Be Mine (Jackson Boys 2)
Before I can protest, he leaves. I sag against the door. Pulse points in my body that were long dead are thrumming. If he had asked…if he had waited one more minute…if he hadn’t left…I—
There’s a knock on the door. Nick. I spin around and whip open the door. “You’re back—” my words shrivel on my tongue as I stare in horror at the man on welcome mat.
“Thought it was ol’ Nick for a second round, eh?” Chip says nastily. “Although it must’ve been a quick bang given how little time he spent here. He’s got a fast trigger, so I’m not surprised it only took him a few seconds to nut.”
“Get out.” I try to push the door closed, but Chip’s too big and too strong.
He shoves me aside and slams the door behind him. I cast a quick look toward Cass’s room. God, please don’t let her wake up.
“What do you want?”
“What do I want?” He practically screams. “I want my damn receivers to catch the ball. I want the O-line to actually block for once in their pathetic lives and I want you—” He jabs his finger against my chest. “I want you to get the fuck out of this town.”
He backs away and I see a piece of paper fall from his hands. It lands on the floor between us.
“Pick it up,” he orders.
I’m too afraid to disobey. Crouching down, I pick up the coated paper and unfold it. It looks like a check, but it must be fake because there are five zeros behind the number one. “You’re giving me a piece of paper?”
“God, you’re a dumb fucking bitch. It’s a check. It’s a check for $100,000. Take the money and leave.”
“Like go home?” I don’t understand what he’s saying.
“No. Like go somewhere else. Austin, San Antonio. Hell, Arizona for all I care. Just get the hell out of town.”
“Why?” I’m genuinely confused.
“I don’t want you around. I don’t like seeing your fat face at Stacks. I don’t like that your nasty pussy is contaminating my back up. I don’t like you and your whiny-ass kid breathing the same air I do.”
I have no doubt that other women find Chip quite attractive. He has sunny California good looks—blond hair, blue eyes. His family is ordinary—middle-class and rather unexciting. His father was a factory worker who quit his job after Chip signed his first contract. Gossip around town varied as to the reasons why. Some said his father had been fired. Others said it was because of an injury. His mother is a schoolteacher and he has two older sisters, both of whom are lovely. Everyone in town is proud that Chip is an NFL quarterback, but they don’t see him like this—utterly cruel and without grace.
“I can’t go home. My mom is—
“Does it look like I give a fuck about your family problems? I want you gone.” He reaches over and picks up a stack of diapers Nick had folded. “I want you out of this city. Out!” He throws open the door and tosses the diapers out.
“No!” I cry and reach for him.
He backhands me. Behind me a wail goes up. With a hand pressed to my cheek, I whirl around to see Cassidy standing in the doorway, pressing her bear to her chest and crying. No. God, no. She can’t see this.
“Go back to your room, baby,” I tell her, keeping the tears of pain and shame at bay. “Go back to your room.”
Chip stalks toward me and throws something at my face. The sharp edge of a photo hits me. I know what they are without even looking at them. I clasp them between my fingers, crumpling them so that the images can’t be seen by my precious girl.
“If you stay, I’ll post these on the internet. What will your new friends say then?”
“Why are you doing this?” I choke out.
“Because I’m sick and tired of seeing your fucking face at Stacks. That’s my bar. Now get the hell away from me and take that fucking brat with you.”
He walks out, slamming the door behind him. Cass collapses on the ground, crying her eyes out. I fling the pictures aside and pick up the check. It’s a cashier’s check. I think of Nick and his tenderness and of Charlotte and her sweetness. I hear the cries of my daughter. She’s my life. My whole life. Nick and Charlotte are selfish indulgences and I can’t afford those.
I crawl over to my baby. She clasps her arms around my neck and weeps against my chest.
“Baby. It’s all right. We’re going to be all right. Mommy’s going to take care of everything. We don’t need anyone but the two of us.”
Chapter Seven
Lainey
Two Years Later
“There’s a crier at table 10,” announces Ashley. My co-worker slides her tray onto the bar top. “I’ve tried to tell her we’re closing for the last twenty minutes, but every time I go over there, she starts blubbering. Can you look at it? My babysitter has been texting me for the last twenty minutes.”