Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Bailey
F lashback - Twelve Years Ago
Unrequited love. It’s not typically something I would have associated with my future when I was younger. Though neither was the alternative. Unconditional and everlasting love.
I didn’t long for a big house on hundreds of acres of land, with the white picket fence, large kitchen and dining room for entertaining, and a family den to spend as much quality time with my husband and five kids. Not a huge porch deck that extended the entire property where we'd sit and look out toward the barn and watch the animals roam on the open range. Cattle grazing on the greenest pasture. A herd of horses in stables, the children could learn to ride. Not even a whole coop full of chickens.
I didn’t dream of staying home and caring for the kids while my husband tended our family ranch, only to come home to a clean house and a freshly cooked comfort meal I’d spent all day preparing from scratch. That was the life my mama had, and every woman before her. A life my little sister Brynn and most of the girls our age dreamed of having, but I always felt different about it.
I wanted a husband—a partner I could do life with. We’d date for a few years, get to know each other before committing to a lifetime together. We’d travel, spend as much quality time just ourselves before starting a family—two kids max. Hopefully, with whatever careers we chose, we’d buy a nice house, plenty of land and maybe a few baby goats just so the kids could play. Then they’d grow up and have lives of their own and hope to do what their heart desired.
However, the day I met Nash Bishop, all of that changed. I wanted it all with him, anything I could take. If he wanted to leave Crossroads and spend our entire lives, just the two of us, I’d do it. So long as I could spend eternity with him. And soon enough, when I got to know him, that seemed like the most realistic option.
Nash wasn't the type who’d want any of it. Not a wife or kids, not a mundane nine-to-five job, nor a lifetime of working to tend a ranch. Unlike his brothers, Nash’s cowboy horse was a motorcycle, and his attire was made of leather, not denim.
I was willing to make the sacrifice, however big or small, just to get to do life with him.
There was one time when all of it seemed possible. I was sixteen and Nash was just shy of eighteen. It was a scorching summer, shortly after we’d spent some time together on the Ferris wheel down at the county fair. He’d been out with Jase all morning and when they came back, mama offered him to stay for dinner. Although, by this point, he’d been friends with Jase for a few years, mama had never invited him to stay, much less to feed him. She was known for her southern hospitality, good cooking, and need for everyone to eat it, though that courtesy never extended to the Bishop’s. Not since the first day he’d showed up.
Maybe it was because daddy wasn’t supposed to be home, though he ended up showing up after all. I’d heard them arguing in the kitchen later that night, which was why I’d chosen to sneak out. I was so angry at their hatred toward Nash, because for me, that meant they’d never accept anything between us. Not that Nash had ever given me any inkling of attraction toward me, not until that night when he’d almost kissed me on the back of his motorcycle.
It was nearly two in the morning when I heard the back door close and Jase creep up the stairs quietly to not get caught sneaking back in. They left again shortly after dinner, this time to a music festival just outside of our neighboring town, Rivers Bend. I’d been up for hours knowing where the two of them had snuck off to and couldn’t sleep.
For one, I was pissed off because they refused to let me join them. Quickly I changed out of my matching pajama set, one that had tiny little red hearts on it, and into a pair of denim shorts and a thin white camisole that was thin enough you could see my bra underneath—if I was wearing one.
I wanted Nash to notice me and thought this ought to do the trick. He was almost eighteen, so I knew I had to act fast. After fluffing my hair in the mirror, adding a slight bit of mascara and lip gloss to an otherwise already washed face, I slipped into a pair of sneakers, tiptoed down the stairs and out the same door Jase had just locked.
The warm, humid breeze of a Carolina summer met me as I stepped out onto the back porch. Closing my eyes for a second to take in the soft singing of the crickets against the bristle of the trees, I inhaled a sharp breath, willing the courage to do this. I was in no position to make a move on him. I was sixteen and the only thing I’d ever done with a boy was kiss one at our church camp last summer.
Even so, I wanted Nash to kiss me. I was going to make Nash kiss me.
I heard the gravelly tone of his voice before I saw him. Smelled the scent of his nature made cologne and the cigarette smoke on his lips before I felt him creep behind me. It was the pit of summer, so the temperature never dropped below seventy-five, making this one of the hottest summers we’d seen in years, yet my skin was still alight with goosebumps and a chilling sensation that ran through me.
