Courage (Strength Series Book 1) Read online

  He sets me gently up in the truck seat and tells me to buckle my seat belt. When he closes my door for me, I try not to pant like a dog. What is wrong with me? He’s about to get arrested, my life is a catastrophe, I’m seven months pregnant, and all I can think about is jumping his bones. Must be the pregnancy hormones, that’s all.

  He steps into the truck, much more gracefully than I did. It’s a lot easier when you’re over six feet tall. He buckles his seat belt, starts the truck, and I’m assaulted with the loudest country music I’ve ever heard. I cover my ears and squeal as he laughs and fumbles for the volume.

  “Sorry about that. I forgot,” he says with a crooked grin.

  “It’s alright,” I say, trying not to let him see me roll my eyes, but unable to stop myself from doing it.

  I direct him on the ride to Bay’s house, telling him a little bit about Bay and Mike. He doesn’t ask anything else about Travis and I don’t offer any information. I’m not ready to explain. I figure we both know he’s going to withdraw his offer of employment and I appreciate that he’s still being so kind to me. I hope I can find a way to keep Travis from getting him in too much trouble, but I’m doubtful.

  As we pull into Bay’s driveway, Mike is putting boxes of stuff outside. I’m confused until I realize it’s my stuff. All of my stuff. The second the truck stops I jump out, twisting my ankle, but too upset to care. I hobble over to the porch in disbelief.

  “Mike! What are you doing? Stop it,” I yell, as I rip a bag of clothes out of his hands.

  “Sorry, Lex. You have to go. You just can’t stay here anymore. It’s too much for us.” The look on his face is pleading, but it feels like I’m the one that’s desperate. “Travis and Jim are making our lives hell and we’ve tolerated it as long as we could, Lex. I’m sorry. I really am, but I have no choice.”

  He stops throwing my stuff out, faces me, and runs his hands through his light brown hair. “In the last hour, I’ve been fired from my job and gotten an eviction notice. However, I can have my house and my job back if I get rid of you. I don’t want to do this, and Bay would have all of us sleeping in our car if she had her way, but I can’t take care of her in a car with no job, Lex.”

  I’m finished fighting. His anguish is breaking my heart. I thought he hated me. He doesn’t hate me, he just loves Bay and he’s trapped. He doesn’t know what to do. I see it now. His hands tremble and his eyes are shiny, as if he could cry at any second. His voice is shaking. He’s little more than a kid, like me. Why did I ever have to think Travis was a good guy? I’m an idiot.

  “It’s alright, Mike. Just um… here, can I just take this backpack?” —I pick up my gray and pink backpack I used in high school and add it to the bag of clothes in my hand— “And this bag? Can you just keep the rest of it for me or are you not allowed to do that either?”

  He shakes his head no, he’s not allowed. A tear slips by and down my cheek and I ruthlessly swipe it away and lift my chin.

  “Okay then. Can you just put the rest out by the road with a free sign? They’ll see that. They’ll see that I’m gone.”

  “I’m so sorry, Alex,” he whispers. I believe him and somehow it makes it harder. How is it that I manage to hurt everyone that gets close to me?

  “It’s fine. Not your fault.” I pick up my backpack and the bag of clothes and hobble back to Chance while Mike sits everything by the road.

  “Thanks, Chance, for lunch and everything. You should go before they find you and you end up Bubba’s girlfriend.” —My lame attempt at a joke falls flat. Maybe because it’s not really a joke— “I seem to be pretty bad luck for people these days.” My laugh sounds more desperate than happy and I make a mental note not to do that again in the next little while.

  “Where are you going to go?” he asks simply.

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s still hot so I can sleep on the beach for a little while. Don’t worry about me. I’ve been homeless before, I’ll be fine. I’m an expert at finding food.” I’m being as reassuring as I can, but I’m terrified. I speak the truth, but I’ve never been homeless when I was seven months pregnant before.

  “On the beach, huh?” he asks, searching my face with those beautiful silver eyes.

