Rebel Soul: (Rebel Series Book 1) ((Rebel Series)) (18 page)

“Where’s Braden today?” I asked, sitting down. “And how come he hasn’t been keeping up the outside of this place?”

“He works a lot,” Becky explained. “At the mechanic’s. When he’s not working, he’s usually with Elle.”

“Hmm…” I frowned.

“He’s still a kid, Brock. Go easy on him. He hasn’t taken this well at all,” Becky lectured, her eyes drifting to the hallway where the bedrooms were, where our mom was slowly fading away. “Kind of like someone
else
I know?”

“I get it, I do,” I managed. “But cutting the grass a little more often isn’t asking much.”

Becky looked at me pointedly, but said nothing. She turned her attention to Aiden. He’d been trying to sneak pieces of his sandwich to Hunter, but Hunter was trained not to take any food unless given instruction and Aiden was caught red-handed with a guilty look on his face. “He looks hungry, Mama!”

“I’m sure he isn’t,” Becky argued, arching a brow at me.

“Nope, he had his breakfast this morning. Hunter eats in the morning and in the evening. Dogs perpetually look hungry though, because they’d eat anything you’ll give them.”

“Why didn’t Hunter eat the sandwich?” Aiden asked, sounding disappointed. “Does he not like ham?”

“Oh no, he likes ham a lot. But he’s trained to not touch it unless I tell him he can.” I felt a little guilty that my nephew was taking this as a personal slight. I looked at Becky pleadingly.

“Fine, just the crust,” she said, rolling her eyes.

* * *

The last thing I wanted to do was meet up with Gordon, especially after the night before and the morning I’d had with Tessa. But I’d promised him and I knew if I didn’t follow through, he’d come to me. I couldn’t risk him showing up when Tessa was there.

Begrudgingly, I made my way to O’Riley’s bar.

O’Riley’s had been around for almost a century now, always run by someone in the O’Riley clan. It was aged with dingy lighting and old, dirty hardwood floors that were perpetually sticky from spilled beverages and blood-stained from the infamous bar fights that had occurred over the years.

I wasn’t surprised to see that it was still open. The bar had been around since 1925, and although it had seen limited upgrades and updates since then, the kitchen and bathrooms were always spotless and up-to-date. Countless bars and clubs attempted to open in Parry Sound, but none of them stuck. O’Riley’s offered cheaper drinks, pool tables that didn’t cost per game, and darts. Not to mention it was a piece of history. This had been the local watering hole for ninety years. Plus, O’Riley’s had the best wings in town.

I spent a lot of time in this bar as a kid. My dad would take me out supposedly for a “father and son day” and our first stop was always O’Riley’s so the old man could “whet his whistle”.

It was often our only stop.

While the bar itself held no good memories for me, Mick O’Riley had never been anything but kind. He’d slip me food under the guise that the kitchen had cooked too much and he kept an eye on me. I knew Mick didn’t like my dad, but not many people in this town did. Mick was stuck between a rock and a hard place: you didn’t meddle with other people’s business around here and my old man was one of his best customers.

I hadn’t set foot in O’Riley’s since I was ten years old. That was the last time my dad bothered with the excuses and the weak attempts at hiding his drinking problem. That was the year that he stopped being just a drunk and started being abusive as well.

Squaring my shoulders, I walked into the old bar. Mick was still behind the old oak bar, his dark hair now completely gray and his rough face wrinkled and worn. His bright eyes still sparkled. They were always a contradiction, light and happy while the rest of him was as tough as an Irish bartender could be.

I nodded at him in greeting and peered around, searching for Gordon. O’Riley’s wasn’t exploding with bodies, but it was pretty crowded for a Tuesday night. I found him sitting at one of the old, worn booths. He had a mug of beer in his hand and an empty pitcher before him. Grady and Travis sat with him, nursing their beers.

Suppressing a sigh, I walked over. My work boots thudded heavily against the old floor, announcing my arrival. The three guys from my youth looked up, each of them grinning.

“Brock! Buddy! It’s about time you showed up!”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, sliding in beside Grady. I sent Gordon a curious look. “I thought we were going to talk business?”

“We will,” Gordon replied, waving his hand dismissively. “That won’t take long at all. Figured we’d get together while we were at it, just like old times.”

