Without any more yapping, I give you....
READ MY MIND: PART 1
Perry hauled his fist back, and struck Joe Mayfield in the jaw. The old Leighton High School Quarterback landed on his ass with a howl, clutching his cheek in pain.
“Don’t nobody talk shit about my boys.” Perry scuffed his boot in the dirt, gravel and dust flying over the seething man on the ground. Taking it to the grass, the youngest Olivette brother grabbed fistfuls of Joe’s shirt. “You gonna go up there and apologize, you over-the-bridge piece of trash.”
The boys from Leighton County rooted for Joe to get off the ground, their legs silhouetted from the lights of their pick-ups. It was like old times, as if High School had never ended and Joe and Perry were doing one of their Friday night dances. Enemies to the core, neither man was looking to back down. Mason and Sam, as always, tried to haul Perry off of Joe, but it was no use. This fight was a long time coming, and no one was about to douse the fire inside of Perry Olivette.
“I ain’t gonna apologize to them fags. They’re the ones who prance about kissing each other. They’re asking for it.” Joe spit in Perry’s face, knowing he would take another blow for that one.
“What the fuck you say?” Mason spit to the side. He suddenly lost his niceties, and his Miss Manners upbringing. His mama would strike him dead for what about to do next. But to hell with Joe’s face. Mason Pierson threw his hat into the ring. He wasn’t some bystander. He was one of the fags in question. What he did with Matt was his own business. It was love, and that was that.
One of Joe’s buddies stepped forward. “He said we don’t like you fags running around on our good Christian soil.”
“That’s what I thought he said.” Mason grinned before rushing the fool to the ground.
Sam rolled his eyes, tossing his favorite University of Kentucky hat to the ground. “Can’t beat em? Might as well join em.” He howled into the night. A good old boy victory cheer as the last piece of Leighton trash came for him.
Perry’s eyes stung, a gash to the side of his eye leaking into his sight. Joe Mayfield was the scum of the earth. Tonight he wasn’t about to get away with it. Always calling Noah fag this and fag that, homos don’t have no place here and what not. Not to mention he’d fooled around with Noah back in high school then told everyone Noah done assaulted him. It had taken every iota of willpower he had not to kill the little dick back then. Now, there wasn’t a soul out here that would stop him. Man to man, he was going to right Joe’s wrongs with his fist. The best way he knew how.
Minutes later, red and blue lights flashed around them. The whoop of an old squad car and the slam of doors jerked them back to their surroundings. Perry looked up, momentarily distracted, and took a hit to the jaw that knocked him over. Everything went blurry. He saw double, maybe triple as someone or possibly a few people came over to them.
“That is enough!” Sheriff Beauchamp shouted into his old megaphone. “Ya’ll get up off your asses and line up.”
Perry saw dots encroaching on his vision, rolling over onto his hands and knees. Like the little bitch he was, Joe Mayfield scattered away, joining his banged up boys by the truck. Acting like nothing doing as he put his hands behind his back with that sly little smile.
“Mason Pierson, by the lord almighty, boy! Your mama is gonna shit bricks for a month when she hears about this.” Beauchamp put the megaphone down as the boys obeyed.
“Ah hell, Sheriff, we was just having a little conversation. Ain’t nothing doing,” Mason argued.
Beauchamp grabbed the radio from his shoulder as a threat. “Now I know you didn’t just back talk me, boy.”
“No, Sir.” Mason hung his head. This was not good.
“And you.” The Sheriff pointed. “You Bob Mayfield’s boy?”
Joe nodded, wiping the blood from his nose. “Yes, Sir.”
“What are you doing all the way over here in Shermin? I know your daddy ain’t fond of the area.” Beauchamp knew the preacher and his family were all about speaking against the gay community. Thou shall not this and that. Nothing but a bunch a hooey to the Sherriff, but on the other side of reality, the very foundation of Boy Mayfield’s code of ethics told him these boys were up to no good.
Joe smiled sweetly like a good little southern mama’s boy. “We were just havin a little fun is all. Just about to leave, you see.”
“Like hell you were. Step away from the truck boys.” The Sheriff shined a flashlight in their faces. Besides the blood and sweat, he smelled the booze clear across the way.
“You ain’t got no right to go in our truck.” One boy stepped forward.
The flashlight pointed right in the boy’s eyes. “Oh really? You got something to hide boy?”
