14. Teysha

14

TEYSHA

"Tey Tey baby, it's time for you to come home."

I roll my eyes and turn away from the window, my phone to my ear. "Mama, why do you keep bringing this up? I've already told you."

"It can't be good for you there. Cohabitating with that… that man."

"Mama, we're married ."

"What does God say about mistakes? A person who refuses to admit their mistakes can never be successful. But if they do, another chance is given. There was a mistake made, sweetie. All you need to do is admit the truth and take the time to start over."

"But I didn't make any mistake…"

"Don't act smart. You know what I'm speaking of, Teysha," she scolds. "What you have been through would traumatize anyone. This is why you should be with loved ones."

"I'm with my husband."

"I said loved ones. Come home and allow us to fix the mistake. "

"Mama, I'm happy here." I almost wince at the stitch in my ribs. The sharp pain is a dose of reality jabbing into me. I push back against it, stubbornly sticking to my story. "We're working things out. Haven't you always stressed the importance of sickness and health in marriage? Rich times and poor?"

"Sweetie, you know that doesn't apply here?—"

"Logan and I might've gotten married under… unusual circumstances, but we've come to care for each other. Respect our union like you would anybody else's."

"Now wait a dang second, Teysha Patrice Baxter?—"

"I'm hanging up now, Mama. God bless."

A sense of satisfaction tugs my lips into a smile. If you'd asked me even a year ago if I'd ever hang up on Mama, I would've looked at you like you were crazy.

Because you'd have to be to suggest such a thing.

But things have changed. I've changed.

The girl that was taken from the parking lot of the Sunny Side Up would never be seen from again. What would follow would be months of pain and trauma. The one and only bright spot she found would be in the man she called her husband…

I'll do anything to make it work.

Mama and Grandma Renae will just have to respect my decision. Both mean well, but they've grown so used to being in control that they can't give it up. They refuse to accept I'm a grown woman who is married now. I can find my own way.

With Logan.

"Who was that?" Logan asks, breezing into the kitchen. He's dressed in his dark denim and nothing else. Tattoos cover every inch of skin between his broad chest and corded arms. The muscle he'd lost during our time in captivity has returned in rippling glory. He opens the fridge to grab the carton of orange juice and guzzle some down. "That your mother again?"

"Yes. And remember how we'd agreed we'd drink out of cups? Not from cartons?"

"Remember when I said I hated pulp?" He makes a sour face, wiping at his mouth with his forearm.

"I like pulp. Which is why I got the ‘ some pulp' version. It's a compromise."

"Your definition needs some work. What'd your mother have to say?"

I swallow against the guilt gnawing at the back of my throat. "She was checking up on me."

"She wants you to come home?"

"She'd prefer if I were closer. But she understands why I'm here."

"It won't be long. Once we get this dissolved, you won't have to be so far away," he says, reaching inside the fridge for the jug of whole milk instead. "Which reminds me, we need to follow up with the clerk's office. The supervisor was supposed to reach out. It's been fourteen business days."

"I'll call," I volunteer, forcing a smile. "You've been so busy with club stuff. Tracking down, um, the Leader. I'll follow up. You shouldn't have to worry about anything else."

Appreciation flickers in his steely blue eyes. He does the thing he's started doing, where he reaches out and pinches the skin on my arm. Not painfully. Not crudely. But in some gesture of affection that feels earned and sends a shiver down my spine.

It's several steps up from where we started since living together.

"Busy day at the club?" I ask .

"You can say that again. We've gotten Xavier to crack about the location of the compound. Now it's all planning."

"For when you go after…"

He nods. "It'll be soon."

"Let's do something special tonight," I blurt out. My smile softens, almost pleadingly. "Sydney asked me if we'd like to go to dinner with her and Mason."

"Teysha—"

"Just a dinner," I say. "It can't hurt. You and your brother have to patch things up eventually. The club won't survive if you don't. And you keep saying you don't want me cooking dinner every night. So give me a break."

His right brow cocks at the same time a crooked grin slashes across his mouth. "Anyone ever tell you you're pretty damn good at sweet-talking?"

"I'm only good if the answer is yes."

"I'll go so long as everybody's clear I'll punch Mace again if he pulls shit."

"At least wait 'til after dinner."

"Tell him that." He gives the flesh on my arm another squeeze before he heads for the door. He snatches a t-shirt hanging over a chair on his way. "I'm out. I'll come back tonight to pick you up."

