Dropout (The Good Guys Book 3) Page 10

  She didn’t say anything, but responded by opening the door wider in invitation. After shutting it behind me, she flicked the deadbolt.

  I followed her into the living room, which was an area of the house I hadn’t gotten a good look at yet. The walls were a warm amber, reminding me of whiskey. A fluffy cream-colored carpet ran the length of the room. Mackenna’s guitar was leaning against a worn blue armchair in the corner, and a brown leather couch completed the room, adding to the coziness.

  It was clean, aside from several partially-full water bottles placed randomly throughout the room. I counted them and the total came to nine, which was excessive for one person. I was about to ask about it but then Mackenna sniffled, and my concern overrode my curiosity.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I asked, needing to know how much groveling was in order.

  “Not everything is about you,” she snapped before letting out another hiccup. Blowing her nose, she sat down on the couch, then glanced up at me. Her stormy eyes were absent of their usual hardness, and her voice got softer. “Sorry. No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I sat down next to her. “I know I can be a real ass sometimes, but I’m a good listener.”

  She tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Then I noticed a crumpled piece of paper in her right hand. Her eyes followed my line of sight, and I knew from the expression on her face that whatever was on that paper was the reason for her sadness.

  Gently placing my hand on hers, I uncurled her fingers and smoothed the paper out.

  Who are you spreading your legs for, you filthy cunt?

  “What the hell is this?” I asked, confused.

  Mackenna let out a laugh, but there was no humor behind it.

  “A love letter,” she sneered. “I thought they were supposed to tell me when he got out. Aren’t they supposed to notify me or something? It was supposed to be ten years. Ten!” Her voice became borderline-frantic at the end.

  Feeling the need to do something, I picked up the box of tissues from the coffee table and handed it to her.

  “When who got out?” Then it clicked and I knew. “Your ex.”

  Nodding, she hiccupped again, and I noticed she was shaking. She wasn’t just sad—she was terrified.

  Rage unlike anything I’d ever felt filled my entire body. Even though I didn’t remember the details about what happened years ago, it didn’t take a genius to figure out it was bad. I hadn’t brought up the topic of her past since that first day because it was obviously a sore subject.

  But now I wondered what the hell he did to her.

  “Fuck, baby,” I muttered, pulling her onto my lap.

  She stiffened, but didn’t resist as I draped her legs sideways over mine. “What are you doing?”

  “Hell if I know,” I replied, wrapping my arms around her. “But I can’t just do nothing when you’re shaking like this.”

  Sniffling, she hesitated for a few seconds before awkwardly resting her head on my shoulder. I rubbed circles on her back and her body relaxed a fraction. It’d been a long time since I showed physical affection that wasn’t purely sexual to a girl, but comforting her just felt right.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, reminding me of the reason I came over.

  I got the feeling she needed to talk about something else. Luckily, I had the perfect distraction. “We have to repaint Grandma’s house. Apparently, everyone in town is upset about it. She got a call from the mayor himself.”

  Mackenna lifted her head and looked at me with wide eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Said he’d even pay for a new color.”

  That got her to smile a little. “It is hideous.”

  “A total eye-sore,” I agreed.

  She squinted. “Looking at it actually hurts my eyes.”

  I laughed. “Leave it to Grandma to give an entire town a headache.”

  “I mean, it’s a good color for tractors. Or grass. Or leggings,” she added, wiggling her thighs.

  It made her ass rub against me just right. Instant wood. Apparently my cock couldn’t recognize how inappropriate the timing was, and I hoped she couldn’t feel it poking her leg.

  “I get the feeling you have a lot of crazy leggings.” My thumb ran back and forth over her knee, feeling the soft material covered in brightly-colored pineapple print.

  Mackenna shifted, and I thought maybe she’d pull away from me.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, she snuggled in closer. “Patterned leggings are very popular right now. I might as well take advantage of it while it’s socially acceptable. In a few years when they’re out of style, I’ll just be the crazy-leggings lady at Walmart.”

  Grinning at the mental image, I tightened my arms around her. I rested my chin on the top of her head and looked around the room.

  “Are you like that girl from the movie Signs?” I wondered out loud.

  “Huh?” Mackenna’s head popped up and she looked confused.

  I pointed at the water bottles. “You know, how she’s picky about the water she drinks and ends up leaving cups everywhere.”

  Mackenna’s eyes widened as if she was just noticing the mess. “Actually, yeah. I have a thing about water that’s been sitting out for too long.” Seeming slightly embarrassed, she gave a half-shrug. “I can drink it if it’s cold, but once it reaches room temperature it’s not good anymore.”

  “That’s…different,” I said with a chuckle.

  In response, another hiccup escaped and her head went back to that place on my shoulder.

  “Do you want me to get you a new water?” I offered. “Might help you get rid of those hiccups.”

  She shook her head. “That always happens when I cry. It’ll pass.”