“No, you just don’t have the right.”
“Actually, I do.” Beauchamp smiled. “You boys been drinking this evening? Cause I’m about to find out. This is your chance to tell me the truth. You know, the truth shall set you free?”
Perry got to his feet, a little unsteady, but he was standing. His brother Sam grabbed onto his arm, pulling him slowly back to where Mason stood with a scowl. “You alright?”
“He really gave it to me with that last hit.” Perry wobbled.
“Whoa, Sherriff? I think Perry might need some medical attention.” Sam tried to help his brother stay standing, but he was going limp.
“Perry, son, you alright?” Beauchamp flicked the flashlight to Perry. Blood rushed from a gash to the side of his face—a gash that he deduced came from the big old cross ring on Joe Mayfield’s finger. Before he could move, Perry clutched his stomach and hurled into the grass. He was so dizzy. His head felt like it weighed a ton.
The Sheriff grabbed his radio and clicked the button. “Benny, get on up to Ferry Crossing. We got a situation.” He listened to his deputy reply before going over to Perry. “Ya’ll get him up to the house. We’ll send someone on by to have a look at him.”
“Yes, Sir,” Sam and Mason chimed.
“Now that ain’t right!” Joe declared. “That fag lover started this shit in the first place.”
Beauchamp smiled at Mason with a tip of his hat. “Go on now.” He turned to Joe and his boys. “Fag lover? Is that right? Let’s just see what we got in your truck there preacher’s boy.”
As Sam stepped on the gas, hauling ass down the road with his brother and Mason in the bed, Sherriff Beauchamp held up two opened bottles of liquor to the Leighton boys. “Well, look what we got here.”
Adam Jackson slammed the door to his Honda, and huffed up the steps to the Paola family home. Todd’s jeep was in the driveway, but no one else seemed to be around. So much for you visiting your parents, Adam fumed. He’d heard from a few friends about Todd’s activities as of late, had seen a few pictures he’d texted around as well. Sweet little love shack he had here, Adam mused with a roll of his eyes. He whipped open the screen door, and pounded like the beat of drum.
“Todd! I know you’re in there you son-of-a-bitch. Get out here!”
Something broke inside. A glass, a lamp maybe? Footsteps thudded around, hushed voices, a door slammed. The front door swung open. Todd stood there looking fresh of sex, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“What a nice surprise, baby. Sorry, I was just in the shower…” Todd hissed as a slap like thunder whipped across his face.
“In the shower, my ass. Who the fuck is here?”
Adam pushed Todd aside, entering unfamiliar territory. A nice living room decorated in a cozy yet expensive theme surrounded him. Squinting his eyes, Adam looked from side to side. A whisper came from the hallway, snapping his head in the direction of the bedroom.
“Now look, baby. It’s not what you think. Just a friend of the family staying the night while he was in town and…”
Adam laughed. “A friend of the family just so happened to come to this rinky-dink town, and spread his legs for you? Well isn’t that rich?”
“Adam.” Todd tried to block his path. He was pushed to the side by his boyfriend, a fury of blonde rushing past him.
Even in the dark of the room he barged into, Adam could clearly see the man struggling to put his pants on. He flicked on the light with a scowl. A middle aged man smiled at him.
“Uh, hello there. You must be Adam. Todd’s told me a lot of about you.”
Adam’s jaw dropped before he screamed through his teeth. He turned to Todd, mad as hell. “Two years! Two fucking years of my life you wasted. I must be the most naïve person in the world to not know you are a two-timing, scum bag, man whore! I couldn’t believe the pictures, the rumors. I had to see for myself, and guess what? They were right!” He pushed Todd into the door, going to the front of the house again. “We’re done!”
“Adam! Adam, honey, just listen to me. We can work this out.”
“The hell we will! No one makes a fool out me, Todd Paola, and when I get back to Frankfort, everyone is gonna know just how big a whore you are.” Adam slammed the door, leaving Todd staring at it.
Behind the wheel of his car, Adam pulled out of the drive, and gunned it out onto the road. Angry as all get out, he didn’t see the truck barreling towards him. He had a moment of shock to see the headlights growing bigger.
A loud crash sent Adam spinning off the road. His seatbelt pulled tight to his chest, bruising his ribs and everything they protected. The airbag went off in his face. His head bounced back into seat and everything went fuzzy. He could hear the shouting, saw someone running to him, but his mind went blank and his eyes closed.
