Stout, Page 24

  “It’s definitely no place for children.”

  “No way he’d risk anything happening to those little girls. He’s crazy about them.”

  “I see that.”

  “Those boys took one of their Saturdays off to paint the room pink and childproof it. Then they filled it with brand new toys. Better than any daycare I’ve seen.”

  I can visualize the three of them rolling pink paint on the walls while drinking beer. “That is precious.”

  “Oliver’s going to make a great father one day.”

  “I’m seeing that too.” I really want my—our—kids to have him as their daddy.

  “Those three were so hard a few years ago. Brutes wouldn’t be a bad word choice to describe them. But now . . . they’re so different. Softened in all the right ways. You’d be a smart girl to latch on to him before some other woman gets her hooks in.”

  “Don’t worry. I have every intention.” I’m going to hold on to Oliver Thorn and never let go.

  * * *

  I’ve called Oliver over and over. No answer. I’ve texted multiple times. No response. And I’m scared. Terrified I’ve messed up far more than I originally thought.

  I thought we were okay. I love you, baby. We will work this out. Those were his last words to me. So why aren’t we working it out? Why isn’t he taking my calls or replying to my messages?

  There’s only one thing to do. Find out what’s happening through Lawrence.

  Please call me when you can: I’m worried about Oliver.

  He isn’t taking my calls or answering my texts.

  Lawrence’s reply is almost instantaneous.

  5 mins. Need to get away first.

  Get away from who? Oliver? The fact she needs to get away from anyone worries me.

  What the hell is going on in Savannah?

  I answer the phone on the first ring. “Lawrence, hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother. I absolutely adored Libby.” I tear up saying the words. I’m so sad I won’t have a chance to know their mom better.

  “Mom’s fine.”

  What? “Molly told me your mother died.”

  “Our birth mom.” Oh. Thank God it wasn’t Libby.

  I obviously don’t know the full story, but I’m so glad it wasn’t Libby. I don’t know how Oliver would cope with that loss. But he still hasn’t responded to me. Are we okay?

  “Oliver’s ignoring my calls and texts.”

  “I promise he’s not ignoring you. There’s been a lot going on. It’s been a complete shit show from the moment we got here. These people are out of their fucking minds. Certifiably crazy.” It’s bad if Lawrence is saying that. She never says anything unkind.

  “He didn’t tell me anything. He just left without a word.” I know we were in the middle of a fight, or whatever you want to call it, but it still hurts.

  “We talked on the way down. Ollie knew you’d insist on coming if he told you our birth mother died. Trust me, he did right by not letting you get involved in this. I wish I weren’t.”

  “He should have told me.” No. He wasn’t sure if I still loved him. He couldn’t tell me. How did I ever doubt the magnitude of his love?

  “Can you honestly say you wouldn’t have insisted on coming if you knew?”

  “No. I would have wanted to be there for him every step of the way.”

  “That’s why he didn’t tell you. Rather than risk you coming, he thought it better to ask your forgiveness after it’s all said and done. Please don’t be angry with him.” I don’t know what I am right now. A part of me is hurt but then there’s another part who likes that he went to such extreme measures to protect me. Again.

  “Well, I know now so tell him to call me. I want to talk to him.”

  “Yeah . . . that’s gonna be a problem considering Oliver’s in jail.”

  Shit. “What happened?”

  “Long story and it’s one for him to tell. Not me. But Brou’s down at the station seeing what he can do to get him out. Hopefully he won’t have to stay overnight.”

  My gut tells me Jimmy was involved. God, I hope Oliver didn’t finish what he started twelve years ago. “I’m coming.”

  “That’s exactly what he doesn’t want.”

  “I don’t care. I love him and I’m coming.” There’s no way I’m sitting here while he’s going through hell.

  “I strongly advise against that, Adelyn. Oliver loves you so much. He doesn’t want these toxic people in your life.”

