Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
DEXTER
Release Day
It is midday by the time I exit the prison. I swing the bag over my shoulder, grip the strap, head high, and walk through the first row of fences, then the second, between dual brick watch towers, and I am free.
That is the last time.
I lift my chin and inhale. The last time. I stride on. I’m following the wall towards the rear parking lot when I hear, “Hey, Monster!”
I stop midstride.
My muscles roll under her voice and her use of the word Monster. A term she gave me when she believed I was one. Perhaps I was. When I was drinking, when I was fucking mouths, paying fifty dollars a pop and not worrying about the person on the end of it. I used women. Like they were holes.
But that is not me.
Not with her.
Daddy…
Scanning the carpark, my eyes land on Tyler, my little brother, first, noting the clarity in his gaze. He is obviously taking his medication. This is good.
I tear my eyes from him and see Donnie, Vallie, and— I look down… Molly. The reason I spent five months in prison. The little girl I picked up outside her abusive mother’s house with no devious intentions. Drunk out of my mind. Not thinking. Single-minded. I just wanted to repay the favour. She had brought me water once when I was passed out in my own piss and vomit. I wanted to return the kindness. I only wished to offer her food—she was far too skinny—a shower and new clothes. Not the dirty ones she lived in each day.
Christ.
And I can barely recognise her.
My hand comes to my mouth, my brows pitch above burning eyes. She is clean, a peach summer dress dangling to her calves. Her cheeks are round and rosy.
I clear my throat when Tyler begins to jog towards me. Always has to be first. My baby brother. I have to make it up to him, too. For all the years I was absent, drunk, careless, and neglectful. I can do that now.
I can guide him now.
Support him on his path to greatness.
He collides with me, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him, using my entire body to convey how I feel, how sorry I am, how I’ll show him the new me.
The sober me.
Who is present.
“Hey, Ty.” I squeeze. “You seem good.”
“Clear as a diamond!” Tyler confirms.
“With a few inclusions,” Vallie adds, joining his side.
“I’m Clair de Lune right now, Vallie Baby,” Tyler says over my shoulder. “Smooth and in harmony.”
“Dex.” I hear Donnie’s deep voice summon me.
I release Ty and half embrace Donnie, tapping him on the back twice because a full-blown hug isn’t our thing.
“We have to talk,” Donnie says by my ear.
“Not tonight,” I state, not wanting to get into a debate about Vallie, Molly, or who they belong to.
Not right now.
“No, not tonight,” he agrees in a curt and unreadable tone. It means business, either way. Vallie is his wife, and I am going to have her begging for her daddy’s big cock… He knows it. I’m not sure if Ty does, but by the smile on his face, I’d wager not. “Tomorrow. When you get back from the hotel.”
Pulling back, our eyes meet, and his seem softer. His frown is not so weaved. Jaw not so tight with buried disdain. For a grumpy arsehole, he sure is fucking selfless. He has done everything for Tyler and our business, while I was too busy drinking and gambling. Now, it appears Vallie looks after him. That must be the gentleness I see in his expression. Or maybe…
It's his new little girl.
His… not mine.
I ignore Vallie because if I look too hard at those curves, well, it’s been five months, and I don’t want a hard-on right now. So, I squat before Molly.
Huddled to Vallie’s leg, gripping her hand. Uncertain.
“Hello,” I say. “Do you remember me?”
She nods once. “Yes, Mister.”
“You don’t have to call me that, Molly.”
“Okay.”
“Dexter is fine.”
She smiles softly. “We are getting McDonald’s for lunch. I get the Happy Meal. It comes with a toy.”
“That sounds delicious,” I say without thinking. A smirk hits my lips, my eyes darting to watch the crawling blush on Vallie’s neck.
I return my gaze to Molly and quickly . I didn’t intend for that word to be heated with an innuendo for Vallie. Clearly, I need to get something out of my system.
“May I join you?” I try again.
Molly’s brows knit. “What else would you do?”
I laugh and rise to my feet. “Very true.”
“Are you driving?” I ask Molly.
She giggles, the sweet sound skittering into my heart. “I can’t drive. I’m not a neetager .”
“Of course. Neither am I.” Finally, I look at Vallie, her blush glowing beneath her soft cheeks. “Hello, Baby Girl.”
Her eyes dart around, thinking. “Hi.”
Her blush grows.
Over the following seconds, I stare into her big brown eyes, noting speckles of caramel in their depths that I hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention. The sun brings forward the smaller details of her face: eyebrows that are both brown and blonde, a hole in her nose where a piercing once was, dark eyelashes that curl perfectly but for the far right one where they loop around and brush her eyelid.
Molly grabs my hand and draws my attention. I snap myself out of my daze and look down at her. She has golden hair, just like Vallie, but hers is natural.
“I’ll show you the car,” she says, guiding me through the car park to the black SUV, and we head away from the prison.
Five months is not my longest stint, but this time did feel different. Worse and better. I felt more yearning, more regret—but more hope.
Then, we pass a tavern…
The only good thing about prison is that it keeps my alcohol addiction somewhat sleepy. No bars. No neon bottle shop signs. No commercials. No options. No way.
Fourteen.
On the drive to McDonald’s, I hold Molly’s hand in my lap and count fourteen different triggers that force sweat to mist my forehead, my muscles to twitch, fingers to flex as if to hold the bottle, and my skin to crawl with discomfort.
Fifteen.
Sixteen.