Chapter 6
Penn
The sound of my bike pulling into my driveway usually brings me a sense of peace, but tonight, everything feels heavy.
I kill the engine of my bike, and I wait for Dixie to pull in behind me in her sedan.
There’s apprehension in her gaze now that we’ve reached my house, but I’ll be damned if she ends up in a cheap motel.
I climb off my bike and open the driver’s side door, offering my hand to help her step out. She takes it, but her silence worries me. Dixie’s always known to have a quippy comeback or retort to anything.
Then again, her house was just set on fire, possibly by her baby’s father, and it may have been intended to have her inside of it. That would be enough to silence pretty much anyone. Even me.
“It’s not as fancy as Pacino’s house, but it’s safe. And there’s really no way of anyone reaching the house without being seen,” I say.
She steps inside, and her flats barely make a sound on the tile flooring.
I walk her through the entryway and into the living room, the kitchen and then the bathroom, and the guest room followed by a smaller guest room I use for storage.
It really isn’t all that big, but I bought it more for the land.
It sits on almost two acres, and it’s pretty isolated.
“It’s nice, Penn,” she whispers. “Thank you. Really.”
“Let’s get you set up.” I guide her into the guest room again where a queen-size bed with a gray comforter sits against one window while a desk rests against the other window, looking out into the darkness. “I’ll grab you some clothes to sleep in. Hold on.”
Hurrying into my bedroom, I open a few drawers, pulling out a pair of shorts, sweatpants, and a T-shirt. I’m not sure if she’s more of a shorts or pants type of sleeper, so she can have her pick. Not that either will fit her extremely well.
When I walk back into the guest room, she stands facing the window behind the desk with her arms crossed.
For the first time, Dixie looks fragile.
Vulnerable. Something I doubt she particularly wants anyone to see, and I have the urge to reach out and hold her.
To wrap my arms around her and promise everything will be okay even though I don’t know that things will be okay.
Her situation is a little out of my depth, but I’ll help her however I can.
“Here,” I say instead and hold out the clothes. “They’re going to be too big, but you should be comfortable.”
She reaches for them, and our fingers brush. I don’t know about her, but the sensation of her skin touching mine nearly makes me jump out of my boots. “These will be perfect. Thank you.”
“Get some sleep, Dixie. We’ll figure everything else out in the morning after you’ve gotten some rest.”
All I get is a tight nod, and I walk out of the room, closing the door behind me gently. Standing in the hallway for a minute, it hits me. She has nothing. Literally nothing but the clothes on her back and her purse. No toothbrush. No clean clothes. No bodywash or shampoo. Not even a hairbrush.
I look at my watch and see it’s barely past ten. There’s a local twenty-four-hour store down the highway, and I can at least get her the basics. The things I know won’t matter quite as much, and then I’ll take her shopping tomorrow to get new clothes.
“Hey, I’m gonna make a quick run out. I’ll be back soon,” I say through the door.
The door opens, and Dixie looks worried. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“You need some stuff.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t share my toothbrush, Dixie. Even if I’m burying my face in the most intimate parts of a woman. That’s just… too much.”
Her nose scrunches as she nods. “That’s fair. Here, let me give you some—”
“Don’t even think about it. Is there anything specific you want me to pick up?”
She lets out a long breath. “I prefer spearmint toothpaste. And I should probably have fresh underwear. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?”
“Size small or medium?”
Her cheeks redden as she mumbles, “Medium.”
“Hair stuff… Do you get that shit at the salon?”
“I don’t have to—”
“We’ll talk to Zep’s mom tomorrow. She owns the salon in town. She’ll hook you up. Any specific snacks or foods you need?”
Dixie shakes her head. “No, I’m okay. You’re going to lock the door behind you, right?”
“Always do,” I say and give her a small smile.
The door shuts, and I head out, locking the front door behind me. I hop on my bike and make sure I have enough space in my saddlebags to put everything I plan on buying. If she’d given me a shopping list, I’d have taken the pickup in the garage around back, but I should be okay.
The drive is quiet, but I still keep an eye out for anything suspicious.
There’s no guarantee that the asshole who set her house on fire didn’t follow her from the bar when he learned she wasn’t home when he tossed what I’m sure was a Molotov cocktail in her window.
It’s the only thing that makes much sense.
The neighbors heard glass breaking, and then the flames started.
At the store, I make it a quick trip. A simple pack of panties, size medium, a soft-bristle toothbrush, spearmint toothpaste—I only use cinnamon—a hairbrush, some hair ties, vanilla bodywash, and a pack of socks. I’m about to check out when I pass by the vitamins.
I make a quick call to Zep. “Hey, pregnancy question for you.”
“Tell me you did not knock someone up,” Zep says, his voice just a bit edgy.
“Not me. Dixie from the bar is pregnant. And her baby daddy lit her house on fire, so she’s staying with me for the time being. I’m picking up a few things, but pregnant chicks need vitamins and shit, right?”
“Hold on,” he says, and the phone muffles slightly. “Baby, what vitamins do you need to take early in pregnancy? No, it’s not Pacino. Dixie at the bar… Yeah.”
The phone sounds like it’s falling, and Misty’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Tell me you didn’t knock her up.”
“Not me. Just taking care of her for the time being,” I say, and I’m surprised at how disgusting the words taste on my tongue.
Do I really want to be responsible long term for a woman carrying another man’s baby?
“How far along is she?”
Fuck, I don’t know. “Um… early? She doesn’t have a belly yet or anything.”
“Your best bet will be a prenatal multivitamin. But make sure it says something like advanced on it. You need to make sure there’s folate or folic acid.”
