Truth or Beard (Winston Brothers #1)(52)
Author: Penny Reid

Beau and I shared another look, and I read Beau’s thoughts perfectly because they mirrored mine, Why the hell is he telling us this?

“I know all this, Jackson. Like I said, I just spoke to Jessica.”

Jackson nodded, and I realized he was schooling his expression, keeping his tone flat. Something dark and cold settled in the pit of my stomach. This was a set up. I was sure of it. Jackson was setting me up, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how.

Abruptly I knew we needed to leave, before Jackson could say anything else.

“Well, thanks for the info. We’ll just be on our way.” I motioned to Beau to re-start the car.

“If you know about the funeral then I guess you know about the money, too. Right?”

I almost flinched. Almost. Instead I swallowed and nodded, bluffing. “That’s right. Know all about it. Start the car, Beau.”

Beau did as I instructed, but Jackson didn’t move away from the window. He just kept on talking.

“Oh. Did Jess tell you how she inherited all my aunt’s money? That she’s now independently wealthy and will be leaving Green Valley after Christmas?”

Beau eyebrows lifted, just a fraction of an inch, but otherwise he did an admirable job of hiding his surprise. Outwardly dispassionate, I stared at Jessica’s brother. Meanwhile my heart was beating out of my chest and I’d broken into a cold sweat.

Fear.

I was feeling fear.

The last time I felt fear, really and truly, was when my daddy locked me in the woodshed for two days with no food or water as punishment for sitting in his chair.

I couldn’t breathe.

Beau answered for me. “Like he said, Duane just talked to Jessica. He already knows all this. Now if you’ll step away from the car, we’ll be on our way home, officer.”

Jackson frowned, looking disappointed and confused by my lack of outward reaction, then nodded once and backed up so we could pull away.

Beau rolled up his window, being careful to check for traffic and using his blinker before pulling onto the mountain road. We drove in silence for a full minute and I was thankful for the quiet.

At first I considered the possibility that Jackson was lying. I dismissed this, as one quick call to Jess would be enough to disprove any false claims.

No, he was telling the truth.

Staff had answered the phone at her aunt’s house, now her house. It was a farm, she’d said. Jessica had mentioned horses on the property. Horses weren’t cheap to maintain. And she’d told me that her aunt had just died. She didn’t want to talk to me when others were present on her end. I pulled up the text messages she’d left earlier.

I’ll call you later today, we should talk.

I miss you.

“Fuck…” My forehead hit the window at my side. I closed my eyes as something sharp and intangible stabbed my heart. The pain was unbearable, spreading up my neck and down my spine. I held my breath, waited for it to pass.

“Did you know she was leaving? After Christmas?”

I shook my head and my voice was rough when I answered, “No. I don’t think she had plans to leave, not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“She’d planned to leave, just not yet. Not ’til she had enough money saved…”

I heard Beau mutter a curse then clear his throat. “It’s sad about her aunt.”

“Yes…it is.” I wondered if Jessica was close to her aunt. I wondered if she was hurting. As much fear and, frankly, despair I felt at the idea of Jessica leaving, the thought of her hurting, and me being powerless to help, was worse.

“Do you think it’s true? You know, Jackson is a little bitch. He could be trying to mess with you, now he knows you have it bad for his sister.”

I ignored Beau’s last statement, and addressed the former. “He’s not lying. If she had the money, she’d leave tomorrow. She told me so on our first date.”

Beau shut his mouth after that. Again I was grateful for the silence. I didn’t want to talk about Jessica leaving, debate the truth of it.

She had the means. She was leaving. There was nothing more to say.

***

I’d planned to ignore Jessica’s call at 9:00 by switching off my phone, letting it go to voicemail.

I wasn’t afraid of what she would say. I knew what she was going to say. I just didn’t want to hear it over the phone, when she was hundreds of miles away, and be expected to respond calmly…when all I wanted to do was rage.

I didn’t want to rage at her, didn’t want to part ways with that between us, so I’d planned to ignore her call.

