Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DELLA
He’s quiet and distant the next day. I understand; I’m lucky he’s even speaking to me after all the lying. But it still hurts that the romance between us had to be put on hold.
He doesn’t touch me, not like he did before, when I go into the bathroom to get dressed. He just buttons his shirt, glancing at me in the mirror.
Then, he walks out.
I didn’t expect instant forgiveness—we were lost in a honeymoon glow before, and now, there’s a wound that will need a lot of fixing. The silver lining is, he appears to have a plan, and that gives me hope that if he does pull through, there could be a second chance.
It makes sense he’s angry about being deceived. What doesn’t make sense is his visceral reaction to Brothers Boyd.
Something big went down there. He told me he and Jensen used to work together, that he was the best of the best, the only man who could face down the Caudills. He also told me the Caudills did something terrible to Jensen a long time ago.
The enemy of your enemy is your friend, he’d said.
But he didn’t tell me what he did to Jensen. I clearly only got the most convenient part of the story, and it all somehow ties into the empathy that Jensen appears to feel for my son’s situation.
The thought of Landis has my eyes smarting. The last few days have been hell, trying not to think about him so I don’t break down in front of Jensen.
Now, he’s all I can think about.
I know he’s safe with Kayleigh. And as terrible as Leland is, he loves his son. He wouldn’t hurt him. But he would, and is, using him to crush my spirit beneath his heel. He knows I’ll be back so long as he has Landis. It’s the only fucking reason he signed the divorce papers.
I look at myself in the mirror and force a smile on my face.
Landis is safe. I will get him back.
Jensen calls from down below, saying we need to leave for the airport. I grab my purse, the only thing I took when I left, and go down to join him. Neither of us speak the entire ride there.
He lets me have the window seat. Then, he sits beside me and closes his eyes.
The last time I was on a plane, I was sick to my stomach from fear, not knowing what awaited me in Montana.
This time, I’m just as sick, but it’s not as bad because I’m not alone.
I fidget, watching the patchwork quilt of the states roll along underneath.
This is going to be a long plane ride. He shifts, stretching his legs out. There’s not a lot of room for him.
I pick my thumbnail. He opens one eye.
“Maybe I should have sedated you for this,” he says.
I give him a look. “I’m fine.”
“You scared of heights?”
I shake my head. He opens both eyes and turns his head. “What?”
“I’m scared of Leland,” I whisper.
A muscle in his jaw works. “I get that,” he says finally.
The plane whirrs; the white noise is a little comforting.
“What do you miss from back home?” he says abruptly.
My brows knit. Is he trying to make conversation to calm me down?
I glance to the side, studying his profile.
The lean, hungry demeanor of him reminds me of home.
The Appalachian Mountains are the only place that produces this particular brand of man—tough like nails, everything pushed down so hard, it’ll never come up, eyes that lock the pain in until they’re haunted.
I dig at my thumbnail again. “I miss being free. We might not have had much, but nobody fucking told me what to do when I lived in Harlan.”
Silence. Then, he sighs.
“Yeah, I miss being free,” he says.
I’m starting to like his voice, more than I should. It’s deep, with a prevalent rasp that sounds like it’s about to break. There’s a Montana drawl mixed in, but I hear the Harlan County still. I roll my head to the side, watching him unabashedly, wondering what he was like as a young man.
“Can I ask you something?” I whisper.
“You can,” he says, shutting his eyes. “Might not answer.”
“Who is Brothers Boyd to you?”
“Hell on Earth,” he says grimly.
“What does that mean?”
His brow creases. “Why don’t you take a nap or something?”
“Okay,” I say, making sure he hears the sass in that word.
We’re both quiet until we alight the plane with his carry-on. I’m still in my tiny dress from the night we hooked up. Jensen picks up a rental truck, a big, white Dodge Ram, and we drive out of the Nashville airport, still not talking.
The air conditioner is on too high, and it’s freezing my bare thighs. I turn it down and he gives me a sharp glance.
“It’s hot,” he says.
“Can we stop and get me some clothes?” I ask. “I’m about half naked in this dress.”
He jerks his head in a yes. A few minutes down the road, he pulls off at a Walmart, hands me a wad of cash, and sits in the parking lot while I run in. I’m glad he stayed outside, because the last thing I need is him breathing down my neck while I try to buy myself a whole wardrobe in ten minutes.
I hurry through the store, and when I get back to the truck, he’s staring into space. He never scrolls his phone. Maybe he’s not much of a technology guy.