  Those toxic people are a part of his life. That means they’re a part of my life. “I’ll call when I make it to Savannah. You can tell me then if I should go to your parents’ house or the jail.”

  “He’s going to lose his shit when you show up here.”

  Shit. I already know there are no direct flights to Savannah. Flying won’t get me any faster than driving. With the layover and early arrival to check in, maybe even longer. “I’ve gotta pack a bag but I’ll be quick. I should be there around midnight.”

  “We’ll be looking for you. I’ll text if he’s released before you get here. And I’ll text my parents’ address. That’s where we’ll be staying tonight. There’s highway construction on this side of Macon so be careful.”

  “I will. See you soon.”

  * * *

  Quentin and Libby meet me at the front door when I arrive at their home.

  “Adelyn. Come here, sweet girl.” Libby takes me in her arms, squeezing tightly. “It is such a pleasure to finally have you in our home.”

  “I’m not sure Oliver is going to feel the same when he figures out I’m here.” I was feeling so brave in Birmingham but I’m not as confident now that I’m in Savannah. Especially after an exhausting drive.

  Libby is happy I’m here. She’s all smiles. “We’ll put him out in the shed if he complains.”

  “Or send him back to the jailhouse.” Quentin laughs.

  It eases my mind to hear Oliver’s father make a joke about his arrest. I hope that means the charges aren’t too serious if they’re laughing about it.

  Lawrence and Tap are in the living room when we enter. “God, I’m glad you made it. I’ve been worried about you driving alone on that stretch of construction. It’s a little dangerous during the day so I can only imagine what it must be like at night.”

  “It wasn’t that bad but it did slow me down.” I’m here about an hour later than I anticipated. “Where’s Oliver?”

  “Shower. That’s the first thing he wanted when he walked through the door.”

  “So, he just got here?”

  “Yeah. About five minutes before you.”

  “I believe you’d call that perfect timing.”

  “I think so too.” Libby offers a follow me wave. “Come on, sweetie. You should be in his room when he gets out of the shower. It’ll be a nice surprise for him after the last two days.”

  Lawrence moves to get off the sofa. “It’s after one so we’re going to bed. We’ll see y’all at breakfast.” She points finger guns at me. “Good luck to you, sista.”

  “Thanks.”

  I follow Libby down the hall to Oliver’s room. “I’m very happy you came. Despite what Oliver thinks, he needs you.”

  I dread his wrath. “He’s going to be angry with me for coming.”

  “Probably but it’ll be short-lived. Give him a little and he’ll get over it.” Give him a little? “My son has been cooped up in jail with strange men for hours. I’m certain he’ll gladly welcome any female affection you offer.”

  Liberal Libby is encouraging me to have relations with her son. Under her roof. Any concerns I was entertaining about that being disrespectful are no longer in question.

  I love him, and tonight I will make sure he knows he is all I’ll ever want. My answer will be yes. Yes, I can see the bigger picture and love him even more for his care of Vance and his family.

  Oliver Thorn

  I meet Mom in the hall on my way out of
the bathroom. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  Enjoy the rest of my night? Maybe that’s code for be happy your ass is at home instead of jail. And what’s with her tone? It’s awfully cheerful. Maybe she’s trying to make me not feel so bad about spending the afternoon and most of the night in the slammer.

  That’s Libby Thorn. Always positive. Always trying to make the other person feel better. It’s one of the reasons I love her so much. “G’night. Love you, Mom.”

  She stops and hugs me, kissing the side of my face. “Love you, my sweet boy. I’m proud of you.”

  Proud seems like an odd word choice after the shitstorm day we’ve had. “Proud I spent the evening in jail?”

  “Yes. I’m damn proud.”

  “Well, that only makes one of us because sitting in that cell made me feel like I should still be Oliver McCollum.”

  “You are NOT a McCollum. You are one of us. A Thorn. You have been for twenty-four years.” Mom is smiling. Big. Not sure what to make of it. “See you at breakfast. Maybe. Unless you sleep in.”

