Control (Kenshaw Ranch Book 4) Read online

  Affton’s going to murder me when she finds out I let her little brother go toe to toe with Fayer, but I told myself I wouldn’t butt in until Bo gets hurt, so that’s what I’m doing.

  The sirens start and all I feel is relief.

  “Cops!” I yell to Fayer, hoping he heard me. If anything, I’ll be praised later for saving his ass from the pigs.

  He swipes the blood off his nose and spits at Brandt who’s gasping for air on the ground.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Cash growls, storming past me and hopping on his bike.

  I want to check up on Bo and Brandt to make sure they’re okay. I gotta make sure they get out of here before they’re found out, but the sirens are getting louder and Cash is already half a mile away.

  “Shit,” I huff, running to my bike and taking off into the night.

  I follow Cash’s tail lights into a parking lot on the other side of town and kill my engine the minute I slow to a stop.

  “What the hell was that?” I blurt, storming over to him.

  His shocked expression turns into a laugh. “I’m sorry, what the fuck did you say to me?”

  “I said what the hell was that? He’s your little fucking brother,” I growl, shoving him.

  Mother fucking stupid move, Tommy.

  Cash lets me have it. A full on swing to my jaw drops me to the ground. It’s just the two of us, thankfully, but he can still put up a fight even after what he did back there.

  “I should just end your whiny fuckin’ self right now. You’re being nothin’ but a pain in my ass lately,” he growls, taking deep breaths and trying not to look affected by the beat down his brother gave him back there.

  I make it to my feet and spit out a mouthful of blood.

  “I’m fuckin’ out, Cash. You fightin’ your kid brother is where I draw the line.” I start to walk back to my bike but his eerie laughter makes me pause.

  “You think you can get out that easily? You think I don’t have my dick in every hole of this dingy ass town? Walk back into work at the shop. I fuckin’ dare you.” He takes out his knife and flicks it open. “Don’t think about stepping foot anywhere in this town anymore, Tommy. You’re as good as dead next time I see you.”

  He snaps his teeth at me like he’s threatening me, but the twitch in his movements make it look more like he finally lost that last thread holding his sanity together. When he hops on his bike to take off, he turns and flies past me so fast I have to jump out of the way so he doesn’t hit me right before he clips my bike and ends up dragging it half a block. My gut twists at the scraping metal and flying shards of the bike I worked my ass off to fix up and Cash cackles the entire time at the top of his lungs. Motherfucker.

  All that money down the mother fucking drain.

  But it could always be worse.

  I have to walk home because I’m not about to call my dad for a ride. My real friends started avoiding me when I got mixed up with Cash’s shit. I just burned every bridge I have in this small ass town. It takes me awhile to make it to our front porch, but when I do I feel a sense of relief wash over me.

  I’m out. I fucking did it!

  I rush to my room and grab my laptop.

  Beany,

  I got away from Fayer for good this time. May be laying low for the next few weeks. Keep an eye on the local obits. I fully expect your fancy ass to be here speaking at my funeral if he gets ahold of me. You can have all my belongings. Even the nail polish you left in my drawer.

  You should come home. I’m lonely now.

  -Tommy

  The reply I got? And I quote:

  “YOU WILL NOT FUCKING BELIEVE WHO JUST VIDEO CALLED ME THOMAS BARNS. EAMONN PIAGET WANTS ME! HE WANTS YOUR GIRL!! FUCK MY LIFE! AHHHH!”

  ***

  That’s it. That’s the fucking reply she sent. Of course I headed to Google right away to find out who the fuck Eamonn Pigeon-ass was. Some huge name designer, mega rich and super successful. The thought of her making it huge was the only thing that I could smile about that night. She did it. She made a name for herself and I was crazy fucking proud.

  After that I spent three weeks in hell, worrying I was going to be found dead before anyone even realized I was missing. There was no one there for me anymore but my dad. I was in my twenties and my best friend was my dad. How sad is that?

  Fayer never held true to his promise. His crazy ass went and got himself six feet under before the end of that year. I went to the funeral, but only because I felt bad for Brandt.

