Fallen Crest Home

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” And then his mouth was on mine again, and he carried me to the bed. Once again, we couldn’t get enough of each other. No matter how many times I touched this man, I’d only ever be yearning for the next touch.

As he moved inside of me, my legs and arms wrapped around him, my mind raced until I turned it off and surrendered. I gave in completely to Mason.

“Hey, girl.”

I was waiting in a rickety lawn chair near the bonfire pit outside of Manny’s. There were three others to choose from, but they all looked to be in the same miserable state—holes in the middle, frayed at the ends. I was surprised they were still able to hold people upright. As I tipped back in mine, kicking my feet up to rest on bricks surrounding the unlit bonfire, I felt it dip under my weight.

I jerked upright. “Shit, Heather.”

A low, smooth chuckle sounded as one of my best friends—correction, one of my only female friends—sat down next to me, pulling out her cigarettes and lighter. Heather leaned back like I’d just tried to, crossing one foot over the other on the stone pit as she exhaled the first drag. “I think you got the one I leave out in case Logan shows up. I’m hoping it’ll tip him one of these days, just so I can have a good laugh.”

I shook my head. This was the old dynamic, and a part of me relaxed inside.

“I thought all that was done?” I murmured, tentatively sitting back again. “You’re happy with Channing. He’s with Taylor.”

She’d been fitting her cigarette to her lips, but paused and pulled her hand away. “What are you talking about?”

“This sexual flirting thing. I thought it was over.”

She grunted, lighting her cigarette now. “When Logan stops giving me shit, I’ll return the favor. He still dishes it out, and it’s not in the flirting way you say it is.” She sounded annoyed. “Somewhere along the line we became like brother and sister, but I already have a loser brother who won’t leave me alone!” She leaned backward, closer to the side door of Manny’s where she ran the diner part of the bar and grill. A second later her brother yelled back.

“Stay in your lane, Heather! I manage the bar. You run the grill. Back off me. You’d be up shit creek if I stopped coming to do my job.”

She laughed softly, sitting normally again. “My stupid brother. I don’t need another one, besides Brad, I mean.” Then she frowned, focusing on me. “How is Little Kade doing? Did the missus come with him for summer break?”

“He and Taylor took off to Paris for the first couple weeks.”

That got her attention. “Paris? I didn’t know Taylor was rich.”

“From what I hear, it was on Helen’s dime.”

“Damn.” Heather’s head craned back an inch. “Is Mommy Dearest there with them?”

I nodded. “As far as I know.”

She grunted, taking a drag. “So Nightmare from Mommy Street sprung the new girlfriend all the way to France for a trip…and you’ve gotten what from her?” Her eyebrow lifted. “A big fat nada, right?”

If she was hoping to get a reaction, she was barking up the wrong tree. Yes, Helen Malbourne had always hated me with Mason, and yes, she seemed to adore Taylor, the love of Logan’s life, but that didn’t bother me.

I shrugged. “You really think I would go on a trip with her?”

“Touché.” Her eyes narrowed as she flicked her cigarette into the empty fire pit. “Since we’re on the topic of nightmare mothers, have you talked to yours?”

“I see Malinda every day.”

“You know who I mean.”

And there was the look. She was waiting for me to break down, or throw my chair across the pit, or take off running for six hours every day. It was the same look everyone had been wearing since my mother came back.

I was tempted to give her the middle finger, but all I did was sigh. “She’s here.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

I rolled my shoulders back. “What do you want me to say? She’s back. There’s nothing I can do about it. It is what it is.”

“She lied to you all your life about your dad.”

Yep. She’d done that. David wasn’t my actual dad.

“And when your real one came around, she blackmailed him into leaving.”

The lady was dedicated.

“Then when you started dating Mason, she threatened to turn him into the cops for having sex with you.”

Oh yeah. Statutory rape could be a bitch, but Mason wasn’t two years older than me. He was only one. I found out that nice little bit of information later. I hadn’t needed to worry that his entire future could’ve been ripped to shreds by the woman whose loins I came from.

I was good with this. Really. It didn’t bother me to hear a list of all the shitty things Analise had done before finally disappearing into a mental hospital for two years.

Then Heather dropped the last bomb. “She killed your unborn siblings, and you were the one who found her.”

In a pile of blood.

I called 911.

I was eleven.

I suppressed a shudder at that one. “What do you want me to say? She’s back. She’s going to marry James, who is also Mason’s father. There’s nothing I can do.” I cooled my tone. “I refuse to let her matter to me.”

“Good for you.” Heather saluted me with a pretend drink, her hand curled around an invisible glass. “Now get wicked drunk so you can tell me how you really feel.”

I snorted and covered my face with my hand. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Thank God you did.” Heather grinned, a dry note in her normally husky voice.

I eyed her, waiting. This was when she’d normally return to her shift, but this was our first visit since Mason and I got home to Fallen Crest from college a week ago. Yes, that made me a small coward. Heather Jax had been one of my most loyal friends since high school, and she had the ability to cut through the bullshit.

Mason and Logan held the same qualities, but I lived with them, so they weren’t constantly calling me out. They were just watching, waiting.

A second shiver wound its way down my spine. I ignored it. It was a habit fast becoming a daily routine.

“Why don’t you tell me about you and Channing?” I asked. “You two married yet?”

I meant it as a joke, but her eyes shifted. Her lips pressed into a strained line. “He wants to. He’s nuts. That’s what he is.”

“Are you joking?” My mouth hung open. “Channing asked you to marry him?!”

She rolled her eyes. “No, but… Well, yes. He asked me a while ago because we had a pregnancy scare, but it was only a scare. No baby. I thought he’d drop it.”

“He didn’t?”

“He didn’t.” She was so glum. “He wants to settle down. I think it’s mostly because he’s raising Bren since their mom died.”

“Wait. What?”

Channing Monroe? An older brother? Now like a dad to some little girl? This wasn’t an image I could wrap my mind around. Mason and Logan had run Fallen Crest Public High School, and Channing, a model look-alike, had done the same with his high school, Roussou Public.

Roussou was the neighboring town and our usual rival, which had sometimes led to bloodshed back when Brett and Budd Broudou ran Roussou. Channing had worked with Mason and Logan and helped take control of Roussou. It helped that Brett Broudou eventually realized how much of a psychopath his brother was, and now Budd was currently residing in prison for attempted rape. Channing kept his town in check, but I wasn’t so sure about him raising a child.

“Isn’t he running a bar in Roussou now?” I thought that was what Logan had said one time.

Heather nodded, letting out a loud breath of air. “Yeah. Like I have time to play house. I’m running this place since my dad retired and going to community college. I don’t have time to raise some teenager. Besides, the girl is tough as nails. She doesn’t need or want a mommy replacement. Trust me. I’ve been there. I don’t want to deal with another me.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">