  “Yeah. It’s not as bad as it maybe sounds. It’s still warm and the breeze from being close to the water feels nice when it’s this hot.” He can’t pity me. He just can’t. I should be allowed to retain some dignity, shouldn’t I? “And the sand holds all the heat for a long time, so late at night, when you start to get cold, you can dig down just a little and it’s still warm. It’s not so bad. It’s been a little while, but I remember how. I’ll be okay.” I smile and manage to hold this one.

  “Alex?” his voice drops an octave and I’m surprised that even in this dire of a situation my brain registers how sexy it is.

  “Yeah?”

  His voice is a silky, exasperated whisper playing over my ears, “You’re not sleeping on the fucking beach. You’re seven months pregnant. I know you don’t really know me, and I don’t really know you either, but you were coming to New York anyway. We’ll figure it all out on the way. Get in the damn truck.”

  “What?” I couldn’t have heard that right.

  “I said get in the truck, Alex,” he growls as he opens the truck door, picks me up again, and plops me in the seat.

  Chapter Five

  “Alex.” Chance says my name next to my ear. His breath tickles and I shiver as I open my eyes. Outside the windshield is a parking lot and a gas station with a couple of fast food restaurants in it. I turn my head and his face is so close I could kiss him if I nodded my head. The urge to do just that is something I have to actively resist when he smiles at me.

  “Good morning, sleepy,” he says.

  “It’s morning?” I sit up straight. “New York isn’t that far away. Where are we?”

  He laughs and I realize I’m starting to really like his laugh. “No, it’s six thirty. At night. We’re in Pennsylvania, at a rest stop. I need to get gas and I’m hungry. I figured you and the baby could use some food too, though you looked pretty sweet sleeping on my shoulder for the last two hours.”

  Two hours? I never sleep next to anyone. Even when things were good with Travis, it took me hours to fall asleep next to him. If it was only six thirty and I’d been asleep for two hours, it hadn’t taken long at all. I must be more exhausted than I thought.

  “Sorry about that. Must have been really boring. I didn’t snore too much did I?”

  “Nah. You snore cute. More like a purr. And your hair smells like blackberries so it wasn’t a hardship or anything.” He opens his door and gets out before I can say anything back. He walks around to my side, opens the door and reaches out to me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Let me help you out,” he grins and my stomach knots up.

  “No, I can do it. I’m not helpless.”

  He stares at me, but he doesn’t move.

  I snap at him, “Really, Chance, I’m perfectly capable of getting out of a damn truck. I’m really not as helpless as I seem. I know that today has made me appear weak, needy, and pitiful, but I’m not. I can take care of my damn self.”

  Silvery blue eyes glint with amusement, which pisses me off more, but he moves. “Okay then. Out with you. I’m hungry.”

  I slide over to the side and drop down to the pavement as gracefully as I can with Cadan in my belly, which sadly isn’t much. When my foot connects with the pavement it feels like my ankle shatters into a billion miniscule pieces and my leg collapses beneath me. Just before I hit the ground, strong arms materialize under my arms and haul me up, until I’m face to chest with Chance once again.

  “Forget you sprained your ankle earlier?” he doesn’t even try to cover his laugh.

  “Clearly. Why didn’t you remind me?”

  “Because you’re perfectly capable of getting out of my damn truck, you’re not helpless, pitiful, needy, or weak, and you can take care of your damn self?” h
is grin is the picture of innocence.

  There’s nothing I can say. He smells like woods and water, and I want to bury my face in his chest. Forget everything but the way he smells, the way he feels against me. I stand there utterly helpless, looking up at him, him looking down at me, his arms locked around me, and realize mine have somehow found their way around his neck. My breathing has gone shallow and I’d like to blame it on the stifling humidity here in the parking lot, but I know it has more to do with the heat he’s creating inside me. He’s absolutely beautiful and my hormones are telling me to do all kinds of things I simply can’t do.

  I do the only thing I can; I stick my tongue out at him and he laughs so hard he nearly knocks us over. When he gets ahold of himself, he rearranges me so that the arm on the side with the bad ankle is draped over his shoulder, and he half carries me to the building and inside. The sudden blast of air conditioning helps get my mind off the things I wish I were free to do to him.

