Quiet Storm, Season 2, Episode 6 (Rising Storm) (4 page)

And with the wind taken out of his sails, Hector had taken a six-pack and the remote into the living room, and had fallen asleep watching football while Joanne cleaned the kitchen.

So yeah, the dark, sexy man standing in front of her had rescued her. Twice, if she counted him running Hector out of Storm in the first place. But he shouldn’t have done it the way he did. Behind her back. As if she was some porcelain doll. Because she wasn’t—at least she wasn’t anymore.

It was time for Joanne to stand on her own. Without Hector. Without a man.

She frowned.

Without Dillon?

The thought terrified her. And yet...

“Joanne, please.”

She shook her head and pushed past him, hurrying outside. She was fast, but Dillon caught up with her easily, taking her elbow and tugging her to a stop right in front of the office.

Roughly, Joanne jerked her arm away. “Dillon, don’t. You haven’t any right.”

“Don’t I?” His eyes bore into hers, hard and soft at the same time. Tender and loving. And worried.

Her shoulders drooped. “I don’t know—”

“What?”

She just shook her head. She wanted to say that she didn’t know how to do this. How to get free. How to be with him.

But how could she say those things knowing that Dillon would step in and be her white knight? And probably get himself killed in the process.

She had her life. Her place.

She was the one who took care of her children. She was the one who protected everybody.

Everybody but herself.

“I—I need to go.”

This time, he didn’t reach for her. But when he called after her, the low, deep determination that underscored her name made her pause and turn around.

She didn’t say anything. Just stood there waiting for him to speak.

“I’m not giving up on you,” he finally said.

And despite herself, Joanne smiled.

* * * *

If there was any justice in the world, Dakota Alvarez thought, then Courtney—Pink’s bitch of an owner—would contract a truly nasty case of the clap.

Because if it wasn’t for the boutique’s owner, Dakota would be employed by now instead of wasting time sitting in the Bluebonnet Cafe while she filled out a stack of stupid applications for mind-numbingly dull jobs like the cashier at the Suds & Such on the edge of town. Like, what kind of a name for a convenience store was that, anyway?

“Deep thoughts?”

Dakota’s black mood shifted in response to the friendly voice, and she tilted her head up to see the smiling face of Patrick Murphy, looking pretty damn sexy in his EMT uniform, actually. She lowered her head again, weirdly uncomfortable with the fact that he looked so hot.

“Not really,” she muttered. “I’m pretty shallow. Or hadn’t you heard?”

“Are you? I don’t know, Dakota. I think you sell yourself short.”

He slid into the booth opposite her, just as casual as you please, as if they were the best of friends. She considered leaning back and giving him one of her haughty
what the hell
looks, but the truth was she kind of liked it. They
were
friends, after all. He was the only one in this podunk town that seemed to understand her. Hell, for that matter, he was the only one who seemed to
like
her.

“Job hunting?” he asked.

“Hunting, yeah. Not doing much finding.” She made a face. “And even if I do get these jobs, my brain will rot and slide out my ears.
Here’s your change! Have a nice day!
Ugh.”

Patrick grinned, and she felt a little better at having amused him. But only just a little. Mostly, she was pissed at Courtney. No, strike that. She was pissed at her mother, because if Joanne hadn’t caused a scene on the square, then that job would still be Dakota’s.

Except
...

She frowned as she looked at Patrick, remembering what he’d said to her a while back. Could he be right? Could her daddy be the reason Dakota lost that job? Could he really be the monster everyone seemed to think he was?

“What?” Patrick asked, and Dakota immediately shook her head, throwing off the troublesome thoughts. Her daddy adored her and was good to her. He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t hurting her mother.

She’d know it if he was. Wouldn’t she?

“Nothing,” she said. “Just thinking about jobs. I can’t get another apartment until I have one.”

“And you want to be out on your own.”

“Sure. It’s crowded in our house now, what with Daddy back and Marcus living at home.” It was weird, actually. First Marcus was supposed to never set foot in the house again after Daddy came home, and then suddenly he was back, insisting that he was going to live in his old bedroom no matter what their daddy said.