I wave goodbye feeling a fuzzy warmth spreading in my chest. Validation that I've made the right choice.

We'll get there in time.

The Smokin' Pig is one of the most popular spots in Pulsboro on a Friday night. Known for its tangy barbecue sauce and assortment of smoked meats, the restaurant even hosts a karaoke hour. Logan and I enter to find the place packed.

There isn't a single empty table in the house.

Sydney spots us half a second later and thrusts her arm up to flag us down. Logan and I forge a path toward them, dodging servers carrying huge trays of food and a tipsy woman staggering over to the bar area.

It's not until we get closer that we realize our double date is a triple.

Blake and Korine have pulled up chairs on the side. Logan slows up as if he's about to make an escape.

My hands slip around his thick forearm to keep him at my side. "Thanks for inviting us."

"We come to the Smokin' Pig every other Friday," Korine says. "It's kind of become a tradition of ours."

"Well, it's a good thing we've been included."

I almost cringe at Logan's curt tone. It drips of sarcasm, his expression disgruntled. If he was ever into the idea of a double dinner date, he's changed his mind. We take the chairs across from Mason and Sydney.

It quickly becomes apparent Logan and his younger brother really haven't patched things up. Whatever truce they've reached is tenuous at best, outright hostile in its worst form. Both men stare off anywhere else but at each other while me, Sydney, Korine, and Blake try to make conversation.

"Do you ever sing karaoke?" I ask.

"Korine's succeeded in getting Blake up there," Sydney giggles.

"You laugh as if you didn't enjoy my rendition of "Sweet Child O' Mine"."

Korine lays her head on his shoulder. "It was cute. Especially when you forgot the lyrics. "

"I couldn't read the screen. And watch it—you don't call Kings cute . Puppies are cute. Kittens are cute. Kings are?—"

"Sexy as hell and I can't wait 'til we get home." Korine drops a kiss on the underside of his jaw.

Blake seems to forget all about what he was saying and is suddenly distracted by Korine. His hand slips under the booth. I have a sneaking suspicion if I looked under there, I'd find his hand on her thigh.

"Someday I'll get Mace drunk enough to do it." Sydney bumps her shoulder into Mason's.

He's in the middle of taking a drink from his beer bottle. He cocks a brow at her, sets down his bottle, and says, "I'll do it if you join the Tits on Heels wet t-shirt contest at the club."

"You already said you'd never let me!"

"There's your answer."

Sydney rolls her eyes and bites back a smile while the others laugh. Everyone except Logan.

A tense beat follows once the laughs die down. I catch Sydney's eye and see her mind hard at work, thinking up a new topic.

"Hey, what's up, fam?!"

We look up at the sound of Ozzie's loud voice. He's walked up alongside a woman I've never seen before. They couldn't seem more different—Ozzie's covered in dozens of tattoos while the woman's pale and unassuming. He's got the kind of energy that draws attention while she's more of a skittish mouse.

"There you are," Blake says. "We were taking bets."

"You kidding? I never miss Smokin' Pig's Friday night specials. Didn't even wear a belt 'cuz I'm about to demolish some ribs. "

"Hi, I'm Korine," she says, holding out her hand to greet the woman with Ozzie.

"Oh shit. Where are my manners?" Ozzie snaps his fingers into a finger gun he points at the woman. "Everyone, this is Hope. Hope, everyone. Mace, Cash, Ghost, and their girls Syd, Kori, and Tey."

Everyone murmurs a hello to Hope. Some shuffling is done so the pair can slide into the only empty seats left at the table.

Logan's tensed at my side. First at Ozzie and Hope's appearance, then at Ozzie calling me his girl. His jaw's clenched and his body's hardened. He's pissed; he's regretting ever agreeing to dinner tonight.

I clear my throat. "So, Hope, how did you and Ozzie meet?"

Hope shares a bashful smile with Ozzie. "At the Titty Bar."

Sydney almost chokes on her coke. Blake and Korine turn their heads away to disguise their quiet laughter.

"Sorry," Sydney says, clearing her throat. "It's just… you don't look like an exotic dancer."

"I get that a lot. It was my first day on the job when Ozzie came in."

"I took one look at her and knew," Ozzie says, throwing his arm around her shoulders. He leans in close to kiss her on the cheek. "I told her, get off that damn stage right now and put some clothes on."

"And he took me for milkshakes at the Dairy Shack," Hope says brightly.

