Chapter 61
Chapter sixty-one
Jett
After closing the door on her and assuring it’s locked, I take a moment to gather my thoughts while dressing.
What the fuck was that?
Last night she dropped a bomb on me, and now she’s acting like a horny teenager that’s never seen my dick before. Chances are, with the amount of whiskey she drank, she doesn’t remember a word she said. Still, I don’t know whether to be irritated or amused by the whiplash.
A baby. We had a baby. A baby that I knew nothing about.
The anger reignites in my veins like the fresh wound that it is. How could she keep this from me? Why did she keep this from me? When? What the hell happened? So many painful questions are rampantly swarming through my mind.
Add it to the shit pile—the one that’s all falling to shit at once.
Cattle, dead. The barn, gone. Money, siphoned. Everything I’m working for is at risk, and these assholes have my balls in a vise.
It’s too much. And now this?
After pulling up my grey cotton sweatpants, I grab my phone. Going to the most recent text, I type out a reply while the anger is still fresh.
JETT
This shit ends. Now.
Before I can set my phone down, a message bounces back immediately.
UNKNOWN
Money.
JETT
We don’t owe you shit, and you know it. We did you a fucking favor.
UNKNOWN
A favor that can still be tied to you? Ha. Money. Or we could dig some skeletons out of your closet. Choose.
“Fuck,” I grunt out, slamming my hand down on the bathroom counter. I should’ve known this shit wouldn’t be simple. I should’ve predicted there would be a catch to making a deal with such shady fucking people.
Sighing, I tuck my phone into my pocket and unlock the bathroom door.
When it opens, I’m met with the most beautiful sight, one I’ve wanted to see for so long.
Izabel Landry, sitting in my bedroom, wearing my clothes.
Even my fucking boxers. She’s breathtaking without even trying, and with the mood I’m in, it only pisses me off further.
“Jett,” she says sternly as soon as my foot hits the bedroom carpet, almost as if she’s asking a question.
“Look,” I growl, showing every ounce of irritation toward her right now. “As much as I’d love to sit here and fight, I don’t have the energy for you and your chaos yet. I’ll need about four cups of coffee to prepare myself for that.”
“Fuck that. Tell me what the hell I’m doing here, damnit!” she demands loudly, and if I weren’t so enraged with her for keeping the baby from me, I’d think it was cute.
“You were drunk. I came home to you here. Don’t you remember anything?” My voice is laced with annoyance as the words trickle out.
“No.” She shakes her head, the confusion clearly painted across her beautiful features. “Oh God. Jett, did we sleep–”
“Don’t you finish that fucking question,” I cut her off, damn near seething. “Beauty, trust me. If we slept together, you wouldn’t be fucking questioning if it happened. You slept in the bed, I slept on the couch in the den right out here.”
What I don’t mention is that I actually slept in the bed right next to her. I couldn’t be away from her. I needed to see her. I needed to know she was okay.
Carrying her up the stairs to my room last night hurt. My heart was aching about the news she broke to me, along with the fact that I’ve wanted her in this house for so long out of love for one another. Now, it was only in the name of keeping her safe. I want her to want to be here with me.
“Why?" She peers up at me, her beautiful green eyes piercing my aching heart. "Why didn’t I sleep in the cabin?”
“Damn, Iz, you hit that bottle hard. What the hell do you remember?”
I had a feeling, with how much whiskey she consumed, that her memory would be hazy. She’s always been forgetful when she drinks, and it used to scare the shit out of me for her. Never did I expect it’d be this bad, though.
Her face scrunches.“I don’t remember shit after grabbing the whiskey. What happened?”
Just like I guessed. That means she doesn’t remember telling me about the baby, but that doesn’t change the fact that I remember, and I need answers.
“You got drunk to hide from your problems rather than handle them,” I quip sharply, clearly agitated. “We were talking, and then the barn was set on fire. I came home later, and you were—”
“Wait, what?” she asks, standing abruptly, eyes wide. “The barn was set on fire?”
Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. I really need coffee.
“Don’t worry about it, Iz. It’s taken care of.
No one was hurt. It was just… an accident.
” The lie tastes bitter, especially after I just accused her of hiding from her problems. But it’s to protect her.
She can’t know. I’d rather die than get her more involved in this shit.
Now we know your weak spot…
Your girl sure is beautiful…
Get my money, or it’ll be your girl instead…
I shake away the words. Fuck them. They’ll never touch her. I’ll make damn sure of it.
“Accident? Thank fuck no one was hurt,” she says, sighing as her whole body relaxes with relief.
I nod, then motion for her to have a seat, back on the edge of the bed. “Iz, we need to talk.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” she asks quizzically, raising a curious eyebrow.
“Yes, but not the conversation I’m owed.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, your explanation. About what, exactly, Jettson?”
“About the baby.”