  Not possible. “You know I don’t sleep in.”

  “It’s been a long night. And it’s not over yet.”

  “It’s over for me ’cause I’m crashing.” Dealing with those damn McCollums for two days, especially Jimmy, has been exhausting.

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  I’m considering the odd conversation with my mom when I enter my bedroom. And it all suddenly makes sense when I see who is sitting on my bed. “Hi.”

  I stand in the doorway looking at her. My Max. Trying to decide if I want to run to her and pull her into my arms or throw her over my knee and spank her ass hard. And then kiss it.

  “Please don’t be mad.” She stands, her hands fidgeting in a knot as she chews her bottom lip. Looks so nervous.

  I step inside and close my bedroom door. It’s the only invitation she needs to propel herself into my arms. “Oliver. I just . . . I love you and I want to be with you during times like this. I long for you to need me by your side. I don’t want to be left behind without a single word about what’s happening. Good or bad.”

  I’ve been locked up like an animal most of the day, forced to look at white painted cement blocks and lowlifes with no concern for humanity. But now I have my girl. She’s so soft and sweet-smelling. And has just told me she loves me and wants to be by my side during bad times. There’s nothing I want more than to lose myself in her, the woman I love so much it hurts.

  “Max . . . everything about the last couple of days qualifies as bad. Especially today.”

  We move to sit on the foot of my bed but she never releases my hand. “Tell me what happened. Why did they put you in jail?” I hadn’t planned on Adelyn knowing about my arrest.

  “I had just left your house Sunday night when Christie’s sister called and told us she had died.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “We heard a few different stories. Lawry and I agree it’s likely drug related since we can’t get a clear answer from anyone.” Don’t know. Don’t really care.

  “The McCollums didn’t give a shit if we came to the funeral or not. They called Lawry because they didn’t have the money to bury the woman. They knew they could guilt her daughter with the soft heart into paying. Which they did. I didn’t get the call because I have no heart when it comes to Jimmy and Christie. But I’d never let Lawry solely pay for Christie’s funeral. So yeah. I got fucked on this deal.”

  “It’s sad anyone would take advantage of Lawry’s kindness.”

  “That’s the kind of people they are. When we got to the funeral home, the McCollums were true to form. They were all either drunk or high. Belligerent. Antagonistic. Especially Jimmy. That son of a bitch started taunting me the minute I got there. It went on all day yesterday. It about killed me but I put up with his shit for Lawry. And then today . . . when I’d had enough, I’d had enough.”

  “What did you do?”

  “The funeral was over and we were leaving. I was so close. So close to never seeing those people again. And Jimmy couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t resist poking me for a fight one last time.”

  “In the funeral home?”

  “Yes. The bastard grabbed my mom by the arm and said, ‘Hey, you, uppity bitch. How does it feel to know you couldn’t have your own kids so you stole mine and raised them to be assholes just like you and your husband?’”

  “What a horrible thing to say.” That was nowhere near my reaction. The motherfucker.

  My hands clench as I think about it. “My mom was there to pay respect to her children’s birth mother. Made Dad bring her home early from their trip so she could be there. For us. Because that’s the kind of woman she is. Neither Christie nor Jimmy are worthy of an ounce of respect.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can guess what happened next.”

  “He put his hands on my mom and that was it for me. I went after him.” Shit got real in that funeral home.

  “How bad is it? The legal repercussions.”

  “Turns out they frown pretty hard upon people fighting in funeral homes. I’ll probably have to pay a hefty fine. And I could be on probation for a while. Not sure yet.”

  “So I’m dating a fine-ass convict with a rap sheet? That’s pretty hot.” She seems more sure than me about where we are.

  “Are we dating? ’Cause the last time I saw you I basically broke into your house and physically restrained you so you’d listen to what I had to say.”