  I don’t think Brandt or Bo knew who I was when I went through the crowd. It’s weird being from such a small town but feeling so invisible to some people. I spent the next few years working hard for my dad, taking care of the animals on the ranches he couldn’t get to during the day, and at night practicing my craft at the tattoo shop. I got into an easy rhythm of work, look out for my closest friend Grant, ink, drink, fuck, and sleep.

  I was twenty-five when I realized my life wasn’t going to turn out like I had planned and I was completely okay with it.

  ***

  “You’re fuckin’ drunk already! How’d you beat me?” Grant blurts, laughing as hard as he can while leaning over the table and trying to take the beer bottle from my hands. It feels good hanging out with these assholes again. At least Grant and Felder. Chase decided to take his ass to Vegas to make something of himself. Seems everyone wants out of this damn place.

  Somehow after high school and after all the shit that went down with Cash, the four of us just kind of stuck together. Grant’s a no-brainer. He’s never going anywhere, but I thought when Affton left, my social life was pretty much over, but these punks have made me enjoy life outside of work again. They’re fucking crazy, but the fun type of crazy. Not the Cash type.

  Felder’s a hotshot salesman for a local farm store. I’m finally working more with my dad and the smaller animals on the ranches he frequents while he works the larger animals. I may start enjoying it one day. For now it’s a paycheck, and a paycheck is nice to have. Helps support the drinking habit at least. The majority of the people in this town work on some type of farm or ranch. Even Grant, who got his pilot's license in hopes to go commercial. He’s currently juggling working damn near full time at the tattoo shop as the best artist this town’s seen since Chase left and crop dusting the fields for multiple farmers in town. He’s worked his way through every girl in this town and in the four surrounding towns and he’s drank more than any of us combined. The guy’s a machine. I’ve never understood his schedule but somehow he’s still one of the most reliable people I’ve ever known.

  My two jobs are just because I can’t give up the shop. It’s my relaxing time. Therapeutic. Felder’s getting married in a week so it’s supposed to be his bachelor party tonight but he’s not even here yet.

  “I’m not drunk,” I mumble, my fingers tingling as I grip the glass. Okay, so maybe I’m a little tipsy.

  “I can’t believe he’s late to his own party.” Grant finishes another beer and slides it across the bar.

  “I can.” I laugh. “He’s probably out fucking his side chick.”

  “Dude,” Grant bitches. “He fuckin’ would be too.”

  The bar’s the same bar we’ve been hanging out in since before we were old enough to drink. It’s the bar Chase used to work at, but we‘re still here so we’re not about to give it up. Plus, it’s right across the street from the tattoo shop we both work at so it’s the easiest place to get shitfaced.

  “I can’t believe he’s getting married like a damn pussy,” I say, watching the drunks stumble out the front door.

  Felder’s never been able to keep it in his pants. I’m not sure what his girl thinks marriage is going to do for him.

  “Nah,” Grant answers. “That shit’s so much work. And I like pussy way too fuckin’ much to settle with one for the rest of my life.” He snickers and nods to a blonde at the bar. “Like that one. Big ass titties.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he slides off his stool, almost tipp
ing it over on the way.

  “Seriously,” I say and watch as he hits on the girl.

  Shaking my head I pull out my phone. It’s like I’m on autopilot, opening social media to the one girl’s page that I thought I’d ever have a future with.

  She looks different but I’ve never seen her look so happy. She’s in the zone. She’s made something of herself. My girl fuckin’ did it, and I’m so goddamned proud of her.

  “Who the hell is that?” Grant blurts, looking over my shoulder at my phone. I thought he was gonna score with the big tittied blonde.

  “Affton,” I say, locking my screen.

  “She still around?” He chuckles. “That picture was hot.”

  I want to slug him but I don’t because he’s right. It was a hot picture. City life has treated her well. None of my friends know how I felt about her. Maybe Grant does. But nobody knew what we had, not really. They knew we were inseparable, but I think they always assumed as a brother and sister are. I’m not even sure anyone knew we fucked. It was what it was, and it most definitely wasn’t something we talked about.

  “Those Hart siblings have a knack of gettin’ out of here and makin’ something of themselves,” I mumble, shaking my head. “I’m proud of her.”

