Counter To My Intelligence (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 7) (3 page)

I’d always be registered as a criminal.

Finding a job would be hard.

Really hard.

I already knew my nursing career was gone.

You couldn’t be an ex-con and be a nurse. You had to have a clean record.

Fuck, but I’d had an extensive background check to even get into the program in the first place.

Now, the entire year and a half I’d spent on my bachelors of nursing degree was useless.

As were many medical field jobs that might be willing to take my college credits.

“Sign here,” the guard behind the glass window ordered, shoving a paper in my direction and a bag of my belongings.

There wasn’t much there.

An old cell phone that was so outdated that I’d never be able to turn it on again, let alone use it.

A key to my old dorm… something else I didn’t need anymore.

A wallet with my driver’s license in it.

My expired driver’s license.

And a watch.

That was it.

The extent of the belongings I had arrived here with.

“Here’s all the Certificates of your Release for timed served. Here’s your post bail money, as well as a bus ticket,” the guard muttered.

I smiled. “I won’t need the bus ticket, I have someone meeting me.”

I hadn’t told my mom the exact day I was getting out.

I wanted to get changed out of these horrid clothes first.

They were mine, but they fit my twenty-two year old self. Not my twenty-nine year old self. They were too tight, and I was fairly sure that if I bent over, the button on the front of my pants would burst off and shatter the glass in front of me.

He shrugged and threw the ticket down onto the table beside him.

“Thanks,” I muttered, putting the watch on.

It felt weird.

Like really weird.

I hadn’t worn jewelry in well over eight years.

Belly flipping summersaults, I walked out the door of the long hallway and stepped into the sunshine.

To find nobody there.

It was just that, the end of the road.

I looked to my left, noting the huge red fence that marked my captivity for the last eight years.

Then to my front to see the very empty parking lot.

Then to my right, seeing more of that same red brick.

I didn’t dare go back in and ask for that bus ticket.

It’d be like admitting defeat. And I wasn’t a fucking quitter.

Far from it, actually.

With no other recourse, I started to walk.

The duffel bag I had in my arms was heavier than hell.

It held fifteen books, two pairs of clothes and photos.

My whole entire life was packed into that one single bag.

As I got to the main road, I turned left, noting the buildings off in the distance.

That would be the way to go then. The other way only had trees.

About a mile and a half into my walk, I lost my books, dumping them into the first trashcan I came to right at the edge of town.

Even though it killed me to do it, I walked away and didn’t look back.

The first restaurant that I came to was a Whataburger, and I immediately turned into the parking lot and walked inside and straight up to the counter.

“Can I help you?” The woman behind the register asked.

I nodded, and bit my lip as I looked over the menu boards above her head.

“Umm, I want a number one with cheese and ketchup only, please. Large fries and a Coke,” I said softly.

The woman blinked, looking me up and down, and I just knew she was thinking ‘how are you going to fit all of that into your tiny body?’

Luckily, she didn’t say it aloud. Instead, she handed me a number on a little orange triangle.

“Have a seat, we’ll bring it out to you shortly,” she said, smiling.

I wondered if she knew I was coming directly from the prison?

Did the duffle bag give me away?

It was fairly simple. Just a black canvas bag with a black zipper.

I could be anyone, I decided.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

She nodded and handed me a cup that was the size of my head.

I blinked, taking the cup.

Holy shit! The cup was freakin’
massive
.

Shrugging my shoulders, I walked over to the drink fountain and stared at it.

“It’s new,” a little girl, probably about twelve, said.

She was wearing pink capri pants and a pink flowered shirt.

I watched her as she filled her cup up with ice, then started punching buttons on the screen.

“You can put whatever you want into it. It’s pretty stinkin’ cool, if you ask me,” she chattered as she filled her drink up with at least seven different flavored drinks.

A suicide.

I hadn’t had one of those in years.

So what did I do?