“Fuck!” Sam ran to the car. “Oh my God! Mason, call pop and mama. Call someone!”
He skidded to a stop, trying to open the driver’s door that was wedged into a tree. The passenger side was completely wrecked. “Hey! Can you hear me?” He pounded on the window, seeing the man’s eyes shut, and his head loll to the side. “No, no, no. Come on, don’t shut your eyes.”
“They’re on the way,” Mason shouted, hopping over the side of the truck. “Perry? I’m gonna be right back. You stay awake, don’t be closing those eyes.”
Perry groaned, sticking up a few fingers to signal he’d heard. His whole body hurt. Whatever Joe had hit did him in for sure. He held Mason’s shirt to his head to catch the blood, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay awake. It was a fight to keep his eyelids open.
Mason grabbed the tire iron from the truck bed before running to help Sam. “Move away. That door ain’t gonna budge. Look at that scrap all screwed in there. We’re gonna have to go through the back.” Sam stepping aside, Mason took the iron to the back window, over and over, before the glass gave way. A little dinged, but not like the driver’s door, he was able to unlock the back side and open it.
“Alright, easy now, Mase. He could’ve broken something. I don’t think we should even move him. What if we fuck him up, paralyze him or something?” Sam tapped his foot, searching the dark road for other headlights. He knew they were on the way, but this was bad. It was times like these he wished for superpowers—teleportation for one.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll be careful.” He shimmied into the car. “It’s alright. I gotcha.” Mason eased the driver’s seat down, glass cutting into his hands, but he wasn’t worried about all that. The guy in the front seat was out cold, and that was not a good sign. “Sam, I’m gonna have to pull him out like this. Get over here, and when you see his head, grab the shoulders.”
“We ain’t deliverin no baby, Mason!”
“Shut up and just do it. Damn, you watch too much TV.”
For the next few minutes, they fed Adam through the back door until they could carry him to the bed of the truck.
“What if we weren’t supposed to move him?” Mason pondered out loud.
“We done moved him already! I told you, dumbass! Oh hell, what do we do now?” Sam groaned. “Perry? Ah shit, Perry, open you damn eyes.”
Perry cracked an eye, but he couldn’t do much more than that. He felt the body next to him, smelling some fancy cologne among the other things floating about. Tires screeched around them. Sirens off in the distance made him smile. He was just so tired he had to close his eyes again.
Adam woke up to a world of pain. His head felt as though someone had put a hammer through it, and his chest hurt when he tried to move.
“Easy now, son. You just relax.” Pop Olivette laid a gentle hand on Adam’s arm. “I’m Mr. Olivette, but you can call me pop.”
“Where am I?” His voice was scratchy. His throat was dry, and it hurt to talk.
“Do you remember what happened?” Willa Olivette joined them with a pitcher of water. Her golden curls were pinned up away from face. A little flour covered apron over her clothes. She poured Adam a glass, and sat on the side of the twin bed. “Here ya go, honey.”
Adam took a drink, lifting his head as far as he could. “I think something hit my car.”
“Ah, so you remember a little at least. That’s a good start.” Pop rubbed his belly in thought. “There was an accident, and I’m afraid your car didn’t make it, but thank our stars you were alright. And what were you doing driving around at night with no lights on, boy? That’s a recipe for trouble, you know?”
“Who are you people?” Adam struggled to sit up. “Where am I?” He clutched his chest, pain making him wince with every move.
“Whoa now, honey, you just lay back down. You ain’t going nowhere for a while.” Willa clucked her tongue, soothing Adam back into bed. “Pop, you go check on your boy. It’s about time he gets up and eats something.”
“He’s right there, Willa. I think I can check on him just fine.” Pop caught his wife’s sharp glare and sighed. “I hear you.”
Completely confused, Adam turned his head slowly to see another man in a twin bed across the room. Dark hair that was in need of a cut, twisted this way and that. Long lashes closed to the world, mouth hanging open with a soft snore, and a golden chest that made Adam look away.
“That there is one of my sons, Perry. He’s the youngest, but he’s bigger than Sam, my other boy. Funny how those things work.” She smiled. “I just think it’s because he likes his mama’s cooking.”
