Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Nash
T he way Billie Cole’s gazing at me like she’s contemplating the many ways to murder me and get away with it will haunt me for the rest of my life. The woman is five feet tall, has pink fucking hair for god sakes, and is dressed head to toe in denim—yet I’m now realizing she’s quite scarier than some of the more ruthless bikers I’ve come across over the years.
Maybe that’s because one of her super powers has always been to see right through bullshit. Growing up, the woman was known as the Gossip Queen of Crossroads. I suppose little has changed since she doesn’t look very surprised to see me. Which can only mean she knew I was back.
“I guess for once the rumors in town are true. The devil’s back in Crossroads, and I hear he came riding in like an outlaw on a motorcycle.” She eyes my leather jacket with curiosity but holds in whatever thought crosses her mind. Again, not something Billie Cole typically does.
I’ve opted for wearing the cut of the Disciples today, figuring I’m safer in town if I do. Not that the folk here think anything other than what Billie’s just said, so no point in hiding what I’ve been up to all this time. Though unlike Bailey, who’s suddenly all lace, leather and pure fucking sex on heels, Billie remains as southern as they come.
Her Sweet As Tennessee Whiskey cropped tee under the denim vest gives a slight grunge-edge to her short skirt and pink cowboy boots, but the woman screams potential country music star. Especially because I know she’s got the voice for it.
I give her a sly wink, but she remains unaffected. It’s uncommon, sure, but refreshing. “Who are you kidding Bills, the rumors in this town were always true. Especially if you were the one spreading them.”
She shrugs her shoulders in agreement, amusement confusing her about whether she should be mad at me. “Except the one Jolene Marshall spread about Dean Elliot being a hunk of a man with the equipment to prove it. I tested that bad boy out myself and have to admit it’s less than impressive.”
Billie’s always been a breath of fresh air when she’s not suffocating you with incessant chatting and gossip. I’ll admit I quite missed her and the spunky attitude she hasn’t been able to shake off. “Yeah, I’ll have to take your word for it on that one.”
Jase’s face contorts into an equally disgusted expression as he stares at his sister’s best friend. “Billie, when are you going to learn that some information is best kept in your pretty little head?” he says, tapping her head as he speaks.
“Well, Jasey Casey,” she mocks, using the nickname she gave him long ago. One he, apparently to this day, still hates. “I’ll take that as a compliment because I heard the word pretty, and not an insult to my adoration for communication.” Scooting in beside me, she taps the counter with her long, sleek fingers and bright, hot pink nails. “Jameson King, the service here is deplorable. I’ve been in this bar all of five minutes and have yet to be offered a drink.”
“Pick your poison, Billie Cole. It’s on me,” I say, giving her another wink to test my luck. It was the wrong move as her eyebrows furrow in this time while she watches me quizzically, leaning closer. Jase busies himself with making her drink, oblivious to the way her mood has shifted. I’m sure she’s ordered the same one a hundred times since he doesn't bother asking what it’ll be.
“First of all,” she coos, giving me her best flirtatious smile. “I never pay for a drink at Stingers, perks of being besties with the boss. Second, don’t for a second think you've got me fooled like you have this poor idiot.” She leans in closer, her lips a mere inch from my ear and her voice so low, only I can hear it. “What’d you tell the poor fool to convince him not to put a bullet through your head for stepping foot back in his town?”
Billie is definitely more astute than any other resident of Crossroads. She’s beauty and brains, and I really like her, but I need to know how much she knows. It’ll give me insight into what rumors spread about Bailey and me when I left. If Billie Cole knows it, you can be damn sure the whole goddamn town does, too.
Leaning forward to close the distance between us, I meet her head on, not one bit intimidated by her tactics. “Why don’t you tell me this, Cole? Why on earth would my best friend ever put a bullet through any part of me?”
Billie scoffs, rolling her eyes as flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t act coy Bishop, it doesn't suit you. But I’ll play along.” She winks at Jase, who’s suddenly become suspicious of our hushed conversation. “Maybe because you fucked his little sister, in more ways than one I might add, when you left her broken-hearted as you rode off out of town on that pretty little bike you have parked out there.”
Her words hit me somewhere I hadn’t felt a goddamn thing in a while. If Billie knows what happened between Bailey and me, then it affected her more than I’d first assumed. It’s no wonder the woman’s still holding a grudge against me after all this time. Not that I’d ever stopped thinking of her either or wishing I’d done things differently. But there was no point in wallowing in the what ifs.
I fucked Bailey King, took her virginity, and left her with no explanation. I didn’t dare fight for what there was between us, unwilling to admit there was anything at all. We were friends before anything and I took her friendship for granted when I should have felt honored to mean something to her. Honored, she’d chosen me and trusted me to claim the most special part of her.
I used the crush she had on me as a game, teasing her to no end just to garner a reaction and see her smile, not realizing there were any true feelings attached to it. Billie said I broke Bailey’s heart, insinuating her feelings for me were more than lust and the burning attraction between us. It was a chemical reaction that felt too powerful to ignore, yet it terrified me to my core.
