Assumption (Underground Kings #1)

CHAPTER 2
Word Vomit
It’s been three weeks since I moved to Tennessee. Three weeks of living with Kenton, who I don’t see very often, and when I do, he’s usually leaving for work or coming in before going to bed. One of the longest talks we’ve had was the other day when he came in and told me that he had something for me and to meet him out front. I tucked my Kindle away and followed him out of the house, down the front steps, to a small VW Beetle.
“My cousin’s wife just got rid of it. You don’t have a car, and I know it’s not an easy trek to town.”
I looked from the car, to him, then back again.
“Here’s the key. It has a full tank of gas, new tires, plus a tune-up,” he told me, holding out the key between his large fingers. “This is the part where you say, ‘Thank you,’” he grumbled, looking at me then at the keys in his hand.
“Um…I… Thank you,” I whispered, taking the keys from him with shaky fingers.
He nodded, looking like he was going to say something else, but instead, he left me standing there, looking at the car, dumbfounded by the act of generosity. No one had ever done anything like that for me before.
From that day on, I tried to help where I could. I tried to cook a couple of times, but that was a disaster, so I settled on showing my appreciation in other ways. I kept the house clean, went to the grocery store if I noticed things running low, and even did laundry if I saw it piling up. He told me that I didn’t need to do everything I was doing, but I ignored him. I knew he appreciated my help. He was always busy and seemed to be running himself ragged.
When we did have moments to talk, he smiled more and seemed more at ease with me. I lived for the stolen moments I had with him. It was stupid, but I felt like a lost puppy looking for a bone. I hated and loved that he made me feel like that. I had wondered for a long time if I had somehow become asexual. I hadn’t been interested in a guy since my first and last boyfriend.
I walk down the stairs, going into the kitchen to grab some much-needed coffee. I just got off the phone. The hospital I worked at in Vegas has agreed to transfer my hours to a hospital they are affiliated with in Nashville. Then I called the hospital in Nashville, and they want me to start as soon as possible. My shift will be eleven to seven a.m. They told me that, after I’m on staff for a while, I can change up my schedule. It doesn’t matter to me what hours I work, just as long as I’m working.
I’m on cloud nine; I can’t wait to get back to work. Nursing is something I love doing and am really good at.
I hit the bottom landing of the stairs and go around the corner into the kitchen. Kenton is standing at the stove on the phone. His back is to me, so I take a second to admire him.
Today’s jeans are light blue and faded in all the right spots. His red T-shirt fits him snugly, showing off his muscles while enhancing his tan. His head turns towards me; his golden eyes hit mine and then do a head-to-toe sweep.
“You want coffee?” he rumbles out, his deep voice making my girly parts tingle.
I hear him say goodbye to whoever’s on the phone before he sets it on the counter. His eyes look me over again and his mouth starts to twitch.
“You want coffee?” he asks again, this time a small smirk playing on his lips.
“I…um… Yes please,” I tell him, walking fully into the kitchen.
His house is older, the kitchen showing the wear and tear of having been around for so long. Everything is clean but in major need of updating. The cabinets are a light wood, and the counters are some old laminate that has started chipping around the edges. The fridge, stove, and dishwasher are white and desperately need to be replaced.
He hands me a cup of coffee, and I quickly add milk and sugar before hopping up on the counter, sitting across from him, praying that I don’t continue to make a fool out of myself.
“What’s your plan for the day?” he asks, looking at me from over the top of his coffee cup.
“I need to go shopping. I left all my work clothes back home and I just got a job in Nashville,” I tell him, smiling.
His cup lowers as his hand turns white on the handle. “Like I told you before, I don’t want randoms in my house.”
My face heats and I take a breath, needing to make sure I understand what he’s saying before I flip out and kick him in the balls. “What do you mean by ‘randoms’?” I ask, keeping my voice light.
He studies me for a second like he’s debating his next words. Smart man. “Guys from the strip club.”
Apparently he’s not that smart. I take another breath as my stomach turns. “Don’t worry. I don’t bring my work home with me,” I tell him, dumping out the almost-full cup of coffee into the sink. I jump off the counter, putting the cup in the dishwasher before grabbing my bag and heading for the door.