I followed suit, filling up my massive head-sized cup with grape flavored soda, Dr. Pepper, and a cherry vanilla Coca-Cola.

“That’s gross,” I heard said from behind me.

At first I didn’t comprehend what I was hearing, but it didn’t take long for my brain to come back on line.

“Bristol,” I said breathlessly. “You came.”

She smiled. “I did. I was late, I’m so sorry. I meant to get there earlier, but my kids had a meltdown this morning before I left, and it made me late. I got to the parking lot I was supposed to be picking you up in, and the guard at the gate pointed in this direction to where she saw you walk. It’s only understandable that you’d want something to eat.”

A tear slipped from my eye as I placed my drink and bag on the closest table, and then I walked right into my best friend’s arms for the first time in eight years.

She smelled like strawberries.

She always had.

She loved strawberries.

And I’d forgotten.

Bristol had visited with me hundreds of times in the last eight years, but I’d never hugged her.

We weren’t allowed to touch.

For the visitor’s safety,
I sneered.

“I’m so glad you’re out, honey,” Bristol whispered roughly, her throat clogging with tears as she did.

I nodded. “Not that I’m not happy that you’re here,” I said, pulling away from her when my food arrived. “But what are you doing here? I thought Isaac was picking me up. At least that’s what his last letter said.”

Bristol looked down at her hands.

“Isaac,” she hesitated. “Isaac has a lot of stuff to explain.”

I blinked.

“What do you mean?” I asked as we both took our seats. “Is he having trouble at work again?”

Isaac worked with his father. His father owned an oil business that allowed him the free reign to be the big boss, living large on the money his men made for him.

His son was also privileged that way as well.

Not that Isaac saw it that way. He didn’t like that his daddy was the boss of him. He wanted to be his own boss.

The problem was that his father dominated the market in our small community.

Anybody who was anybody knew who Doral Roans was.

Nobody would cross Doral for Isaac. He wasn’t worth it.

Something I’d been trying to tell Isaac for years. No one was going to leave Doral and start doing business with him just because he’s a nice guy. Doral had been the dominant supplier in this market for years. Not to mention that he was not a nice man, and he was definitely not a man you’d stop doing business with to do it with his son instead.

“Jesus,” Bristol said, distracting me. “Do you want me to go get you another burger?”

I moaned at the way the juicy morsels filled my mouth with heaven.

And the fries.

Oh, my God, the fries.

They were divine.

“No,” I said, washing the fries down with a suck on my Suicide. “I’m probably not going to eat all of this.”

Bristol stayed uncharacteristically silent as I polished off my hamburger, only making the odd comment about people that walked through the door.

“We’ll have to go find you some clothes,” Bristol said, surprising me.

“I don’t have any money to buy clothes,” I informed her bluntly.

She blinked. “I have money.”

I shook my head. “You’re not buying me clothes. I’ll just get the ones from my mom’s house. It’ll be okay.”

She looked at the shirt that I was wearing and raised her brows.

“And will they all fit you like that?” She asked teasingly.

I looked down at the baby doll T-shirt that was something closer to a half shirt rather than a shirt, and shrugged. “It’ll work out. I’ll sew some new ones when I get home.”

She shrugged.

“We have an apartment over the garage that I want you to stay in,” she said softly, looking at me with sincere eyes.

I shook my head before the words had even finished coming out of her mouth.

“Why not?” She asked, crossing her arms across her chest and sitting back into her chair.

“You have nothing to make up for, Bristol,” I said honestly.

She closed her eyes. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gone to that party in the first place.”

I shook my head, a small smile tipping up my lips.

“No, but you would’ve called me to bring you home, and I would’ve come. And the same outcome might’ve been possible,” I answered her.

She closed her eyes.

“I want you to stay. Dallas wants you to stay. Please, stay,” she whispered.

Dallas was my younger brother, by exactly thirteen minutes.

He and Bristol had gotten close once I’d been taken away.

