Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Nash
F rom an early age, I knew the open road would be my home. I was a free spirit, most called it a wayward soul, but it was the only part of me that felt genuine. My brothers and I got into trouble like it was our life’s mission. My mama and pops didn’t care so long as we stayed out of their way and trouble didn’t come knocking on their door.
I remember the first, and only time, I was caught and trouble followed me to his doorstep. Jase and I were out at a party with Beau. Theo was out on a date with some chick he’d met over the summer, and Monty was back at school in Nashville. It was our sophomore year. Jase and I had just gotten our driving permits, and we’d taken one of his dad’s work trucks out for a spin.
The party was out at some abandoned warehouse down in Rivers Bend, about thirty minutes from my home in Crossroads. The moment we’d arrived, I knew the night would not end well. Everyone was older, and although I looked like I was at least twenty-one at only sixteen years old, Jase was a pretty boy through and through, and it was obvious he came from money.
We were ambushed by a pack of bikers, and barely made it away without a scratch. Sometimes my ability to talk my way out of the toughest messes came in handy. Jase wanted to get out of there as fast as we could, but I had other plans.
Remember, I liked trouble.
As we headed out toward Jase’s dad’s truck, something shiny and black caught my eye. She was a beauty. A two thousand and twelve Harley Davidson Speedster. I’d had my eyes on one of these for months, after I’d seen one back in Nashville when Jase and I went to visit the college Monty was at.
There she was, just waiting for me to mount her and take her for the ride of her life. I knew she belonged to him, the biker who’d put his hands on me and threatened to knock my teeth out. It was just that much sweeter to take something he owned and make way with it. Jase saw the look in my eyes as we passed her by, and he warned me, but I had already made up my mind. And when I do, there’s no stopping me.
I urged Jase to get in the truck and start driving while I rounded the bike and noticed the keys were right there in the ignition. It was still warm. The engine vibrated under me as I got on top and revved her up. Like the speed of light, I hit the gas and blew in the dust, driving down the countryside like it had been my birthright. It didn’t take long for the gang of bikers to catch up, though just before they reached us, we heard the siren of a police car hiding out on the side of the highway.
The gang pulled back and sped off the other way, but the officer came after me, pulling me over to the side. I saw Jase look back at me through the rearview mirror, but I urged him to keep driving. There was no point in the both of us getting caught up. Jase would get the shit end of the stick from Mayor King and as for Franklin, well, he already loved beating the shit out of me for any little thing, so this wouldn’t be anything new.
To say he was pissed off I’d interrupted his night of binge drinking would be an understatement. When the cops pulled up to his door with me in tow, an easy warning and fine for driving without a license on top of theft, he beat me black and blue. I was out of school for a week.
The only good thing about it all. The biker I’d stolen the bike from somehow found out who I was and where I lived. He dropped his bike off at my doorstep with a note that said he was impressed I’d stolen his bike and almost gotten away with it. He was in the market for a new one anyway and left me his as a gift. Said he’d never seen a kid ride a bike the way I rode her, like I was meant for it.
I still had her, though I’d probably have to upgrade to a newer model soon. She had done her time, seen all she could see. Time was catching up with her. My Daisy and I went through a lot together the last ten years, from the day I rode her out of Crossroads and out into the open road, to the day she brought me back home and into Bailey’s bar.
Seeing Bailey again not only reminded me of what I’d run from, but how easy it could be to be fooled back into believing I was meant for anything more than what I’d accomplished thus far. Bailey King once made me believe in the house, and white picket fence, the babies and Sunday night dinners. She’d almost made me believe it was a possibility to want more.
I wasn’t a guy who looked forward to growing up and setting down roots. Settling down with a girl and making a life together full of babies, but with Bailey, I could almost see it come to life. It’s a blessing I left when I did, because life with her would have never been possible. Not if her daddy had anything to say about it, and he sure did.
After the way Jase reacted to my being back in Crossroads, I have a feeling he knows more about his father’s ultimatum that drove me out of town. He may have thought his threats and anger drove me away, but I knew he’d eventually get over it. But when Bismarck King knocked on my door after his son had left, checkbook in hand, gun tucked tight into its holster, and threats spewing like cigarette smoke from his mouth, there was no stopping me.