I nodded and tried to relax my stiff posture. It wasn’t like Gordon was a mind reader or a bloodhound. He didn’t know I’d been spending a lot of time with Tessa lately, or that I intended on continuing to spend time with her.

Gordon turned around, facing the bar. “Yo! O’Riley! Can we get another round of beer?” he shouted. Mick raised his hand in acknowledgment and went about filling another pitcher. He grabbed a cold mug from the freezer and brought both over on a tray. He walked with a limp, barely bending his left leg at the knee. Despite his gait, he didn’t spill a droplet of beer.

“Brock,” he said gruffly, nodding at me. ”How are you doing these days?” he asked, concern lining those light eyes as he cleared away the empty pitcher on the table. He was probably the only one in this goddamn town that didn’t completely hate me.

“I’m good,” I replied honestly, giving him a warm smile. “How are you doing?” I added, looking down at his leg.

“Oh, I’m alright.” Mick laughed roughly. He had the laugh of a man who’d spent the greater half of his life smoking. “Just getting old is all. A little stiff leg never hurt nobody. Need anything else, fellas?”

“How about some of those wings?” I asked, my stomach rumbling. I hadn’t eaten much in the last twenty-four hours.

“Of course.” Mick nodded, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll send some right over,” he added before turning around and hobbling towards the kitchen to alert his cook.

Fifteen minutes later, our table demolished forty of O’Riley’s hottest wings. We cooled the burning sensation in our throats with beer, making short work of the entire pitcher. Mick brought over a fresh one without any prompting from Gordon.

Conversation around the table flowed easily, mostly led by the others. I kept to the background, smiling and nodding on occasion each time they brought up a funny story about the past. It was nice to sit with my old friends again, to pretend for a fraction of a minute that my life wasn’t as fucked up and out of control as it was. It was nice to escape for a little while, in what limited good memories I had of my past. 

“So, let’s talk business,” Gordon declared half an hour later, leaning back against the booth and fixing me with a serious gaze. Travis and Grady took the cue to leave us, hedging that they were going to play a few games of pool. “Can I take a look at the blueprints?”

I shoved them over to him and picked up my mug, taking a slow sip while I watched his face.

“It’s a pretty simple design. Two bedrooms, a living room and kitchen…” he trailed off, nodding  in approval. “You just want one bathroom? Are you sure about that? We could make an ensuite.” He looked up at me, waiting for my answer.

“What would I need an ensuite for?” I countered.

“You won’t always live alone,” Gordon pointed out, smirking. “And even if you do, when you eventually go to sell the place, an ensuite amps up the price.”

“It’s a cabin in the forest near a lake on 80 acres. The price will be outrageous as is.” I massaged my temples, trying to control my irritation. “Besides, the concrete is already poured for the current square footage.”

“Alright.” Gordon raised his hands in defeat. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “But you could always lay down more concrete. Why don’t you just let me show you what I have in mind?”

He didn’t bother waiting for me to reply. He just pulled out a notebook and started drawing. He changed the flow of the rooms, drawing the kitchen and living room with an open concept and hanging the bedrooms to the east, unlike my original plans. “Don’t worry, it’ll all fit onto the concrete you’ve already laid out. You won’t even need to change your permit,” he said, showing me what he’d done.

I had to admit, it was a lot better than my original plan. “Fine, whatever. That works.”

“Don’t sound so excited.” Gordon looked put out.

“Sorry, man.” I sighed, scratching the stubble on my jaw. “Just going through some shit.”

“How’s your mom doing?” he asked.

“Hanging in there for now,” I replied, looking away. My jaw clenched in aggravation. I didn’t want to talk about my mom right now.

“I heard Tessa is going to start babysitting for Becky soon.” My gaze flitted back to his face and I quickly tried to mask my surprise.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, carefully watching me. “I guess Ben’s wife knows your sister, and told Tessa about the babysitting job. Tessa’s been talking to Becky and she’s supposed to start soon.”

“Huh,” I said, keeping my expression and tone natural. Inside, I was twisted with complicated emotions that I couldn’t even name. Why hadn’t she told me this herself?

