Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Shepperd

Disoriented, I jerked up in bed and looked around the room. Then it all came back to me. I was with Law and had just logged more sleep than I could ever remember. And yes, it was very late when we finally gave in to sleep, but after glancing at the clock beside the bed and doing some quick math, I knew five hours was more than I’d had in a long time.

My eyes dropped to the empty bed beside me. I ran my hand over the sheet where the indent of his body was still fresh. I needed to get up and on my way home—or to my parent’s home, at least—so I wouldn’t be late for work. But Law wasn’t in the adjoining bathroom either, so I pulled on my jeans and threw on my top right over his T-shirt. Scooping up my shoes on the way out of the bedroom, I padded down the hall in socks to the open, brightly lit kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said in a low, rumbly voice that made the hair on my forearms stand on end. His warm smile coaxed out my own, and he slid a mug of coffee across the island toward me.

“Not sure if you take cream and sugar, but I guessed yes based on the drinks I’ve seen you with at the coffee shop.”

“Mmm, thank you. Mind if I take this with me, though? I think I’m pushing my luck with time here, and I still have to get to my parents and get cleaned up.”

“Yeah, no worries. I have a travel mug that should fit in your car,” he said, already rummaging through his cabinet, looking for the cup. He had an adorably victorious look on his face when he found it and turned back to where I was admiring his ass.

He set the mug on the counter while keeping me captivated with his stare and prowled toward me. I sucked in a breath and felt heat flooding my face. This man had the most intoxicating effect on my body. Just looking at him was like taking a potent drug. He pulled me into his embrace and gave me a slow, intense kiss.

I stared up at him when we parted and couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. My brain was completely scrambled, and my body wanted things we couldn’t accomplish if we were going to make it to work on time.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, and his smile grew wider.

“What?” he asked before taking another sip of his own coffee.

“You scare me a little bit. Not going to lie.”

“Scare you?” He looked panicked.

I rushed to explain. “Actually, what scares me are the feelings you stir inside here.” I pressed my hand to my sternum where I could feel my heart hammering like an engine. “But seriously, I need to take off or I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” he said as we made our way to the door.

“I’m right out front, you don’t have to. I don’t want you to be late either.”

But he continued walking beside me down his driveway to where my car was parked. “I don’t want to say goodbye yet. Today is going to be the longest day ever.”

There were so many things about this guy that I liked. And so many more that surprised me. When I used to stare at him from across the gym, I had a picture of who he was painted in my mind, and it was completely wrong. He was more than a gorgeous face and incredible body. So much more. I wished in that moment that my twin and I weren’t on the outs, because I really wanted to gush to someone about this guy.

By the time I was headed toward my parent’s neighborhood, all the joy and peace from the time I spent with Law started leaking out of my good nature. It felt like a puncture in a car tire, hissing and whining until I felt flat and depleted.

The driveway to my parent’s house was longer than the others in the neighborhood. They said they had a flagpole lot, meaning the footprint at the street was narrow and long and the expanse of the pad was farther back.

I pulled in alongside my dad’s car and inwardly cringed that he hadn’t already gone to the office for the day. I wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation this morning, and I gripped on to whatever was left of my cheerful mood after being with Law.

Inside the front door, I made a beeline for my room and right into my closet to grab some clothes for work. I hurried back down the hall and into the bathroom to take the world’s fastest shower. If I wore my hair up, I wouldn’t have to wash it, so I planned on a quick, low bun. If I felt like makeup later, I could apply some at my desk while on break. Most of the time, I didn’t mind just having a natural look, but if I was going to see Law after I got off, I wanted to look better than what I stared at in the mirror now.

I gave a quick shrug. “Oh, well. Good enough.” I was clean, in clean clothes, had an incredible night’s sleep, and I even had some caffeine surging through my system. It was a better start than I usually got, no doubt. The smile on my face said it all.

I was happy.

For the first time in a very long time, I was happy. With my hand on the front door handle, I heard my dad call from the kitchen.

“Shep? Is that you?” His voice easily carried through the entire house, so there would be no pretending I didn’t hear him.

“Yeah, it’s me. But I’m running late, so I’ve gotta go.” I pulled the door open and was blinded by the sun peaking over the neighbor’s tree line. Just as I closed the front door behind me, it opened back up, and my father’s imposing figure filled the frame.

I hurried to my car and fumbled with the key fob to open the doors. The battery in the device was getting weak, so I had to hit it a few times before it worked. Hopefully today would not be the day the engine decided to give up because I’d been ignoring a handful of warning lights on the dash and didn’t have time to deal with that today.

I wasn’t sure if thinking those thoughts manifested my shitty morning luck, but when I tried to start the car, it made some sort of terrible grinding noise and completely shut off.

My dad stood with his car door open, watching the nightmare unfold.

I banged my head on the steering wheel a couple of times and looked to find him staring at me. “Goddammit. Not now,” I mumbled and thought of trying to start it one last time.