I’m used to being judged, but for some reason, it coming from him makes me feel sick. I hate that he somehow has that kind of power over me. I hate that I want him to take a second to get to know me.
I get into the Beetle, telling myself that, as soon as I get back, I’m going to find out the value of the car he got me and give him the money for it.
I quickly ask Siri where I can find a store to buy scrubs, and once I have the directions pulled up, I put the car in drive, do a U-turn in front of the house, and head into town. First, I go to the scrubs shop and spend over five hundred dollars. Who doesn’t need cute scrubs?
When I’m done with that, I go to a nearby nail salon and get a manicure and pedicure. Then I come across a small soul food restaurant and have barbecue ribs and homemade macaroni and cheese. For dessert, I have made-from-scratch peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream. Now that I can eat whatever I want without worrying about my appearance, I plan on eating everything I’ve been denied.
When I was growing up and competing in beauty pageants, there wasn’t a week that went by that I didn’t have a competition. My mom was very strict about what I ate. Everything was premeasured and my calorie intake was no more than what was necessary to survive. I didn’t even know what sugar tasted like until I turned sixteen. Then, when I moved to Vegas and my jobs all required me to have a certain image, I stuck with my old habits.
But now? F*ck that! I’m going to eat—and eat everything. After eating, I’m not ready to go home, so I go to the movies, buy a ticket, and sit in the dark theater alone, watching as a young woman is attacked by an evil spirit. Well, I think that’s what it is… About halfway through, I fall asleep. I wake up to screaming and have no clue what is going on, so I get up and leave.
When I pull up in front of the house, the first thing I notice is Kenton’s car parked out front. I really don’t want to see him again, but I know I can’t avoid going inside forever. I get out of the car, leaving the bags with my new work clothes in the trunk. He doesn’t need to know what I’ll really be doing. He chose to make assumptions about me, so he can continue to think what he wants.
I’m not going to try to change his mind. Yes, he’s good-looking, but I’m starting to see a pattern. He’s a dick and judgmental. He’s a judgmental dick.
I sigh, walking up the front porch, and as soon as I unlock the door and push it open, the smell of something cooking hits my nose. Even though I ate earlier, my stomach growls. I ignore my stomach and start for the stairs. I have a candy bar in my bag; that can hold me over until tomorrow.
“You’re back,” I hear from behind me as my foot hits the first step.
“Yep.” I look over my shoulder at him. Why does he have to be so good-looking?
“I made dinner.”
“Good for you,” I say sarcastically, going up two more stairs.
“Look, I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier.” He sighs, and I wonder if he has ever apologized in his life.
“You shouldn’t have,” I agree, taking a few more steps.
“Will you stop for a second?” He lets out a huff, and I turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Come eat so we can talk. You’re living here. I think it’s only right that we get to know at least a little about each other.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to f*ck off, but sadly, my manners are ingrained in me. I turn, walk down the stairs, and follow him into the kitchen.
“Will you get out a couple plates?” he asks, going to the oven. As soon as he has the oven open, the smell of baked chicken hits me, making my stomach growl again. “You really should eat more,” he mumbles.
I turn to look at him and feel my temper spike. “I did eat,” I tell him, pulling down two plates before getting two sets of silverware out of the drawer and setting them on the counter with a little too much force.
“I mean something besides rabbit food. You need to gain some weight.”
I take a breath and blow it out slowly, counting in my head from one to ten. “Okay”—I turn my face to look at him—“I don’t know what’s wrong with the filter that goes from your brain to your mouth, and honestly, I really don’t care.” I turn around to face him completely. “I don’t appreciate you saying things to me about my job, my free time, or my eating habits. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but it doesn’t give you the right to talk shit to me whenever you feel like it.”
I inhale deeply before letting out a breath, noticing that his eyes seem to have gone softer. Something about that look makes me feel better, but I finish with, “If you think that’s going to be a problem, I can find somewhere else to stay until I can go home.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair before our eyes meet again. “Let’s start over.”