“Must be it,” Adam rasped. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I still don’t know what’s going on.”
“Well, when you pulled out onto the county road, my other son hit your car with his truck. You should’ve seen him, honey. He’s all sorts of tore up about it. He thought he done killed you. Bless his little heart, sat outside the door all night to make sure you were still breathing. Oh, and bless my stars, I’m so sorry, I’m Willa Olivette, and that there is…”
“Pop? Yeah, we met.” Adam wiggled around, feeling the bandage on his face. “So why am I not in a hospital?”
“Closest hospital is near two hours from here, and you just hit your head, passed out from the concussion. The doc came around and gave you a few stitches where you hit the steering wheel and a few on your arm where the glass got ya. You got some nasty seatbelt bruising, but you’ll be fine. A few days rest and you’ll be good as new.”
“What if I have a broken rib or internal bleeding? Look lady, I think I need to go to a real medical facility.”
Pop growled. “That is yes ma’am to you. Ill or not, use your manners, son.”
Adam shied back into his pillow. The large man’s glare was enough to scare him straight. “Yes, Sir.”
“It’s alright, honey. Now, onto another matter.” She shook her head. “I don’t mean to pry or nothing, but do you know Todd Paola?”
His anger from last night had not been forgotten with the accident. Adam narrowed his eyes. “Unfortunately, I do.”
“Cause he was here last night trying to break down the door. Saying he was your boyfriend, and he had rights, and blah, blah, blah. But surely he’s mistaken. Todd Paola isn’t really the boyfriend type. Ya’ll are just friends, right?”
“He was my boyfriend until last night. That two-timing whore bag…”
“Language, honey,” Willa whispered. “Pop don’t like it in the house.” She rubbed his arm. “I take it he was the reason you were driving out onto that road like the devil been caught?”
“Judging by your lovely little nickname for him, I’m also assuming he was doing what Todd Paola does best?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Adam frowned. “Two years,” he whispered.
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” She bent down, hugging him like she was his own mother, even careful not to grip him too tight. He felt a tear coming. This pure stranger that was holding him captive in her home was making him cry from a mix of emotions. “He’s nothing more than a walking penis. I swear to the lord above, he’s broke too many hearts that the angels should castrate him.”
“Mama,” Pop barked. “Don’t be talking about other men’s … you know.”
“Well, he is,” Willa huffed at her husband before hugging Adam again. “Shh, it’s alright, darlin. It’s gonna be just fine.” She rocked him as he started to cry. “You want me to call your mama so you can talk to her?”
“Yes,” he cried. Why was the woman evoking the small child in him? He suddenly craved pajamas and hot chocolate and warm blankets. Who was this person!
“Okay,” she cooed. “I’m gonna go and get your things. The boys were kind enough to clean out your car this morning.” Willa smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” Adam sniffled into the sheets. The air conditioning kicked on and a cool manmade breeze blew through his hair. There was not a feeling in the world better than that. He settled back onto the pillow, his eyes drifting to the other bed. The other man started to stir as his father gently shook his shoulder.
“Perry?” Pop smiled as those bright, golden eyes flashed open. “There you are, boy.”
“Pop?” Perry groaned. Was he hung over? Did they drink after that fight last night? Oh man, his head hurt.
“You with me, son?”
“Yeah, sorry I didn’t hear my alarm go off. Am I late for work?”
“Work?” Pop laughed, his belly shaking. “Boy, you ain’t working for a minute, got an egg on your head the size of my fist, and stitches like Frankenstein.”
Perry shot up in bed. “What?” He grabbed both sides of his head with a groan. “Ah, fuck me.”
“Language!” Pop barked.
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. But my head is killing me.”
“I’d feel sorry for you, but it was your own fault, Perry. Going around fighting like some child. I done raised you better than that. I ought to give a good slap upside the head, but your brain might fall out.”
“How do you know about that?”
“How do I know? Well, I got a visit from the Sheriff, the doc, and an angry call from Mr. Big Britches Preacher Face in Leighton. The milkman might have showed up somewhere in there to say you were his son, not mine. It would make sense. No son of mine would go around starting fights like that.”
