago.”

“What the fuck?” I ask, genuinely astonished. “People still disown their kid for teen pregnancy?”

“Mine did.”

“Damn. I’m so sorry. That is harsh.” My parents would have never done that, I know that for a fact. My mother would have had some lecturing about being responsible, and my father would have told me, or any of my siblings, to suck it up and get ready for a rough ride, but they never would have turned their backs on any of us.

The opposite, in fact. They would embrace a baby with open arms and surround us all with love.

“They named me Chastity. What do you expect? But, yeah. I lost my family, all my friends. I lost my chance to go away to college, and I lost my sense of self for a minute when I believed them that I was a bad person.”

“You’re not a bad person.” Everything I’d seen proved just the opposite.

“Thank you, that’s nice of you to say. Anyway, my biggest mistake cost me everyone and everything I loved, but in the end, it also brought me my greatest joy, so I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Exactly the same, just to have my son.”

I can hear the truth of her statement. She sounds fiercely proud and in love with her child. It’s fascinating to see and hear Chastity now, as an adult, so different from the impulsive teen she’d been. I find the mama bear side of her very appealing. “What’s your son’s name?”

“Josiah.” She smiles. “Can I show you a picture, or is that annoying?”

“Of course you can show me a picture.” I’m curious about her life, and that includes her son. “He’s four?”

She nods, swiping through her phone. “This one is from the pumpkin patch.” She holds the picture out to me.

I’m amused, because it’s obvious Josiah is in the pumpkin patch. He is surrounded by, you guessed it, pumpkins. He has a foot on one and is making muscles. I laugh. “He’s adorable.”

He is. He also doesn’t look like me. I’m studying him subconsciously, but then I realize what I’m doing and force myself to stop. I do believe Chastity. She’s not a liar. Presumably, she would have also come after me for child support by now if I were this kid’s father, as would be her right to do so.

“He is adorable, isn’t he?”

“Yes. Where is he tonight?”

“He’s sleeping. My roommate is home with him. We’ve been friends since right after Josiah was born. She’s been through everything with me.” She flips through a few more pictures before giving me a sheepish look. “Sorry. He’s just my world.”

“That’s awesome. You must be a great mom. Why didn’t you tell me about him when we ran into each other in New Orleans?” I ask.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t a secret. He’s all over my social media. But you didn’t seem to know, and I didn’t feel like bringing it up because, well, I wanted you to think of me as sexy.” She looks embarrassed by the admission.

“Moms can be sexy,” I point out. “Trust me, I would have thought you were sexy no matter what.”

“I also wasn’t sure you’d believe me that he’s not yours and that a fun night would turn into buying a paternity test.”

That did make sense. “You’re probably not wrong about that.” I’m itching to ask her yet again if she’s sure about the timing, but I keep my damn mouth shut. She’ll walk out of the bar if I keep pressing her about it. I do believe her. I don’t really know why it’s so hard for me to accept that her son isn’t mine.

It’s almost like a part of me wants him to be mine.

Which fucks with my head. I don’t even know where that thought is coming from.

“I just want to reassure you again that he’s not yours. I swear, Hank. I’ve done stupid stuff in my life, but I’m not cruel. I would never keep my son from you if I thought he was yours. That would have never even occurred to me to do.”

She must have read my mind. “I trust you, but thanks for that. And I know you’re not cruel.”

“In New Orleans, I was just so shocked to see you, and then you were flirting with me, and I thought that if I was going to, you know, at least I knew from past experience that it would be good with you.”

She flicks her tongue over her bottom lip and glances at me, like she wants me to be the one to say it.

I have no problem saying it.

“Sex between us was amazing,” I tell her. “And I wanted you so bad that night in New Orleans. Especially after you told me you hadn’t had sex since we were together the first time.”

Chastity doesn’t say anything. Her eyebrows go up, and she leans in toward me, just a little. It’s a subtle shift of the air so that I can smell her scent. She isn’t wearing perfume. It’s more of a soap smell. It’s clean and fresh.

“Who are you having sex with now, Chastity?” I murmur, because let’s cut to the chase. We have a little bit of history, and her life hasn’t been easy from the sound of it. No point dancing around anything.

“No one. I haven’t since that night.”

I stare at her blankly. She can’t be saying what I think she’s saying…“Which night?”

“I haven’t done anything since I was with you in New Orleans.”