He’d done much more than his son had. He’d threatened my family, my brother’s and sister’s livelihoods and their future in Crossroads. I knew I wouldn’t become anyone, wouldn’t amount to anything of importance, but they had everything to look forward to. Monty had his future stolen away once because of the choices our parents made. Beau and Theo both had so much potential and were only being dragged down for having to put up with my nonsense.
As for Monroe, she had her entire life ahead of her. Crossroads had robbed her of every moment of happiness. She deserved nothing else being taken from her.
So I made the selfish choice. I hurt the one woman I could see myself one day caring more about than anyone else in order to protect my family. With only the clothes on my back, and a few other necessities, I rode my bike out of Crossroads and never looked back.
Now, here I was riding the same one back home, back to her. I’d nearly forgotten how much I loved to ride out in the countryside. To see the grass on one side and the water on the other. Crossroads was on the southern coast of North Carolina and had the best of both worlds—the vast farmlands and gorgeous shores.
I park my bike right outside the barn I spent so much time in as an adolescent, and head over to where my brother Monty stands, taking some things out through the back door of the main house and setting them on the rotting back porch.
I hadn’t seen my childhood home for ten years, but it looked no different. Other than the rotting wood and chipped paint, and extensive damage done to the interior, it looked exactly as it had back then.
Monty senses me approach him but doesn't bother looking up, his face hidden behind the black cowboy hat he wears on his head. “Grab me that mallet from over there. We have to knock this entire wall down. It’s infested with goddamn termites.”
I do as I’m told, picking up an extra pair of gloves and an old baseball cap embroidered with the gold Vanderbilt V from Monty’s short-lived time in Tennessee. It’s nearly sixteen years old and well worn, but I throw it on, anyway. Passing Monty the mallet, I take off my leather jacket and toss it over the fence beside us, picking up another smaller axe from the side of the house and getting to work, helping him knock down part of the wall our dad had added on to the property.
The four bedroom, three bathroom house was hardly big enough for my three rambunctious brothers and I, who at one point all shared a room together. That was until Monty moved into his own room once Monroe was old enough to take the other, leaving Beau, Theo and me in one. I couldn’t deal with being cramped alongside the two of them, so as soon as we remodeled the old barn, I cleared out the shed beside it where my dad kept some useless tractors that did nothing but take up space. I took apart the machinery and sold it for parts to buy any material I needed to add square footage to the small shed. As soon as all the construction which I’d completed myself was done, I moved out of the main house and into it.
Dust and debris float in the air around us as the winds pick up. Covering my mouth with the bandana tied around my neck, I dust off my shirt and set down the mallet. “Please tell me this is the worst of it.”
Monty laughs, pointing at the interior of the house behind me. “Go see for yourself, brother.”
As I walk through the door, the few happy memories I had disappear when I take in the horror before me. There’s garbage thrown out over every corner of the house. Like an episode of the show Hoarders, where old takeout containers and cat shit covers the entire floor. There’s rotten food and who knows what else is lying around as well.
“This is how the fucker lived?” I ask almost out of words for the condition I never expected finding the house in.
With a deep breath, as deep as he can take without inhaling the debris floating around us, Monty joins me, the two of us staring at our childhood home, finding it in much worse condition than either of us ever imagined.
He walks up beside me, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping the dirt off his face. “Apparently, the last few years he spent out in the barn, sleeping on the old couch we got when we fixed the place up.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Have you sent pictures to Beau or Theo? Has Monroe seen this?”
Oh God, my poor sister would lose her shit if she saw her home like this.
Monty looks horrified that I'd suggest telling her. “No, and no. I didn’t want to send the guys anything until we did our best to clear out most of the garbage. I have a few guys from the construction company coming over later today and all week to help clear out all the trash. Then hopefully next week we can assess the damage done to the foundation of the house.” Monty walks back through the porch screen and opens a blue Yeti cooler I hadn’t seen before. He grabs two beers and hands me one.
“It’s nine am, Monty.”
