Wicked Love (Wicked White Series Book 3) (4 page)

The house comes into view through the thick trees that create a natural privacy fence around the front of the property, and it’s a lot smaller than I remember. A little, white, two-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch stands before me—nothing fancy, just a modest home that appears warm and inviting. It’s definitely a far cry from the lavish home we just left behind.

I can’t believe this is my home now. What a culture shock. There’s no way the three of us will be able to live in this small space together and not feel like we’re crowding one another.

Dad pulls the SUV up close to the house, and it doesn’t take long for Granny to come rushing out the screen door. She looks just like the picture of her I used to keep tacked to my bedroom mirror to remind me of what she looked like. Granny hasn’t changed a bit. She’s still short and cuddly, and wears her faded blue jeans that remind me of the eighties day we used to have back in school. The only thing that’s changed is her hair, which has a little more gray in it.

Granny barrels toward the car, and there’s no time to get out of the way, only time to prepare for one of her notorious bear hugs.

She doesn’t even give me time to get out of the car before she whips open the door and wraps her arms around me.

If you ever get a hug from my Granny, be prepared to just about have the life squeezed out of you.

“Oh honey, look at how pretty you are. You were pretty before, but now . . 
.
I bet your daddy has to beat them boys off with a big stick. I’m just so happy to see you,” she coos in my ear as she hugs me tight.

I smile at her and squeeze her back. “I’ve missed you so much!”

Last time I saw Granny in person, I was about fifty pounds heavier and hadn’t been put through Mom’s beauty boot camp. Back then, I could never get a boy to look my way, but now . . . I’ve heard guys refer to me as hot. Things have changed so much since then.

Granny hasn’t seen me since I overhauled my appearance. I should’ve taken it upon myself to come see her. I’ve been a little selfish over the past couple of years, but I want to change all that. I want to start caring more about others.

Dad opens his door and stretches on the other side of the car. Granny sees her opportunity to hug him and takes off after him. It’s nice to see them embrace because they haven’t seen each other in years.

Last time Dad was here, Mom was with him, and Granny didn’t have a problem telling Dad right in front of my mom what she thought about his wife. Granny has never liked my mother, but Dad was so head over heels in love he didn’t care what his mother thought. After that day, Dad and Granny never spoke. Granny refused to apologize for the way she felt about Mom and the fact that she called her a “gold-diggin’ hussy” because she felt her opinion was justified.

It took a lot for Dad to call Granny and ask her if we could come live with her. That’s how I knew our situation was dire because Dad swore he would never speak to his mother again after that. Of course no one would ever believe there was any bad blood between the two of them if they saw them now.

It’s amazing how old grudges can disappear when people learn to let go. There’s no awkwardness between them at all. Granny busies herself hugging and kissing him, while singing Dad’s praises, neither of them mentioning the past to the other.

“I’ve missed you, baby,” Granny coos as she pulls back and cups his face in her hands. “It’s good to finally have you back.”

I swear I see a little tinge of embarrassment on his face when his cheeks redden just a touch at the sweetness of her words.

“Well, come on, you two, dinner’s a-waiting,” Granny beckons as she turns and heads back toward the house.

And just like that, the falling-out between them is a thing of the past.

I follow Granny into the house because we haven’t eaten since we left Columbus and I’m starving. A nice fresh salad followed by my standard pudding cup will totally hit the spot right now. I hope she has fat-free Italian dressing. Since I’m so weight conscious now, I tend to only eat salads for dinner so I can keep the figure I’ve worked so hard to get.

The house feels smaller inside than I remember, and everything is exactly the same as the last time when I was here. All the furniture is the same as when Dad was a kid. I wonder if I can con Granny into a little redecorating after I get her hooked on HGTV. This place can use some new life breathed into it.

The aroma of greasy food wafts in the air throughout the whole house, and it smells like absolute heaven. What I wouldn’t give to not have to obsessively count calories. Dieting sucks, but I have to work extra hard to keep the weight off. I’m not one of those girls who is blessed with the ability to just eat whatever. My body is very curvy by nature, and if I don’t watch my intake, I’ll turn into one immense curve like before.