“Pop, you weren’t there,” Perry groaned, lying back down. “Joe Mayfield and his boys showed up while we were out at the crossing. We left the bar because they done showed up and said stuff to Noah and Jamie, calling them fags. I didn’t want to hit him, dang it. So I left with the boys and went to the crossing to chill. You know, shoot the shit and mind our own business? They followed us and started in on Mason! You don’t call my best friend no fag and get away with it. He’s gay, not no worthless piece of life.”
“Did you really hit him that hard?” Pop narrowed his eyes, flicking them to the open doorway.
“Got him real good in the nose, and in the jaw, he was a mess.”
Pop leaned down with a smile. “Now that’s my son. But don’t you dare tell your mama I said so.”
Adam took in the scene with a small smile. He didn’t know these people from, well, Adam. But he did know that he liked what he saw so far. At least they weren’t homophobes. Sometimes in the South, people weren’t very kind in their views on the subject. Like Pop and Willa, his own parents were very accepting and supportive of his love for other men. But again, some people weren’t. Being in a stranger’s house still gave him cause for fear. Though, deep down, he knew he was going to be alright.
The thought of calling his free spirited parents made him uneasy. They were going to freak out, and not in a way that would make these people feel comfortable. Adam’s parents, Rory and Dove Jackson, were as organic as humans came. His mother owned a yoga studio, wore long linen dresses with tie dyed prints, and never wore a stitch of make-up. His father was a trust fund baby who had enough money after his father died to support ten generations. After giving up on law school, he bought an estate for artists to come and go as they pleased.
From alcoholic finger painters to hippies that made cranes out of dollar bills to show ‘the man’ that money was just an object, Adam had grown up with it all. Years of sleeping in flower beds when he was little because that’s where he landed after a hard day’s play, and eating all natural peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Adam was supposed to be the world’s biggest flower child. But as it turned out, he grew into the world of technology and social media, blogging for an online gay magazine after college. His parents had supported him through it all, but they still didn’t understand why he wanted structure, his own life, and to sleep in pajamas instead of the skin that God had given him. Hippies, he closed his eyes.
Calling them meant two things. One, they would come here to fawn over him. And two, they would knock the socks off this little southern town with their free spirited selves. He wanted to groan and throw the covers over his head, but that would attract attention from the sexy man across the way. He’d already been a big enough burden to this family. There was no reason to cause trouble, trouble that came in the form of attraction to their son. But it didn’t hurt to look, right? He was a man after all, a man who liked other men. He couldn’t help that his mouth watered. It wasn’t his fault the other man didn’t have a shirt on!
“You alright over there?” Adam’s eyes flashed open, looking straight at pop and his son.
“Yes … yes, Sir.”
“Boy, why you look a rabbit at the end of a gun? Ain’t no one here to be scared of.” Pop chuckled. “This fool here is my son Perry. Got himself into a fight last night, all banged up because someone called his friend a name. Stupid, huh?”
“Did you hear what I said, pop? They called them fags!”
Adam smiled. “Hitting him probably only gave him what he was looking for, you know? Sounds like he wanted fuel for the fire. At least that’s what most homophobes want—a reason to say we’re terrible people, that we don’t belong in society because we’re violent, whores, unstable in relationships. If I were to assume the situation further, I’d say he probably tacked on a religious view to his bigotry. No offense, because I’m sure he believes that God thinks homosexuality is wrong, and that’s his prerogative. But those kind of people are some of the cruelest in the lot. I say Jesus loves everyone, but again, that’s my opinion.”
“I’m not gay,” Perry blurted. “You said we’re.”
Adam’s smiled faltered. “I didn’t mean you personally. I … just … I’m sorry if you took it that way.” He looked down at his hand over his chest.
“There you go again, Perry Olivette! Can’t you see that boy is in pain, and you just done hurt his feelings. He was trying to make conversation!”
“I meant your friends,” Adam clarified softly. “You were fired up about protecting them. I didn’t know you’d be so insecure about a simple word,” he challenged.
“Look, I am not insecure about who I am. I don’t need someone to test my waters to get a rise for their own cause. I will not be ensnared in some mind game, whoever you are.”
“Todd Paola’s boyfriend, Adam,” Pop told his son.
“Ex-boyfriend,” Adam huffed.
“Oh shit.” Perry held up his hands. “It was a slip, pop, I swear it.” He looked at Adam. “You’re Adam, Adam? The one who was on the phone the day we took Todd and…”
Adam’s eyes watered. “Took Todd where?”