“Sure.” I nod, my insides twisting under his gaze. Every time he looks at me, I feel like he sees way too much.
He walks towards me, sticking out his hand. “Kenton Mayson.”
I put out my hand for him to take. “Autumn Freeman,” I tell him, and our eyes lock as his fingers wrap around mine. His touch sends tingles down my spine. I lick my lips, which have suddenly gone dry.
His eyes drop to my mouth before meeting mine again. “Right.” His voice seems deeper than before and his eyes seem to have gone darker. “Get the salad, babe.” He nods towards the fridge, dropping my hand.
My stomach flips at the word ‘babe.’ I ignore it and go to the fridge, pulling the salad out as he pulls some potatoes out of the oven, setting one on each plate before adding a golden piece of chicken as well.
“It’s a nice night. How ’bout we sit out on the deck?”
“Sure,” I agree.
He finishes making our plates, adding butter and sour cream to the potatoes then adding salad to the dishes. “Get the door for me.”
I open the sliding glass door in the kitchen that leads to the deck. He sets the plates down on the table before coming back in, opening the fridge, and grabbing a beer.
“You want one?” he asks, holding up the beer.
I shake my head; I’ve never had beer…or any kind of alcohol for that matter.
“You don’t like beer? I got a bottle of wine if you prefer that.”
“I’ve never had it before.”
“You’ve never had a beer?” His voice sounds shocked, and I shake my head no again.
I have worked around alcohol since I was twenty-one, but I have also seen the way it makes people act and have never trusted anyone enough to be that unguarded around them. I watch as he goes to the counter, puts the beer to the edge, and pops the top off.
“Try a sip,” he orders.
I reluctantly take it. Why? I don’t know. Normally, I would have stood my ground a little more firmly. I put the bottle to my lips and tip it back. The bubbles and cold hit my tongue before the taste. I pull the bottle away, scrunch up my face as the flavor hits me, and hand the bottle back to him.
“Not a beer girl,” he assesses with a chuckle.
“It’s not bad, but it doesn’t taste good either.”
“It’s kind of an acquired taste. Do you like wine?”
“I’ve never had it.” I shrug, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling like I need to hold myself together.
His eyes drop for a second before meeting mine again. “Most women like wine.”
I ignore that comment and watch him go to the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. He goes to the drawer, pulls out a bottle opener, and starts to screw it into the top of the bottle. His arm muscles flex with every turn, and soon, there’s a pop and a hiss.
“I don’t have any wine glasses,” he says, pulling a coffee cup down. He pours a small amount into the cup, handing it to me.
I take it and put the cup to my face, giving it a sniff before placing it against my lips and tilting it back. This time after the taste hits my mouth, I smile.
“There you go. You like wine,” he declares, sounding proud.
I nod and start to wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater. His hand moves towards me, his fingers curve around my jaw, and his thumb runs over my bottom lip, his eyes watching closely. He leans forward, making my stomach drop.
“Let’s eat before the food gets too cold,” he says.
I nod, taking a step back trying to get myself under control. He fills the coffee cup with wine and waits for me to go outside before following me out onto the deck. I sit down on the iron chair as he sits in a plastic one across from me. I take a second to look around. The whole house is surrounded by trees, and it was built into a kind of valley. There isn’t much of a backyard. It all seems to be forest beyond the small area of grass.
“So how long have you lived here?” I take another sip of wine.
“About five years. I had plans to fix it up, but with my schedule, I’ve only had time to redo my bathroom and bedroom.”
“It’s a really nice house.” I take a bite of the chicken and moan when the taste hits my mouth. His eyes lock on me, making me squirm and lower my head.
“I like it. I really bought it for the view.” He takes a bite from his plate.
I nod. I bought my condo for the same reason. “This is a nice view.”
“Nothing better than coming out here at night with a cold beer and watching the sun set behind the mountain.”
“I’ll have to try that one day—minus the beer.” I lift my coffee cup.
He smiles, and for the first time, I notice a dimple in his right cheek. The sight of that dimple makes my stomach flutter.
“You should smile more,” I blurt like the moron he’s turned me into.