“I worry about her.” Gordon leaned forward, his eyes intense. “I worry that this will hit her hard. She’s never had a job like this before, working around someone whose…well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” I muttered, my brow furrowing. It was unsurprising that Gordon would be worried about his sister when my mom was dying, but I understood too.
I
was worried, but for different reasons. I didn’t want Tessa to witness this. I didn’t want her to see what happened behind closed doors. I didn’t want her to see
that
part of me. It was as if I was afraid that my past would be etched on those walls and she’d be able to see it all simply by being there.

“What I said earlier still stands,” Gordon reminded me, arching a brow. “Even if she’s going to be helping Becky out.”

“Right, well…” I stood up, grabbing the blueprints off the table. Gordon’s hand shot out, stopping me.

“Look, man, I’m sorry. That was a dick thing to say. All of it was. But you know me.”

“No offense, Gordon, but I don’t feel like working with someone who is going to be cautioning me to stay away from his sister every five minutes. I don’t need that kind of bullshit drama. I just want to build the fucking cabin.”

Building the cabin had become an obsession. I hated half-finished projects, probably because that was all I’d known growing up, all my old man had been capable of. I couldn’t think until this cabin was built. I felt like it was just something I needed to do. It was how I needed to focus my energy so I didn’t fall completely apart regarding everything that was happening back home.

“I know.” Gordon stood up. “And I promise I’ll stop with the warnings and reminders. Hell, I won’t even talk about her at all. It’ll just be work.”

I stared at him, contemplating. I did need the help. I wasn’t clueless, but I wasn’t exactly a carpenter.

“Fine. When can you start?”

“Monday, actually.” Gordon grinned. “I’ll give you a deal, too.”

“Alright, fine. See you Monday.” I sighed, grabbing the blueprints.

Tessa

Becky Miller called me when I was doing chores and left a voicemail, asking me to call her. I paced my bedroom, staring at the number. I had meant to talk to Brock when I was over at his house the other day, but our evening had distracted me. Actually, I’d meant to talk to him about a lot of things, about Gordon knowing what happened that night with Ezra’s cousin and about this babysitting opportunity.

I wasn’t sure if Brock would
want
me to babysit his nephew. He’d only just started opening up about his past to me, and even then, it wasn’t like he’d given me the whole history. I could tell he was still holding back a lot.

I peered out the window to check for Gordon’s truck in our driveway, just to double check. He and his crew had started working on Brock’s cabin this week, which meant I was going to have to be extra careful about planning my visits. It was parked in its usual spot and I let out a sigh of relief, firing out a quick text to Brock.

Feel like company?

He responded a couple of minutes later.
Of course
!

With that, I turned on my heel and headed out of my room. Gordon, Tommy, and my dad were sitting around in the living room, watching some kind of documentary on the History Channel.

“Where are you off to at this hour, Tessa?” Dad asked, peering up from the TV to address me.

“I need to go to the store,” I answered, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“What for?” Gordon asked, as per usual, weaseling his way into the conversation.

“To get female supplies. You know, tampons and stuff?”

“Okay, ew. Didn’t need to know that.” He grimaced and turned his attention back to the TV.

“That’s what you get for being nosy.” I shrugged, smirking to myself.

The drive to Brock’s house didn’t take very long. I pulled up to see him grilling on his barbeque with Hunter lying at his side. No matter where he was, his dog wasn’t far. I thought it was endearing, the bond he had with that dog. It reminded me of my bond with Spirit.

My thoughts danced back to our trail ride today. Elle had been busy and unable to accompany me, and I’d saved Spirit for last. I’d ridden him through the wooded trails my mother had made, thinking about the woman I only knew from the memories of others. These trails were another way for me to know her, or at least a small part of her. She could have chosen any pathway through the woods, yet she’d chosen to make this route her trail. I couldn’t help but wonder why. 

I shook my head, clearing the memories as I stepped out of my truck and walked towards the barbeque. I supposed Hunter had long since gotten used to the sound of my truck; he barely moved an inch when I pulled up. “What are you cooking?” I asked Brock, coming to a stop beside him.

“Steak,” he answered, grinning. “And baked potatoes.”

“What, no vegetables?” I joked, petting Hunter behind the ears.

