Chapter 39 #2
She just scoffs and rolls her eyes, but doesn’t argue about Colt. I noticed his pickup was gone when I left the ranch earlier, so if I had to guess, he’s headed back to the next stop on the rodeo.
Kendall’s quiet, almost glaring at me. We’ve definitely fought before but it’s never been like this. I’ve never felt like we were on the edge of a knife. Maybe this was for the best. If we left things like this, maybe she won’t be sad when I leave Cedar Creek in a couple of months.
But the second the thought rolls through my mind, she huffs and deflates a bit, softening again.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair of me to ask this, and I know we weren’t supposed to let this thing come between us, but…
I need you to promise me you won’t break Maddie’s heart, Austin.
This is the happiest we’ve seen him since Dad died and—”
“You’re right. That’s ridiculously unfair of you to ask. I can’t control how your grown-ass brother feels about me, Ken. I’ve made it insanely clear to him that this is all just temporary.”
“So he knows you’re leaving?” she asks and my stomach drops.
“Leaving?” I repeat, trying to buy time. How in the hell did Kenny even know I was planning on leaving?
“Mhmm. Leaving.” She doesn’t offer more, doesn’t explain how she knows or clarify what she means just in case I’m misunderstanding.
“Leaving him? I mean, there’s not a relationship to leave, we’re just—”
“Leaving Cedar Creek.”
I balk. She crosses her arms and tilts her head, daring me to lie to her. Brittany chooses this moment to deliver our plates. She sits Kenny’s down kindly in front of her. Mine is practically tossed onto the table. The top bun of my burger slides off the plate.
“Need anything else?” she asks Kenny.
“I need to know why you’re being such a fucking cunt to me, actually.” My voice is a little louder than I intended, creating that same hush from earlier. Kenny presses her lips together to hide her smile and it gives me hope that we might be on the same side again.
Brittany looks me up and down, unimpressed with what she’s seeing. “Why should I respect someone who doesn’t even respect themselves?”
“Well, I’d say you should do it because your mama raised you better, but we both know that’s not the truth. What makes you think I don’t respect myself?”
She scoffs. “Please. You’re on your back so much, I’m surprised your head isn’t flat on that side. Between that and the little… shows you do, it’s clear as day.”
I have to rake my hand over my mouth to buy my temper some time to cool. The gesture reminds me of Maddox.
“I respect myself just fine, Brittany,” I tell her calmly.
“I respect my pussy enough to give her what she wants any time she wants it. I respect my wallet enough to make sure I keep it full with the dollars of men who are desperate enough to pay to watch me get off. It’s men I don’t respect, not myself.
I’m just smart enough to capitalize on their weakness. ”
Brittany just stands there, like she’s still expecting me to be angry about the bombshell she dropped.
She knows about my cam shows. I don’t know how she knows, but I’m sure I can figure it out with a bit of critical thinking.
For now, it doesn’t take an expert to realize she must’ve told her mouthy mother, who shares her bed with my dad.
I’m looking at the person indirectly responsible for the missing five grand and the bruised ribs I endured two months ago.
“At least I make money from showing off my body. You give pictures of yours away for free.” I rake my eyes over her body like I’m checking her out, but she’s not really my type and I am, unfortunately, in love with my best friend’s brother.
“You’ve got a nice little body, Brittany.
I’m sure you’d make a killing if you ever decide you’d like to capitalize on it too.
I’d be more than happy to show you the ropes. ”
She twists on her heel before I can even finish my offer, slamming the tray on the diner counter before stomping into the kitchen. The door swings wildly behind her, slapping against the wall.
“So you admit you don’t respect my brother,” Kenny starts up again almost immediately.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ken. I said I don’t respect the men on the cam site.” I don’t tell her that her brother was once-upon-a-time one of those men on that site. She doesn’t need to know that and I really don’t want to give her any more ammo for this mission she’s given herself.
“Same thing.”
“What do you want me to say, Ken? You want me to say I’ll stay in this hell hole of a town just to keep your brother’s feelings from getting hurt?
Even if he is in love with me despite me making it abundantly clear that I’m not looking for any sort of commitment, don’t you think that’s his burden to bear?
He’s a fucking adult, Kenny. It’s not my fault he caught feelings for the whore he shared his bed with. ”
Our food is forgotten and, honestly, maybe Maddox was right. Maybe I should’ve skipped brunch and stayed in bed with him.
“You know what? Fuck this. Venmo me for my half of the bill,” I tell her, standing up and snatching my purse out of the booth.
“No need. Maddox called ahead and paid for both of us. Nothing like being a Whittaker’s whore, right, Aus?”
If I didn’t know Kenny better than I knew myself, I’d think it was a jab. But there’s tears rolling down her cheek and her voice is soft. She knows me. She’s known me for years. Which means she knows this is all an act.
There’s nothing in the world I want more than to let myself be more than Maddox’s whore. To let myself accept that I already am more than that, at least for as long as he lets me be.
But since Kenny knows me, she also knows I’m not going to give myself those liberties. Maybe she feels powerless too, torn between protecting her brother’s heart and staying loyal to her best friend.
I wouldn’t want her choosing me though. Whittakers stick together, and they always have.
It’s why Maddox always yanks his brother out of jail despite Colt treating him like shit.
It’s why the girls still live in the Big House even though they’re grown.
It’s why Kenny’s defending her brother to me, even though she can’t stand how he’s always nagging her.
Whittakers stick together, and no matter who’s bed I’m in, no matter how many times I’ve slept at that ranch or sat at the table on Sundays over the years, I’m not a Whittaker.
And I never will be.