He smiles bigger, shaking his head while muttering, “Cute,” under his breath.
The rest of dinner is nice. We laugh and joke, and he tells me about his job and the people he works with. He never asks me about my work again, nor does he give me an in to talk about it.
By the time we are done eating, a chill has filled the air. Kenton goes back inside and gets me a sweater and the bottle of wine, and then he comes back out with a cigar. I drink wine while he lights his cigar, which smells sweet and has me leaning closer to him.
When he’s done smoking, I’m completely drunk for the first time in my life, and I’m laughing at everything he says.
“Come on, babe. Time to get you to bed.” He pulls me up from the chair, smiling, and I lift my fingers to trace his upturned lips.
“You’re really beautiful,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“You shouldn’t call guys beautiful, baby.”
I smile before frowning. “My son was beautiful.” I am too drunk to notice that his body has gone solid against mine. “Holding him was the only time I’ve ever been happy…until tonight. I was happy tonight.” I sigh, laying my head on his chest. I think I hear him mutter a curse, but my drunken state has me unsure.
“Up you go,” he says softly, putting his arm behind my knees and lifting me up.
I bury my face in the crook of his neck, enjoying his smell. I feel him laying me down, and then my shoes are being pulled off.
“Night, beautiful girl.”
“Don’t call me beautiful,” I mumble, cuddling deeper into my covers.
“Night, Autumn.”
I feel lips on my forehead and sigh, liking the way his lips feel against my skin.
I wake up to the sun shining brightly through my window. I squeeze my eyes closed and put my hand to my head, which is throbbing. I can’t remember much about last night—just drinking wine and laughing a lot. Apparently, I’m not a drinker.
I keep my eyes closed as I get out of bed and stumble across the hall to the bathroom. I turn on the water and jump into the shower, letting the cool water run over me. By the time I’m done, my headache has lessened significantly. I get out and wrap a towel around myself, tucking it under my arms. I open the medicine cabinet and take a couple of pain pills before making it across the hall to get dressed.
When I’m finally downstairs, I feel almost one hundred percent. I pour myself a cup of coffee before heading to Kenton’s office. I need to get on the computer and print off the application for the hospital. Even though I got the job already, they still require me to fill it out.
My step falters slightly as I make my way down the hall. I can hear the sound of Kenton’s voice. I don’t mean to spy, but when I hear him talking about me, I can’t help but listen.
“I would never take a stripper home to meet my mom, so your point is moot.”
My throat starts to close as I walk closer. I stop in the doorway, taking Kenton in while his face is turned to look out the window. The phone’s against his ear and his knuckles are turning white from the grip he has on it.
“F*ck off. She’s a stripper,” he growls into the phone.
A whimper I can’t control climbs up my throat before I can stop it. His head turns my way, our eyes lock, and his get wide.
“Babe,” he says then pulls the phone from his ear. “Not you, f*cker. I gotta go.” He hangs up and looks at me. I want to run so badly, but my feet feel like they are glued to the floor. “Babe,” he repeats, looking at me with his eyes wide.
“I’m a lot more than a stripper.” I raise my hand before flopping it down at my side when it looks like he’s going to say something. “I’m a person with feelings. I have my own hopes and dreams. I don’t know how you can judge someone so easily without knowing what they’ve been through.”
His eyes go soft again, but this time, I don’t let that stop me. “Honestly, it makes me sad that you’re so close-minded, and I’m glad I now see who you really are.” Tears clog my throat, forcing me to pause. His eyes have changed again, but I don’t know what the look means. “Unlike you, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. The difference is you proved me right more than once,” I say softly, leaving him standing.
I go upstairs and change into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before grabbing my bag. Then I leave. I get into the car and pound the steering wheel a couple of times when I realize I forgot to find out how much the car had cost him. I do not want to feel like he has something over me. I put the keys in the ignition, promising myself that I will look up the Kelley Blue Book value.
I do a U-turn in front of the house and just drive. I have no idea where I’m going, but there is no way I am going to sit around his house all day. I pull out my phone, thankful that I have my headphones already hooked in so I can make a call. I press Link’s name as soon as I have his number pulled up on my phone.
