Chapter 12
Jessie
Work was brutal. The only bright side of today is shockingly Trey.
He texted me about getting takeout earlier, and nothing in the world sounds better right now.
We’ve developed somewhat of a friendship since Gran fell.
No more avoiding each other or awkward silences when we cross paths.
We’ve shared a couple of meals, got groceries together and even hung out in the living room on occasion.
We still bicker and sometimes flirt, but I think we’re friends now?
Having someone to talk to has been nice. I’ve always liked hanging out with Trey, but I just have to be careful not to spend all my time checking the man out. Friends, roommates with boundaries—nothing more.
I weave through the living room on my way to my room, ready to change into comfy clothes and read my book.
Knock, knock.
That’s weird. No one ever comes over. It must be the food delivery, just earlier than I expected.
I unlock the front door and freeze.
My father.
“Hello, Jessie.” His gravelly voice, torn to shreds after years of smoking, washes over me. It feels like a brick just dropped in my stomach. I replied to his text as soon as I left Gran’s the other day. I’d said I could meet him soon, so I didn’t expect him to show up here.
I swallow, trying to form words. “Daryl,” is the only greeting I give him.
I don’t open the door farther. I can’t risk Trey seeing him.
Though his hair is more gray than red these days—with a matching unkempt beard—all it takes is a few questions around town and Trey would easily figure out who he is.
Thankfully, Daryl has his beat-up dirty ball cap pulled low, likely to hide his yellowing, bloodshot eyes.
I try not to think of Daryl; it only breeds anxiety. He’s never loved me or been a father to me. If I’m honest, I’m terrified of him. Rightfully so, but I still hate him for making me feel afraid. I hate him for being able to make me feel small and weak all these years later.
I’m sure he heard Trey is living here. As the local dealer, he has no trouble getting information. With the assumption of rent coming in, I guess he’s come to collect.
Daryl has stolen money from me and threatened me to the point I’m fearful to let anyone but the Harts into my life. He isn’t stupid enough to mess with Cody or Carson. But Trey? He’d have no issue going after him.
My first year working at the hospital, a man came into the ER beaten to hell.
Broken cheekbone, ribs, eye socket, missing half his teeth—the list went on and on.
When he heard my last name, he freaked, yanking out his IV, trying to scramble away.
Later, I found out my father and his friends beat him when he didn’t pay what he “owed.” That’s when it hit me how dangerous he is.
“Well, aren’t you going to invite your old man in?”
I straighten my spine and muster up all the fake courage I have. “No, I’m busy. You need to leave, and we’ll meet soon.” I’m trembling now. I’ve never spoken to him like this, but I have to get him out of here and far away from Trey.
“Don’t be a little bitch,” he snaps. “I just want to chat.”
“We don’t chat. Just text me what you need.” I start to shut the door, but he catches it with his hand before I can force it closed.
“Don’t you dare fuckin’ shut me out,” he growls through the small gap in the door. “You owe me, and I hear you’ve got a fancy new man, a rich professional bull rider. About time you opening your legs did something for this family. I need more cash, a lot more—and you’re going to get it for me.”
His rancid breath almost gags me as he pushes the door open farther, getting in my face. My heart is pounding, and my hands shake. I reluctantly take a quick step back to angle myself behind the door, but I run into the wall—no, not the wall—a wall, of solid muscle.
Trey.
His hands come up to grip my biceps, gently moving me to the side as he positions himself between my father—who has now opened the door completely—and me.
“She asked you to leave. You need to listen.” His voice is stern, but he doesn’t yell.
“You must be the bull rider she’s been riding.” Daryl is the only one who laughs at his perverse joke. “I would’ve thought a man like you could do better.”
“That’s enough!” Trey barks. “You will not speak to her or about her that way. Get the fuck off her property before I remove you myself.”
Oh, shit.
I’ve never heard Trey angry before. He went from stern to balled fists, ready to throw him out of my doorway in the blink of an eye. But my father isn’t someone to make an enemy of. He has far too many violent friends.
“We are not doing this right now. Go, Daryl.” I choose my words carefully, purposely leaving it open to discussion. I know he won’t let this go, but I need to get him away from Trey. That’s all I need right now.
“This conversation isn’t over. I’ll be in touch, and you make damn sure you respond.” He points a finger at me before turning to leave.
Trey closes and locks the door. He takes several deep breaths before facing me.
He doesn’t say a word and watches me. When he sees my hands still shaking, he ushers me to the couch, instructing, “Sit.” He goes to the kitchen and locks the back door with a click before returning with two bottles of water. He opens mine and hands it to me.
I watch Trey, trying to read him, but failing.
After I take a few sips, he asks, “Want to explain that?”
“How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough.”
I blow out a breath, realizing I have to tell him something. “That was my father. We have a . . . difficult relationship. He doesn’t normally show up here. I’m sorry you—”
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Jessie,” he cuts me off. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yes, I do. The things he said about you—”
“I don’t give a shit what he says about me. But if I ever hear him talk about you like that again, he’ll have his mouth wired shut when I’m done with him.”
“No,” I snap and stand. “You can’t. You don’t understand, Trey. Leave it alone—don’t talk to him again. It’s better if you don’t confront him. I don’t need you to defend me.”
He stands, visibly irritated at my answer. “Fuck that. I won’t let him scare you and talk to you like that. I won’t let anyone talk to you like that.”