“Didn’t know I was having company.” Brock shrugged, closing the lid of the barbeque. He turned to face me and an unreadable look crossed his features. It was as if he had things to say, but was stuck on how to phrase them.

I stepped towards him and his arms lifted to embrace me. He pulled me against him and I sighed, the familiar scent of him calming all of my frazzled nerves and easing the worries that chewed at me.

“I’ve already eaten, so don’t worry about feeding me. I just came here to see you…and to talk,” I said, my voice muffled by his chest.

“About?” Brock released me and I pulled myself onto the wooden picnic table he’d gotten sometime during the last few days.

“Nice table,” I remarked, arching a brow.

“Yeah, I figured it’d be good to have with the crew around. Somewhere to sit down for breaks.”

“Makes sense,” I hedged. I took a moment to draw in a calming breath. “So my brother, Ben? He’s married to Katie, whose parents, as you probably know, own the grocery store that Becky works at. Anyway, she told me that Becky needs a sitter and then told me she’d give her my number.”

“I know,” Brock said simply, the right corner of his lip lifting in half a smile.

“Oh, really?” I exhaled the breath I’d been holding, my brows furrowing.

“Yeah. Gordon mentioned it the other night.”

“Oh, right. So…you’d be okay with that?” I couldn’t help but worry.

Brock looked up at me, those steel eyes locking with mine. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because we haven’t really talked about that whole thing yet,” I babbled nervously. Those intense eyes were making me unravel and lose my train of thought. I tried to break away, but I couldn’t. They captivated me, keeping me grounded.

“What whole thing?” He gave me another half-smile and stalked towards me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“The meet the family one…”

“You’ve already met my family,” he said simply, coming to a stop before me. He stood between my knees and placed each of his hands on my thighs. “At the community bonfire,” he added, reminding me.

“Oh, right. I just meant…” I faltered, trying to grasp my ability to speak. The words seemed to evaporate on my tongue, melted by the glare of heat radiating from Brock’s eyes.

He gave me a gentle smile and brought his lips closer to mine. “I know what you meant,” he muttered, his breath warm against my face. I squirmed, the heat pooling between my legs. “And don’t worry. If you’re fine with it, I’m fine with it,” he added before his lips pressed against mine.

I responded to the pleasant onslaught, giving myself over to him completely. My body arched against his, desperate for his touch. His hands went to unbutton my shorts. The action brought me back to the now and I broke the kiss. I was breathless, trying to control my reaction to him. “I can’t,” I said, smiling apologetically. I was surprised that Brock didn’t immediately ask why not, or pout about it. He just looked at me through heavy lidded eyes, the desire evident not only from his expression but the huge bulge pressed against my inner thigh. “Not this week, anyway.”

“Gotcha.” He winked. He sniffed at the air and frowned. “Shit,” he added, leaving me quickly to return to the barbeque. He flipped the lid over and used the spatula to turn the steaks.

“Did you burn them?” I chuckled, shaking my head at him. At least he was as equally affected by me as I was him.

“Nope, they’re good.” He grinned at me from over his shoulder.

I sighed regretfully, standing up. “Well, I have to go.”

Disappointment lined Brock’s features, but he nodded with understanding. “When will I see you again?”

“I’m not going to be much fun this week,” I pointed out, a small frown touching my lips.

His expression changed again and he stalked over to me. “I’m not only focused on that, Tessa…although I won’t lie, the feeling of your tight pussy around my cock is one of the greatest feelings in the world. I want to spend time with you; I don’t care what we’re doing.”

I inhaled sharply, my heart jolting in my chest. Brock’s delivery was the perfect amount of sexed up sweetness that could easily sweep a girl off her feet. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

When I got home that night, it was too late to talk to Becky; I had to wait until the following morning to return her call. Even though I’d met her, my heart still pounded frantically in my chest when I dialed her number. Each ring, while I waited for her to pick up, was like an exclamation point.

Aside from working on the farm, I’d never had a job before. Not an official one, anyway. Even if it was only babysitting, at least it was steady work outside of the farm. It was still nerve wracking, especially knowing all that I knew about Becky and her history, and knowing what the Millers were going through now.