“Hey, Angel.” My stripper name makes me feel even colder for some reason when he answers.
“Hey. How are things?” I ask him.
“Good. Sid’s worried about you. He wants you to call him, but like I told you before, I don’t think it’s wise to make any phone calls right now.”
I need to call Sid, but I feel awkward phoning him for some reason. “Can I come home?” I pull off the road when I reach a small gas station. I put my car in park, leaning my head back, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I just want my life back,” I fib.
“Autumn, you know you can’t. Not yet.”
“Soon?” I ask on a whisper.
“Angel, I wish I could tell you the cops caught the guy or that they have a lead, but right now, they’ve got nothing. You’re safe there.”
That’s a joke; I’m in more danger here than I was back home. Why am I so upset about this?
“Did you hear me?” Link asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Sorry?”
“I asked how you and Kenton are getting along.”
“Oh, fine… You know, he goes his way and I go mine,” I answer casually.
“What are you leaving out?”
“Guess what? I got a job in Nashville at a hospital,” I say, changing the subject. I do not want to talk to Link about Kenton. They were friends long before I was in the picture.
“That’s good news, Autumn, but…” He clears his throat, and I can’t tell that he’s trying not to burst my bubble. “I know you’re a long way from here, but that doesn’t mean you’re one hundred percent safe.”
“Only you know where I am, right? So I should be okay.”
“Just be careful…and keep Kenton up-to-date about what’s going on,” he tells me.
“Will do,” I say, knowing that I won’t be doing anything like that at all.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay. Talk to you later,” I say softly, hanging up the phone. “May as well go get breakfast,” I mutter to myself, putting my car back in drive. I reach a small town after fifteen minutes, pull into the first restaurant I see, get out of my car, and head inside.
The place is small, with a total of five booths and a long counter that stretches the length of the diner, which has short barstools lining the front of it. I walk to a small booth in the back, pushing my bag across the seat before sitting down. The smell of bacon and eggs has my mouth watering.
“What can I getcha, sugar?” asks a pretty, older woman with dark-brown hair that’s in a bun at the top of her head as she pulls a pen from behind her ear.
“Coffee, pancakes, bacon, and eggs.”
Her head lifts, looking at me. “A woman who’s not afraid to eat,” she smiles. “Be back with your coffee.”
As soon as she leaves, I take out my cell phone and pull up my Kindle app. Any time I need a break from reality, I read. There is nothing better than going on an adventure or imagining two people falling in love.
“What’s your name, sugar?” the woman asks, making me jump in my chair.
“Autumn. Thank you,” I say when she sets the cup down in front of me.
“I’m Viv. You got man problems?” she asks, sitting down across from me like it’s completely normal to sit with someone you don’t know and ask them such a personal question.
“Um…”
“Never mind. I see it in your eyes that you do.”
“I—” I start to tell her that I don’t when she cuts me off again.
“My mamma was able to see things, you know?”
“Sure,” I agree, because who am I to judge? For all I know, her mom could have a gift.
“Well, I can see things too,” she says. I watch her, wondering where she’s going with this. “The guy you like, well… He’s kinda an ass, like my old man used to be,” she tells me, leaning forward like it’s a secret between us.
“Um…”
“Well, you see, he doesn’t know what to do with what he’s feeling, so he’s an ass.” She shakes her head. “You hear what I’m sayin’?”
I have no idea what she’s saying, but she’s dead-on that Kenton is an ass, so I nod my head in agreement.
“Make him grovel. Whatever you do, you make him pay for being an a*shole.”
“Got it.” I smile.
“Now, when you do forgive him”—she shocks me by grabbing my hand—“what you’re feeling right now will be worth it in the end.”
“Uh, okay,” I tell her, patting her hand.
“All right, now you just sit back and I’m going to feed you the best pancakes you’ve ever eaten in your life. Food makes everything okay.” She stands, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened.
Viv comes back a few minutes later with a plate overflowing with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. She sets the plate in front of me before taking a seat across from me again.
“So I take it you’re new around these parts?”
“I just moved here,” I tell her, my mouth watering from the smell coming from the plate.