  “I’m just glad she’s still hot.” Grant walks away, back over to the blonde at the bar. Another girl’s recently joined her and the curve of this girl’s ass in those jeans is doin’ things to my drunk dick right about now.

  As soon as I go to slide my phone in my pocket and make my move on ass-girl it dings, signaling a new email. My face lifts into a smile when I see who it’s from.

  You still worry me.

  Trenton accepted me. I am no longer Affton Hart, founder of Beany Designs. I am now Jr. Fashion Journalist for Trenton, Affton Hart.

  Your girl’s still moving up.

  Miss you.

  -Beany-

  PS, that beard is getting out of control, Thomas! Shave that thing!

  I chuckle, snapping a picture of my beard and email it back to her with “It Stays.”

  I’m happy for her, but I’m not fuckin’ shaving this beard. In all actuality there’s not much I wouldn’t do for Affton, even after all this time. And if she were standing here right now with a pair of clippers, I’d lift my chin, grin, and bear it.

  A few days ago I sent her a picture of my new bike that I saved up for. I know how much she hates them, but that’s probably the only thing she couldn’t change about me.

  I could write her an email spilling my guts to her tonight with all the alcohol I’ve consumed already, but the girl across the bar with the nice ass has been eye fucking me since she walked in.

  Priorities!

  I shove my phone back into my pocket, smirk at the girl, and make my way over to her.

  “Hey, I’m Tommy.”

  She giggles and when she does her tits bounce a bit and I know I made the right decision coming out tonight.

  My life ain’t what I thought it would be at twenty-five, but it’s damn sure fun figuring it out.

  ***

  When I turned twenty-eight I had the biggest scare of my life.

  And by biggest, I mean huge. Life altering huge. And there was nothing I could do about it.

  ***

  My phone starts buzzing in my pocket as I head out the front door to my bike, ready to head out for the day. The minute I see the screen my face lights up. I haven't heard her voice in a year and our last conversation had to be cut short because of her demanding job.

  “Beany?” I blurt, immediately smiling wider than I have in years. The minute I answer I trip on a rock in the driveway, almost going down. “Shit, sorry,” I mumble, regaining my balance. “Hi, hey. Sorry.”

  Her small laugh comes through the speaker of my phone and my heart starts to warm. “Did I wake you?”

  “No,” I blurt. “So how ya been? Holy shit I thought you lost my number!” I’m shaking. Is it normal to shake like this when someone like Affton calls? Holy shit.

  “I'd never lose your number, Tommy.” She pauses but I can’t help but smile. Her voice sounds… wow. I didn’t realize how much I missed talking to her until right now. “So what’s been going on with you?”

  “Just stupid shit. Boring, stupid shit. Nothin' worth talking about, ya know?” I sigh. “Hey, you sound real good, Beany. It's... Hell it's fuckin' amazing hearin’ your voice.”

  Putting my hand over my face, I close my eyes and try to calm down. Hearing her voice after all this time has my world spinning backwards. I think about her all the damn time, but I don’t get to actually interact with her much anymore.

  “You too. How's the south? Dusty, dry, hot, and lackluster?”

  I laugh, because she’s always fucking hated this place.

  “Pretty hot, yeah. Summer's draining us on the ranch. Dusty and dry, yep.” I clear my throat. “So hey, I may stalk you on social media. You're killin’ it, Bean. That's fucking amazing. Just...amazing.”

  My brain’s fried. I short-circuited when I saw her number on the phone and now I can’t even have a conversation without repeating the same goddamned word twenty times. Dammit, she’s going to think I’ve turned into some uneducated hick.

  “Uh, yeah.” She sounds like she forces a chuckle and my heart flops in my chest. I miss her real laughs. We've drifted so far apart it hurts. “Work's awesome. Dream job,” she mutters. “But I fucked up.” When she starts to laugh, a real laugh now, I smirk, leaning back on my bike.

  “Uh oh. You need me to kill anyone? I got a few shotguns and a crew of boys here that know how to use 'em.”

