Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos 5)

My father steps out with a grin. I peer up at the man who was always larger than life with his rich baritone, slender oval-shaped face with a wide forehead, and a strong jaw that made him seem stern to those who didn’t know him. An Army man, he’d done eight years of services and returned home to work at the post office until he retired almost six years ago.

“Hi, Daddy.” I hug him tight.

“Hi, Sweetpea. It’s good to have you home.”

He smells like pipe tobacco and sandalwood it’s a comforting combination I’ve grown used to over the years. “I bought you something from the cigar shop you like so much in Old town.”

His dark brown eyes light up, and his lips curve upward. “You know you’re my favorite child, don’t you?”

“I’m your only child,” I say as we laugh at the old joke.

“I’ll grab our overnight bags and meet you inside, okay?” I say to Whitney who nods. I retrace our steps and remove the carry ons from the back seat. I shut the door and pause to pull out the phone.

Safe and sound in TN ~ B

Call me later? ~ J

Yeap, before bed. ~ B

Don’t tempt me. I’ll have you coming over the phone and biting your lip, so your parents don’t hear you ~ B

The ridiculously naughty imagery makes me wet. Jagger’s good at doing that. I don’t know why I bother wearing panties with him. I can picture him now with that wicked smile that makes me forget all reason and pain. He’s the drug of choice to numb me out when the world gets to be too much. I used to question his place in my life, and if it was wise to let him remain. But now, I couldn’t turn back if I wanted to. In a world that’s turned upside down and left me on the outside, we fit. It’s everything I need.

Content in a way I couldn’t fathom ever being again nearly a year ago. At this moment, I’m okay. I take the suitcases inside, put them in our room, and wash up in the sink. I know when I enter the kitchen Mama and Daddy will be stuffing Whit full of food. My mouth waters and I put a little pep in my step to get their faster. The scent of Chicken and Dumplings makes my stomach growl as I enter the dining room.

“You made my favorite,” I say as I walk inside and grab a plate from the kitchen island.

“And peach cobbler for dessert,” Mama says.

“You’re going to have to roll me to the bedroom, but I love you anyway, Mama.” I kiss her cheek as I dish up a bowl from the Dutch oven on the stove.

“Nothing wrong with a woman has meat on her bones. Girls are walking around here looking like skeletons these days,” Dad grumps.

I clear my throat to hide my snicker. A group of mean girls had given me hell in junior high before I outgrew my baby fat, and Daddy had never forgotten it.

“Everyone’s built differently, and that’s okay,” I say, patting his hand as I move to sit beside him with a bowl loaded to the brim.

“Humph.”

I tuck in closing my eyes as the taste brings me back to my youth. “Mama, you know you put your foot in

this,” I say as she laughs.

“Thank you, baby. I imagine you don’t eat things like this often.”

“Not during the summer season. It’s too dang hot.”

“She makes plenty of your other recipes, though, Nana.”

“Good to hear you’re keeping up the traditions.”

“She learned how to cook just the way I did,” I say silently promising her I hadn’t gotten that caught up in the Birling hype.

We play catch up between bites, and I listen as Mama fills me in on all the local gossip, I mean news.

“Are you coming back this way after you get Whitney settled?” Mom asks once Whit excuses herself to get ready for bed.

“No, I have to be getting back. I. I’m getting back into the workforce.”