“Did you move here to be with the ass?”
I can’t help but smile at her name for Kenton. “Um…no, and we’re not together. I mean, we have never been together.”
“Whatever—tomato, tomatoes.” She waves her hand at me, and I can’t help but smile at the way she messed up the saying. “You got family ’round here?” she asks, sitting forward in the booth like my answer is really important.
“No.” I shake my head, taking a bite of bacon.
“Well, you need to come over and have dinner sometime. My ass makes a mean brisket.” She smiles, watching me take another bite. “Good, right?” she prompts.
“Very.” I nod, covering my mouth.
“You should come over next Sunday. We close the diner early that day and have a big Sunday meal with all the fixings. My daughter and my niece are a little younger than you, but I would guess my nephew is about your age, though he doesn’t always show up. I’m sure the girls would like to show you around. One sure way to get your man to mind is to find another man to show him you can have someone else if you want to,” she rambles, and I can feel my eyes growing in size, so I cut her off.
“That’s very nice, but—”
“No buts. Dinner’s at three. We eat early. I’ll give you my address. I expect to see you there,” she says, standing up, and before I can come up with a good reason not to have Sunday dinner with her, her ‘ass,’ and their families, she disappears behind the counter and starts taking care of other customers.
I sit there for another hour, eating and reading on my phone. When Viv comes back, she gives me her address, cell phone number, and a very sweet hug. I leave the diner, get in my car, and head back to Kenton’s. This time when I get there, his car is gone, and I breathe out a sigh of relief that I don’t have to face him for a while.
*
I wake up to the sound of pounding and the doorbell going off. I roll and look at the clock on my bedside table, seeing that it’s after three in the morning. “What the hell?” I mumble sitting up. My brain is still asleep as I stumble through my bedroom door and down the stairs. When I reach the front door, I look out the peephole and see a beautiful woman with dark hair and sun-kissed skin standing outside.
“I know you’re in there! Open up!” she yells.
I turn off the alarm and open the door, leaving the night latch in place as I peek out the crack. “Can I help you?”
“Can you help me?” She waves her arms around. “Can you help me? Yes, bitch, you can help me by telling me what you’re doing in my man’s house,” she says, pushing on the door, the lock keeping her out.
“Your man?” I repeat, putting my weight against the door.
“Yes, my man.” She shoves the door a little harder and I’m surprised when I hear the sound of wood cracking.
“Look, if you’re Kenton’s girlfriend, then you need to call him. He’s not home,” I tell her, not liking the way my chest feels as the word ‘girlfriend’ leaves my mouth.
“I know he’s not home,” she says, pressing on the door again.
“You should call him or come see him tomorrow when he is here,” I suggest, trying to be reasonable.
“Let me inside.” She takes her shoulder and slams it into the door.
She is really crazy. What the hell?
She stumbles back and then runs at the door again like some kind of football player. This time, the door crashes open. I fall on my ass and she flies into the house, falling onto the floor.
“Are you f*cking insane?!” I ask her, standing and feeling a bruise forming on my hip. I look at the lock on the door, seeing it swinging on the doorjamb.
“You wouldn’t let me in.” She rolls over, getting on her knees before standing up.
“That’s because Kenton’s not here, you psycho. Now get out before I call the cops.” I walk to the door, opening it wider, signaling for her to leave.
“No, I’m going to wait for Kenton.”
“You’re on crack if you think I’m letting you stay here to wait for him. Get out!” I point out the door just as lights beam through the house.
I look outside and watch Kenton pull up and park. He sees me standing in the door, and that’s when I realize that all I have on is a T-shirt and panties—and it’s not even a long shirt. His eyes slide from me to the woman in the house and then narrow.
“Cassie, what the f*ck?” he growls at her, walking through the door.
“We need to talk,” she cries, taking a step towards him, only to stop when his eyes narrow further.
“You opened the door to her?” he asks, looking at me.
I shake my head no, taking a step back from the look on his face.
His head swings in her direction. “You know what time it is?” he asks.
“Yes. I got home to find all my stuff outside on my front porch.”