  “Stop.” She laughs. “No need to kill anyone. But...you're gonna be an uncle... Sorta,” she mutters but my ears are ringing so I don’t know if she says anything else after that.

  An uncle? A motherfucking uncle? We fucked! Brothers and sisters don’t fuck! I… I’m going to be sick. I slide to the ground and my head falls between my knees to try and help me catch my breath.

  “Hello?” Her tone comes through the phone and I know I need to say something. Be happy for her.

  But I can’t.

  “That's...” I let out a heavy sigh and try to find the emotion that I should have for her sake. “Wow, Affton. That's awesome.” I clear my throat, trying to get rid of the knot that’s forming in it. She’s not supposed to be having someone else’s baby. “Wow. Congratulations.”

  “Stop. Please stop. I know I fucked up. I cannot have a child right now, Tommy!”

  “I mean, yeah. Wow.” I force out a small laugh and squeeze my eyes closed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You never even wanted kids. How the hell did this happen?” The question comes off like I’m interrogating her for fucking up. It’s not meant that way, but I can’t wrap my head around this.

  “Um, well, I'm sure you're familiar with the act. You used to bang everything back in the day.”

  “Ha! Some things don't change, Beany,” I blurt, nerves and anger making me say the stupidest goddamn things. I clear my throat and try to form a complete sentence without screaming at her for not letting that be my baby. “So uh... Who's the dad?”

  She’s quiet. Too quiet. I know she doesn’t want this baby, I can tell by the tone of her voice. I also know she’ll never get rid of it. That’s not the type of person she is. Once the news sinks in she’ll be happy as a fuckin’ clam over this new life she’s created. And like everything over the years, as long as she’s happy, I’m happy for her.

  “A guy I've been seeing for a little while.” She’s monotone now, but I have to keep her talking. I need to hear her voice to try and heal this shattered heart.

  It’s lame. I know that. I haven’t held out for her over the years, but she’s my Affton. She’s my girl. She’s…not anymore, though.

  “He a good guy? Treat you well?” To say I’m worried about her is an understatement. She just doesn’t sound right the longer we talk. She never even wanted kids. She’d never carelessly get herself into this position.<
br />
  “He's my boss.” I hear her annoyed laugh. She fucked her fucking boss?! “I mean, I'm not sleeping with him 'cause he's my boss. But...oh shit...” She stammers and I don’t have any words to console her. “This is going to be an experience. That's for sure!”

  “Yeah. You could say that again. Hey, I know I'm all the way in the sticks, but if you ever needed anything. Or if I could...I don't know, fly out and somehow help when the baby's here I will. You know that right?” My chest aches with every shallow breath and my legs feel like they’re not going to support me when I get up.

  “Yeah,” she whispers “I miss y—” She pauses then curses under hear breath, not finishing her sentence. A sentence I really need to fucking hear right about now. “Tommy, I have to go. I'll call you soon, okay?”

  “Oh, um yeah. Sure, that's...okay. Take care, Beany.” The call ends immediately and I stare at the dirt, unable to process any of this.

  I should be happy for her, but I can’t find that emotion anywhere inside me right now. My dad comes strolling out of the house and stops when he sees me.

  “I thought you left a long time ago.” He leans back against the front porch beam. “Why do you look like you’re getting sick? We got two cows that’ll be giving birth any day now at two different ranches that’ll need our help. I can’t have you gettin’ sick on me.”

  I look up at him and clear my throat. “I’m fine,” I say, standing and dusting off my jeans. I don’t feel like riding anymore but I don’t want to sit here and talk to him about why I look like I do, so I hop on my bike and take off.

  The drive isn’t as nice as it usually is. My mind’s swarming with the outcome of all of this. She’s never coming back. She’s grown up, and maybe it’s time I do the same. What if I was in that situation? What if one of the chicks I fuck gets pregnant and I suddenly have a baby to take care of?

  I still live in my dad’s house because of convenience. We work together, so living together makes it easier on both of us. Plus it’s free.

  I don’t have health care because the tattoo shop doesn’t even offer it and the insurance my dad gets is overpriced so I’d rather go without. A baby though? You need things like health care for a baby. Fuck, I’d need more. More space, more money…more stability.