“You don’t get a say!” I throw my arms up. “This isn’t your problem and I don’t want your help! Stop trying to fucking help me all the time. I’m not asking for it.” My chest is heaving. He’s pushing too far, too close to my past, too close to secrets I keep buried for a reason.
His forehead creases, his face morphing from anger to concern. No, not concern. Pity.
My eyes start to burn.
Fuck. I have to get out of here. I rush into the kitchen and grab my bag and keys off the counter.
“Jessie, wait,” Trey calls as I unlock the back door, disappearing through it.
I drove around for hours. It’s midnight when I creep back into the house, grateful Trey isn’t waiting in the main living space. I quietly brush my teeth and wash my face, telling myself the soapy water is washing this horrible day away. Telling myself I’m okay.
But I’m not.
I’m not sure I’ve been okay for years.
The more I drove, the more I thought about Trey’s reaction to my father. He didn’t do anything wrong, but it reminds me why letting him get too close is dangerous.
I’ve done my best to just pay Daryl and stay off his radar since I was old enough to know better. He’s cruel, crass, and doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I was worried Trey moving in—the whole town talking about us—would set him off. And clearly, I was right to worry.
I crawl under my covers as my mind races through all the worst-case scenarios. But I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. I fall asleep quickly.
When I got home from school, my mom was the only one here. Now the house is full of people and loud music. It’s late. The sun set a long time ago, but the music keeps me up. It’s too cold to sleep in the garage, so I’m stuck in the house with strangers.
I’m leaving the kitchen after getting a drink of water—an attempt to fill my empty stomach—when I bump into Dad. He shoves me back, sending me crashing into the table. A funny-looking glass and plate hit the floor and shatter. “You fuckin’ brat! Look what you did!” he screams at me.
My eyes fill with tears as I back away. I look around in a panic for my mother, but I don’t see her. “I–I–I’m sorry,” I stutter. He’s mad, and he scares me when he’s mad.
“Get over here.” He reaches me in two strides and grabs me by my hair.
I cry out, but he doesn’t stop.
He drags me down the hallway. “I’ve told you before to stay out of the fuckin’ way, but you don’t learn. You’re just as stupid as your mother.” Spit hits me in the side of the face as he shakes my small form.
I don’t respond. I’m crying too hard, and he’s hurting me.
He opens the hall closet door and throws me in. My back and head smack the wall as he slams the door shut. My side hurts where I hit it on the table. Some of my hair he pulled out lays clumped on the floor in front of me.
I don’t know how long I sit, crying. When I finally calm down, I stand, planning to sneak out of the closet and down the hall to hide in one of the bedrooms.
The handle doesn’t turn.
No, no, no.
I push as hard as I can, but it doesn’t move. He locked me in here.
Panic sets in, and I start banging on the door. “Let me out! Mom! Dad!” I push and push, but the door doesn’t budge. “Please, someone let me out! I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll stay away, just let me out!” I cry and cry, but no one comes.
“Jessie!”
I can’t get out. I need out.
“Jessie, wake up. It’s okay, wake up.”
Please, let me out!
Warm hands are gentle on my shoulders. Blankets wrapped around my legs. Trey’s voice. My eyes snap open, pulling me out of the nightmare.
Tears already streak down my cheeks, and a sob erupts from my chest before I can stop it.
“Hey, hey,” he soothes. He lies down next to me and wraps me in his arms. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. It was just a dream. I’m right here.” Trey holds me until I calm down. My head is tucked into his chest; his cheek rests on top of my head as he rubs comforting strokes up and down my back.
He smells like mint and laundry soap. I breathe him in, letting it ground me. I haven’t had a nightmare that bad in years. I used to have them several times a week, and Gran would come into my room, crawl in bed with me and hold me until I fell back asleep.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” I say, my voice scratchy from screaming in my sleep. I scoot out of his arms and sit up, putting distance between us.
He pushes up and leans against the headboard. “It’s alright. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
No. No, I don’t. But at this moment, I’m weak, and I want him to stay.
“No, but . . . will you . . ." My heart rate picks back up, and I can’t finish my sentence, but I don’t have to.
He says it for me. “Stay?”
I nod.
He pulls back the covers he’s on top of and slides in next to me. He’s fully dressed in gym shorts and a T-shirt. When I lay back down, facing away from him, he wraps his arm around me, pulling me back to him. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. Nothing has ever felt more okay.
Minutes pass before I whisper, “It wasn’t just a dream. My parents aren’t . . . good. Before I went to live with Gran, things were bad.” Laying here in the dark, wrapped in his arms, it feels safe to whisper the truth. Or a small piece of it, anyway.
He doesn’t say anything, but he tucks his head down into the hair falling around my neck. Breathing me in like I did him.
“My parents aren’t known for anything good.
They . . . We have a horrible reputation in this town.
You should stay away from us.” Trey is kind, steady, with a good life and a successful career.
Nothing about my messy life and trash family aligns with his.
The best thing he could do is move out and stay away from me.
He pulls his head back slightly. “You aren’t your parents. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t—”
“Shh,” he shushes me. The man actually shushes me. “We aren’t arguing about this tonight. Go to sleep.” He kisses the back of my head, sending a shiver down my spine.
I relent, because deep down, I want him here. So, with his warmth and comfort wrapped around me, I drift off. And sleep better than I have in years.