“You came to my house and forced your way inside when I wasn’t home?”
“All my stuff is ruined,” she whines on a huff.
“You okay, baby?” he asks as he turns his head my way, his eyes locking on mine.
Heat boils under my skin at the endearment. I want to claw his eyes out.
“‘Baby’? Really? You call her ‘baby’? You never called me that!” Cassie screeches, looking at me.
“I wouldn’t get too upset, honey,” I tell her softly. “I’m just a stripper and don’t mean shit to Kenton.” My eyes go from her to him, and seeing his jaw ticking makes me feel better. “Now,” I say happily, “if you two don’t mind carrying on this love spat without me, I’m going to bed.”
I turn and head up the stairs, smiling when I hear Cassie yell, “Stripper?! A f*cking stripper is living with you?”
I close my bedroom door and crawl into bed. I listen to the rumble of Kenton’s voice for a few minutes, and then I hear the door close and the alarm being set. I hold my breath as I listen to feet pound up the stairs. I don’t know how I know, but I can feel him standing outside my bedroom door. The hall is silent for a few moments, and then he says my name. I ignore it, pulling the covers over my head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I hear a thump then the sound of feet moving away from the door, and I squeeze my eyes closed, blocking him out. No way am I buying into that again. I run my finger over the tattoo behind my ear, taking comfort in it.
It’s the only physical thing I have that connects me to my son. I wasn’t allowed pictures or any other reminders from the nine months I carried him or the few hours I spent with him after his birth. Not that I would need them—he was embedded in me, a piece of my soul that was taken from me before I was strong enough to fight for myself or him.
When I was sixteen, I met a guy. His sister used to compete in pageants against me, and he would show up at the competitions and sit in the crowd, looking annoyed about having to be there. He would growl at his mother, telling her how wrong it was what she was doing to his sister. He fascinated me. I wanted someone like him to fight for me or teach me how to fight for myself.
Not long after the first time I saw him, he found me in one of my favorite hiding spots. At first, he was rude and distant, only recognizing me as another snotty pageant girl, but then I told him that I hated it. I explained that I didn’t have a choice and what would happen if I didn’t perform.
After that, we met often. I trusted him. He told me what I wanted to hear—we could be together, he had an apartment, and he would save me from the life I was living. For a girl who was broken and didn’t know any better, he was perfect. It didn’t take long for me to fall in love with him and give him the piece of myself that was the only real thing I had to give another person. I thought he loved me too; I thought he was willing to fight for me. He used my weakness to get what he wanted.
In the end, I learned a hard lesson. Not only did he not care about me, but when I ended up pregnant, he turned his back on me, allowing my mother to send me to a home for young girls to give birth to my son before being forced to give him away.
I pull my pillow over my face and cry into the soft material as images of my son flash through my head. I think I memorized everything about him during those few short hours. He was so tiny, weighing only six pounds. His small head was covered in dark hair and his eyes were bluish grey. I remember praying that I would be able to see them one day to know what color they turned out to be.
He had a birthmark on his right thigh. I looked at the small area of discolored skin for a long time while I held him. The shape was unique, just like him. Not long after moving to Vegas, I was walking down the street and looked into a tattoo shop window. I hadn’t wanted a tattoo until one of the posters on the wall caught my eye and I saw my son’s birthmark. I went inside to find out what it was.
The old guy behind the counter got on his computer and looked it up for me. He told me that the symbol was an Ankh, the origin was Egyptian, and it represented eternal life or the giving of life. I couldn’t believe that his birthmark had that kind of meaning behind it.
I knew that my son was the one who’d actually given me life; he’d made me fight harder to get out of my mother’s grasp. I had hated her before he’d come along, but after she forced me to give him away, I knew the kind of evil she really was and fought until I was finally free.
I must have fallen asleep again, but when I wake up, I feel like I have only been asleep for an hour. The sound of the doorbell going off again registers, and I wait to see if I hear Kenton answer it. The house sounds quiet, and I hope the person at the door leaves. When the bell rings again, I let out a frustrated huff.
“Seriously?!” I yell as the pounding starts.