  Adelyn leans over and kisses my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Oliver. For two years, all I have felt since Tommy’s death was hatred. To lose him so young, so full of life and a future, to watch Jill endure year after year of pain . . . I’ve missed him so much. I hadn’t even considered that Vance wasn’t the monster he’d been painted to be. Please forgive me for the things I said about you. To you. If anything, how you cared for him, stood by his side, supported his family by providing work, it only made me love you more. You were right to stand by him.”

  I hadn’t needed Adelyn to see me as a hero. I had given her an ultimatum, knowing how intrinsically good her heart was. Hoping she would choose us. “You’re here.”

  “I am here and I choose love. I choose us. I choose you.” Thank. Fuck.

  She leans over, grabs the back of my head, and kisses me until we’re both breathless. “I’m yours, Oliver Thorn, and you are mine. Nothing is going to change that.”

  She reaches for the corner of the towel wrapped around my waist and tugs. Her grin is wicked. Her eyes, hooded and lustful, as she watches the towel fall to the floor. “Your mom told me you’d forgive me if I’d give you a little. I’d like to test that theory.”

  I hear the words give you a little and my cock is instantly hard. Suddenly, the last forty-eight hours of shit lose their importance. My girl loves me. “I can forgive about anything if it means I get inside your pussy.”

  “That mouth, Thorn.”

  Adelyn pulls her shirt over her head while I yank open her shorts and lower the zipper. “I can’t believe Libby told me to fornicate with you. My mother would die before recommending I do something like that.”

  I think Rachel has led Adelyn to believe she was something other than what she really was. A normal teenager. “Actually your dad popped your mom’s cherry before her eighteenth birthday.”

  “What?”

  I push her shorts and panties down her legs. “Brother Maxwell ain’t no saint, baby.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Lift.” I tap Adelyn on the ankle so she’ll pick up her foot. “He told me he banged your mom before they were married.”

  “Why would my Baptist preacher father tell you that?”

  “He was making a point that he’d been in my shoes and he understood how badly I wanted to fuck you.”

  “I highly doubt that’s how he put it.”

  I laugh as I recall how uncomfortable I’d been during that conversation. “No. But he was very
right. I wanted to fuck you and he knew it. So he made a plea for your heart. He asked me to not break it. But he also pleaded for your virtue. He asked me to not ruin you for the man who’d want to take you as his wife.”

  Adelyn climbs onto my lap. My cock pokes straight up between her legs and touches her stomach. “That’s just like Daddy to think I’m a virgin.”

  “He asked me to not defile you when five minutes prior you had sucked my dick and swallowed my cum. I can’t lie. I felt kinda bad about it.”

  My girl is hovering above my cock, which is dying to be inside her hot body. As if sensing my need, Adelyn rises and positions the tip of my dick at her entrance before sinking down on it hard and deep. “I like when you defile me.”

  Fuck, that feels good. I haven’t been inside her in almost a week. Way. Too. Long.

  She rides me up and down. Fast and then slow. Rolling her hips one direction and then the other.

  Home. Max is my home.

  She grasps my shoulders and leans backward to thrust her hips harder. Deeper. “Submission isn’t enough. I want more from you, Max.” So much more and I’m not sure you’re ready for that degree of submission.

  She locks her arms around my shoulders and rolls hers hips until she’s filled with my cum and completely satiated by her own orgasm.

  We fall breathless onto the bed side by side, facing one another. She strokes her thumb down my cheek. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

  “What if I want to give you something?”

  “Then I’ll take whatever it is you want to give me.”

  I smile because she has no idea what I’m talking about. “I want to give you my name.”

  There’s a moment when she doesn’t realize what I’m asking. And then there’s a moment when she does. But in between the two, there’s a split second where I get to watch her comprehension come full circle. And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Be my wife, Max. Marry me.”

  Shit. She’s just staring at me. No response. Have I fucked up by asking too soon?