Bittersweet (Redemption Book 3) Read online

  When Jensen had shown up out of the blue a few months back, rocking my world to its foundation, Cannon had called Stone. My brother packed his shit, hopped on his bike, and made the trek from San Francisco to Redemption to have my back, and I loved him dearly for it, but with having my back came an overwhelming protective streak that tended to grate on my nerves. Gavin “Stone” Hendrix took overprotective to extremes, causing us to lock horns more often than not because he felt it was his right to have a say in how I lived my life. I disagreed. After so many years of only having him through phone calls and emails, I felt he’d lost all right to boss me around.

  Now, every time he made a comment like that, I was reminded of just how little he knew me and how much hurt I was still harboring since he left. But hashing up all those feelings wouldn’t do any good. As it was, my brother was only visiting. I had no idea when he’d leave to go back to San Francisco so I didn’t want to risk tarnishing any of the time we had left together.

  “Not that I don’t love your company, but are you here for a reason? You know, besides to be a general pain in my ass?”

  “Can’t a brother just want to spend some time with his little sis every once and a while, squirt?” he asked, using the nickname he knew I hated.

  “Ugh!” I groaned, dropping my head back dramatically. “For the love of God, please stop calling me that!”

  He crossed his long, thick, ink-covered arms over his barrel chest. “Not my fault you’re so damn tiny.”

  “I’m not tiny,” I countered on a scowl. “Five seven is above average for a woman in this country. You’re just freakishly big.”

  That wasn’t an exaggeration. Growing up, Stone had always been the biggest kid in school by a lot, and he’d only gotten bigger over the years. Standing six and a half feet tall, his long body packed solid with muscle everywhere, he was a powerhouse of a man. Uncle Scooter was nothing to sneeze at, but as the years passed, it became obvious that my big brother must have favored the man who helped make him—not that any of us knew who that man was.

  “Says you, squirt.”

  “Says science, Gavin,” I drew out exaggeratedly.

  His smile instantly fell into a harsh frown at my use of his legal name. No one had called him Gavin in years. It wasn’t necessarily that he hated the name. After all, I’d made it my son’s middle name in homage to him, but it was the name our mom had christened him with, and he didn’t want any reminder of that woman, not that I blamed him.

  The nickname had come into existence not only because of his size, but also because of his tendency to glower at everything and everyone who so much as looked in his direction. Gavin Hendrix was hard as stone, at least to those people on the outside. The few of us he let in knew the truth. He was just a big teddy bear.

  “Fine,” he grunted, that scowl of his in full effect, even though it never worked on me. “Truce?”

  I nodded my head resolutely. “Truce.”

  “So . . .” he started, looking around the house, “where’s the munchkin?”

  “He’s with Caro,” I answered. “Now stop avoiding my question. Why are you here? And don’t feed me that shit about just wanting to visit your little sister, because we both know that’s a crock.”

  His glower intensified for a second but drifted away when he saw it wasn’t going to work on me. “I heard you were lookin’ chummy with that dick for brains at the wedding the other night.”

  “Gah!” I shouted, throwing my arms out in frustration. “This freaking town! Who told you?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Is it true?”

  Slapping my hands on my hips, I glared at Stone in the hopes that flames would come shooting out of my eyes and melt the skin right off his stupid face. “It was one dance—”

  “I knew it!” he exclaimed, jabbing his finger at me accusingly.

  “Get your finger out of my face before I break it,” I threatened.

  Knowing I meant it, he quickly pulled his hand back, but didn’t lay off. “Christ, Shane. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking it was my best friend’s wedding, and I didn’t want to make a scene. It was one freaking dance, Stone, nothing to get your boxers in a twist about. It didn’t mean anything, and I walked off the dance floor before the song was even over.”

  “That’s not the point, Shane,” he said in a low, menacing growl. “The point is you shouldn’t have let him get that close in the first place. You know how you get when it comes to that asshole—”

  “Don’t,” I snapped. “You have no right to come in here and tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. I’m an adult, Stone. You have no say in how I live my life, so back the hell off.”

  “Well someone needs to tell you when you’re making stupid-ass decisions,” he threw back. “That guy fuckin’ wrecked you, Shane.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I barked, my words slicing through the air like a white-hot blade. I hadn’t expected things to get so heated between me and Stone, but, even days later, I was still feeling raw and exposed after my run-in with Jensen, and the last thing I needed was my own brother jumping down my throat. Especially when he hadn’t even been there the last time my world had been turned upside down. “I’m the one who lived through it.”

  “Then why in the fuck would you let that son of a bitch anywhere near you?”

  “Because! As much as I might hate him, he’s still the father of my kid. It tears my heart to pieces, but Brantley loves him, and I won’t do anything to mess that up for my boy. I’m doing everything I can to make the best out of a shitty situation, and I won’t stand here and let you make me feel bad for that!”

  “I’m just trying to protect you,” he replied, his light brown eyes, the same warm amber shade as mine, filled with worry.

  “I don’t need you to protect me, Stone. I’ve been taking care of myself for a really freaking long time.”