I’m pretty sure my dick grows six sizes in three seconds at the information. “You haven’t been touched by a man since I touched you?” That is both astonishing and hot as hell. This is twice now in five years that she’s told me I was the last man to touch her. My hands are itching to just reach over and pull her onto my lap and show her how hard I am for her.

She shakes her head. “I’ve been busy.”

“No one is that busy,” I say. “I would have sex on the public bus if that was the only time I had to do it. Or in my sleep. In the dentist’s chair. Whatever it takes.”

Chastity laughs. “I guess I don’t know what I’m missing.”

I feel outraged and offended by that.

“Hey now. That feels like an insult. You know exactly what you’re missing. I had to put my hand over your mouth so you wouldn’t wake the whole house up, remember?”

I want her to melt at the memory. She doesn’t give quite the reaction I want.

She nods. “I remember. But a relationship just hasn’t presented itself, and I’m not about to take any chances on casual sex. It’s too risky. Things were really hard for a few years, and I’m just starting to get my life stabilized.”

I hate everything about what she just said. Because it sounds like she is both exhausted and lacking in emotional support from her family, who I decide I despise. She’s also clearly unwilling to have sex with me tonight, which I already have my heart and cock set on. Plus, it sounds like she’s distanced herself from the memory of how amazing it felt to have my tongue stroking her to orgasm and how freeing that can be.

Makes all your worries melt away, that’s for damn sure.

Conway appears before I can argue with her that life is full of risks, but with the proper birth control, this one is fairly low. Not that I want to talk her into anything, but I think she’s really limiting the amount of pleasure that can be wrested from life by sticking to her no-sex creed. Nothing releases tension like an orgasm.

“Sorry about that,” Conway says. “Ignore the riff-raff. What can I get you to drink, Chastity?”

She actually looks at me with a beseeching gaze. “I’m not really sure…”

I recall Chastity is not a drinker. She wants me to suggest something for her. Maybe she’s tired of making decisions, tired of being the only one doing everything. I feel the sudden need to help her in any way that I can. “How about a sweet tea?”

Gratefully, she nods. “Yes, that sounds perfect. Thanks, Hank. Thanks, Conway.”

I ignore the way my brother is looking at me as he heads to the end of the bar.

“So do you want to be in a relationship?” I ask Chastity.

She nods. “Yes, I would love to get married someday and have another baby in the next decade.”

The B word. That should be like a bucket of ice water over my commitment-phobic head, but it feels right for Chastity. “Sure. That’s what a lot of people want.”

“Not you?”

I shrug. “Of course I want kids someday. But I’ve dated a lot of women, and I haven’t wanted to marry any of them. I think that says more about me than it does about them, though.” I’m not sure what it says exactly. “I believe in love and marriage. I just haven’t felt the way you’re supposed to feel about someone when you talk about forever, you know? You should get married, Chastity. You deserve to be happy.”

“Hank, can I ask you something?”

Her hand lands on my arm. It feels like she’s about to ask me something I’m going to hate. She seems nervous. I also like the way her small hand feels on my rough skin. I briefly glance down at her touch before looking up at her. “Of course. Ask me anything.”

“This is going to sound weird, but do you think you can teach me how to date?”

I have no idea what I thought she was going to say, but this isn’t it. I eye her.

“I don’t even know what that means. Why do you have to be taught how to date?”

“Because I’ve never dated. I’ve never even been on a single date in my entire life.”

For a second, the words don’t compute. I have to play them back in my head again before I realize she is saying she’s never had a boyfriend. Never even been on a date.

I clear my throat, genuinely astonished. It tracks with what she’s been telling me, but it’s still just a mind fuck. Why hasn’t some guy pursued her endlessly? If I had been in town, her age, and not just a little averse to deep emotions, I would have gone for her myself.

I realize that’s a decent amount of barriers, but we’re not talking about me here. We’re talking about the collective male population. Even batshit crazy girls have plenty of boyfriends, and same for asshole guys having girlfriends, so this makes zero to no sense to me. Chastity is a goddamn catch. If she wants to settle down, she should be settled down. She should have some guy worshiping at her feet and buying her flowers every Friday. She should have a ring on her finger and some dude desperate to get home to her after work every day.

There are plenty of men who want the whole white picket fence, and if that’s what you want, you clearly can’t do better than Chastity. I’m astonished she’s still single.