  “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Is it okay that I’m sitting on you like this?” Her voice was quiet. Hesitant. Unsure and sweet. “It feels nice.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah, Mack. It’s okay.”

  Now it made sense why she was so hellbent on staying away from me. I knew what I looked like—what people saw when they looked at me. My image didn’t exactly scream squeaky-clean.

  And I couldn’t even feel upset over the fact that she judged me, because my behavior didn’t do anything to dissuade her from the first impression I gave.

  As we sat silently for a few minutes, I thought about the way I’d treated her over the past few days.

  The guilt that hit me was so intense I felt nauseated.

  Mackenna seemed so strong and independent, but she was also skittish at times. Like an insensitive prick, I hadn’t even considered the possibility that she was closed off because of something she’d been through. That maybe she wasn’t unfriendly—she was scared.

  I even made fun of her for not dating.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her hair.

  “What for?” she asked, and her warm breath tickled my neck. “It’s not your fault my ex is a psycho.”

  “For everything. God, I’m such a shitbag. You’ve obviously been through some serious stuff and I’ve been a complete dick.”

  “It’s okay,” she responded automatically.

  “No, it’s not,” I said adamantly, shaking my head. “And I like it that you knit and sew. It’s cute.”

  She sighed. “I haven’t exactly made things easy for you, Jimmy. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I can take a joke.”

  “Speaking of jokes, why did the fisherman sail the ocean?”

  She paused to think. “I don’t know, why?”

  “For the halibut.”

  Mackenna let out a snort. That snort turned into a laugh.

  Clutching my shirt, she buried her face in my shoulder while she giggled uncontrollably. The sound was infectious. Right
there on her couch we lost our shit together, laughing over something that wasn’t even very funny in the first place.

  Once she got herself under control she lifted her head, and the smile she wore reached her eyes. “That was a terrible joke.”

  “I know.” I smiled, fighting the sudden urge to kiss her. “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

  She just shrugged, her movement restricted by my arms that were still around her.

  “Well, first, you should report this letter to the police. If he just got out he’s probably on probation, and this needs to be on record in case…” I trailed off, not wanting to voice my concern.

  Her body trembled as she finished the sentence. “In case he comes back.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “And after that, you’re going to have some fun for once. Grandma’s got a hot tub.” I waggled my eyebrows at her. Then my face got serious. “And maybe you can tell me about what happened?”

  “It’s such a long story.” Sighing, she looked away.

  “I’ve got time. And I need to know if he’s going to be a problem.”

  Glancing back my way, she scoffed. “Why? What are you going to do about it?”

  “Anything I have to,” I said, the need to protect her overwhelming.

  I was afraid she was going to argue with me, so I was surprised when she didn’t protest.

  Obviously she found some comfort in my presence, or else she wouldn’t be sitting on my lap. Mackenna’s fingers absentmindedly played with a rogue string around my cut-off sleeve as she thought it over.

  When she finally spoke, her voice came out a little happier. Playful even. “I might need a little liquid courage first, but all I have is half a bottle of Boon’s Farm.”

  Snickering, I hugged her tighter. “Now that I can help with.”

  CHAPTER 14

  MACKENNA

  The sun had fully set and the stars were popping up in the darkening sky. Fireflies lit up the yard. The sound of cicadas filled the air.

  It was the perfect summer evening.

  Or, at least, it would’ve been if I wasn’t scared for my life.

  The warm water felt soothing as I sank down into the hot tub, taking the seat across from Jimmy. The motion detector light on the side of the garage turned on, bathing the backyard in a calming yellow glow.

  I hadn’t gone swimming in ages. The floral-print one-piece swimsuit I found at the bottom of one of my unpacked boxes still had the tags on when I dug it out. Tugging at the halter straps, I tried to relax but it wasn’t easy.

  Tension and fear remained at the forefront of my mind.

  There wasn’t much the police could do since there was no way for me to prove the note was from Jaxon. Basically, they said they would look into it. They could question him, but he could deny it. If I really wanted to take it a step further, I could apply for a restraining order.

  All of it sounded like one big headache.

  Water splashed as Jimmy stood up and leaned over the side of the hot tub. I admired the way the wet black swim trunks molded to his ass. When he turned back toward me, he had both arms behind his back.

  “Pick a hand.” Grinning, he hopped up and down a little, causing rivulets of water to run down his chest. One of the drops disappeared into his belly button, and I imagined myself licking him there. My gaze drifted down, following the dark trail of hair into the waistband of his shorts.

  My eyes darted up to his, and I wondered if he caught me checking him out. From the smirk on his face, I concluded the answer to that was yes.

  “Come on, pick one,” he insisted, and I pointed to the right side. He revealed an empty hand. “You’re not very good at this game.”

  With a sigh I shrugged, and Jimmy showed me his left, which held a stainless-steel flask. He passed it to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked, screwing off the cap and bringing it to my nose.

  “Liquid courage.”

  My face scrunched up at the smell of the whiskey, but I tipped it back anyway. Coughing because of the way it burned on the way down, I wiped at my mouth and handed it back to him.