It was electrifying, followed by the heat of his breath on the back of my neck. I didn’t dare look back and wasn’t expecting to run into him so soon, so close to my house. I thought maybe I’d run over to the end of our property line and find him riding off on his motorcycle, but there he was, standing on my back porch, breathing the same air I was. Only I was currently holding my breath.
I knew he could see me, all of me, as I stood under the bright sensor light hung up on the pergola above us. He inhaled a sharp breath, letting out a satisfied groan as the short stubble of his chin tickled my skin, eliciting another shock wave of goosebumps and heat to flash through me.
“Good girls aren’t supposed to be out this late at night,” he whispered into the crook of my neck. “This is when the big bad wolves who eat sweet little girls like you are lurking about.”
I closed my eyes as my heart stammered in my chest. My curiosity turned into annoyance as I abruptly turned, nearly crashing against him because of how close he was to me. He reached for me, one hand snaking behind my back to keep me from falling.
“Who…” The willpower in my voice faded as his fingers grazed the skin of my lower back beneath my top. “Who said anything about me being a good girl?”
His chuckle was deep, loud, and mocking, while his grin was wide and mischievous. I hated being underestimated. Hated the way everyone saw me. A good girl was the worst possible thing you could be called. Because a good girl meant weak, placid and complacent. Someone who wouldn’t speak their mind or cause trouble by running their mouth. I was obedient, unproblematic—a pathological people pleaser—and none of that was something Nash would ever want.
“Angel,” he murmured, his voice so deep it almost sounded like a growl. Very spot on to his comment about wild wolves hunting at night. He watched me with a curious expression, smirking like the word angel was meant as a taunt.
It pissed me off he wasn’t taking me seriously. No one ever did. “Well, what if I don’t want to be good?” My voice came out breathier than I’d planned, but that’s what being this close to him did to me.
I was trembling in his grasp. The mere closeness of his touch was too much. I wasn’t sure I’d survive if he put his lips on me. Nash’s teasing smirk transformed into a straight line as his brows furrowed between his forehead. It wasn’t at all what he was expecting me to say, but I also couldn’t gauge his reaction once I had.
Was it desire that crossed his mind? Or annoyance?
Nash took my hand and led me to the edge of the yard where his motorcycle was parked. We didn’t exchange any words. He didn’t tell me where he was dragging me, and I didn’t ask. I was too afraid if I spoke, he’d realize what he was doing and change his mind. I couldn’t chance that from happening. This was the furthest I’d ever gotten with him. Even on the Ferris wheel all we’d done was talk. Well, he talked. I just sat across from him nervously, fiddling with my fingers on my lap.
Like I’d first assumed, his bike was parked out by the end of the barn, hidden behind the large oak tree. He must have walked Jase back to the house. I thought I’d heard him stumble as he made it to his room, probably drunk as he was most times he’d come home late at night.
“Where are we going?” I asked quickly, regretting having snuck out of my bed. I was wandering the ranch with Nash Bishop at two o’clock in the morning when I should have been tucked nicely into my bed, sound asleep.
“To get into a little trouble. You up for it, Bailey King?” A thrill of exhilaration shot through me at the prospect of getting into trouble, like Nash had said. I’d never done it. Never stepped out of line or risked doing something that would end up with me on the wrong side of the law.
Nash? was known to cause trouble and, to be honest, it’s what drew me to him from the beginning. He lived on the edge. Was unapologetically himself and didn't care if people approved or not. He knew the gossip that surrounded him and his family, but he never cared. If it did, he never let it show.
For a girl who cared too much what the world thought of her, I aimed to be as careless and carefree as Nash Bishop.
We arrived at his motorcycle, a brand new, sleek black Harley Davidson he’d gotten about a year or so ago. Out of nowhere, one day he showed up on his motorcycle and my mama nearly had an aneurysm when Jase had asked her for one the following week. Of course he didn’t get one as mama said that’s what the devil paraded around hell on.
“Hop on, B,” he said, pointing for me to straddle the seat. I stood there frozen, unable to breathe as I stared at him. His eyes left mine for no longer than a second as he glimpsed down at the hard peaks, clearly visible through the thin camisole. I was sweating, yet by the looks of it, you’d think it was the middle of winter. His lips quirked up into a wicked grin, his tongue slipping out to graze his bottom lip before he bit down. My insides turned to mush, but I kept as much composure as I could manage.
