Chapter 8
Penn
The handles of the shopping bags bite into my fingers as I carry them inside the house. I hadn’t expected them to be this heavy, but there could have been more. Except Dixie fought me tooth and nail every time I told her to buy something.
I’ve never encountered a woman more intent on resisting being spoiled.
Every other woman I’ve met would love to have my credit card to max out, and many other women would hit that high limit.
But not Dixie. She constantly tried to find cheaper alternatives, and it wasn’t until I forced the saleswoman to hide them behind the counter to ring up while I distracted Dixie that we actually got everything she needed.
She walks in behind me with her shoulders hunched. She looks small. Like a gust of wind could knock her flat. But even though she looks a bit fragile, her eyes are heavily guarded. They have been since she realized I’d been buying things she’d turned down because of cost.
The exhaustion of being on her feet all day is obvious in the bags beneath her eyes and heavy lids. I doubt she got real sleep last night, and she needs to rest.
“You can put them on the table. I’ll carry them to the guest room,” Dixie says.
“I can carry them to your room.”
She bristles as I continue walking to her room. I’m determined to make her realize that this isn’t a temporary thing for me. This is her room. Until the night she decides she wants to share mine. Which I hope comes before she’s too embarrassed to be naked in front of me.
“I can carry my own things, Penn. You don’t need to do everything.”
I set them on the floor in front of the closet and give her a smirk. “Oh, but I do. Why don’t you lie down and take a nap?”
“I’m not an invalid,” she snaps at me.
Her arms cross over her chest, and she looks around like she’s trying to figure out where she fits. Even though I’ve told her multiple times now that I’m more than happy to have her here, I can see the resistance coming stronger and stronger with each passing minute.
“I know you’re not an invalid,” I say, “but you’re exhausted. Your body is running on empty, and you’ve got a kid to think about. Lie down. Please?”
“I have to unpack,” she says, reaching into the bags to pull out the clothes. “I need to wash these, and I can’t just sit around and do nothing. That’s not how I’m wired.”
“The unpacking can wait. I’d offer to wash the clothes for you, but I think you’ve had your fill of me doing things for you. Though I can. I lived without a woman prior to you moving in here, and I don’t just buy new clothes. My washer and dryer aren’t just props that came with the house.”
She smirks. “I suppose you did have to learn how to use the appliances.”
“I can not only use all of them, but I can fix them, too. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m kind of a catch.”
The smirk turns into a full smile as she ducks her head. “Yeah, I suppose you are.”
“But you don’t want me, so I guess you missed your chance.”
“What else am I missing out on?”
There’s a little bit of flirt in her tone, and I’m excited. “Oh, baby, the things you’re missing out on would make you blush. Turn red from head to toe. And I don’t think you’re ready to hear about all the fabulous things I can do.”
“You’re not normally the type to hold back on the raunchy details.”
“Maybe if you agree to get some rest, I’ll tell you,” I say, giving her my best seductive smile.
Just because she’s not quite ready to jump into my bed doesn’t mean I can’t entice her. To let her know what she’ll be getting should she wander into my room in the middle of the night.
“You’re bossy. Has anyone ever told you that?” Dixie asks.
“Once or twice,” I say. “Lie. Down.”
She walks to the bed and curls up on the bed, kicking her shoes to the floor. Her eyelids slowly open and close, and I know she’s tired. She’s just too damn stubborn to admit it.
I walk over and place a blanket over her, making sure her feet are covered as well as her shoulders.
The look she gives me cuts me to the core.
She’s waiting. Probably to hear what demand I have in return for the roof, the clothes, and even the blanket.
I suspect she’s never been given anything without the expectation of something in return.
Well, I guess I’ll be her first.
“Why are you doing this, Penn?” she asks me again.
It’s a question that cuts me to the core and reinforces that she’s never met a genuinely kind gesture in her life. “Because I can.”
“Really? You bought me clothes. You’re letting me stay in your house. You’re dealing with the mess that is my life. I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but you don’t owe me anything.”
My hands fold in front of me, and I run my thumb over my knuckles.
I could give her a simple answer. That it’s something that anyone would do.
Any decent person would do. But she’s smarter than that.
And she’s already suspicious as it is. She’s been used and hurt by people who showed her charity is a weapon to get something in return.
“I like you, Dixie,” I admit, keeping my voice steady.
“I liked you the moment I saw you behind the bar, and I like you now. And besides that, it’s simple.
A man who doesn’t support the mother of his child is no man at all.
Your ex is a coward. He ran and tried to burn you down with your house. I’m not him.”
She swallows hard, her throat moving as she absorbs what I’ve just said. The blanket tucks tighter under her chin, and she looks at my boots. “It’s hard for me to trust that. It’s not really easy for me to trust people.”
“I figured.”
“My father…”
Her tongue slips out over her lips as she stops herself.
She let on a little bit about her father being a cheater and hurting her mother, but she didn’t give specifics.
It’s obvious her father’s ways hurt her, too, but in a different way.
He took away the idolization of a father in her eyes at too young of an age.
Made her see the harsh reality of the world before she needed to.
“Daddy was a cheater. He’d spend his evenings with other women before coming home to Mom, and she’d see the evidence. The cheap perfume and lipstick on his collar. And he’d lie. Even when he knew she knew, he’d lie. Make her think she was being crazy.”