  He helps me limp to a chair and asks what I want to eat. I tell him just an order of fries because I don’t want to spend his money and I don’t have any of my own. While he’s off getting the food, I consider where I am. I’m almost to New York. I have no idea where I’m going when I get there. Am I going to his house? To a motel? How long will it take me to pay him back? Does he realize that I have absolutely nothing? I’m going to have to tell him, I should have already, and had I been thinking clearly, I would have.

  Does he have a girlfriend or, please no, a wife at home? Someone that’s going to be really pissed off about him bringing home a nineteen-year-old pregnant girl with no money like a stray kitten? His family. Dear lord, what the hell am I doing? I’m supposed to work for these people and they’ve just become my caretakers somehow. Or their son has. And he’s going to be my boss. Or his brother is. Or he is? What am I doing?

  He returns to the table with a huge tray of food. He sits down across from me, placing a ginormous soda in front of me.

  “Coke, because that’s what you had at the diner. You like that, right?” —he looks up for confirmation. I nod yes, and he keeps unloading things— “Okay. We’ve got a turkey sub, ‘cause you had a turkey club so I thought you might like that? Also, a Philly cheese steak in case you like those, a piece of pizza because everyone likes pizza, French fries, onion rings, and some sort of chicken Chinese food. Pick whatever you like, eat what you want, if you want something else tell me, and whatever you don’t eat we’ll take with us for later.”

  He looks up at me and his expression crumbles in concern. “What’s wrong, Alex? Is it the baby? What’s the matter?” He kneels in front of me, wiping his thumb under my eye and I realize I’m crying. Again. This pregnancy thing sucks so bad sometimes.

  “I’m sorry.” I’m blubbering like a fool and I can’t even stop myself. “It’ll take me forever to pay you back for everything you’re doing. I don’t have any money. I mean like, zero, nada, zilch. I should have told you that sooner. Your family’s going to hate me. They’re going to think I’m using you or something, and who wouldn’t?”

  He’s just staring at me, and it’s fine because I can’t stop anyway. “Your brother’s going to use his veto power, for the first time ever — that’s how awesome I am— and I’m going to be homeless in New York.”

  I ruthlessly scrub the tears from my eyes, “I know it’s the same thing, and I was already homeless in Maryland, but it’s not. Not really, because it’s colder and I’ll have to keep the baby warm and I don’t want your family to think I’m taking advantage of your kindness. I’m not. I wouldn’t do that. I’ll keep track of everything and I’ll pay you back, it’s just going to take a really long time, I think, because I have to get stuff for the baby too and” —my voice breaks on a sob and he pulls me in against his chest.

  One hand is on the back of my head and his other hand is rubbing my back, his arm wrapped around me. I can hear his heartbeat and once again, I’m enveloped in the smells of woods and water. He smells like everything fresh, real, and wonderful.

  I can’t stop crying and it’s mortifying. I’m not this person. I actually hate people that act the way I’m acting now. I know we’re in a rest area, there are people everywhere and they’re probably staring, but he just keeps rubbing my back. His heartbeat is steady and calming as he whispers in my ear, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Shhh, it’s alright now. Don’t cry, Alex, you’re killing me here.”

  When I finally manage to pull myself together and sit back, his shirt carries a huge wet spot from my tears. He follows my horrified look and laughs again. He laughs.

  “Well. This isn’t what I expected when I woke up this morning either, Alex, but it’s not a bad thing. I don’t think you’re taking advantage of me. You haven’t asked for a single thing. I’ve given it all freely. I assumed you didn’t have any money when you didn’t want to eat at the diner and were going to live on the beach. And let’s not forget, I’m well aware you don’t have a job. Last I checked, you need one of those to make money, Alex.” He smiles, squeezes my hand, then moves back to his seat across from me.

  “You don’t have to pay anything back. When I feel you need to pay something back, I’ll let you know, okay? Moreover, my family isn’t like that at all and they trust my judgment. They’re not going to look at you like that anyway, and they never would. I don’t want you to worry about any of that right now, though. Just try to calm down, the best you can, and eat. You and the baby need food, honey. Eat. Please?”

  How could I say no with that silky voice sliding over me? “I feel like a thief. A mooch.” I say as I reach for the turkey sub. I have a thing about turkey. And I’m starving. “I hate this.”