I climb out of bed, stumble out of my room, run down the stairs, and swing the door open without thinking. The alarm starts going off and I run to the keypad, typing in the code quickly before turning and going back to the door.
“Can I help you?” I ask a guy who looks no older than twenty-one. He’s tall and lean with tousled, blond hair. He looks like he just came from the beach.
“Holy shit.” He looks me over from head to toe, and I groan when I realize I once again forgot to put on pants. “Shit. Please tell me the carpet matches the drapes,” he mumbles.
I’m not sure if it’s the lack of sleep or the promise I made myself the last time those words were said, but I walk towards him slowly, swaying my hips, my hands going up to his shoulders. His eyes go wide when I touch him, and then I bring my knee up, connecting with his nuts.
He groans, his knees hitting the floor with a loud thud. “What was that for?” he asks me in a breathy, high-pitched voice, holding his junk.
“That was for asking an inappropriate question. Weren’t you raised better than that?”
“What the f*ck is going on?”
I turn at the sound of Kenton’s words. He’s standing on the stairs, wearing nothing but a towel. His eyes come to me then lower down my body. I make a mental note that, from now on, I will wear pants at all times. When his eyes stop on my hip, where I have a nice-size bruise from last night’s run-in with the lunatic, they narrow.
“How did you get that?” He looks at the guy on the floor then back at me. His jaw goes hard, and I put my hands up in front of me.
“That’s from your girlfriend last night.”
“He doesn’t have a girlfriend,” the guy I kneed says, whimpering as he stands.
“Why’d you knee Justin in the nuts?” he asks, walking the rest of the way down the stairs.
I try to take my eyes off him, but they feel glued. His wet hair is dripping onto his body. His abdominal muscles flex with each step. The deep V of his hips disappears beneath the small towel that is also showing off his well-endowed package. He walks past me and goes to the couch in the next room, coming back with a blanket in his hand. I don’t even have a chance to think as he wraps the blanket around my waist. I slap his hands away from me, taking a step back to glare at him.
“Oh shit. I’m in love,” the guy named Justin declares, smiling at me.
“Why are you here, Justin? I told you I would be at the office late,” Kenton growls, taking a step in my direction. I take another step away from him.
“I know, but I needed to talk to you and it couldn’t wait.”
“You should have called,” he scolds.
“I did. You didn’t answer.”
“F*ck me.” Kenton looks at me like he wants to say something, but I shake my head no and take another step towards the stairs.
“You’re leaving already?” Justin asks, looking at me with a big, cheesy smile on his face. “We’re basically past second base. You touched my junk. It’s only fair I get to touch yours.”
I can’t help but smile at the guy. I see it now. He’s not pervy, just strange and kinda cute in a brotherly kind of way. “Sorry. No, I need my beauty sleep, and I work tonight.” I shrug, smirking.
“You don’t need sleep, my love. You’re alread—”
Kenton smacks him in the back of his head before he can finish, and I can’t help but smile at him again.
“Nice to meet you, Justin,” I tell him, really meaning it.
“You too, Copper.” He grins back.
“You know you’re still not safe, Autumn. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be working,” Kenton says.
I look at him, my eyes narrow, and I growl. “I’m safe and going to work, ass, so get over it.”
His jaw starts to tick a little faster and his hands ball into fists. “Tell me the name of the place so I can check on you.”
“I don’t need you to check on me.”
“Tell me or I’ll have Justin do a run on you and I’ll know everything about you down to your last f*cking period,” he growls, taking a step towards me.
“Ass!” I yell, glaring at him.
“Tell me,” he roars, leaning forward, and I can feel the anger rolling off him.
“Vanderbilt,” I say, but I pronounce it ‘Vander’s Belt,’ hoping he doesn’t catch on that it’s the hospital. I don’t know why I don’t what him to know what I’m really doing. I almost feel like he hasn’t earned the right to know.
“We need to talk,” he says, his tone softer, but the growl is still there.
“We don’t,” I assure him, pulling off the blanket and tossing it at him as I walk up the stairs. I hear Justin laugh and Kenton growl something about spankings under his breath before I close the door to my bedroom, smiling.