“You’re a sweet and beautiful woman. You don’t need a dating instructor. Just be yourself.”

Chastity groans. “That’s the dumbest advice ever, and you know it. Just be yourself. I’ve been being myself, and I haven’t kissed a man in two years. Explain to me how that’s working out.” She sounds exasperated, which anyone will if they haven’t been kissed in two years.

She’s also right. It’s dumb advice. I’m just baffled why there aren’t guys lined up outside her door with engagement rings. “You said you’ve been busy. Maybe you need to get out there more.”

Chastity takes the sweet tea Conway gives her and takes a sip, rolling her eyes. “And you said yourself time isn’t the issue. Get out where? Where am I going? You have all this experience dating, and I have none. Please. Just give me some tips, maybe take me out on a fake date or two and show me how it’s done.”

“You want me to take you out on a fake date?” I’m actually legitimately horrified. I can’t think of anything worse. Wining and dining her, and everyone starts thinking we’re a couple but it’s all fucking fake? That’s beyond comprehension. “People will talk. This isn’t Baton Rouge.”

“That’s perfect. They say men always want a woman that other men want.”

Is she insane? “Men want you, Chastity. Trust me, men want you.”

“If anything, men want to have sex with me, though I’m not even sure about that most of the time. Men certainly don’t want to date me.”

She can’t be serious. “Men want to have sex with you. I want to have sex with you.”

“I trust you to respect my boundaries.”

Hold on. “So this is totally platonic? Fake dating with no chance of you and me having sex?”

“No sex. I told you, I can’t risk it.”

She looks firm on this point.

I feel firm on hating this point. I let all this sink in for a second, wishing I’d ordered something harder than a beer. “Why do you think men don’t want to date you?”

“Because no one has asked me on a date.”

That seems highly unlikely. “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean? I would know if someone asked me out!”

“Fair enough. But…you said your flirt detector is broken…” I don’t even know what I’m about to say. None of any of this makes sense. “Could it be…”

“I want to go on a dating app,” she says. “And I’m terrified.”

Oh, God. I rub my jaw. Men will eat her alive on a dating app. “I don’t understand why you would want to fake date me if you’re jumping on a dating app.”

“I need you to help me understand what people are really saying when they say it. I can’t read the cues. I’m scared I’ll be wrong.”

That makes my chest feel tight. “It’s okay to be afraid when you’re trying something new.”

Chastity sips her tea. “I doubt you’re afraid of anything new.”

She’s totally wrong. I’m fucking terrified at how I’m feeling right now. I feel protective of her, but more than that, I feel…warmth. A deep attraction that has nothing to do with sex. That, my friends, is a Hank Williams Young first at The Swamp.

“I’m afraid of shit,” I tell her, my voice husky.

Like failing. Opening my restaurant, and it’s a bust.

Disappointing my parents, who worked their asses off to provide for us.

Being a lousy sibling by forgetting birthdays and not knowing how to hold a newborn baby’s head safely and securely.

Dying alone.

We’re all afraid of shit. Whoever says they’re not is a liar or a sociopath.

“It’s okay to be afraid, and I’m man enough to admit it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

That irks me. I’m being honest, and she doesn’t believe me. “Why do you think I’m not married?”

“You said you never met anyone you wanted to marry.”

My own damn words thrown back in my face. “That is true. But it’s also because my parents have a great marriage, and I want that too. Forever. But what if I fuck it up? Everyone has fears.”

Chastity gives me a long look then nods. “Thank you for sharing that. I appreciate it. I’m confident at work. I’m confident I’m a good mother. But I’m not confident with men.”

“You could have fooled me. You also seem pretty confident in shutting me down right now.”

She laughs. “What are you talking about?”

“That little no-sex thing. At least you know what you want.”

“I know you’ll understand why I don’t want to have sex, Hank.”

I don’t understand shit. Why would I understand that? It’s unexplainable. It’s a puzzle that can’t be solved. It’s like learning quantum physics in five minutes. It can’t be done.

“Don”t want to, or refuse to?” I need clarification. Because, let’s be honest, if she says she’ll have sex with me, I’ll fake date her six ways to Sunday.

“Can’t. It’s too risky.”

I really wish she’d stop saying that. “Taking street drugs is risky. Having sex with me is not risky.”

