Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Teller
I sprinted outside in time to see a dark pickup with a dented rear fender fishtail around the corner.
“Fuck!” I raced inside.
Madison stared at the mess, her hands pressed to both sides of her head. Her eyes glistened. An angry red painted her cheeks. Her gaze jerked to mine and she trembled as she drew herself together, sucked in a deep breath, and puffed it back out. “I’ll get a broom.”
She stomped away, her shoulders drawn and her head down. I wish I’d gotten a plate number, but no such luck.
As I surveyed the damage, my heart sank. Two panes of glass had three large holes, and shards covered the floor. The third was untouched, but since they were all old, all three would likely have to be replaced to fit together and look decent.
Goddammit, she didn’t have the budget for that.
I went to the broom closet by the bathrooms. As I got closer, her sniffles became audible.
I cleared my throat. She didn’t want me to see her cry and I’d give her that. “We should call the police.”
“No.”
“Mad—”
“They won’t do a damn thing but blame me.” Her voice echoed loud from inside. “They’ll ask what I did to piss someone off. They’ll insinuate I asked for it.”
Dammit, she was probably right. The history in this bar was too strong, and the police hadn’t witnessed her devastated reaction or the way she was trying to hide how much it bothered her. “Hey, uh, I can call Tate and he can bring a couple of sheets of plywood?—”
“No, it’s fine. I can get some.”
“Do you have a woodpile at your place, or is that getting sold with the house and property?” I hadn’t meant to sound so sarcastic, but when she spun out of the closet, her eyes sparking, I was grateful I could give her a target.
“It’s none of your?—”
I crossed to her and gripped her shoulders. “Like it or not, you are my business. I’m not willing to leave you alone. I’m calling Tate, and we’ll clean up until he gets here.”
Her wide eyes took me in. I didn’t let her go. It was all I could do not to hug her to me. Her fear, her despair, gutted me.
“It’s late and he has kids.” She gazed forlornly at the mess behind me.
Her consideration for my brother caught me off guard. Life had battered Madison but she was concerned about bothering someone else? I dropped my hands before she distracted herself by getting upset at me. “He won’t mind. I’d call Tenor, but he lives farther out of town, and Tate’s got nice wood.”
A giggle burst out of her. She put the back of her hand against her mouth. “Stop it,” she said against her skin.
Her emotions were all over, but I’d take manic giggles. “He’ll say his wood’s bigger than mine, but he’s lying.”
She gaped at me a moment before she turned around, her shoulders shaking. “This isn’t the time to be funny.”
“You’re the one who’s laughing. Do I need to change your nickname? Because Giggly Maddy doesn’t have the same ring.”
“Don’t you dare.”
I came up behind her and put my hands on her shoulders again. I could get used to touching her. “It’s going to be okay.”
She sighed. “It never is.”
“I promise this time it will be.”
“You can do a lot of things in this town, Teller Bailey, but you can’t work miracles.”
“So you admit I’m pretty impressive?”
“Oh god, will you stop?” She looked at me over her shoulder and grinned.
Relief pounded through me. For a woman who used to slither under my skin, her tears bothered me.
If I wasn’t careful, the whole woman would become my weakness.
Madison
Tate helped Teller board up the windows, then left. I’d offered to pay him, but he’d given me an Are you serious? look that lacked the scandalized flare others usually gave me with the same stare. All he’d said was, “Put it on his tab and charge him double.”
That was it. No bargaining. No negotiations. Tate had lent his assistance and I wasn’t out any money or property. I tried to recall when that had ever happened in my whole life and blanked.
Teller inspected the secured plywood, then ran his boot over the floor like he was looking for specks of glass. We’d swept and vacuumed before Tate had arrived.
Turning, he pinned me with that dark, brooding gaze of his. “Grab your things. You can stay at my place.”
Air whooshed out of my lungs. Stay with Teller? No. Absolutely not. “I’m fine here.”
He knocked on the plywood. “This isn’t enough security.”
“It is,” I insisted.
“Nope. Get your things. I’ll wait.” He strode toward me and my heart crawled into my throat. His powerful steps and intense expression said he wasn’t going to drop the subject. “I’ll do it for you if you don’t.”
Alarm spiked hot in my blood. “You are not going to touch my stuff.” He didn’t need to see how little I had.
“Then pack. You can follow me home.” He got a sly grin. “Unless you’ve been spying on me and already know where I live.”
“I have no idea where your cave is.” I almost snorted. No Bailey lived in a hovel.
“You got somewhere else to stay?”
I had two things—this shitty bar and my pride. Tonight, I felt like both had been busted.
“Your mom’s old place?” he asked quietly.
“The sale is pending. The place is cleaned and empty.” Clean was a stretch, but I’d done what I could and it’d been enough to finally get an offer that stuck. I hadn’t gotten a good deal, but at least I was getting something. Once the sale was done and Mom’s care was secured, I could relax just a little.
“You’re using Sal?”
My nod was jerky.
His lips flattened. “Look, I’m not leaving you alone here. We don’t know if that was asshole kids or if someone has it out for you.”
If Flatlanders wasn’t being targeted because of me or Mom, then it could be lingering resentment toward my brother. Scott had burned bridges. The cause didn’t matter. Dealing with the effect did.
“I don’t need protection,” I said stubbornly. I could not take more of Teller than I was already getting. Teller in his jeans and tight shirt working. Teller with his jokes and ready smile. Teller and those lips that had been on mine.
I went to sleep with his image burning the backs of my eyes. I did not need to see how he lived. I didn’t need to witness the class divide between us. My family was on the wrong side of the tracks. The Baileys were in the castle on the mountain.
“All right.” He scratched the side of his face with a knuckle, fatigue in his eyes.
Guilt returned, cloying and powerful. He’d been working his ass off here, and he had other jobs, more obligations. “You should go. Get some rest.”
“I’ll crash on the pool table.”
“What?” I screeched. My heart hammered against my ribs. Why wouldn’t this guy give up on me? Everyone else would’ve by now.
“You’re not coming with me, so I’ll stay.” The weary lines around his mouth grew deeper as he eyed the pool table behind me. “I can run home and clean up in the morning.”
“You’re not— You can’t sleep here.”
He went around me and ran his hand over the felt surface. “I might have to borrow a blanket.”
The infuriating man hoisted himself onto the table and rolled to his side, his back to me.
“Just hit the lights when you turn in.” He curled his arms under his head.
I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. Not only was Mom’s place empty, but the water had been shut off. Same with electricity. I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t stay under that roof and get a lick of rest. Memories would assault me until I wished I was being haunted by real ghosts instead.
I exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I’ll get my things.”