Bristol lost her best friend, and Dallas lost the sister that he told everything to.

It was inevitable that they’d find solace in each other’s arms.

I looked into her sincere eyes and felt myself caving.

“You’ll let me pay rent?” I confirmed.

A muscle ticked below her right eye.

“Yeah,” she said very begrudgingly.

“And you’ll let me babysit for you whenever I want?” I asked her.

She laughed.

The sound was sweet.

And I loved it.

“Of course, anytime you want.”

I smiled. “Good. Now, how about you tell me what it is that you’ve been avoiding telling me.”

She looked down at the piece of paper that had lined my straw, she picked it up and started to pick it apart into tiny little pieces.

“Isaac,” she started, then stopped again.

My brows rose.

“Isaac,” I encouraged her.

She dropped the paper onto the tray and reached for my hands.

“Isaac is engaged to someone else. He got one of his secretaries at work pregnant, and he’s marrying her next weekend,” she said in a rush.

I blinked.

“You’re…he’s…
what
?” I asked, flabbergasted.

She nodded.

“Yeah, you heard me right,” she confirmed.

I looked down at the cheese that’d fallen from my burger earlier and cringed.

“Wow,” I said unsurprisingly. “I always thought he’d give up on me… just, not for it to happen the day I got out of prison.”

Bristol licked her lips, and I knew she had more to say.

She just didn’t want to hurt me anymore.

“What is it?” I
asked softly.

She took a deep breath, and then gave me the full force of her brown eyes.

“He’s been doing it since the beginning… I just didn’t want to tell you when you had enough things to worry about,” she admitted.

I froze, but Bristol continued to speak.

“I’ve debated telling you for years now… it’s just… how do you tell your best friend that the man she thinks she’s going to marry is actually with someone else? You’ve given me your life, and I owe you everything. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have my family right now. And it breaks my heart that you had to have something so god awful happen to you for me to accomplish my dreams,” Bristol cried softly.

I grabbed her hand. “Bristol, I’ve already told you a million times that it wasn’t your fault. How many times do I have to do that before you understand? What happened that night…
that was all me. Every bit of it. I hit that person.
Those
people
. I chose to drink. I chose to go to that party with you. Everything is my fault, not yours. I love you, but you need to give it a rest. Let your heart heal.”

She looked at me with tears in her eyes.

“And when will you heal?” She asked forcefully.

I shook my head.

There would be no healing for me.

There would just be existing.

And that’s all that there would ever be.

Existing, alone.

I hate when people accuse me of lolly-gagging when I’m quite obviously dilly-dallying.

-Coffee Cup

Sawyer

“I don’t have much experience with anything office related,” I told the receptionist at the vet’s office where I was applying. “I’m good with dogs, though.”

The woman smiled. “Well, that’s definitely a plus!”

I smiled back.

The woman’s smile was infectious.

Her name was Joanie, and she reminded me a lot of my mom.

“Joanie, I’ll need you to input this into the computer and order some meds for Diesel so Mr. Coby can take him home,” called an older man with a smile on his face.

I watched him walk into the little counter area and hand Joanie a piece of paper before turning to look at me.

He offered me his hand.

“Zack Deguzman,” he introduced himself, offering me his hand.

“Sawyer Berry. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” I shook his hand.

“Are you kin to Dallas Berry?” He asked.

I froze for a second. If I said that I was related to Dallas, he would know exactly who I was, but how else could I explain how I’d heard about him?

There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t judge me like others had.

“I’m…” I hesitated, looking for a good way to phrase it. “Yes. I’m Sawyer Berry. Dallas’s sister.”

I could tell the minute he realized just who I was.

I saw the surprise in his eyes, followed by the pity.

What I didn’t see, though, was disgust.

Something I saw on quite a few people’s faces when they realized who I was and then remembered just who it was that I’d killed.

“Ah,” he said, nodding his head. “I understand. Come, walk with me to the exam room so I can see one of my favorite patients.”