The rest of us are silent, unsure of how to react to their story. Finally Blake cuts in to give Ozzie a hard time about how he'd said he was swearing off women forever after Sparkle. Ozzie shrugs him off.

"What can I say? Hope is one of a kind."

"Good," Sydney teases, "now you'll stop asking me if I have any single cousins."

The conversation evolves from there as our server finally arrives with our food. Even Mason starts participating as he moves onto his second beer and dines on smoked ribs.

Logan's the only one holding back.

The tension hasn't let up. His muscles feel harder than usual, like he's on guard. He's ready at a moment's notice if something were to pop off.

Every time the restaurant door dings open and people walk in, he's watching. He's tracking everyone's movements around the dining room. Is this what he's always done when out in public or is this a new habit of his?

It's like he won't take his mind off our surroundings long enough to enjoy the moment.

Blake makes an attempt at roping him into the conversation once it turns to bikes and the Chop Shop. He gives a one word answer and goes back to his silent, disgruntled surveillance of the Smokin' Pig.

I'm so tuned into Logan and his reactions that I begin checking out of the conversation too. I try to reach for his hand, but he moves it away before I can. I've tried to catch his eye for a smile, but he's refused to look at me.

The rejection heats up my skin. I roll my lips together, holding it in. Reminding myself patience is key. We've been making progress.

Logan's not there yet… but he can be someday.

He cared for me once. He can do it again…

Yet as I tell myself these things, my heart wilts inside my chest. I feel acutely aware of the other three couples seated with us at the table. Blake and Korine can't keep their hands off each other—Blake's stroking her thigh and she's practically propped up against his chest. Mason and Sydney have been flirting with the heated looks they exchange from their verbal sparing, like it's some form of foreplay for them.

And then there's Ozzie and Hope, who seem so smitten with each other it's almost sickening.

Meanwhile, Logan hasn't touched me. He hasn't so much as looked at me.

If we weren't seated together, you'd never know we were a couple at all.

Husband and wife.

A sudden wave of tears emerge from my eyes, and I do my best to ward them off. I blink them away and dab at my eyes with a napkin.

"So when's the wedding?" Ozzie asks Mason and Sydney.

They share a look, then Sydney says, "We're thinking end of summer. On our one year anniversary."

Hope smiles. "That's so sweet."

"How about we make it a double wedding? We drive to Vegas and two for one that shit."

The others laugh. Hope gives Ozzie a kiss on his cheek like he did to her minutes ago.

"We should be taking pointers from these two," Ozzie goes on, jutting his chin at us.

My insides freeze into ice. All while my skin burns.

The attention of the rest of the table shifts to Logan and me, and my voice goes out. I pull my lips into a polite smile and place my hand over Logan's clenched fist on the table.

"We're just… figuring things out."

Logan snatches his hand away and rises to his feet. "Smoke break. "

The rejection was bad on its own. It stung enough when Logan's rebuffed me in private. Just between the two of us.

But in a full restaurant? As six other pairs of eyes sit and watch it unfold live?

I feel like I've been slapped across the face. Heat prickles across my cheeks, leaving my skin warm all over again.

After such crippling embarrassment, what else can I do but excuse myself?

I slide out of my chair and ignore everyone who calls my name. Logan went out the side exit. I follow after him, my pulse pounding in my ear.

Humiliation can't begin to compete with the panic that explodes from inside the instant I lose sight of him.

The restaurant's so crowded, so noisy and dizzying, that I breathe harder, trying to find my exit. Trying to find Logan.

How could he leave me like this?

…how could he walk off when I'm alone?

He knows I don't like crowded spaces like this. He knows I freak out easily and get overstimulated.

It's too much after the captivity we've been through.

I'm practically panting for air by the time I make it to the side exit. One of the waitresses coming out of the kitchen asks me if I need help. I merely shake my head and push at the door, praying it'll open.

The night's air caresses my skin, providing much needed relief.

I suck in a deep breath and blink around the dark parking lot, lit up by a few lamp posts.

Logan's not far off. He's leaning against the brick building, a cigarette smoldering between his lips.

The tears I was holding in earlier begin slipping out. I can't hold them in another second. Not when I'm confronted by the cold reality. The awful truth that I've been hoping against in vain.

I'm such a fool.

He doesn't want me.

He's made it clear. Whatever it is that made him stop showing me kindness and affection can't be undone. He won't ever change his mind.

I choke on the cry that warbles out of me, then promptly turn away before he can notice. I have no real money, nowhere really to go.

But I start walking anyway.