“Is one better than the other?”
“They’re the same thing.”
Glancing through the vitamins, I spot one and read the ingredients. “Is 800 mcg good or bad for that?”
“Perfect, Penn. That’s the one you want.”
I toss it into the basket. “Anything else I should get?”
“Crackers. Club soda. If she gets morning sickness, she’ll need something to help settle her stomach and replenish electrolytes.”
Crackers. Club soda. Got it. “Thanks, Misty.”
“Good luck.”
Yeah, I think I’m going to need it.
When I get home, Dixie’s waiting in the living room with her knees curled up to her chest. She’s definitely early in her pregnancy if she can still do that.
“You’re supposed to be asleep,” I say.
“Couldn’t. My mind won’t shut off.”
I sit down next to her and set the bags on the coffee table. “I got a few extras after calling Misty. She’s currently pregnant, so I knew I could trust her.”
Her face scrunches up, and I worry I’ve said something wrong as she bursts into tears, hiding her face behind her hands.
I sit frozen, unsure what to do. And I do my best to figure out what I said to upset her.
She told people in the bar she was pregnant, so I didn’t think it was a secret, but maybe she didn’t want people to know.
“I’m sorry,” Dixie says, wiping at her eyes.
“What did I say?”
Shaking her head, she reaches out and takes my hand. “It’s not you. You’re being so incredibly sweet and helpful.”
“I don’t normally make women cry when that happens.”
She laughs as more tears fall. “I’m so stupid.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am. I’m the dumbest woman on the planet.”
“You’re not—”
“Yes, I am!” she shouts. “I got tangled up with a married man. I became the other woman. The became the exact type of woman I swore I’d never be. Ever.”
Her hand still clings to mine, so I use my free one to rub her back. “You didn’t know.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s just like my father, and I saw what it did to Mom.
He made her lose her mind, and I promised myself I’d always be smarter.
And I can normally spot a cheater a mile away, but look at me.
My house is in ashes. I have nothing but the clothes on my back, and I’m pregnant and staying in a biker’s house who took pity on me. ”
She sobs, her entire body shaking, and I pull her against me, holding her tight. It feels better than I imagined holding her would feel, even if she’s depressed and kicking herself.
“Listen to me,” I say, pressing my cheek against the top of her head as her tears soak through my T-shirt.
“You cannot blame yourself for trusting him. He’s clearly a convincing liar if he got one over on you.
And men like that are seasoned and make a living out of selling fantasy.
He knew just what to say to make you believe him, and it’s not your fault that he lied to you. ”
“But I’m supposed to be smart,” she whispers.
“I pride myself on reading people. Looking back, there were signs, and I just ignored them. He did what my father used to. He’d come up with reasonable excuses that were just convincing and plausible enough to believe, but I can see the lies now. Clear as day.”
“Dixie—”
“I’m pretty, Penn. And I don’t mean that in a conceited way. I mean that in a no-one-thinks-I-have-a-brain kind of way. And I let him prove them right.”
Dixie’s right. She is pretty. And the general consensus tends to be that pretty women aren’t bright. It’s not right or factual, but it’s the way it’s been for centuries, I’m sure. But I never once thought she was stupid. In fact, it’s ludicrous for her to even suggest it.
“No, he didn’t prove anyone right,” I say. “Anyone who has heard you give a snappy comeback can see how smart you are. No one stupid has that much wit. And don’t ever let a man make you doubt your self-worth. He took advantage of your trust, but that doesn’t make you a monster.”
“What does it make me?”
“It makes him a monster.”
She takes a long breath and slowly lets it out, followed by another, and she pulls from my grasp. I don’t want to let her go, but I don’t have much of a reason not to.
“Give me his name, Dixie.”
Shaking her head, she leans back. “No.”
“If he did this, I can make sure he pays for it.”
“I know how you and your club make people pay for things. You use your fists and God only knows what else, and he has a family. As much as I hate him right now, they don’t deserve to have their lives ripped apart.”
“He burned your house down. And he did it thinking you were inside. That’s premeditated murder.”
Dixie licks her lips, and I hate how my mind immediately goes to the dirty place. What her tongue and lips would feel like below my belt. I bet she’s pretty fucking fantastic on her knees.
“We don’t know that for sure. And I can’t have that on my conscience, Penn. As much as it doesn’t make sense to you, I can’t live with that. Not when he has three young children at home who probably think he’s the world’s greatest dad.”
I look at her and take in her messy blonde hair, the dark circles of exhaustion paired with puffy eyes from crying, and the way she still trembles slightly despite it not being cold in the house.
I’m glad she agreed to come here, otherwise I’d be taking up post outside a grungy motel to keep the meth heads and Billy Badasses away.
“Once I get the insurance figured out, I can get out of your hair,” she says.
“You’re not going anywhere, Dixie. Not unless you tell me who this asshole is. It’s not safe for you.”
“This isn’t your problem, Penn.”
“You’re carrying a child. You need to think about what’s safest for you and for that little one growing inside you. And staying here takes away this dickhead’s access to you.”
Her eyes study me for a few moments before she nods. “Okay.”
“I got some vitamins for you, too. There’s bodywash in there, so you may not be able to wash your hair, but you can shower when you want.”
A small, grateful smile appears, and I almost can’t breathe as it makes my chest swell. Who knew such a small gesture could mean so damn much?
Dixie kisses my cheek before standing and walking back to the guest room with the shopping bags.
I collapse against the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling.
The house is quiet again, but it doesn’t feel empty anymore.
It feels like something I may not be quite ready for, but I’ll be damned if I run away from it.