At eighteen years old, she must have fooled herself into believing what happened between us could have meant anything more than what it had been, which explains her hatred of me now. There's no way she’ll ever forgive me. But as I sit here in her bar, watching her smile at other men the way she once had at me, I know in my mind there’s nothing more I want to do than earn her forgiveness. Even if it’s the last thing I do here in Crossroads.
T he night passes in a flurry of country music, good whiskey, and death glares from the woman in charge until there’s no more than a handful of patrons hanging around waiting to be kicked out. Surprisingly, the night’s been drama free compared to other bars I’ve frequented, which have had multiple brawls pop up in one night. It only proves how well the town still respects Jase and Bailey, and finds comfort in the little oasis they’ve created for the community.
“Where are you headed to now?” Billie asks, with one too many margaritas under her belt. Though she’s kept me company this entire time, mingling with Lexie behind the bar.
“To try my luck at The Harbor House again and hope Mable Watkins has gotten amnesia overnight.” Yeah, I know that’s not gonna happen.
Billie’s eyes go wide in bewilderment. “Why on earth would you be wishing for that? Did you sleep with her on your way around town and need her to forget the less than impressive experience?”
Jase bursts into a fit of laughter at my expense, but I don’t give in to the taunts Billie throws my way. “No, but because when I drove by this morning after checking out of the rat infested Dundy Motel down on highway nine, dear old Mabel started blaring gospel music out of her front porch.”
Billie nearly chokes on her drink as she laughs, spitting her margarita across the bar and onto Jase’s white t-shirt.
“Sorry, Jase. Yeah, there’s no way Mabel’s going to rent you a room. She hates you and your brothers and may as well be the only Crossroads resident who doesn’t adore Monty.” She pops a handful of fries Jase brought over into her mouth. “By the way, why aren’t you staying with Monty?” I give her a look that says, you know exactly why, since I’m sure she’s heard from Monroe just how excited she was to see me. She nods in understanding. “Monroe stayed with Bailey the first night, but then she went back home when Monty told her you weren’t there and wouldn’t be staying with him. Sorry to say Nash, but your sister isn’t happy you’re home.”
Add that to the list of people that just keeps growing. So that’s where Monroe ran off. I stayed with Monty my first night in town, but only because it was so late by the time I left the bar and showed up at his house. There was no way I would have found a room anywhere else. But after waking up the next day and realizing Monroe had packed a bag and left, my oldest brother made it clear I wasn’t welcome to stay if it meant he’d lose her. I understood where he was coming from and I wouldn’t be making Monroe more uncomfortable than she already was. The poor girl puked the moment she saw me.
“I don’t blame her. I’ve been a complete asshole to her and deserve every colorful word I’m sure she called me. Besides, Monty is remodeling his place and the only rooms that are livable are his bedroom, Monroe’s, and her studio office.”
“Why don’t you stay with Bailey?” Jase blurts out, and now it’s my turn to spit out my drink, just in time to see Bailey walking out of the kitchen and toward us. She glares at me when she's noticed I’ve made a mess and grabs a bar towel, tossing it to me as she passes by.
“If you’re going to make a mess, Nash, you better fucking clean it up. We don’t clean up after sloppy drunks around here. We kick their asses to the curb.”
I wipe the whiskey off my beard before moving to dry up the small spill in front of me, as the corners of my mouth quirk up in amusement. “That’s the Bailey you want me to stay with? Yeah, you’re out of your mind, Jase.”
“Why not? She’s got a spare room, and you need a place to stay, at least for the few weeks it’s going to take to make the necessary repairs. The ranch ain’t livable. You said it yourself. Monty’s getting the work done, but there’s no way you can stay there while they make the repairs. Monroe’s staying with Monty, so he’s got no space. Plus sounds like she's as happy as Bailey that you’re back in town. Bailey just purchased the apartment upstairs. It has two bedrooms and a loft. More than enough space.”
Billie’s face is scrunched up in a befuddled expression as she stares at Jase with her mouth gaping open. My thoughts exactly. I toss the dirty towel to Jase. “Jase, have you lost your goddamn mind? Did you not witness the encounter we just had?”
Beside me, Billie straightens up and snaps her head toward me. “I think it’s a great idea. Sure, B hates your guts, but there’s nothing she hates more than seeing someone in need of help.”
I reach over the bar and refill my drink, clearly not drunk enough for this conversation or high enough of whatever these two fuckers smoked. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”
Jase yanks the bottle of whiskey back out of my hands. “Yeah, but you’re going to take it anyway, Nash. We’re family…” He pauses, and I know he said it without thinking twice. It’s muscle memory. We were brothers long before any of this mess between Bailey and me, but we’re not anymore. “At least we once were,” he corrects himself. “But family always comes through in times like these. Especially in Crossroads. I’ll run it by her…”
Billie stands on unsteady feet, running her palms down her skirt as she adjusts it. “Why don’t you boys let me bring it up to her? She’s less likely to murder me.”
Less likely, but not incapable. Jase has no fucking clue what he’s suggested, or what he’s asked of me. Bailey King hates me more than anything in this world, and for good reason. But in just a few days, I’ve reminded myself why it was so important for me to leave when I did. Being around her, much less living with her, might end up with one of us dead.
All bets are on me.