It sounds like her father and the father of her baby are pretty similar. And if her father was as good at lying as her ex is, it’s understandable that she could spot these types easier than most. She grew up with this.
“One night, Mom had enough. He’d driven her insane, and she smelled the new neighbor’s perfume on him. She went to the garage, grabbed the gasoline can, then walked out and poured it in the woman’s convertible sitting in her driveway.”
My brows lift. This is not the story I was expecting. “That’s harsh. And kind of fucking awesome.”
“Daddy came running out, begging her to stop. But Mom just lit that match and tossed it onto the seats like it was nothing. The blank look in her eyes as she watched Daddy through the fire has never left me.”
“What happened?”
“He had to run and pull her back behind the house. He was worried the car would explode, but the fire trucks showed up in time. The car was totaled, and the woman came out screaming at Mom. But she just had that blank look on her face. Didn’t even react.
Even when they handcuffed her and put her in the backseat of the cop car. ”
I can’t help my jaw dropping. “Your dad let your mom get arrested for it?”
“She went to prison for three years. Even after all of that, Daddy still couldn’t keep it in his pants. Probably still can’t. It’s why Mom’s been in and out of mental health facilities since she was released from prison.”
A man willing to let his wife go to prison for reacting to his cheating is a pussy.
She probably shouldn’t have lit the woman’s convertible on fire—especially if it was a really nice one—but he should’ve kept his dick reserved for his wife and his wife only.
A woman may have patience, but there is always a snapping point.
And her daddy found it.
“I’m sorry, Dixie.”
My childhood was normal. Boringly so. She grew up watching the most toxic of love. Gaslighting—both figuratively and literally—and the effects of being put in these situations repeatedly. Love will make people accept a lot of shit they shouldn’t.
Look at Zep and his ex-girlfriend, Chanel.
She used him for sex and then left to go back to her fiancé.
Every fucking time. And it destroyed him every time she left, but he didn’t stop her from coming back around because he thought he deserved it.
It wasn’t until Misty showed him what love should feel like that he broke that cycle.
And the bitch has not come back.
Thank. God.
I fucking hated her. There is a point where someone has too much lip filler. And she hit that about three appointments before I last saw her. Woof.
“It’s why I feel so stupid. I get involved with my married ex. I swore I’d never be like Mom, but then I ended up being like every woman Daddy cheated with instead. I became the thing that destroyed my mother.”
Crouching in front of her, I wipe a tear sliding down her cheek. “I disagree.”
“You can’t—”
“Did those women your dad cheated with know he was married when they fucked him?”
Dixie sniffles and shrugs. “I don’t think so, but I don’t think he took the ring off.”
“I’m going to bet they knew he was married. Especially if one of them was a neighbor. There’s no way they didn’t know. That means you’re not like those women. You didn’t know, and you wouldn’t have gone into it if you had.”
“Semantics.”
“And I also disagree with those women being what destroyed your mom.”
Her brow creases as she studies me. “You don’t agree?”
“No. Your dad destroyed your mom. He’s the one who went out and jumped into bed with other women. He’s the one who lied to her and made her think she was being ridiculous. And even after seeing her light that car on fire, he didn’t stop. He did that to her.”
“You might be right, but I can’t help but think this is punishment.”
It’s my turn to look at her with confusion. “Punishment? For what? Being the other woman? Because you didn’t know—”
“I lost everything, Penn. Every single memory. All my clothing. My home. Not just for being the other woman but for what I did as a teenager.”
Some imaginary heavy object rests on my chest. “What did you do, Dixie?”
Her eyes fill with tears as she looks into my eyes.
“I had an abortion. I was young and terrified, and I didn’t have anyone to help me.
There was nothing else to do. I was eating every few days, and I couldn’t grow a healthy human.
But I’ve regretted it every day since, and I think the universe is punishing me for it. ”
I can feel the heaviness of her guilt, and I take her hand in mine.
That’s a lot of weight for one person to carry.
Her father’s sins. The unimaginable decision she had to make at an age when she was too young to understand the full impact of what it would mean for her when it was over and done.
And now the pressure of feeling as though she deserves whatever she’s gotten.
“You didn’t deserve any of this. And it’s not the universe paying you back with terrible things,” I say.
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s not how the world works. I’ve done some terrible things, but I have you here with me, begrudgingly accepting my help. That’s not a punishment, and I deserve that before you ever will.”
She laughs. “But you won’t tell me what those terrible things are, will you?”
“Can’t. Sorry. It’s like Fight Club. The first rule is that you don’t talk about it.”
This earns me another giggle, and I feel like I could walk on water. “That’s kind of a bastardization of the quote.”
“You got the point, so what does it matter?” I ask. “And sometimes you need to have everything fall apart before you can rebuild something even better. To get rid of your old life and embrace the new one.”
“I wish I believed that,” Dixie whispers.
“Well, I believe it, and we both know my confidence is enough for at least three people. So I believe it for more than just us. Probably five people, at least.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I have rarely met a more confident man… when it comes to things he knows he can’t have.”
“What can I say? I am who I am,” I say. “Now, close your eyes.”
She doesn’t argue this time, and her lids flutter shut. Her breathing evens out by the time I release her hand, and I just stay there, crouched, watching her.
I need to figure out how to make her see she deserves only the good things in life. Because she does. No matter what kind of hell she’s lived through to believe otherwise.