  He gave me an expectant look as he took a swig. I knew what he wanted to talk about, but I wasn’t ready yet.

  Taking the flask back, I did two shots in a row. Jimmy raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn’t say anything as he waited for me to spill my history.

  “Where did you get alcohol?” I asked, delaying the inevitable conversation. “You’re not old enough.”

  “My grandma keeps a bottle of Jack on hand for ‘medicinal purposes’,” he said, putting air-quotes around the words.

  I giggled, feeling warm from the effects of the alcohol already. I’d always been a light-weight, and I hadn’t eaten much for dinner. My appetite was gone after getting that note.

  The anxiety that consumed me earlier returned, and Jimmy must have been able to see it on my face. With his eyes on the house, he started humming ‘John Deere Green’ by Joe Diffie.

  Effectively distracted, I let out a laugh that sounded more like a snort. He went all the way through the chorus, singing a word here and there.

  “Not bad, James Peabody,” I teased, and he scowled at the name. “You can actually carry a tune.”

  “So can you.”

  I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “And how do you know that?”

  He took a sip. “I heard you the other day. Your window doesn’t do much to muffle sound.”

  “Oh,” I said awkwardly. “Guess it’s time to have my windows replaced.”

  Jimmy’s eyes met mine. “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Thanks.” I played with some of the bubbles on the surface of the water. “But for the record, I don’t sing in front of people anymore unless it’s for songwriting purposes.”

  “Not even your friends?”

  “I don’t really have any.”

  Giving me a look, Jimmy raised his hand and pointed at himself.

  I laughed. “Well, if we’re going to be friends, I feel like I need to come clean about something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I lied about ‘Barbie Girl’,” I confessed. “While that song does have an appropriate time and place, it wouldn’t be my first pick if I had to choose a forever-song.”

  “You don’t say,” he responded sarcastically. “So, what is it then?”

  “‘Crash’ by Dave Matthews Band,” I told him. “It brings back good memories because it was the first song I taught myself on the guitar.”

  “How old were you when you learned to play?” he asked.

  “Twelve.”

  He grinned. “That’s awesome. It’s great that you found your calling so young.”

  “So, what are your talents?” I asked, switching the conversation back to him.

  A flicker of insecurity crossed his face, and he looked down at the water. “Still trying to figure that out. Apparently, being able to do a 55-second keg stand doesn’t count for much. I guess I don’t have a lot going for me right now.”

  I frowned at his self-deprecating comments. “I bet that’s not true. And by the way, ‘Dream On’ is an excellent song choice.”

  “Yeah?” He smiled.

  “Yeah.” I smiled back.

  “So,” he started, his usual cockiness returning. “Are there any more requirements for our friendship?”

  “Yes, actually. You have to tell me about your back tattoo.”

  Smirking, he stood up in the water and angled his back toward the light. The angel wings spanned his entire upper back. As I looked closer, I was finally able to read the words woven into the intricate feathers.

  I raised my hand, wanting to trace the lines.

  “You can touch it,” he said as if he could sense my fingers hovering over his skin.

  I
gave in to the desire and lightly trailed my fingers over the left side. The seven deadly sins.

  Pride.

  Greed.

  Lust.

  Envy.

  Gluttony.

  Wrath.

  Sloth.

  And on the right side were the seven virtues.

  Humility.

  Charity.

  Chastity.

  Kindness.

  Temperance.

  Patience.

  Diligence.

  When my fingers were done with their thorough inspection, I stepped away and sat down into the water.

  “Why?” I gestured toward him, referring to the tattoo.

  He settled back into his spot across from me. “To remind myself that even though people have faults, there’s a flipside. Redemption is obtainable for anyone who wants it.”

  “Wow,” I said, impressed. “That’s really beautiful.”

  The conversation stalled. I took the flask from Jimmy and managed to swallow a huge gulp. When I gave it back, he drained the rest and tossed the container onto the grass. I was momentarily disappointed that the alcohol was gone, but then he bent over the side again and came back with two beers.

  “I think I owe you an apology,” I admitted as he handed me one of the bottles. “I haven’t been myself with you. After the way I’ve acted, you must think I have, like, zero sense of humor.”

  “Sometimes I’m not very funny.” His body bobbed up and down in the water, and his nipple piercings peeked out.

  Refusing to be distracted, I continued. “I knew you were just teasing, but I didn’t want to like it.”

  “But you did like it?”

  “Yeah, sometimes.”

  “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

  “Because you’re hot,” I blurted out.

  He laughed. “Is that a problem?”

  “Yeah,” I said, the buzz helping me to be more straightforward. “It’s a big problem.”

  “I like it when you’re honest.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Because I tell you you’re hot?”

  “Well, yeah,” he smirked cockily. “But also because I want to know you. Here’s the deal.” He sat up straighter, squaring his muscular shoulders. “Let’s have a give-me-your-shit conversation.”