Honestly, it was baffling.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Because she knew damn well that Marcus would say that he was staying to protect their mom and Mallory. And Dakota would roll her eyes at the answer, but that conversation with Patrick would tickle the back of her mind, and—

She shook her head, banishing her thoughts, then took another sip of her Diet Coke.

“Well, I’m about to start my shift, but I wanted to say hi and see how you were doing.”

“I’m glad you did.” Her wide smile was both genuine and rare. Seemed like most of the time her lips felt stretched raw when she had to smile politely. With Patrick, she felt real. It was nice.

He slid out of the booth, then pressed a hand to her shoulder as he passed her on his way to the door. She watched him go, and told herself not to think about his really cute ass. Instead, she looked past him out the window—and then immediately wished she hadn’t.

Her mom was right there on the square with Dillon Murphy
.

Unlike all the times before with the sheriff, her mom didn’t look all doe-eyed the way she had before Daddy had come back. For that matter, she looked a little irritated.

Ha.
Her mom never looked irritated when she was around Hector. Dakota frowned, thinking about that. Because the truth was, her mom was never happy around Hector either. Or doe-eyed. Or flirty. Or anything, really. She just always looked sort of...flat.

Okay, maybe her parents really didn’t have the best marriage, but so what? That didn’t make Hector a monster. After all, of course Daddy was mad if Joanne was hanging out with—and even having fun with—the man who’d run Hector out of town.

Her frown deepened as she thought of Patrick, because she knew what he’d say. That she wasn’t really seeing what was going on between her parents. He’d probably even go so far as to say that his brother Dillon was the better man.

And then he’d tell her that if she dug deep, she already knew all of that. She just didn’t want it to be true.

In the booth, she hugged herself, thinking about Patrick. She was glad he’d left because she didn’t want a lecture right now. Except Patrick never really lectured. Instead, they talked.

They talked, and he listened. And he actually saw the girl she really was. Sometimes he saw even more than she wanted him to see.

It made her feel uncomfortable. But, weirdly, it also made her feel safe. Because whatever he was seeing in her, he liked.

And that was scary and wonderful all at the same time.

Chapter 4

Jeffry lingered at the threshold of Brittany’s room, watching his sister examine herself in a clinging burgundy sweater dress. It was a nice change. For the last few days, she’d been killing herself for some project for one of the college classes she was taking online, and she’d been living in yoga pants and T-shirts.

“You look really pretty,” he said, and she jumped, her hand flying to her chest.

“Oh! Jeffry! I didn’t see you there. I thought you were Dad”

“He’s in Austin with Grams for the weekend, remember? That charity thing. Gotta feed the social media machine.”

She nodded. “Just paranoid, I guess. I’m going out to dinner with Marcus, and I really don’t want an earful of Dad’s shit.”

“Can’t blame you there.” He cocked his head. “So everything’s good with you and Marcus? I mean, I really like him, but Dad and Grams have got to be making his life miserable.”

“It’s great,” she said, but then her shoulders slumped. “Actually, it’s not all great.
Shit
.” She drew a breath and sat on the edge of her bed. He took that as an invitation and stepped all the way into her room, then sat on the floor in front of her desk the way he used to when he was little. “You guys have a fight?”

“Not that you could tell. We go out. We have fun. The chemistry is—” She cut herself off, blushing.

Jeffry laughed. “Yeah, I get it. And it’s okay. Senior this year, remember?”

“You’re my little brother. Sorry, that’s just the status quo.”

He thought of Scott and immediately wondered what his sister would make of the kinds of thoughts her little brother had been having all afternoon. He’d told Scott he wasn’t going to go to the movie, but as the hours ticked by, he couldn’t help but think about going after all. Not because he thought anything would happen—although maybe part of him hoped that it would—but because he liked the guy. Hell, he didn’t even know for sure that Scott was gay, although he was pretty certain. How was he supposed to ask, anyway?

Bottom line wasn’t that he wanted a date or anything, he just liked the guy. He wanted to hang with him. And what was wrong with that?

“—even talked about it.”