Before I could make a move, his hands landed on my waist and he hoisted me up onto the seat himself. I gasped as the cool leather of the seat between my legs cooled the heat from within. “Nash, what are you…”
“You wanted trouble, didn’t you?” he asked as he leaned over me, his fingers digging into my waist as he held me tight. A low, gravelly chuckle left his lips as they grazed so close to mine I could almost taste what he’s just smoked. “We’re going for a ride.”
He hopped on the bike in front of me, not bothering to put a helmet on or give me one, and revved up the engine, making way more noise than necessary. “Quit it Nash, you’re going to wake up my daddy.” His sharp laugh made me realize how childish I’d just sounded. “Don’t we need helmets?” I asked, my hands trembling at my sides.
“We ain’t going far, B. I’ll take it slow, unless you don't want me to.” The look he gave me as he gazed over his shoulder let me know there was a hidden innuendo in his comment I hadn’t caught on to as quickly as I should have.
I didn’t respond, my body growing more tense the longer we sat there in silence, only the soft humming of the engine heard in the night. Reaching back for my hands, he wrapped them around his torso, my palms lying flat against his chest and the gray t-shirt he wore. A t-shirt I know he’d just bought, as it had the name of the music festival he and Jase had snuck off to.
“Breathe, Angel,” he whispered so low I barely heard him, but it made an impact?. Angel . I’d never get used to hearing him call me that. At first it used to bother me, annoy me and I’d call him devil right back, but soon I realized it wasn’t meant as an insult. It was just the way he saw me. It’s what everyone assumed I was.
Would an angel sneak out in the middle of the night to ride on a motorcycle with a boy she was obsessed with? Would an angel plan to seduce said boy?
It took us five minutes to get where he wanted. We were still on my family’s land, out toward the edge of the small river that separated our home from the neighboring town of Rivers Bend.
I kept quiet during the short drive. On one hand, I was terrified of falling off the motorcycle, while on the other, I was too determined to hold on to him as long as I could. The moment we parked, I jumped off the bike, feeling it burn against my skin. I was a bundle of nerves that could spark a fire in the dry grass I stepped through.
But before I could run off, Nash reached for me, grabbed me by the hand, and spun me around to face him. Our chests crashed into one another, his hands wrapping around me until he had me exactly in the position he wanted me. I could feel the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, which matched mine, and I knew for a fact he could feel my hardened peaks pressing into him. He proved me right when he looked down and smirked. Letting go for a moment, he reached a hand over his shoulder and grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, tugging it over his head in the most captivating way.
His tanned skin gleaming under the moonlight above had me in a trance. Nash was immaculate. I’d seen guys shirtless before, had even caught Nash without one on a handful of times over the years, specifically when we’d spend time out here by the river bed over the summer. But it was nothing like seeing him up close. Nothing like feeling his muscles under my fingertips.
On instinct, I flattened my palms against him, giving him a slight push, which only drew him in closer.
“You cold, B?” he asked, grinning at me like he knew exactly why I was “cold”. I didn’t answer, didn't have to. Nash took my silence as confirmation and slipped the shirt over my head. I released him just long enough to slip my arms through the sleeves, but pressed them back against his chest the moment I was done.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. There I was, leaning against Nash Bishop’s motorcycle. Both his hands were on either side of me, caging me in as he pressed his bare chest against me. His lips were so close to mine, just a mere centimeter, and I’d have known what they tasted like. How they felt wrapped around mine.
Were they soft or rough? Gentle or needy? Would his hands wrap around my waist or tangle in my hair?
I wanted to know the sounds he made as he kissed me. I wanted to feel the ardent need pooling between my legs as he claimed my mouth. I needed something, anything, that proved I wasn’t alone in this. That my attraction wasn’t one-sided. That, my love, wasn’t unrequited. Even if he could never give me what I truly wanted—I prayed he’d at least give me this.
But dreams never came true. Prayers never answered. And hopes, they made even the most clever into fools.
Nash slipped his hand under the hem of my t-shirt, under the thin fabric of my camisole until his fingers grazed the skin right above my belly button and trailed down to my lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His lips pressed against me for no more than a second, but they didn't move. My eyes closed, a single tear streaming down my cheek as he spoke.
“You don’t need to go out looking for trouble, Angel. You are trouble.”