Page 32 of Kandie Shoppe

Feeling like he just punched me, I fly from the sink I’m leaning against, rushing fast at him, shoving him hard in the chest. “He’s a child,” I grit with the wasted strength I used when this motherfucker didn’t so much as budge an inch.

All I have is him gripping both my wrists in his high above my head. He walks me back to the sink pressing my arms high back behind me so that I’m bent at a hard, awkward angle and he stares down at me like I’m some type of pesky gnat that he can flick away the moment he chooses to stop indulging me.

“One thing your wild little ass is not going to do is disrespect my mom’s house,” he grits low.

Shame floods me. Instead of taking the admonishment and apologizing, I counter instead out of spite. “I guess it’s okay for you to come busting in my place breaking sh — stuff,” I quickly amend not because his ice-blue eyes narrow like he’d take keen pleasure in snatching me up if I so much as utter a bad word in his mom’s house but out of respect for Marlene.

“You know what I can’t figure out?” His eyes drop half-mast as he looks at me like he’s about to tear my world apart.

“What?’ I grit the words out.

The look on his face can’t be described as anything other than triumphant. “Why you were so tight if you’re the town slag?”

If my arms weren’t being held and my body pinned tight between him and the sink, I swear on everything I would be trying my best to scratch his eyes out.

“Slut shaming now are we, Sheriff?” Forcing my voice to sound bored, I give an exaggerated flutter of my eyes.

“Nah, I just know a liar when I see one.” He shifts and I can feel just how upset he’s about it, or rather, excited.

“Ever heard of Kegels? I know it’s not in the manual they give y’all jarheads, but I hope you learned something while you were away doing all that killing in the name of your country.” Not a flicker of emotion at my taunt.

“Yeah. I did. Like how you don’t keep your fucking word,” he seethes, all but dropping me.

Raw bitter shame and regret coalesce in me, swirling like an F-5 tornado. The past comes crashing down around me, licking at me. I can just see Marlene’s soulful eyes begging me to come back to talk so she can make peace. I said yes, not knowing if I was lying or not. I’m not sure I can. Nobody deserves my story. They only get the truth I decided to give. I gave them everything. My entire family except for my baby sister I’m just getting a real chance to know.

“Why did you take Thad and his friends to jail?” I ask, not wanting to touch the mess he’s trying to drag me into with a fifty-foot pole. Not now or ever. I’m not throwing his own betrayal in his face back at him. What’s the point? He’s only here to see after his mom. He’s made no secret about it.

He exhales in exasperation because I won’t go back down memory lane with him.

“I don’t owe you an explanation. I’m the Sheriff.” He spreads his arms wide. “See how that works?” The challenge he throws at me is full of banked anger, I know is only for his mom’s sake. He hasn’t talked to me the entire time he’s been back. I waited. He looked through me instead. He became sheriff and sics his deputies on me every chance he gets.

“Acting sheriff. Unelected, unwanted. One mark against Thad can ruin his life. You know this, you’re not dumb, Ulysses.” I can’t even stand to look at him right now.

“Take care of your mom.” Turning, I leave the house, making sure I don’t let Marlene’s screen door slam. If Ulysses’ sorry tail lived here by himself, I would have kicked it open.

I get my bike, taking my Remy out of the basket, taking a much-needed sip. I hadn’t planned on staying over here this long. I’m thinking about making me a nice, fat chicken salad sandwich and having some wine before I go to bed tonight when a big hand snatches my bottle out of my grip.

“Woah.” I almost fall, reaching for my bottle when I catch myself.

“They are being arraigned tomorrow. It may look good if his family shows up to support him. Sober.” Shoving the bottle back in my hand, he shakes his head, eyes a turbulent sea of blue.

I’m so close to telling him his momma trauma ain’t my problem.

“Take care of Marlene. I will bring more dishes she can tolerate later in the week.”

He looks at me hard, his chest expanding. He takes a step toward me. Stiffening, I don’t know what to expect.

He crowds me as I stand straddling my bike, trapped. A heavy hand cups my neck and holds me still. Firm lips taste mine. “Thanks for looking after my mom, wildcat.”

Bruised blue meets my eyes, searching. “I hate whiskey on your lips. I want you to taste like you did last night — like me,” he growls, stepping away, striding back into the house, leaving me standing in his yard.

I’m scared if I tell him it’s cognac he’ll smash this bottle too.

Chapter

Nine

Kandie

---