  I might have been known to have a stubborn streak, but Stone’s was leaps and bounds worse than mine, and to add fuel to that fire, my jerk of a brother was also a complete hothead who had a nasty habit of saying things without thinking, usually hurting the person he was fighting with in the process. Something he did right then when that glower came back into effect and he looked around my tiny house before stating, “Well, from the looks of it, you aren’t doin’ a very good job. For fuck’s sake, Shaney, you’re letting a man into that boy’s life that’s just gonna turn around and leave him. Explain to me how the fuck that’s smart.”

  It was a low blow that caused maximum damage. I felt a familiar burn form behind my eyes. As much as I hated it, I was one of those unfortunate people whose tear ducts started working overtime whenever I got pissed. The angrier I got, the worse I’d cry. Any screaming match I ever got into was done while I blubbered uncontrollably. It was humiliating.

  Blinking back the tears before they had a chance to form, I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “You can show yourself out,” I gritted between clenched teeth.

  “Shane, wait,” he called when I spun on my heel and started out of the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  I didn’t want an apology, I just wanted him to leave me the hell alone so I could lick my wounds in peace. So I didn’t give him so much as I backward glance as I stomped down the hall to my bedroom, shouting, “And leave your key on the counter before you go.”

  With that, I slammed my door shut, threw myself onto the bed, and screamed into my pillow.

  Chapter Seven

  Shane

  The rage tears had finally dried up. After I was certain my brother was gone, I threw my hair into a knot on the top of my head, changed into my workout clothes—a tight pair of yoga pants with a matching cami—and headed out to the detached garage.

  The thing was too small to fit my car inside, so I’d hung a heavy bag from the rafters. I’d started taking kickboxing classes a couple years back as a form of exercise, but quickly discovered that there was something incredibly catharti
c about beating the hell out of an inanimate object.

  I already worried that Brantley was predisposed to violence because of his father’s anger issues, so I kept my little guilty pleasure to myself, only used my punching bag when he wasn’t home. It worked wonders. I’d grown up holding firmly to the control in my life only to lose my grip and have it slip through my fingers. These little sessions out in the garage helped me feel like I was getting some of that power back.

  With my knuckles taped, I punched and kicked the bag until my breathing turned ragged and my skin misted with sweat. With each blow, I pictured Jensen’s and Stone’s faces until a smile pulled at my lips as I envisioned beating the holy hell out of the two men in my life who were doing my head in.

  I loved the feel of my muscles staining, of knowing I was pushing my body to the max as the rage that had been building up inside of me began to burn off.

  The sound of pipes cut through my calm, causing my fury to bubble up again. I kept my back to the open garage door, hitting and kicking the bag harder as the deep rumble of a motorcycle grew louder as it pulled into my driveway before the engine finally cut off.

  “Unless you’ve come back to apologize, I don’t want to hear it,” I panted, landing a hard right hook. “And don’t think for a second I won’t use your face as a punching bag, asshole.”

  “I don’t doubt that one bit,” a voice I hadn’t been expecting said.

  I whipped around so fast the bun on the top of my head wobbled, causing some of the strands to come loose. Time started to move in slow motion as Jensen climbed from a Harley Fat Boy. His well-muscled thighs bunched beneath the faded denim of his jeans as he threw his leg over and planted his motorcycle-boot-clad feet on the ground. His biceps strained against the cotton of his simple white tee as he reached up to remove the mirrored aviators that covered his face and hook them in the collar of his shirt.

  He’d had a bike back in the day as well, after he broke away from his parents to start a life with me, leaving the G-Class behind. He’d hooked his wagon to a chick who’d grown up surrounded by bikers. I loved everything about riding, and my love had rubbed off on him in a really big way. Scooter and his whole crew were bikers. Banks, Danno, Fletch, Judge. Hell, it was such a way of life that even their kids fell into it. I loved all things motorcycle. Cannon was a biker to his very soul. Even though Stone hadn’t lived in Redemption in years—a biker town through-and-through—he was born and bred a biker and was still one to this day.

  When my family brought my man into the fold, that bug grew to the point it could no longer be ignored. We hadn’t had a lot money-wise back then since Jensen refused to dip into the trust his grandfather had set up for him and wasn’t exactly raking it in working as a mechanic for Cannon’s father, Banks. Still, the old Triumph he’d gotten when he turned nineteen had been his pride and joy. Some of my best memories involved riding on the back of that bike with him, my arms wrapped tightly around his stomach as the wind whipped around my face, placing its stinging kisses on my cheeks. Riding with him had been pure heaven. No other way to describe it.

  When I’d turned up pregnant a few years later, he’d traded it in for a truck, saying it wasn’t practical for him to have a bike when he’d need to be carting our kid around. Back then, I’d thought the day he’d gotten rid of it was one of the saddest days of my life. If only I’d known there would be so much worse down the road.

  Since he’d been back, I’d seen him driving through town a handful of times in that same old beat-up truck. I hadn’t seen him on a bike in years, but seeing it now caused all those old feelings to rise to the surface.

  So much for getting my power back.

  With my chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, I lifted my arm to wipe the sweat from my forehead and gave him the same scowl I’d used earlier on Stone. “What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to just show up here unannounced.”