I figured she’d either leave me a voicemail—tell me she was never coming back, and spare me the conversation, or she’d write me a letter—tell me she was never coming back, and spare me the conversation. Either was preferable to having the conversation because I could delete a voicemail and burn a letter, but I couldn’t take back words said in anger.

Regardless, my good intentions were ignored, because when she called I answered.

“Duane?”

“Jessica.”

I heard her sigh when I responded, like she was relieved I’d answered. Meanwhile, I couldn’t swallow even though my throat was on fire.

“Oh my goodness, it is so good to hear your voice. I know I texted it to you and left you a voicemail, but I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you. I…” I heard her sigh again, then sniffle. When she spoke next her voice was full of tears. “Duane, I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.” I imagined this is what it was like just after the hangman’s noose was fitted over one’s neck, but just before the floor gave way beneath the condemned. I knew the end was coming. I wondered if the finality of it would be a relief or a burden.

But then she said, “Duane Winston, I love you.”

I opened my mouth to respond to the words I’d expected to hear—we were over, she had her means and she was leaving sooner rather than later—but the reality of what she’d actually said rendered me speechless. I stared ahead, frowning at the wall of my room, feeling like she’d just thrown my swim shorts up a tree.

“I love you and I’m in love with you and I realize you’re probably upset with me for saying it over the phone, but something happened, I found out something…and I felt like I needed to tell you. Like you needed to know. I love you. Life is so short, too short for secrets and things left unsaid. I know we haven’t been together very long, but I’ve known you most of my life and I think I’ve always loved you, even though you were ornery and mean and argumentative. Even though you were never the safe choice…”

Now she was crying, big, heavy sobs, making my chest ache in response. My fingers tightened on the phone. I wanted to hold her, soothe away her pain, but she was a thousand miles away and I wasn’t prepared for this conversation. I hadn’t planned on her love, hadn’t counted on it.

More accurately, I hadn’t thought it was in the realm of possibility.

Maybe Jackson had been lying. Maybe she had no plans to leave after Christmas. Maybe she did. But if she had the means to go, then I was the only reason she would consider delaying…

I didn’t feel elation at this news. I felt only misery.

“So…I love you,” Jessica repeated for a fifth time. I closed my eyes, shaking my head, rejecting the chant that called to my soul—bone deep—and tempted me with my own destruction, and hers as well.

Still unable to swallow, I cleared my throat instead and closed my eyes, gathering my resolve. Self-preservation finally kicked in and I knew what I needed to do.

“Jess, we’ll talk when you get back. Okay?” My voice was steady and calm.

A muffled sob sounded from the other end and I nearly relented, I nearly gave in and told her how I loved her, how I adored her. But then I forced myself to imagine how she might look at me five or ten years from now. I would be the source of her misery because I would be the focus of her resentment.

My mother had looked at my father that way. He’d been the thief of her dreams, of her life. She’d loved us kids, but we all knew she’d longed for more. That road wasn’t one I was willing to travel.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice small and dejected.

“Okay. Bye, Jess.”

It took her another moment and I knew she was covering the phone with her hand, possibly so I couldn’t hear her cry; but then she said in a rush, “Goodbye, Duane,” and hung up the phone.

I removed the cell from my ear and stared at the screen, at the number I’d saved earlier in the day, one I’d labeled as Jessica – Texas funeral.

I’d been an idiot.

Jessica wasn’t going to break my heart.

I was going to break hers.

CHAPTER 20

“Travel brings wisdom only to the wise. It renders the ignorant more ignorant than ever.”

― Joe Abercrombie, Last Argument of Kings

~Duane~

With the black cloud over my head, Beau and I arrived at the Pink Pony at 10:30 p.m. The lot was full, but that wasn’t unusual. This place was by far the best strip club in eastern Tennessee. I was no connoisseur, but Beau was, and I trusted his opinion.

The interior of the Pink Pony was mostly pink. The walls were pink, as were the carpet, tables, and chairs. The dancing platforms were a shiny black lacquer, and four white fiberglass carousel ponies decorated the stage. Girls would use the attached carousel poles in their act, and sometimes they would “ride” the ponies.