Chastity pulls a face. “You know what I mean. I don’t want to get pregnant. I’m terrified I’ll get pregnant even with birth control.”

“What about oral sex? Giving and receiving.”

“No. I don’t trust myself not to get carried away. You have that effect on me. I would have had sex with you in New Orleans if you had a condom. You know that.”

That’s something at least. Though I don’t know why I’m even asking for parameters. I’m not going to do this. It’s messy. I don’t like messy, in the kitchen or my love life.

“But you’ve always been respectful,” she adds.

I have? Damn it. She’s working me over hard.

My balls are also slowly turning blue. Chastity didn’t meet up with me so we can have some naked fun. She met up with me to get me to teach her how to find Mr. Fucking Right so she can settle down with a ring on her finger and make babies.

She’s delusional about me. I don’t know anything about finding forever with someone. I just admitted that to her. She’s also making me confused as to why I’m not even in the running for this magical mystery man. I don’t like being treated like some ancient pleasure professor. I don’t want to teach her the-ways-of-the-cock so she can run off and enter into happily-ever-after with some random guy who isn’t me.

Not that I want a happily-ever-after necessarily, but shouldn’t I at least be a fucking option?

It’s confusing as hell.

What she’s asking me is impossible.

“I got in bed one night, rolled over, found you there, and went for it, Chas. How is that respectful?” I’m intentionally being blunt because I don’t want her thinking I’m some sort of savior who will actually agree to whatever the hell it is she’s asking.

Because it kind of feels like I’m saving her from me, and I don’t like the way that feels.

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do. I was in your room because I wanted you to do exactly that.” She pauses, then asks, “Did you know it was me? I’ve always wondered that. It was pitch black in your room, and you were drunk. Did you know, or did you figure it out in the morning when we woke up?”

“I knew it was you.” There had been no question it was her. I can’t believe she’s spent five years wondering about that. “I know I have a reputation for sleeping with just anyone, but I’ve never had sex without knowing who I was having sex with.”

Though I’m not saying I wouldn’t. Never say never. That could be hot, depending on the circumstances. Just that, in this particular case, I had not.

“How did you know?”

“There were only four of you there that night, one of whom was my sister. Out of the three remaining cheerleaders, you had the biggest chest and the sexiest voice. It only took me one rub and a moan to figure out it was you.”

Her jaw drops. “Hank!” She smacks my arm.

“What? You asked me, and I’m telling you. That’s how I knew.” I chuckle at the shock on her face. “How did you think I would know? By smell?”

Now she starts laughing. “Oh my God, no!”

I lean in and pretend to sniff her. “Let me make sure it’s really you.”

She shakes her head at me. “You’re crazy. Stop it.”

But I nuzzle in closer to her, wrapping my arms around her from the side. “You smell like chicken.”

That makes her laugh. “I do not.” She pulls away and gives me a smile. “Be my fake boyfriend, Hank. Please?”

If you ask my mother, she’ll tell you I’ve done inappropriate things. I’ve done irresponsible things. I’ve done dangerous things. I’ve done impulsive things and embarrassing things, and even things that resulted in a night in jail.

But nothing quite as utterly fucking stupid as opening my mouth and saying, ”Okay,” to being Chastity DuBois’ pretend boyfriend.

It may also be the most altruistic thing I’ve ever done, because agreeing to spend time with her and not have sex with her makes me nothing short of a saint.

I have a soft spot for her, though. She looks at me with those brown eyes, and I want to make everything easier for Chastity. I want to take a machete and clear a path through the swamp for her. Win a million dollars and gift it to her. Paint her house, buy her groceries, name a boat in her honor. Be a role model to her son and anonymously pay for his college. And since I can’t do any of that, I guess I’m going to teach her how to date so she can spend the rest of her life having sex with some other guy that isn’t me.

I raise my hand to get Conway’s attention. Fuck the beer. I need a whiskey.

She beams at me and throws her arms around me. “Thank you, you’re the best.”

I hug her back, the press of her tits against my chest the purest form of torture.

From behind the bar, Conway shakes his head at me.

I pull Chastity in tighter to both make him jealous and to torture myself further.

“Lesson one,” I murmur in her ear. “Are you ready for it?”

Chastity shivers in my arms. “Ready.”

I have a feeling neither one of us is ready for this.

But that’s never stopped me before.