But my dad shouted my way before I went for it. “Just let it be, Shep. You might do more damage trying to start it again.”

I got out of the car and slammed the door way harder than necessary. It was my own fault. Those warning lights had been on for weeks, and I just kept ignoring them. Kept promising myself I’d get it taken care of but never did. Not to mention, I didn’t have the money for car service at the moment, and the last thing I wanted to do was ask my folks to help me out. As a rule, I’d rather figure out my own solution than ask for help.

I whipped out my phone and pulled up the rideshare app. I’d be late for work, but I could call my boss on the way and explain that my car broke down. I mean, showing up late had to be better than not showing up at all, right?

“Do you need a ride to work?” my dad called over the roof of his car. He had one leg inside the car and his body half-twisted to slide in behind the wheel.

“It’s in the opposite direction of your office. You’ll be late too.”

“Come on, hop in. I don’t mind giving you a lift, and no one will care if I’m a little late. It’s not like it happens often, so really, it’s no trouble.”

Honestly, I didn’t have money for a ride. As much as I didn’t want to be confined inside a car with the man, it was my best option. I could suffer through fifteen minutes with him and maybe still be on time. So I ran around to grab my purse off the passenger’s seat, slammed the door shut on my piece of shit car, and slid into the pristine luxury of his.

Quietly, I said, “Thank you for helping me,” once I was settled in my seat.

“What are parents for?” he asked lightly, and I resisted the deadpan look I wanted to shoot him. Instead, I just gave a little shrug, forced a smile his way, and busied myself with the seat belt so he’d just start driving.

My dad tried starting several conversations while we drove, but I just stuck to as few words exchanged as possible. I tried really hard not to be rude, though, because he was saving my ass when all was said and done.

“I may have to have that thing towed to the shop from the way it sounded. Have there been warning lights on when you’ve started it?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

Oh great, here we go.

“Hmmm,” I drew out, trying desperately to sound innocent. I had to be careful not to lay it on too thick, though, because my dad could be as cynical as me when he put some effort into it. He knew when we were lying almost every time.

“Is that a yes or no?” he asked, darting his eyes between the road and me. “Where is your work?”

How it just dawned on him at that moment to ask where I worked, I couldn’t say. And if he didn’t know where I worked, why was he heading in the right direction?

“Do you know and are trying to force me to incriminate myself? Or do you really not know?” I accused, feeling my mood slowly transform the longer I had to chat with him.

When I was young, like most little girls, my daddy was the apple of my eye. After the molestation started at school, I began to withdraw from everyone. But especially him. I had a hard time trusting grown men and was convinced they were all the same. Evil, cruel, conniving, and not to be trusted. So our relationship suffered as badly as mine and Hannah’s did.

“Shepperd,” he said in that tone that ground on my nerves. Like he was on his very last bit of patience with me. Like I was a big inconvenience.

I refused to fight with him before walking into my job, though, so I took a deep breath and banished the negativity. I gave him the address, and he nodded.

After a few minutes, he asked, “Where are you working exactly? The name of the business, I mean. Because I thought you were working at a hair salon, and I know there isn’t one in the middle of that business park. I’m pretty sure that address you just gave me is a bunch of offices.”

Well, wasn’t he just the super sleuth of the morning. I choked back the acidic remark and nodded. “Yeah, it’s an office.”

In a much gentler voice, he asked, “Well, what do you do?” Maybe he wasn’t in the mood to start his day by going a few rounds with me either. We were only a few miles away. If we hit the green lights on most of the blocks, I had a good chance of making it right on time.

“Just paperwork stuff. It’s just to pay bills and have pocket money. It’s not a career choice,” I rushed out. Next would come the lecture about not using my full potential or not choosing a job in my chosen major.

Thoughtfully, he nodded at my reply. “What kind of paperwork? That’s a pretty vague job description.”

I let my tense shoulders drop down to their rightful position and blew out a breath. “I process medical billing stuff. Payments, monthly account statements, stuff like that. A lot of data entry. It’s all very boring.”

“So what happened at the hair salon? Weren’t you working at one at the beginning of the summer?”

“It didn’t work out. The owner was an asshole, and our personalities clashed. It only lasted about two weeks,” I summarized while staring out my window. I couldn’t take his disapproving scowl this early in the morning.

But to my surprise, he just said, “That’s too bad. It seemed like you were enjoying it.”

“Not really,” I said with little emotion. “It was money. That was about it.”

“Are you enjoying the office setting more?” he fired right away.

I swung my head toward him and just stared while he negotiated his fancy car through traffic. Finally, when he could take his eyes off the road, he met my stare.

“What?” he asked calmly.

“What’s with the third degree?” I snapped.

“Shepperd,” he sighed. “It’s not the third degree. It’s called making conversation.”

A few moments passed, and I considered flipping on the stereo but then he continued.