I knock on the door. He unlocks it, and I scramble in. The look he gives me is distant, and it’s hard to believe this is the man who fucked me for two days straight. Now, the thought of him seeing me naked with that closed off stare makes me uncomfortable.
“Okay, you look away while I get dressed,” I order.
His jaw flexes. “I have already seen every part of your body in detail. Just get dressed.”
“Well, this is different.”
“Let me just forget what your bare ass looks like real quick. That’ll fix it.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I fucked you,” I snap, crawling into the back seat and ripping my dress off.
He glances at me in the rearview mirror, eyes narrowed. I pull on my cotton panties and bra, work my t-shirt down over it, and wriggle into my jeans. They’re bootcut, so they work with the shoes I already have. In ordinary clothes, I feel more like myself than I have in the last five years.
When I’m back in the front seat, he starts the engine.
“Alright, let’s get going,” he says.
“I’m hungry,” I say.
“Jesus Christ.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You need to use the bathroom too, huh?”
I think about it. “In a little while. Don’t gripe about it. I can’t just pull over on the side of the road and pee in the ditch like you can.”
“I don’t do that,” he says.
“Every single man I’ve ever met pees on the side of the road,” I say, tying up my hair in a ponytail. “Leland didn’t, though, but he was all proper about everything.”
“How many men have you known other than him?”
I shrug, turning to look out the window. It’s incredibly annoying that he’s demanding specific responses to a casual statement. That’s typical man behavior.
When I glance back, the corner of his mouth is turned up. He doesn’t speak again until I give him my order in the drive-thru window. Then, we’re on the highway, heading east toward the border.
I tilt my body away, sinking into the seat. Hell is Real signs and adult superstores fly by for the next hour. I’m getting sleepy. After he left me in the bedroom last night, I tossed and turned until his alarm went off. Neither of us got much sleep.
Finally, he pulls over at a rest stop and lets me out.
I’m surprised when he walks into the main area and waits outside the bathroom door, like he’s guarding it.
It puts a little smile on my face, but I don’t let him see it.
Then, we’re back on the highway, and I’m feeling lighter.
All it took was that little gesture from him to put me in a better mood.
I think he’s hurt, but I don’t think he hates me.
He lets the radio play, real low. My eyelids droop until I can’t fight it anymore.
Then, he’s shaking me awake. I blink, shooting upright.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, heart pounding. My nails are ripping into his forearm.
“Nothing. We’re in West Virginia,” he says, wincing. “Getting closer. Do you need food?”
I release him, trying to pull myself together. “No, I’ll be okay.”
“Last chance before we stop for the night.”
“I’m fine.”
My eyes burn. I rub them, blinking hard.
We’re driving in a remote area, but up on the hill, I can make out a handful of neon signs.
They come into focus: curvy bodies, playing cards, lurid letters advertising gentlemen’s clubs.
We’re definitely in West Virginia. Jensen clears his throat, glancing up at the biggest sign emblazoned with a barely clothed woman.
“I always know the second I cross the West Virginia border,” he rasps. “Swear to God, you’d think the whole damn economy rides on a poker chip and a pair of tits.”
“I only came here a few times,” I say. “My mama would always tell me to shut my eyes when we drove past those signs.”
Jensen’s mouth thins.
“What? You think they should outlaw it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, but gambling exploits people who don’t have shit to begin with.”
My brows rise. He’s got a sense of justice. I didn’t expect that.
“You’ve never gambled or went to a strip club?” I ask.
“You’re a little too bold,” he shoots back. “Do you go to strip clubs and casinos?”
“I’m not very experienced, about anything. You’re the second man I’ve ever slept with,” I admit before I can bite it back.
Tension hums, filling the truck cab. I didn’t feel embarrassed about that before, but now, my face is warm. The silence drags for a good half mile.
“Is that true?” he asks.
“That you’re the second man I’ve slept with?” I ask. “Yeah. Just you and Leland.”
“Hmm.”
I shift to face him, pulling the seat belt out to keep it from choking me. “What? I’m not a prude. I just didn’t have an opportunity.”
“How old are you?” he asks, a little forcefully.
“You’re not supposed to ask a lady her age.”
He hits the brakes, pulling to the side of the road. Pale eyes turn on me, and I’m caught in his headlights.
“How old are you?” he repeats.
Cowed, I shrink against the door.
“Twenty-three,” I whisper.
His lips part. “But you have a son? How old is he?”
I wet my lips. “Landis is four.”