“Right.” Adam turned over, wincing as the bruises over his chest flared with pain.
Footsteps sounded over the hardwood. “Honey, I brought your things.” Silence. “What did ya’ll do to him?”
“I’m fine, mom, just a little banged up is all.” Adam sank into the bed, grateful for the privacy the Olivettes had given him.
Dove Jackson cooed into the phone. “Shermin Heights, you said?”
“We’ll be there tonight, baby. Your dad has to finish his meditation right now. As soon as he’s done, we’ll pack up our supplies and stop by your place for some clothes.” She sniffled. “I bet your chakras are completely out of tune with your body. I can almost feel them crying out for attention.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “My chakras are fine, mom. You don’t have to come out here.”
“See? Your negativity speaks volumes about your condition. I wish you would have called me sooner. You’ll never heal if your body and spirit aren’t in sync,” she cried. “Take some deep, meditative breaths, and imagine a serene beach…”
“Mom, I’m getting tired.”
“That’s because they fed you chemically processed food, didn’t they?”
“It was soup, mom. Not poison.”
“From a can?” She gasped. “I bet it was!”
“Mom, I have to go. I’ll text you the address, okay?”
“Remember your meditation! It’ll help you sleep, lovey.”
Adam groaned into his fist. “Bye, mom.”
Ending the call, Adam slowly exhaled. In the process of putting his phone on the side table, he glanced over to see someone standing in the doorway. Like Perry, only a little smaller, the man cleared his throat. “You doing okay?”
“You must be Sam.”
Sam’s brows scrunched in confusion. “I ain’t met you yet. How do you know that?”
“You look like your brother.” Adam would have shrugged, but it hurt too much. “And yeah, I’m okay. Just a little sore.”
“A little? You just winced moving a few inches. I should call the doc again.” Sam turned around.
“Why? So he can give me a Band-Aid and check me out with his plastic stethoscope?” Adam snorted. “No thanks.”
“You look here now. Doc Swinson is as good as they come. He graduated from one of them fancy schools, worked in New York in one of them ERs, took care of orphans in Africa, and was a surgeon in one of the best hospitals in Louisville for years. Don’t you rag on him now. He was with you the better part of the night. We all were.” Sam crossed his arms.
“Oh.” Adam found himself at a loss for words.
“Just because this is a small town, don’t mean the people that live here ain’t larger than life. We have our share of brains around here. Some of us just find that we like simple living as opposed to the chaos that big cities offer. It doesn’t make us dumb, Adam.”
“I’m sorry,” Adam murmured. “I didn’t mean ya’ll were stupid.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure you didn’t. That’s okay, though. You’ll see for yourself what Shermin has to offer. Can’t very well leave right now, can you?”
“Will you leave that boy alone?” Willa pinched her son, coming into the room with a little pot of tea. “I swear sometimes, Sam.”
Sam rubbed his arm. “Sorry, mama. We was just…”
“No. You was just scolding him for not knowing any better. Poor thing woke up in a stranger’s home. Ain’t no better than a caged possum, probably scared out of his mind and here you go poking him with a stick. Shame on you.” She set the tea down on the side table. “Now you get on out there and help Mason and Matt deal with Todd. Lord have mercy, that boy is driving me towards sinning, bout to whoop his behind myself.”
“Todd’s here?” Adam flinched.
“Been out there off and on since you get here. Boy is right on the property line with Sheriff Beauchamp watching him. Pop told him if he set foot on our property again, he’d shoot his toes off. So he’s being all sneaky out on the road.” She smoothed his hair back. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about him neither. He deserves to feel guilty about hurting you. Cheatin little rat he is.”
“Mama,” Sam groaned. “Can’t Beauchamp just take him home, make him go away? He’s giving me a headache.”
“If he sets foot on the property again, his little behind is going in the back of a squad car. Until then, he ain’t breakin the law.”
“Maybe I should go out there and tell him to leave.” Adam sat up with her help.
“You ain’t doing nothing of the sort.” She stared at him like he had horns. “When your mama and daddy get here, I’m sure he’ll run back on home with tail between his legs. Parents have that way about them, especially when someone done hurt their baby.”
Adam snorted. “Not my parents.”
Willa gave him a look, but went about making him a cup of tea instead of saying anything. Now it was merely a waiting game.
TO BE CONTINUED…