Redeem Me: Oakville Series:Book Four (21 page)

I pat my chest and legs. Thank God I’m totally dressed. Standing again, I do a quick scan of the room before heading downstairs. As I reach the closed bar downstairs, I glance over at the digital clock on the wall behind the bar and blink several times, trying to adjust my vision. My headache causes my eyes to blur a little, so I squint to see. It’s four in the afternoon. Maybe she won’t be too mad at me if I can explain. I just couldn’t think straight last night after everything she told me. If I didn’t get out of there, I would have ended up yelling at her, and none of it’s her fault.

When I get out to the parking lot, I see Kyle pulling in. He stops only a few feet in front of me, causing me to jump. What the fuck? The bastard just about ran my ass down. He turns off the ignition and hops out, his fists balled at his sides and a nasty snarl on his face. Stepping toe to toe with me, he shoves me back—hard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouts, his face so close to mine, I can feel his spit on my cheek. Confused by his behavior, I throw my hands up in surrender.

“Chill, man. I needed a couple drinks to clear my head. I must have had one too many. I’m going home now to fix it,” I explain, but it seems to anger him even more.

“A couple drinks! Do you have any idea how many you had? Or how worried Chelsie was when you didn’t come home for almost twenty-four hours? Or how about the fact that when Paul tried to get you to go home you started throwing punches and gave him one hell of a black eye,” he bellows.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit him, but he got in my face,” I tell him, and his face instantly turns red with anger. My head is fucking pounding and his yelling is making it worse. I rub my temples in an attempt to ease the pain. I’ve had enough of his attitude. Shaking my head, I step toe to toe with him. “Where the hell do you get off scolding me like a fucking child?” I snarl. “You don’t know what’s going on. I needed to clear my head and attempt to sort through some shit I found out.” As I walk past him, he grabs my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I shove him away, breaking his grip on my arm.

He throws his hands up and stalks back to me. “You are the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. You’ve been in that fucking apartment drinking and being a douche bag. Your girl shouldn’t be put through this. Do I have to remind you of that she’s pregnant with twins? Do you remember what Amber and I lost?” As soon as I think about the triplets, I have the urge to vomit. What if all the stress causes problems for my girl or babies? How am I going to fix this? She’s never going to forgive me.

“Fuck!” I yell in frustration as I sit on the ground with my back to the car.

Kyle stands me up and leads me back into the bar. Once inside, he begins to make a pot of coffee as I sit on a stool. Pulling out his phone, he shoots off a text and then sets a steaming mug in front of me.

“Drink it,” he orders. “Tell me everything that started this little meltdown of yours. Don’t leave anything out.” His face softens as he watches me intently, waiting for me to start talking.

I stare into my coffee cup. “Yeah, man. I’ll tell you,” I say as I drag my hand through my hair. I start at the beginning, telling him what a happy, perfect life I had until my dad walked out on us. How everything went to hell the minute he left. When I get to that part about my mom checking out then leaving me alone to take care of my baby sister, he raises his eyebrows in disbelief. To him, I’m sure it is a bit unbelievable. He had the “Brady Bunch” kind of family. He had two parents who loved each other...who loved him. My childhood was taken from me. As I begin to explain the day Katie was taken, my skin starts to feel clammy. Thinking about that day is terrible, but talking about it…saying the words out loud? It’s pure torture. Taking a deep breath, I recap that day for him.

“Someone took her in broad daylight?” Kyle asks, horrified.

“Not just someone. Our own father. Of course I didn’t know that until last night.” I stand up and pace the floor. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. Why would he do that? What reasoning could he possibly have?

“I don’t even know what to say to that. I’m sorry. Do you have any idea why he did that?”

“No, and I can’t figure it out either.” I wish I could. Not that it would make a difference. The past is the past. Nothing is going to change it. No explanation will be enough to take the pain and self-loathing I’ve felt all these years away. “I also found out where my sister is and what her name is. I’m afraid of what will happen if I tell her.” Kyle runs his hand down his face while he mulls it over.

“That’s a tough one. If it were me, I’d want to know if I had a brother out there,” Kyle says. But what if she would rather stay in her happy little bubble? I don’t want to cause her problems.

Frustrated, I scrub the top of my head and stop pacing. “I need to go home and beg Chelsie for forgiveness. I’ll worry about all this other shit later.” He laughs at me. “I’m so glad my shit storm of a life amuses you,” I say, scowling at him.

“What amuses me is it’s someone else stuck in the shit storm for once,” he teases. Rolling my eyes at him, I chuckle. “You can gladly have your shit storm back.” The bar door opens and in walks Paul. His eye is swollen shut and painted in shades of purple and black. I grimace at the sight. Damn, I really clocked him good. He eyes me sternly and barks out, “I really should knock you into next week.” I raise my hands in surrender.

“I’m sorry. I had one too many last night. If hitting me back will make you feel better, then, by all means, have at it,” I say, bracing myself for the punch.

“I’ll let it go this once, but only because I know something’s up. And I want to know what it is,” he demands. I’m not sure I have it in me to tell this story a second time today, but by the look on his face, I see I have no choice.

“I really need to get home to Chelsie. I have a lot of groveling to do.” Paul and Kyle both chuckle this time.