“What?” Jeffry said. “Sorry. I drifted.”

She rolled her eyes in a very sisterly way. “I said that we haven’t even really talked about it. How we can make it work between us with Dad and Grams being so mean about his family? And, honestly, part of the problem is the way he thinks of his family, too. Or at least his background. I think he’s certain I wouldn’t be happy with a rancher. Like he’d be holding me back, or some BS like that. So I don’t even know if it
can
work.”

“Do you want it to?”

She clasped her hands on her lap and looked down. “More than anything in the world,” she whispered.

“Then you need to talk to him about it. And you need to be prepared to talk to Dad and Grams, too. And to stand your ground.”

He meant everything he said, but even as he spoke he knew that the words weren’t just for her. Someday soon
he
was going to have to have a talk with his family. Not about Scott in particular, but about guys. About Jeffry. About who he was. And he knew damn well that his dad and grandmother were going to lose their shit when he finally got up the nerve to do that.

“I’ve got your back,” he said to Brit, hoping that she’d always have his, too. Knowing she would because even though she could be a pain in the butt, she’d always been there for him.

“I know you do.” Her smile was wide. And, he thought, a little grateful.

“Okay, stand up. Let me see the outfit again.”

She did, and he nodded approval. “Seriously, you look hot. Good outfit to have a talk in. Or not,” he added with a devious grin.

“Jeffry Rush!”

“Ha!”

She turned sideways, then wrinkled her nose. “You think it’s too tight?”

Jeffry laughed again. “You do remember that Marcus is a guy, right?”

“Good point.” She smoothed the dress over her hips. “Mom and I are going into San Antonio to do some shopping tomorrow. Maybe I’ll get a few more tight dresses. Tell Marcus they’re a present.”

He grinned at his sister. “Good plan.”

“What about you? Hanging out and playing video games tonight?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Her brow creased. “What aren’t you telling me? Are you going out with Mallory and Luis?”

“No, no.” He noted that she didn’t mention Lacey, and the little knot of sadness in his gut hardened. Already she’d fallen out of their group, and the thought left him profoundly sad. “I was thinking about driving over to Fredericksburg to see a movie. Some guys from school are going, and—”

“You should. Go. Have fun.” She waved her hand regally. “I give you leave to go.”

“You really are a princess, you know.”

“Hell, yes.”

He stood and hugged his sister. “Love you.”

She hugged him back, but looked at him quizzically when she pulled away. “Love you, too. You okay?”

“Fine. Just, you know. Thinking about you and Marcus and all the shit that’s going to hit the fan.”

“And won’t that be fun?”

“Seriously, Brit. Talk to Marcus. You guys are great together. Don’t let our stupid family—or his stupid attitude—screw up a good thing.”

“No.” She nodded firmly. “No, I won’t.”

He left her putting on her jewelry and humming, then headed for the den to play a little Skyrim. Because he didn’t need to go to Fredericksburg. He didn’t need to see Scott. He didn’t need to give his family another thing to be all superior and judgmental about. He’d be in college in a year and he’d have freedom. He could tell his dad to fuck off then. Now, though...

Now would be hard. Really hard.

And yet, apparently “now” was in the cards, because instead of going to the den, he found himself grabbing his keys out of the bowl on the table by the front door, then getting into the red Mustang Convertible he’d gotten for his sixteenth birthday.

He slid the key in, started the engine, and drew a deep breath before shifting the car into gear.

Tonight would either be good or it would be hell.

* * * *

Jeffry found the theater easily enough. It was going inside that was the hard part.

First, he lingered in his car.

Then he loitered in front of the ticket booth.

Finally, he lectured himself, telling himself he’d driven all this way and it was just a movie and what the hell was wrong with him anyway?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he bought his ticket and went into the lobby and got in the concession line. It was an old-fashioned theater with velvet wallpaper and gilt fixtures. Posters of classic movies covered the walls, and the ceiling was an intricate plaster design. It smelled of popcorn, but underneath that, he could detect a faintly musty odor, as if the place hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned since the premiere of
Gone With The Wind.