Chapter 4

To be honest, I’d rather be drinking coffee on my unicorn instead of whatever this work business is.

-Kennedy’s secret thoughts

Kennedy

“Is that Evander Lennox?”

I turned my head at one of the mother’s whispered words.

“I think it is. When did he get out of prison?”

“Apparently, not too long ago. My husband is his parole officer.”

That made me curious.

I’d been to enough of DJ’s practices that I knew some of these mothers, and the one who’d spoken about her husband being the man’s parole officer was none other than Maddison Jane, the biggest gossip among the entire group.

At the last practice I’d taken DJ to, she’d been the one who said that her kids weren’t allowed to ride four wheelers because they were dangerous. But then she went on to say how her kids were taking horseback riding lessons to give them an ‘eclectic’ background.

If there was a picture next to stupidity in the dictionary, it would be of her.

“Wow, he’s really put on some muscle since the last time I saw him,” Edith, one of the other mothers, not-so-quietly whispered. “Do you think he has AIDS?”

I stiffened.

“I don’t see him allowing anybody, inmates or not, to do anything to his butthole,” Maddison said. “And I read his file while my husband wasn’t looking. He lives back at his house now.”

“That place on the Old Highway?” Edith asked. “That place was trashed over the last four years. Everybody used it as a dumping ground for all their unwanted shit. Nobody took care of it at all.”

My brows furrowed.

I didn’t remember any houses on the Old Highway but one, and if that was Evander’s house, and this town didn’t treat it well, I would be so pissed.

I’d been in Hostel, Texas for all of three and a half years. Though, my father had been here a lot longer than that. As had my sister.

Me, I’d only gotten here after my mother decided to tell me about my father. They’d had a weird sort of relationship when we were younger.

Mom and Dad had met and fallen in love. Then, four years into their marriage, it’d fallen apart. However, my mom had been pregnant with me and my sister at the time, and they’d stayed together long enough to split their kids up right down the middle.

My mother got the oldest of the four children and the youngest—me. My father got the other two.

Then they never spoke to each other, or of each other, ever again. If we tried, it was shut down. The consequences—IE my mother freaking the fuck out—were never worth it. We learned to let it go, and not ask questions, or we’d regret it.

At least not until my mother was on her deathbed.

Then she’d told me that not only had she known of my father’s whereabouts this entire time, but that I had a twin sister.

My mom had moved as far away from Hostel, Texas as she could possibly get and had married another farmer up in Iowa. I’d grown up on a farm, just like my siblings had done with my biological father.

However, the problem with my step-father was that he hated my guts. He’d hated me with such a passion, in fact, that he’d shown it every single day of my life.

And without my mother there to be the buffer between us, I had nothing left holding me there.

So I’d taken a risk and moved to Hostel, Texas.

I’d bought my own land, although it was just a small amount—twenty acres—and made an attempt at meeting my family.

The moment my sister saw me, she’d thrown her arms around me like we were long lost twins—though, technically, we were. Apparently, my father hadn’t kept my existence a secret like my mother had theirs.

From the moment we met, it was like the twenty-six years separating us had never happened.

And now, three and a half years later, we were making up for lost time.

The place I bought when I’d arrived was actually touching the land that I assumed belonged to Evander.

Though, if I had to guess, Evander actually owned quite a bit of it. There was property along the Old Highway with an old, run down house at the front of it. And surrounding it was a shit ton of trash, old abandoned furniture and more junk than I could name.

I felt like shit.

The people of this town had treated that property like a dump, and they didn’t give a shit that they’d done it, either.

“He sure has filled that body out, though. Prison was good for him.”

I felt sick at Edith’s words.

Prison was good for him? What the actual fuck?

Prison wasn’t good for anyone.

And then I berated myself.

I didn’t know that man. All I knew was what I’d observed of him now, and that was very little. I’d met him at the feed store, sat with him at dinner, and he’d said all of twelve words. Also, he’d carried some of my bags to my truck.

That was it.

There was literally nothing else that I knew about the man to know whether he was a good man or not.

My instincts were always spot-on, though. I knew when a person was bad. I also knew when a person was good.

I’d had this ability since I was young.

It was just something about a man or woman that made me feel what kind of person they truly were, and Evander hadn’t struck me as bad.

The women to my left, however, had all struck me as bitches from the moment that I’d met them with Trixie.

I’d hated them on sight, and I hadn’t made any attempt to get to know them, even though I took my nephew to practice at least once a week.

The coach, however, he’d always struck me as being an inherently good man.

He was a mechanic at the one and only shop in town and had also been in the Marines for nearly a decade. Now, I’m not saying that all men that are in the military are good men, but the majority of them are. And Boone Trent was one of the good ones.

And now that I thought about it, he was also part of the Hail crew that everyone in town was always talking about—the same towing/auto recovery company where Evander’s tow truck was from.

Small world.

“Where do you want me?”

Evander’s voice brought not just mine, but every woman’s head in a thirty-foot radius of him, up.

We all stared.

“Just go over by the dugout and toss them the weighted balls,” came Boone’s distracted reply. “I’m going to throw each kid a bucket of balls, and you can have the ones on deck. When I’m done, I’ll call for the one you’re working with. Okay?”

He grunted something in reply, and then started walking to the balls that were on the ground.

The red ones that were the size of normal balls, but they were squishy and weighted so that when they were hit, they didn’t go very far.

He picked them all up in his hand.

All freakin’ five of them.

Sweet baby Jesus.

I could pick up two. Two!

He picked up five!

Those hands had to be the size of dinner plates they were so big, but the one and only time I’d felt him touch me, it’d been a soft touch. One that had been just a brush against the skin of my arm.

Dear God.

I needed to get a grip.

But did I stop watching him? Hell no, and I wasn’t the only one, either.

***

Two hours later, DJ, my nephew, and I were walking toward the truck.

He was in high spirits due to hitting a ball over the fence—a home run. I, on the other hand, was still torn in two.

My sister had cancer.

Jesus, this had to be a nightmare.

Maybe tomorrow when I woke up, it’d all be a dream.

However, I knew it wouldn’t be. I wasn’t that lucky.

“Thank you, Coach!”

I was startled to look up and see not the actual coach, Boone, but Evander standing beside me, handing DJ a ball.

“Went and picked it up after the last batter was up. Good hit.”

Then he left, leaving me staring after him.

“Jesus, that man is big.”

I looked over at Edith and offered her my best smile.

“Have a good night,” I called out with false cheer.

Edith grimaced. “You, uhh, too.”

Bitch.

The drive to Trixie’s home was enough to nearly break me, and when I tried to come inside, she stopped me.

“I need to talk to my family, Kennedy,” she whispered, looking away. “I haven’t told the kids yet. We’re going to tell them here in a minute once everyone’s cleaned up for the night.”

I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her.

“Okay, Trix. Call me if you need me, okay?”

When I pulled away, her face was wiped of all expression.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Then she closed the door carefully in my face and locked it for good measure.

A feeling of dread washed over me.

This wasn’t right.

Something else was going on here, but without forcing my way in, I couldn’t really do anything about the feeling without seriously pissing her off.

I knew my sister. I knew that she had a short temper and was quick to jump to conclusions.

I wouldn’t force her to allow me to stay if she didn’t want me to, but I would come back tomorrow.

And then, I’d force her to talk.