“Do you think your mother and I like arguing with you all the time?” He asked the question and then answered it too. “We don’t. I just thought we could catch up a little while we ride in to work this morning. I realize I’ve lost track of what you’ve been up to, and that’s on me.”

Instantly, I felt suspicious. Where was all this loving, doting parent crap coming from? I hadn’t felt nurtured or even interested in for years. The only child that existed in our house for the majority of my life was my sister, Hannah. Another reason I resented her so much.

Drifting away from the conversation in the car, I gave that fact a little more thought. Was it really Hannah’s fault that our parents favored her? Rationally, I knew all the reasons why. I knew she was a victim. It’s not like she wanted to have two random strangers try to abduct her one day while shopping with our mother at Target. They chose her. She was an innocent, six-year-old girl just minding her own business.

It was the fallout from that fateful day that caused all the problems in our house. And true, I had no idea how I would have reacted if I had been a parent in their situation. For all these years, it had been easier to just blame my parents for my misery than look inside and see where it was really coming from.

Shit .

Where the hell did all of that just come from? And why now? Why this morning, of all mornings, did I have to go down this path in my brain. I was having such a great morning after leaving Law’s house. But this bullshit lived right at the surface of everything I did. Every relationship I had—and destroyed. Every conversation I took part in. Every interaction with family, friends, and especially strangers. Being bitter toward, frankly, everyone and everything became my best defense mechanism. It was easier to push people away than let anyone get close and have them discover how fucked up I really was.

Until I met Law.

With that realization, the car came to a stop, jarring me from my thoughts. When I looked out the window, I realized we were in front of my workplace, and I couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

“Hey, Shep, wait a sec,” my dad called while leaning across the center console so he could maintain eye contact with me.

“Dad, I’m going to be late,” I said but mentally reminded myself that he really had saved my ass this morning. “Thanks for the ride,” I forced out past a lump of emotion I resented for rising in my throat.

“No worries,” he said with a kind smile. “Do you need a ride home? I can swing by and pick you up. What time are you off?”

Was that hope in his expression?

“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll catch a ride.” I tried to wave him off, but he persisted.

“With who? Really, it would be no bother.”

“My boyfriend is picking me up. We have plans,” I lied. Twice, really. First, who said Law Masterson was my boyfriend? Second, I had no idea what his day looked like or if he’d be able to give me a ride. Truth be told, I probably wouldn’t even ask him.

“See you later, Dad,” I said in hopes he’d drive away.

“Okay, let me know if your plans change. Love you, kiddo,” he called, and all I could do was lift my hand to about hip level and give a pathetic wave.

I hadn’t uttered those words to anyone in years. I had no intention this morning to overturn any other apple carts in my mind. I already had enough to think about after that uninvited self-introspection.

On my lunch break, I dug my phone out of the bottom of my bag and realized I’d never turned the ringer back on from last night. I had a handful of texts from Maye and Law and couldn’t deny the way my entire body reacted when I saw he reached out.

The first message came earlier that morning.

Hey you. How’s your day going? Hope you made it on time. XO

A second message came about an hour after the first. As I read the text, a grin spread across my whole face. I took a surreptitious look around the lunchroom to see if anyone saw the way I was fawning over my phone’s screen. Thankfully, the two other people in the room were involved in their own conversation and likely didn’t realize I was in the room with how rapt they were paying attention to each other.

Interesting . I wondered if there was something going on between them based on their body language. I’d have to check out that theory with Joy when I got back to my desk to see if she picked up the same vibe.

Hope you’re okay. I thought I’d hear back from you, but you must be busy. What time are you off today? Still want to go to your parents’ to pick up some of your stuff?

Shit. I forgot we had that loose plan in the works, and I wasn’t sure if I could take more interaction with the folks today. I shot a message back to Law and figured we could just see how the evening played out.

Hey yourself. Sorry I missed your messages. Forgot to turn the ringer on this morning. Made it on time but not sure about tonight. My car died in the driveway this morning, so I’m kind of stuck.

I absolutely hated having to admit that to him for more reasons than I could list. If I knew this guy as well as I felt I did, the next message would be some version of him coming to my rescue. I never wanted to appear needy or dependent. On anyone. Especially not a man, and especially not a man I cared about. And there was no doubt after last night, I cared about this one possibly more than I’d ever cared before. But I didn’t need a savior, and I didn’t want to seem incapable of fixing my own shit.

What time are you off? I can swing by and pick you up?

You don’t have to do that. I’ll figure something out.

It’s settled. What time should I come by? The sooner I get to see you, the happier I’ll be, so we both win.

Very clever.

You know it! Time?

I’m done at 3:30. If you work later than that, I can find a ride. Seriously.

See you at 3:30. Shoot me the address, please, or drop a pin when you have a chance.

You’re too sweet. You know that?

Not always. It would seem you bring out the best in me. See you soon. XO

These little x’s and o’s were starting to do funny things to my stomach. How could two letters in the alphabet make my body react this way?