“Wash up and then sit down at the table for dinner,” Granny instructs.

After I return from the bathroom, I find Dad and Granny sitting down at the square wooden table in the kitchen. My eyes dance over the spread that’s lying out on the table—fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and all the works. This is bigger than most Thanksgiving meals I’ve had at home with Mom. I bite my lip, and wish like crazy I could indulge, but I need to behave and stick to a salad like normal. The only problem is there’s no salad in sight.

Huh, maybe it’s in the refrigerator. Granny knows that I’m on a salad-only dinner plan. I’ve complained to her enough about it on the phone. I can’t believe that she’s forgotten that’s what I eat.

I sit down at the table next to Granny. “Hey Granny, did you get my dressing?”

“Nope, not yet. It’s on my grocery list though,” she says as she spoons a heaping helping of mashed potatoes on my plate. “I only go shopping every other week.”

“Did you fix a salad for me, though?” I ask, puzzled.

She shakes her head, and my face muscles twitch, threatening to show my disappointment. I guess one little home-cooked meal won’t kill me. I’ll just run two extra miles tomorrow to make up for it.

AVERY

L
ife sleeping on a couch is rough. I miss my bed, but I miss the privacy of my room more.

A girl needs her own room. That’s where we do our best meditating. When I got the grand tour last night and discovered my room is the couch, I wasn’t happy, but I knew I had to be thankful that I wasn’t sleeping on the streets. The silver lining in all this was when Dad told me that he already arranged with Granny to build an extra room onto the house for me. Seems as though Granny has a bit of money saved up and she wants me to have this. The only problem is that Dad says we don’t have enough money to hire someone to build it, so he’s going to do it himself.

I don’t have much faith in my dad’s handyman abilities. I’ve never even seen Dad as much as pick up a hammer. There’s no way I can picture him constructing part of a building.

I’m almost positive that the room is going to be lopsided.

He reassured me that he knows a little about construction, and that my room will turn out just fine, but I’m still pretty worried about it. He even told me yesterday that we can use Granny’s truck to go into town and start buying supplies.

It’ll probably be the highlight of my day since there’s not much else to do.

I hear some rustling in the kitchen and try to pretend I’m still sleeping when Granny starts yelling.

“Come on, rise and shine,” she calls through the house. “Breakfast is ready. Get up. You don’t want to sleep your life away.”

That actually doesn’t seem like such a bad way to go since she mentioned it.

I pull the blanket over my face and squeeze my eyes shut. This doesn’t work though because Granny comes over, rips the cover down, and keeps up her relentless taunt about me getting up. I groan and then roll over and push myself up because it’s obvious there’s no sleeping late in this house.

We’re having another huge meal this morning and it kills me to eat like this again. You’d think she would’ve learned not to make so much food since she’s lived alone all these years, but she tells me that she’s always made meals like this. Granny comes from a big family of eight brothers and sisters, and her mom was the one who taught her to cook, which was for a family of ten. I’m going to turn into a beached whale if I don’t get back on my normal diet soon. I’ll have to stop at a store somewhere so I can buy stuff that I’m used to eating.

The moment Granny’s delicious home cooking hits my mouth, I close my eyes and fight back the urge to go into a full-on food orgasm in front of my father. It tastes that damn good. I know I’ll regret it later, but right now I allow myself to indulge a little.

Dad and I eat while we listen to Granny rattle on about the local gossip. I don’t know any of the people that she’s talking about, so I zone out, staring at a scuff on the kitchen table and wondering if Dad put it there when he was a little kid.

“Avery? Avery? Did you hear anything I said?” Granny growls.

“Huh? About what?” I rush the words out.

“About your chore list.”

“
Chores
?” My eyes widen. “You’re giving me a chore list?”

“Well, you’ll have some duties around here,” Granny says sternly. “Everyone has to earn their keep.”

I never did anything remotely close to a chore back in Columbus. We had a cleaning service that came in and did everything, but I guess that’s not an option here, since we’re poor and all now. I shift uneasily in my chair while Granny reads me a list of things I’m supposed to do every day.