  “I’m know. I’m sorry. I just—”

  “And besides, it’s not your day with Brantley. He’s not even here.”

  His boots thudded against the concrete as he moved closer, coming to a stop just feet away, outside the open garage door. “That actually works out since I’m here because I need to talk to you.”

  I let out a snort while rolling my eyes. “Pretty sure we said all there was left to say at Farah’s wedding.” I turned back to the bag, picturing Jensen’s face once again as I punched the hell out of it. “It’s done, so you can go now.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, sunshine. We’re far from done.”

  I jerked back around, my blood beginning to boil. “Stop calling me th—Hey! What the hell are you doing?” I finished on a shriek as Jensen’s shoulder collided with my gut just a second before I went airborne. Throwing me over his shoulder like I was a ragdoll, he started toward the house, his long strides eating up the distance quickly. “Put me down!” I shouted, beating at his back and butt, refusing to think about how firm his body was beneath my fists of fury or how strong he must be to lift me up and toss me around so easily. The big, stupid jerk wasn’t even winded. “Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t just—” My words were cut off when I went through the air again, this time landing on my butt in the middle of the couch with an oof.

  “Like I said, we need to talk,” he stated calmly, standing in front of me with his hands propped casually on his trim hips.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “I’m determined. There’s a difference.”

  A multitude of other emotions I couldn’t possibly begin to name warred inside of me as I narrowed my eyes and glared up at him, my rapid breathing having nothing to do with my earlier workout and everything to do with his close proximity. “You have no right to barge into my house whenever the hell you feel like it, Jensen. I don’t want you here. You need to leave.” My top lip curled up in a sneer. “You’re good enough at it, so walking out that door right now shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

  His eyes locked on mine, the storm raging inside of them blasting into me. “Leaving you was the hardest goddamn thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “Bullshit,” I hissed. My chest suddenly felt like an elephant had sat on it. It was a painful struggle to breathe, and that stupid burn behind my eyes made a reappearance.

  “You might not want to believe that, but Shane, baby, I swear, it’s the truth. If you’d just—”

  I lifted my hand, palm out, to stop him. I would have given anything to believe what he was saying right then. I’d spent so long denying the truth to myself that all it did was cause more agony. I still remembered that day with vivid accuracy: the day my whole world came crashing down around me, the day I realized it had all been a lie.

  Humiliation coursed through my veins at the memory, making my skin heat from my chest to my cheeks, burning so hot it was a wonder I didn’t turn to ash right then and there. The worst part was, he hadn’t even had the balls to deliver the crushing blow of ending us himself. He’d had his parents do it, the only two people on the face of the earth I could claim to truly hate.

  The heat in my cheeks intensified when I turned my head, unable to meet his gaze for another second, and took in my surroundings. If I hadn’t been enough for him back then, I could only imagine what he was thinking, seeing the state of my life now. That thought was just too much to bear.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I said through the ball that had formed in my throat, making the words come out in a croak. Moving back to the couch, I plopped down and dropped my face into my hands, feeling the weariness of defeat down to my bones. “Please, Jensen. Just go.”

  He didn’t listen. Instead, he hooked his boot around one of the legs of my coffee table and pulled it closer to the couch. The cheap wooden table groaned under his weigh as he sat on it, but he didn’t seem to care, he simply ignored the ominous sound, braced his forearms on his thighs, and reached out to take my hands in his. “There’s so much you don’t know, honey, so much I need to explain.”


  None of what he was saying made any sense, but I was beyond caring. Every pleading word, every soft, tender look was a knife right to the heart, because it was all a lie. “Stop it,” I bit out. “None of this matters. You left, Jensen. You knew how much that would hurt me, how much it would kill me, and you did it anyway. You made me fall in love with you, then you walked out. Just like everyone else. That’s something I’ll never forgive you for.”

  His fingers tightened around mine, the grip only a step below painful as dejection slid across his features. Unable to handle that look, I dropped my gaze to our hands and noticed the scrapes extending across his knuckles for the first time.

  My head shot back up, my brows pulled into a deep frown “Did you get into a fight?” My heart began to race, fear of what his answer would be setting in. All too often when we’d been together, Jensen would end an argument with someone by using his fists. That side of him had always terrified me. Not because I was scared he’d hurt me, but because I was worried that one day, he’d go too far and wouldn’t be able to come back from it.

  That first fight I’d witnessed between him and Ronny Culpepper was far from the last, but as we got older, he’d tried his hardest to keep his anger in check. He didn’t always succeed. With everything his parents had put him through growing up, it was a miracle he wasn’t worse off. Still, seeing him in a rage like that always killed me. The man I loved would disappear and this stranger I didn’t like all that much would take his place.

  Jensen’s brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side on confusion. “What?”

  “Your hand,” I said disparagingly. “It’s all cut up.”

  “Oh.” He looked down at his hand like he hadn’t even realized his knuckles were covered in dried blood. “No. It was nothing like that. I cut myself building a set of bunk beds.”

  It was my turn to be confused. “Bunk beds?”