“You have a while. The girls are on their way to Burger King. Chelsie wanted to go and they are keeping her company,” Paul spits out in between his laughter.

“Burger King? Why Burger King? The nearest one is what twenty miles from here,” I question, confused. Chelsie hates fast food.

“Thirty, actually. Seems as though your girl’s pregnancy cravings include chicken fries.”

“Since when?”

“Since she saw a commercial for them about an hour ago,” Paul says. Let’s hope she doesn’t have that craving too often. That’s a long ass drive for some skinny chicken nuggets. But I know if she asked me get her some chicken fries at three in the morning, I’d be jumping in my car before she finished her request—except Burger King isn’t open, so it would be pointless. Shaking my head, I sit down on the barstool and sip my coffee. Since I’m not going anywhere for a while, I start to tell Paul everything I just revealed to Kyle. This time, it seems easier.

Chelsie

H
olly, Amber, and I are driving to Burger King, in my rental car. I’ve never been one for fast food, but when I saw the commercial for chicken fries, the babies demanded I get some. Now, I can’t think of anything else, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. At least thoughts of Angel have moved to the background.

“Ya know, Chelsie, you’re too easy going. When someone or something pisses you off, you need to start speaking up instead of just letting it go. Don’t let Angel off so easily,” Holly proclaims. She has a point. I forgive and forget a little too quickly, but I’ve always been that way. I was never one to get angry and I can’t hold a grudge.

“I agree with Holly. Speak up when you’re angry. Don’t let anyone walk all over you,” Amber chimes in.

“You’re both right. I’ll work on it.”

Thirty miles and twenty minutes later, we pull into the parking lot. The girls thought I was crazy for driving this far out of the way for chicken fries, but what can I say? Momma gets what babies want.

“Welcome to Burger King. How may I help you?” the unamused voice coming from the speaker says.

“How many pieces are in an order of chicken fries?” I ask politely, and hear him sigh over the speaker. This is one reason I don’t like fast food drive-thrus—I always end up with someone who has no people skills whatsoever and would rather be anywhere than where they are.

“We only have one size,” the voice snaps. Really? That’s not what I asked. I can clearly read there’s only one size.

“I see that, but what I want to know is how many pieces come in one pack?” Again, I’m polite.

“Wait and I’ll go check,” he spits, and ends with another long sigh, as if what I’m asking for is just too much for him. I look over to Holly, then back to Amber, both clearly annoyed at this douche. Something in me snaps. Maybe it’s the conversation we just had about me being too soft, maybe it’s the hormones, or maybe it’s just the fact that I really want these damn chicken fries. Whatever it is, my blood begins to boil. I slam the car into drive and pull up to the window. When the obviously aggravated young man opens the window, I explode.

“I want to speak with your manager now,” I demand in a voice so harsh, I don’t recognize it. For a split second, I feel bad for the pimply-faced kid, but really, he brought this on himself with his attitude.

“Oh, damn. The bitch is free,” Holly teases through her laughter. The manager comes to the window, an older, stern looking woman.

“Miss, I apologize. I heard the way he spoke to you and I’m so sorry for his behavior,” the manager says. She proceeds to take our order and insists it’s on the house. Within a few minutes, we are back on the road headed for home, and the chicken fries taste better than I thought they would.

“Now that’s the way you need to handle things from now on,” Amber says in between bites of her hamburger. I have to admit, it felt damn good not getting walked all over for once. We continue the rest of the drive home in silence, too busy stuffing our faces for conversation.

As I pull into the driveway, Angel is stepping out of his vehicle. Butterflies invade my stomach. I’m so happy to see him, but then I remember the hell he put me through by not coming home last night and the “Burger King Bitch” is back. After I get out of my car, I turn to look for the girls, finding them making a beeline for their cars.
Oh, sure, build me up then take off.
I take a deep breath and walk toward the house, brushing by Angel while giving him a scowl. He grins as if this is all fun and games, which only adds fuel to my angry fire. He did me a favor without even knowing it.

I set my purse on the kitchen counter then plop my ass down on the couch, where I sit, arms crossed, staring daggers at him. I replay my miserable night over and over, keeping myself upset. Not only was I worried something bad happened to him, I worried he had left me for good. He walks over to the couch and just stands there, staring at me. No doubt expecting me to run into his arms, so glad he’s here giving me the time of day. Well, major news flash—it isn’t happening. I’m through being Chelsie, the big pushover.

“Are you gonna stand there all day or do you have something to say?” I snap. His eyes sparkle with amusement, while he tries his damnedest not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, sweet pea. I didn’t mean to be gone all night. I only wanted a drink and to clear my head,” he explains, but I know all of this already. He wouldn’t intentionally hurt me, but he did all the same.

“You’re sorry, all right,” I bark. Angel busts out laughing and I can’t help but laugh also.

“Sweet pea, the role of hard ass just doesn’t suit you. Leave that position to Holly,” he jokes as he sits next to me and wraps me in his arms. He’s right, I’m not a bad ass. I’m upset with him, but I’m happier to know he’s okay and he didn’t leave me. With one arm, he squeezes me tight, and with the other, he gently rubs my belly. The motion sends chills up my spine. “I can’t wait to meet our sweet babies,” he whispers in my ear.