One thing on the list turns my stomach and I have to protest.

“Whoa, clean stalls? That’s like cleaning up their shit, right? I don’t know a thing about horses,” I complain.

“Well, it’s time you learn about them,” she lectures. “And watch the language. It’s not right for a young lady to curse.” Granny gives me a wink and I chuckle. Ha, it’s fine for her to cuss all she wants, but I’m not even allowed to say shit? Not fair and she knows it.

After I help with the dishes, I make my way outside for a bit of fresh air.

I plop down on the front porch steps and stare into the green nothingness that surrounds the house. I guess I should be grateful for Granny’s chore list. At least it will give me something to do.

I stare down at my nails
.
I’m in desperate need of a manicure, but that’s just one more thing that I can no longer have.

“
There’s no money for frivolous things
,” Dad told me on the way down here. “
We’ll have to just make do, and learn to live within our meager means now
.”

“You ready?” my dad calls as he pushes open the screen door and steps out onto the porch with me.

“For what?” I ask, completely caught off guard because I’m still sulking over cleaning the horse stalls.

“To go to the lumberyard . . . remember? I’m going to start building your new room today.”

“Oh. Right.” I’d nearly forgotten about that.

I push myself up and Dad wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I know things are tough right now, but things can only go up from here.” He kisses me on the top of my head. “Come on, kiddo.”

I follow Dad out to Granny’s truck and then jump inside the cab with him. He twists the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life. Granny doesn’t drive it much, but it still seems to be in perfectly good condition.

Dad pats the dash of the truck. “This was your grandpa’s pride and joy. He bought it new in eighty-eight, and it was the first new vehicle that he’d ever owned. I remember the day he bought it. He was so proud, and he turned to me and told me that working hard is how you can afford to have nice things. I took that statement to heart.”

Dad hasn’t talked about his family in such a fond way in a long time, so it’s nice to hear this story about him and his father. I want him to keep going, so I ask, “Is that what motivated you to go to college and move to the city?”

He puts the truck in drive and heads down the driveway. “It is. I always idolized the people I saw on television and all the nice things they had. I figured out early that if I wanted to have the kind of life I grew up dreaming about that I would have to be a successful businessman, so that’s what I worked for.”

This completely explains why Mom fell for Dad when they were in college. They were both money driven, and she could see that Dad had the determination to make something of himself. Mom knew that successful men typically marry intelligent, beautiful women, so she made it a point to get a degree in business, even though she never really planned on using it, or at least that’s the way she put it to me when I was trying to decide on my own college major during my senior year of high school.

I turn my head and stare out the window. It’s hard for me to think about my mother because every time I do, I just get angry.

These roads feel like they take forever, and there are so many curves. Between Granny’s beat-up old truck and the fact Dad thinks we’re in the backwoods Indy 500, my stomach turns with a little carsickness. I feel like sticking my head out the window like a dog to lap up some fresh air to help ease my turning stomach. Instead, I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, while trying to get my mind off my mother.

Relief floods me when we slow down and drive onto the straight city streets. I sit up to inspect my new town. There’s nothing but a few fast-food joints and a local Walmart. Not only does there not seem to be anything to do in this town, but it appears that the job outlook around here isn’t very good either, considering there are not a lot of businesses.

I suddenly feel the urge to take back every mean thing I ever said about Columbus. Compared to Wellston, Columbus is a huge city with lots to do, even if most of the people I know there right now are complete assholes. I miss being there already.

Dad turns sharply into what appears to be the local lumber store parking lot. The building is old and dilapidated. If we were back home this place would have plywood nailed tightly over the windows to keep the crackheads out. However, here it’s an open business, proudly serving all the people of Wellston, according to the sign.

“Wow. A little rough, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Come on, Ave, it’ll be fine. Give this place a chance. The people here may not have much, but they’re friendly.” Dad smiles.

