Sweet

Chapter Twenty-eight

Boyce

When I collected overdue weed payments for Rick Thompson in high school, I got downright gifted at judging who was going to be a problem and who would cave after one look at my size or Maxfield’s merciless expression. When Pearl’s ex showed up at the garage, I didn’t waste time deliberating over likely whys and wherefores. Mitchell Upstone was going to be a problem. That was plain.

Sam and I were in the middle of her first supervised solo engine replacement—something she’d been looking forward to all summer. I prayed to God she didn’t set off on a rant at the sudden change in plans.

“Samantha, there’s really nothing more for you to do today. Call your daddy and go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What?” she said, her bristly blond head whipping up, a squall brewing in her gray eyes. She must’ve learned to read me in the past few weeks, though, because she tugged her phone from the pocket of her overalls and dialed, sneaking a surly glimpse at our unwelcome visitor.

When Sam’s dad pulled up, Upstone quit pretending to examine my tools and read my certificates and gave me his full attention. The look he gave me was cold-blooded—no expression to speak of. No scowl, no narrowing of his eyes. His eyes looked dead, matter-of-fact, and that was a cause for concern, because his true interest didn’t lie with me and we both knew it.

I waved a hand to Mr. Adams and Sam as they drove away. Wiping engine grease from my fingers, I got straight to the point, my tone all false calm. “We got business, motherfucker?”

He angled his head. “You remember who I am?”

“Yeah, I remember who you are. You’re Pearl’s ex. So I’m wondering what the fuck you’re doing here.” Here in our town and here at my place of business.

“I came to see Pearl, of course. I hadn’t realized until I got here that I’ve been an idiot, not realizing you and Pearl were fucking around all this time. I get it now. I get it, and I’m here to… encourage you to cease and desist.”

I’d advanced one step of the fifteen feet or so between us before he reached into the back of his waistband and whipped out a pistol he’d hidden under his slept-in shirt. He held it low, but it was aimed at my chest, and he’d removed the safety and cocked it without looking at it, which meant he knew what he was doing. Fuck.

“What’s the weapon for, Upstone?” My hands balled into fists at my sides.

He flinched at my use of his name. “It’s just here to inspire you to listen instead of react in what I imagine is your customary Neanderthal manner. I’d like us to have a chat about Pearl. What is and isn’t acceptable going forward.”

I hated her name in his mouth. “And you’ve run this by her?”

He chuckled, and I wanted to bash his face in. “She’s mulling it over at the moment.”

Everything stilled. “So you’ve seen her today.”

“Saw her today, saw her leaving here last night… After the two of you fucked each other for two hours in that shitty trailer you call home—I assume. Highly unlikely you were having a philosophical discussion.”

I calculated the last time I’d heard from her—a couple of hours ago when she was leaving class. She was due at work in three hours.

“Where is she now?”

His slow smile made the monster inside me bend the bars on the cage I’d put him in. “Oh, I imagine she’s still at home.”

“You need to understand something, Upstone. You hurt Pearl, I’ll kill you.”

He chuckled as if I was too simple to understand what was going down. “I love her. I wouldn’t hurt her. Oh—did she tell you otherwise?” He laughed again. “She likes to be the center of attention, that girl.”

Right.

A car drove by, and his stance faltered slightly. “Let’s go inside the trailer, Wynn. You can give me a tour of your extensive property.”

“Let’s not. Whatever we have to discuss, we can discuss here.” I’d never wanted to wipe a grin off anyone’s face so badly.

“Oh, I don’t think so. Inside, now, or I’ll have to revert to my secondary plan, and I’d really rather not do that. And in case you’re wondering? I’m an excellent shot.”

“Planning on shooting me, then?”

His jaw flexed. He was getting more riled with me by the second. “The firearm is just here to level the playing field between us—self-defense, you understand. That said, only a pussy-assed moron carries a gun he has no intention of firing to a conversation with a belligerent redneck.” He gestured toward the trailer with the barrel. “But let’s talk. Maybe we can reach an agreement that will work for all of us.”

That lying sack of shit didn’t intend to reach anything but my elimination, but there’d be no happily ever after with Pearl if he was wanted for murder. As batshit as he was, he knew that much. She was in danger of this sociopath’s delusions, and I was the only thing standing between the two of them.

I walked to the trailer and he followed a few feet behind. Even so, I could feel the barrel of that gun like it was jammed right into the middle of my back.

Pearl

Sheriff Walker wasn’t all that impressed with the fact that my ex had shown up and shouldered his way into the house, tried to keep me from calling 911, and had to be persuaded to leave at gunpoint. He was equally unimpressed that we hadn’t gotten a license plate number or the make and model of his car. Mama saw a blue sedan in the driveway when she pulled in, so I knew he wasn’t driving the white Corolla he’d had while we were undergrads.