“I’m running low on time, so I’ll cut to the chase. Katie has nothing but good things to say about you and I know my brothers like you too. Elle swears you’re dependable and responsible. Since we’ve already met each other at the bonfire, I don’t really feel the need to do that awkward ‘come over and meet the kid’. If you’re comfortable with just starting, you’re more than welcome to do that.” Becky’s voice was strong and sure, direct and purposeful. I knew she was young, but the authority and wisdom in her voice made her seem older.

“Yeah, I’m totally fine with that,” I responded, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

“Awesome,” Becky said on an exhale, the relief palpable. “Is there any chance that you could be here at ten? I work until eight tonight. Go figure, the sitter you’ll be replacing… bailed again.”

“I could swing that,” I answered. Becky rattled off an address, and I scribbled it onto the back of the old envelope from Georgian College that had contained my acceptance letter. I shoved it in my back pocket and hung up my phone.

I had just enough time to prepare dinner before I left. I tossed a seasoned roast in the crock pot and chopped up some carrots and onions. Dad walked in when I was putting the lid on the pot.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked.

“I start my new babysitting job today,” I told him. “I need to be there at ten.”

“What time will you be home?” he questioned, grabbing a mug from the cupboard to pour himself coffee.

“She said she works until 8, but I’m not sure how long it takes her to get home…or if she runs errands or anything…” I trailed off, worrying my lip.

“That’s alright. I think we’ll survive at dinner,” Dad remarked.

I glanced towards the crock pot and laughed. “When I go off to college, you’re all going to have to learn how to cook.”

“Can’t be that hard,” Dad argued, a smile softening the hard edges of his face. He went to speak again, but I cut him off.

“And barbequing everything doesn’t count.”

Dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Have a good day,” he told me. His eyes searched mine, his brow furrowing slightly. I knew he wanted to lecture me, likely about staying away from the oldest Miller boy and was warring with himself. After all, he’d promised that he would ease up on the protective father routine. He knew I was growing up; he knew I needed to make my own decisions, but he also knew I needed this job and that I wanted it.

I leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, not giving him the opportunity to talk. “Thanks, you too!” I said over my shoulder, exiting through the side door.

I drove to the Miller’s house, pulling up against the curb out front. The smell of freshly mowed grass and paint greeted me when I stepped outside. All of the weeds had been cleared from the front gardens, a limited selection of freshly planted flowers scattered haphazardly about. The shutters that had hung off at odd angles were fixed and had a new coat of black paint. Even the old wooden door had a face lift; it now matched the shutters for the first time ever.

I’d driven past the Miller house a few times the last few years, dropping Elle off or picking her up. It hadn’t been this well-tended to in all that time. I had a feeling Brock had something to do with the new improvements.

I walked up the front steps and knocked against the freshly painted wooden door. Becky opened up, dressed in her grocery store uniform. She smiled at me with relief. “Tessa! I’m so glad you could start today. Come in! Aiden’s just watching some cartoons and having a snack.” She stood aside, allowing me entrance to the tiny bungalow. “Aiden, do you remember Tessa from the bonfire?” Becky asked, directing her question to her dark-haired son.

Aiden looked up from the television, his blue eyes landing on me. “Is that Uncle Brock’s girlfriend?”

Becky laughed, shaking her head. “Sorry about that. Kids say the darndest things,” she said to me before turning back to him. “They’re just friends, Aiden.”

“She gave us chili and Uncle Brock said she was hot,” Aiden said matter-of-factly.

“He probably said the
chili
was hot,” I corrected, my face flushing. Becky didn’t seem bothered by it though. She sent me an amused look and shrugged.

“Well, come on. I have just enough time to give you a quick tour,” she said, leading me in to the worn kitchen. “Aiden will probably want chicken nuggets and French fries for lunch. You can find both in the freezer. I’m sure you know how to use an oven, so I won’t bother you with instructions. He can have juice, but only if it’s watered down… otherwise you’ll have a kid with way too much energy on your hands,” she explained, rolling her eyes. The smile on her face was full of love for her child. “He doesn’t nap, unfortunately, but he’ll watch a movie and have some quiet time after lunch. I’ve made a casserole for dinner; all you need to do is heat it up. After dinner, he has a bath and goes to bed at seven.”