He gives me an incredulous look and ignores me as he takes a long gulp of the ice cold beer from a local distillery.
“I’m going to guess most of the original hardwood floors are in okay condition and will just need to be cleaned, sanded and refinished, but that’s if there aren't any leaks in the plumbing that can potentially have caused structural damage. If that’s the case and we have to redo the entire plumbing of the place, we’ll have to take out the floors in certain parts of the house.” He walks further into the house as he continues, kicking the trash out from in front of him with his black worn out cowboy boots. The place fucking reeks. “As for the walls, they should be an easy paint fix. While the kitchen and bathrooms have to be completely redone, the bedrooms should be in decent condition. Most of them just have old cigarette butts and empty booze cans and bottles from the many poker games Frank hosted over the years.”
“I can’t believe the bastard let things get this bad.”
“This ain’t the half of it. I spent the last two weeks getting rid of all the junk thrown out all over the yard. The landscaping needs a hell of a lot of work, but that’s the least of our worries. We have less than two months to get this done. That’s if the asshole doesn’t…”
He pauses and I know what he was going to say. That’s if our dad doesn’t die before we’re finished.
Running a hand through my beard, I turn to him, frustrated he’s been having to deal with this all on his own. “You should have called me sooner.”
“I wouldn't have called you if I had any other choice.” The honesty in his statement throws me off, but I don’t blame him for it. I wouldn’t have called me either when I was the one who made it pretty clear from the start I didn’t want to be contacted. His expression turns somber, bright green eyes refusing to meet mine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean.”
I nod, turning away from him to not make this encounter any more awkward than it already is. “It’s exactly what you meant, Monty, and I don’t blame you.”
Monty takes another sip of his beer before setting a hand down on my shoulder. His fingers dig into me as he turns me to face him.
“I won’t hold it against you, Nash. We’re brothers. Am I pissed you left for so long, with no explanation, and kept away from us like we’d done something terribly wrong to you? Fuck yes. But what good will it do to continue to waste time by being angry? I need your help. Monroe needs your help regardless if she wants it. Theo and Beau rarely came back either. More often than you? Yeah, sure. But not enough. I can’t keep doing this on my own. Not this. Not dealing with Franklin and the shit end of the stick he’s left us with.”
The emotion in his voice is unmistakable. Monty’s only thirty-six years old yet he’s had to deal with so much on his own. Forced to take on more responsibility than he should have at a young age, has not only made him stronger, but it’s also shaped him into the incredible man he’s become. A man I’m not only proud of but aspire to be.
“I can’t speak for the other two assholes, Monty, but you can count on me. I won’t leave again, not until I help you sort this all out.”
He lets out a deep chuckle, seemingly unbelieving of what I’ve said. “And then what? You’ll be gone just as fast as you showed back up?”
“Staying isn’t an option, Monty.”
His green eyes darken and watch me with so much resentment. “Why? Cause of her?”
“Monroe doesn’t want me back. Are you really willing to force her to see me every day if I stay?”
“She’s not the one I’m talking about. Look, I don’t know what happened between Bailey, you and the Kings…” I interrupt him before he can continue.
“Monty, don’t. This isn’t about her. It never was and never will be.”
He brushes off the lie I tell, knowing me better than I know myself.
“Bullshit, Nash. I may be getting old, but don’t treat me like I’m some clueless fucking idiot. I know something happened between the two of you. I saw your argument with Jase that night. I saw Mayor King approach you right after, and then what? You’re gone the next day and expect me to think it was some coincidence.”
“Do you know why the Kings hate us?” I ask, knowing damn well the answer to my question. “Do you know what happened between Franklin Bishop and Bismarck King? Do you know why the rivalry between the two men started?”
He doesn't acknowledge it, but I know he does. “I didn’t think you knew.”
“I didn’t, but Franklin made sure I found out before I left. I’ve kept that secret hidden all these years, on top of so many others. So I don’t care if you think it’s some coincidence or not. I’m telling you right now, none of that shit matters.”
“It all matters if you want it too, Nash. You just have to figure out whether you do before it’s too late. Because this time, it won’t be you walking away. It’ll be her.”