  “I know you do. Or at least I can see that you do. I don’t know because I’ve never been in a situation like yours before. The thing is, Alex, everyone needs a little help sometimes. If I knowingly left a pregnant woman homeless in Maryland, sleeping on a beach with an abusive asshole coming after her, my parents would skin me alive. Bringing you home is how I have to play it. It’s the right thing to do and it’s my only option.”

  “I don’t know if I feel better or more pathetic, but I at least believe that your parents won’t kill you for bringing me back to New York,” I reply.

  He takes the pizza, looks at me, and it feels like he’s looking into me, “So you’ll let me know when you’re ready to talk about the abusive asshole, won’t you? I’d like to know what happened, who he is, besides the police chief’s son, so if I need to get a protection order for you or the baby I can handle that early on. Also, because I’m just really curious how someone like that managed to beat down a girl as feisty and beautiful as you. Your confidence should have been way too high for him to touch you.”

  I nearly choke on my bite of sub. I avoid it, somehow, then swallow. Carefully. “Um, well. What is it you want to know? Exactly?”

  “For starters, why did he grab you like he thinks he owns you? Just because of the baby, or is there more?”

  I can see that he genuinely wants to know, so I consider my answer. The easy answer isn’t always the right one. “He doesn’t care about Cadan. He only cares about losing.”

  “Who’s Cadan?”

  I smile, one of the first real smiles I think I’ve managed today. I forgot that only me and Bay know his name. “This one right here,” I say as I rub my belly. “This is Cadan Jonathan Bowers. I sometimes assume people can read my mind.”

  He smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “That’s a great name, Alex. A really great name.” His smile falters as confusion clouds his eyes. “But why doesn’t he care about him? Cadan’s his baby, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, Cadan is his. He doesn’t care because Travis is all about Travis. He only cares about what people can do for him. In the absence of that, he cares about people not doing things that make him look bad. If you can avoid those two things, you’re good to go. If you can’t, you’re screwed. Cadan can’t make him look bad because, at least for the next several years, Ca
dan can’t dispute whether or not he’s a good father. He also can’t do anything for him, except cost him money, but since that part falls on me because I’m the one that has to file, I’m the one that will cost him money and I’m the one that made him look bad by leaving. I’m also the one that made him look bad by being out, in public, with another guy.” I lean back and sigh.

  “Of course, it doesn’t matter at all that he had his ex-girlfriend, Jen, with him, who he’s cheated on me with six times. I don’t matter, except in ways that I affect his image, and he can do what he wants. It’s me that made him look bad. Know what I mean?”

  Taking his last bite of pizza, he contemplates what I’ve said for a while. He takes a drink, wipes his beautiful mouth with his napkin, then reaches over to take my hand. His hand is so much larger and darker than mine, it swallows mine up.

  “But none of that’s true. I know it’s true for him and it’s the reality of the situation because of that, but you know it’s not the real truth, don’t you? That it’s not the way it really is? That it’s not the way it ever should be?” —I nod in answer— “Did he hit you, Alex?”

  I can’t say it out loud. I’ve never been able to. I feel dirty, stupid, and weak. “I have to use the bathroom.” I blurt as I jump up, then hobble away.

  I use the bathroom and wash my hands, then just lean against the wall. I don’t know how to answer Chance, and I think he deserves an answer. He’s taking me with him, he’s essentially made me his problem, and he just met me this afternoon. It’s terrifying when I think about it. Everyone is taught not to talk to strangers and right now, I feel like that little girl that jumps in the panel van outside her house because the man driving has lollipops.

  I’ve always thought I was a pretty good judge of character, I had to be since I’ve been on my own for four years now, but Travis changed all that. I thought I loved him, and maybe more importantly, I thought he loved me. I never imagined he would hurt me. I certainly never imagined he would hurt me as many times as he did. Now I’m left with the question of whether he was always a bad person, which would make me a terrible judge of character since I never suspected a thing, or if the drugs and alcohol changed him. Or maybe I did. Maybe I’m toxic. Or a virus. The last option, though it leaves a bitter taste in that back of my throat, seems the most likely.