Be Mine (Jackson Boys 2)

“What’s done is done,” Mrs. Peters says with a sigh. Her nasally voice is easy to hear as I creep down the hall toward the back door. “The cow is out. The barn door is open. Mrs. Valdez can’t handle that baby and her mom all by herself. Besides, Lainey’s twenty now. She needs to learn to be independent. And, maybe in Dallas, she can find a man who will take both of them on. Lainey’s a pretty girl.”

“Jesus, Mom, no man is that desperate.”

“Chip…” she chastises.

There’s a beat of silence and my feet get stuck to the ground, waiting for Chip’s reply. If he’s capable of loving anyone, it’s his mother. My stomach swirls in anxiety. It’s not that I don’t want to move to Dallas. That actually sounds awesome. There is more opportunity there. More daycare options. More jobs. Better opportunities for Cass. But I don’t want anything to do with Chip. Just being in the same house as him is making my skin crawl.

“Fine. I’ll find her a job in Dallas, but that’s all I’m going to do. I’m not her fucking guardian. If she fucks up the job I find her, she’s on her own.”

A door slams, startling me into gear. I scurry down the stairs, but the footsteps behind me grow louder. I suck in my breath and move faster, praying that the person behind me is Mrs. Peters.

But it’s not to be. When I reach the back door, a large hand comes out to slam against the frame. I jump and then curse myself for showing any response to Chip.

“I’m leaving at eleven on Friday. If you’re not here at that time, I’ll leave without you.”

I can’t find my voice. I can barely bring myself to look at him, so, with my head lowered, I nod.

Not facing him is a mistake because Chip likes to see me terrified. He reaches out, grabs my jaw and forces me to look at him. His face is twisted into a cruel mask. “You’re so fucking lucky my mom has a soft heart. If it were up to me—”

“You’d let me rot,” I interrupt. With a jerk of my head, I wrench out of his grip. “Don’t worry. Once we get to Dallas, you won’t have to see me again.”

“I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?” The smile that spreads across his face sends a spike of terror down my spine.

Three days later, I find myself in some rundown industrial park on the west side of the city. Chip’s face is red, Cassidy’s wailing in the back seat, and I’m about to be eaten alive with the anxiety of it all. It’s only a two-hour drive to Dallas, but every minute felt like an hour.

Cassidy’s teething and she fussed the whole trip. Chip yelled at her to shut the fuck up, which made Cass cry only harder. The more she cried, the louder he shouted. My headache’s bigger that this state.

“Where are we?” I ask, reaching around to unbuckle Cass from her car seat. She lurches toward the door and bangs her tiny hands against the window, wanting out desperately.

“I got a meeting. Stay here,,” Chip snaps and hops out of the car.

“What do you mean, you have a meeting? You can’t leave us in the car. It’s a hundred and two degrees.” I scramble after him, pulling Cassidy into my arms. She squirms, wanting to run around after the to Dallas, but this rundown bar and its cracked, asphalt parking lot doesn’t look safe for her.

“Mama, let go,” Cassidy whines. “Down. Down!”

“Just a minute.” I juggle her again. “Look, Chip, I appreciate your help, but—”

“Down! Down!” Cass yells.

Chip throws her a glare hot enough to turn us both to ash. “I’ve listened to your fucking brat cry for three hours. I have a meeting inside and you’re not invited.”

“It was only two hours,” I argue. “And it’s one o’clock. Cass is tired.”

“Do I look like someone who cares?” He turns on his heel and walks into the building. I turn around to get back into the truck, but I find it’s locked. My throat aches from swallowing all the things I want to yell at his stupid head. It’s July, for God’s sake, and there’s no shade here. Cass is going to get heat stroke.

“Mama, me hurt,” cries Cass as she pushes her little hands against my arm.

“Sorry.” I loosen my grip and set her on her feet. “Come on, baby, we have to go inside for a minute. Can you promise to be quiet?”

“Hungry! Hungry!” she yells.

My anxiety climbs into my throat and threatens to choke me. I dig into my purse and pull out a plastic baggie filled with apple sauce. I can’t afford the snack pack varieties. “Here, baby.” I cut off the corner and hand her the bag. “Eat it slow, okay?”