Undone (A Country Roads Novel) (43 page)
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Undeniable
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A
t six years old there were certain things Grace King didn’t understand. She didn’t understand where babies came from, how birds flew way up high in the sky, or where her father was. Grace had never met her dad, she’d never seen him, she didn’t even know his name, and for some reason this fact fascinated many people in Mirabelle.
“What’s a girl bastard?”
Grace looked up from the picture she was coloring to see Hoyt Reynolds and Judson Coker looming over the other side of the picnic table she was sitting at.
Every day after the bell rang, Grace would wait outside on the playground for her brother, Brendan, to come and get her and they’d walk home together. Today, Brendan was running a little late.
“I don’t know,” Judson said and smirked. “I think bastard works for boys and girls.”
“Yeah,” Hoyt said and shrugged. “Trash is trash.”
Brendan was always telling Grace to ignore bullies, advice he had a problem following himself. Half the time she didn’t even know what they were saying. Today was no different. She had no idea what a bastard was but she was pretty sure it wasn’t anything nice.
Grace looked back down to her picture and started coloring the crown of the princess. She grabbed her pink crayon from the pile she’d dumped out on the table and just before she started coloring the dress, the picture disappeared out from under her hands.
“Hey,” she protested, looking back up at the boys. “Give that back.”
“No, I don’t think I will,” Judson said before he slowly started to rip the picture.
“Stop it,” Grace said, swinging her legs over the bench and getting quickly to her feet. She ran to the other side of the table and stood in front of Judson. “Give it back to me.”
“Make me,” he said, holding the picture up high over her head as he ripped it cleanly in half.
Grace took a step forward and instead of jumping up and down like he wanted her to, she stomped down hard on his foot.
“You little bitch!” Judson screamed, hopping up and down on his foot.
Grace had one second of satisfaction before she found herself sprawled out on her back, the wind knocked out of her.
“Don’t ever touch her again!”
Grace looked up just in time to see a tall, freckled, red-haired boy punch Hoyt in the face. It was Jax, one of Brendan’s best friends, who had come to her rescue. And boy did Jax know what he was doing, because Hoyt fell back onto his butt hard.
“And if you ever call her that word again, you’ll get a lot more than a punch in the face, you stupid little scum bag,” Jax said as he put himself in between Grace and Judson. “Now get out of here.”
“I’m going to tell me father about this,” Hoyt said. This was a legitimate threat, as Hoyt’s father was the principal.
“You do that,” Jax said and shrugged.
Apparently the two eight-year-olds didn’t have anything else to say and they didn’t want to take their chances against a big, bad eleven-year-old because they scrambled away and ran around the side of the building and out of sight.
“You okay?” Jax asked, turning around to Grace.
It was then that Grace realized the back of her dress was covered in mud and that her palms were scrapped and bleeding.
“No,” she said and sniffed before she started to bawl.
“Oh, Grace,” Jax said, grabbing her under her arms and pulling her to her feet. “Come here.” He pulled her into his chest and rubbed her back. “It’s okay, Gracie.”
She looked up at him and bit her trembling lip. “They called me names,” she said and hiccupped.
“They weren’t true,” he said, looking down at her.
“What’s a bastard, Jax?”
Jax’s hand stilled and his nose flared. “Nothing that you need to worry about,” he said. “Grace, sometimes dads aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”
She nodded once before she buried her head back in his chest. By the time she’d cried herself out, Jax’s shirt was covered in her tears. She took a step back from him and wiped her fingers underneath her eyes. Jax reached down and grabbed the two halves of her picture from the ground.
“We can tape this back together,” he said, looking down at the paper. He studied it for a second before he looked back to her. “This is what you are, Grace. A princess. Don’t let anyone tell you different. You understand?” he asked, lightly tugging on her blonde ponytail.
“Yes,” she said and nodded.
“Alright,” he said, handing the papers back to her. “Get your stuff together and we’ll go wait for Brendan.”
“Where is he?” Grace asked as she gathered her crayons and put them back into the box.
“He got into trouble with Principal Reynolds again.”
Grace looked up at Jax and frowned. She really didn’t like the Reynolds family. Principal Reynolds wasn’t any better than his son.
“No frowning, princess. Let’s go,” Jax said, holding out his hand for her.
Grace shoved her crayons and drawing into her bag. She grabbed Jax’s outstretched hand and let him lead her away.
T
he nightmares always felt so real. They started off the exact same way as the accident had. And then they morphed into something so much worse, something that haunted Jax even when he was awake.
As a deputy sheriff for the county, Jaxson Anderson was no stranger to being the first person to arrive at the scene of an accident. What he wasn’t used to was being the first to an accident that involved two people he cared about. That day, it had been Grace and Paige King. Grace was the little sister of Brendan King, one of Jax’s best friends. Paige was Brendan’s wife.
It had happened six months ago. Violent storms had raged across Mirabelle for days, and the rains had flooded the river that ran through the town, making the current swift and deadly. By some miracle Jax and been driving right behind Paige and Grace. Jax and his friend Bennett Hart had watched as the SUV the girls were in swerved off the road, crashed through a barrier, and disappeared down to Whiskey River. The only thing that had stopped the car from being swept under the water was a tree that had been growing out of the bank. The tree was barely strong enough to hold the car back.
That day Jax had experienced a panic like no other. He’d gone into the river desperate to pull them out. And that was when the second miracle of the day had happened. Brendan, along with Nathanial Shepherd and Baxter McCoy, had shown up. It took the efforts of all five men to pull the girls out of the car before it was swept under the water. It had been just a matter of seconds of getting them out before the tree gave way.