I sigh as I push open the heavy truck door and follow Dad. I can’t bring myself to be argumentative with him. When he worked all the time, he barely knew I was alive. It was easy then to snap at him with bitchy comments, because I truly thought he was a jerk. Now I know different. He stressed a lot over his job and now that that’s no longer in the way, we’ve really had the chance to reconnect and mend things between us.

I drag my feet aimlessly behind Dad through the lumber store. I’m not familiar with any of the things they sell, so none of it holds my interest, plus it smells weird in here. It has an aroma of musty wood and oil. My nose wrinkles up at every whiff I get.

I nearly jump for joy when he says it’s time to go check out because I’m completely out of my element in here. I’ve never been in a lumber store before, but it’s not high on my list of places to visit again anytime soon.

We walk outside away from the wretched stench of the store. I’m glad for a clean gulp of air. The more I get of this clear country air, the more I crave it. Normally I’m the biggest inside person you’d ever meet, but here it’s different. I like sitting outside every chance I get. There’s a peacefulness in being surrounded by nothing but country.

“Wait here,” Dad says while thrusting the lumber receipt into my hands. “I’ll go pull the truck up to the loading area.”

Standing there like an idiot, I watch him walk away. I hate being in public alone. It makes me feel like a total loser with no friends. I slide on my oversize Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, and gaze at my nails to appear preoccupied. People clamor in and out of the store. This place appears to be the central hub for all things construction.

“You waiting to get loaded?” a male voice asks.

“What?” I question. The word
loaded
to me only means two things: being rich, which I’m definitely not anymore, or getting high. No way do I need drugs. My life is screwed up enough without adding that to the mix.

I turn to confront my would-be dope dealer and my mouth drops open the moment my eyes land on the guy who asked the question. “Tyler?”

His eyes widen as soon as I mention his name. “Avery? I barely recognize you with those big glasses. It’s great to see you.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still amazed to see a familiar face.

My eyes trail up and down his body unabashedly because I know he won’t be able to tell that I’m checking out that sexy tattooed body of his while I have these shades on. I’m usually not attracted to the country-boy type, but Tyler looks absolutely tasty in his faded blue jeans and his tight T-shirt and baseball cap.

He smiles and it lights up his entire face, even causing his blue eyes to twinkle a bit. “I work here.”

“
Here
? I thought you lived in Columbus?” I ask, confused by why he works two hours away from where I met him.

“No. I’ve lived here my whole life. I only stay in Columbus on the weekend. My band’s lead singer, Jimmy, has a place there. It’s more convenient to do that since we play most of our gigs on the weekends. It’s too far for me to travel back and forth, especially since most of our gigs don’t end until late.”

I nod. “That makes sense. I just didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

His top teeth graze over his lower lip. “Likewise. But I’m glad you’re here.”

We stand there in silence, and I know he probably wants to mention the last time he saw me—the night I ran out of the frat house crying—but he doesn’t ask and I don’t bring it up. That was one of the most embarrassing nights of my life and I don’t look forward to rehashing the details of it anytime soon.

Finally, after some awkward silence, he clears his throat. “Can I see your receipt?”

“Oh, sorry.” I hand him the small piece of paper.

He takes the receipt as his mouth quirks into a little grin. “So I take it you know someone down here since you’re buying all this lumber.”

“Yeah, my grandmother doesn’t live too far from here, and my dad and I are staying with her for a while.”

His eyes flick to mine, and I’m sure he’s a bit confused as to why I’m living down here after he’s seen my old house, but I don’t give him any further details, so he just simply says, “I bet I know your grandmother, seeing as how this is a pretty small town.”

“Her name is Geneva Jenson.”

Tyler’s gaze shifts upward like he’s going through some file in his brain, searching for Granny’s name, and then whips his eyes back to me. “She’s out on Dark Hollow Road, right?”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah. That’s her.”

He grins. “There aren’t many people around here that I don’t know.”

I laugh a little. “Obviously.”

Tyler opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it. He’s looking at me like there’s more he wants to say but is holding back. After a long moment, he jumps back into business mode. “Pull your vehicle to the side over there and I’ll get your supplies loaded up.”