Jax went over those moments, over and over and over again, replaying everything from what he’d said to what he’d done. The one thing he was absolutely sure about was that getting those girls out of that river alive was miracle number three.
But Jax’s nightmares didn’t play out like the miracle. No, in his nightmares he watched as Grace died.
When the accident had happened, they’d had to pull Grace out from the car before Paige. In the nightmare, it was Grace who was pulled out second. Paige was safe in Brendan’s arms, and Jax would go to get Grace, but the tree would snap right before his hands touched hers. Jax would scream her name as the river dragged her away and she disappeared under the surface of the water.
Jax woke up, Grace’s name still on his lips. He was breathing hard and drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to his skin. He blinked in the dim light that was pushing its way through the window as he slowly began to realize that what he’d seen wasn’t real. That it was just another nightmare. That Grace wasn’t lost. She’d walked away from the accident with a dislocated shoulder and minor scrapes and bruises.
Jax lay there and when he got his breathing under control and his heart stopped pounding out of his chest, he turned to look at the alarm clock. It was ten after five in the morning. He didn’t need to be up for another hour, but it was pointless for him to even attempt to go back to sleep. Whenever he had a nightmare about Grace, he was on edge until he saw her and knew that she was okay.
So instead, Jax threw back the sheets that were tangled around his legs and sat on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands before he got up and padded into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and then splashed his face with cold water. He looked up into the mirror as water dripped off the end of his long, freckled nose. The hollows under his eyes were tinged a light purple.
It was only Wednesday and it had already been a long week. Mirabelle had a whopping five thousand people in its six hundred square miles. The little beach town made up just over half of Atticus County’s population, and boy did those five thousand sure know how to keep the sheriff’s department busy.
Jax had to deal with a kid who’d stolen his mom’s car to go joyriding with his girlfriend, two drunken high school bonfires, and four house calls for domestic disturbances, three of which had ended in arrests. He was also working on a string of robberies that had been going on in Mirabelle. There’d been five alone in the last three months, and they all looked to be connected. He was exhausted. For normal people that would mean sleep would come easier, but that wasn’t the case for Jax. For Jax, deep sleep brought on his nightmares.
Jax had been having nightmares for as far back as he could remember, and at twenty-nine years old, that was a long time. It was hard not to have nightmares when you grew up in an environment that was less than friendly.
Haldon Anderson was one mean son of a bitch, and he took great pleasure in making his son feel like shit as often as possible. When Haldon wasn’t in jail, he was out on a fishing boat making money to drown himself in a bottle of liquor and whatever pills he could get his hands on. And when Haldon got on one of his benders, there was absolutely nothing that was going to stop him. Whether Haldon used his fists or his words, he knew how to make a person bleed.
Haldon had laughed when Jax had joined the sheriff’s department seven years ago. He’d thought it was one of the greatest jokes of his life.
“This is perfect,” he’d said, wiping his fingers underneath his eyes. “My worthless son doing a thankless job. Working for justice, my ass. You’re not going to do anything to make this world a better place. The only thing you could’ve possibly done to achieve that was to have never been born.”
Yup, Haldon Anderson, father of the
fucking
year.
As a child, Jax couldn’t understand why his mother let his father get away with all of the abuse. But Patricia Anderson wasn’t a strong woman and her greatest weakness was Haldon. She hadn’t protected her child like a mother should. Actually, she hadn’t done anything that a mother should do.
Jax shook his head and pulled himself out of the past. That was the last thing he wanted to think about.
He pulled on a sweatshirt, a pair of gym shorts, and his sneakers before he headed out into the chilly April morning. He stretched for a minute before he hit the pavement and attempted to run from his demons.
* * *
Grace King inhaled deeply as she pulled out a fresh batch of banana fosters muffins. The rich smell filled her nose before it expanded her lungs. She smiled as she set them on the counter to cool. These muffins were going to sell out with the morning breakfast rush.
Grace didn’t care if she was making cookies, pies, or cupcakes; she never got tired of it. One of her first memories was sitting in the kitchen at her grandparents’ house while she watched her mother stir chocolate cake batter. Most of Grace’s fondest memories of her mother were of the two of them baking together. Claire King had lost her battle to breast cancer almost fourteen years ago. But before she’d died, she’d passed on her love for baking to her daughter.
Grace had been working in her grandmother’s café since she was eight years old. Now, at twenty-four, she helped her grandmother run Café Lula. The café was a small, brightly painted cottage out on Mirabelle Beach. The promise of freshly baked food kept customers from all over the town and county pouring in no matter the time of day or the season.
The day promised to be a busy one, as Grace had to fill up the dessert case with fresh goodies. She’d been experimenting with cupcake recipes the past couple of weeks. She’d wanted to make something amazing for her sister-in-law’s baby shower. Grace had eaten dinner at Brendan and Paige’s the night before, and she’d been the one in charge of dessert. For fear of disappointing a sassy pregnant woman, she’d brought her A-game and made two different types of cupcakes.
“I think my favorite is the Blueberry lemonade,” Paige had said as she’d rubbed her ever-growing belly. “But Trevor seems to like this red velvet cheesecake one. I think he’s dancing in there.”
Trevor Oliver King was supposed to be gracing the world with his presence around the middle of May. Grace couldn’t wait to meet her nephew. Paige was just past her seventh month of pregnancy. She was one of those women who still looked beautiful even though she was growing another human being inside of her. If Grace didn’t love her sister-in-law dearly, she would’ve been fifty shades of jealous. As it was, she was only about twenty shades.
