Our Kind of Love by Kait Nolan

Chapter 13

“Over two hundred thousand views since last night! And that’s just this video. There are a bunch of others.”

From his seat in one of the chairs on the front porch, Kyle grinned at Granddaddy’s enthusiasm. Abbey had taught him how to look stuff up on YouTube on his phone at breakfast, and he’d promptly found the many videos of last night’s unofficial debut of “Bubble Gum Ring” at Jam Night.

“Well, my publicist will sure be happy.” He should probably call Deanna and give her a heads up. Then again, she kept her finger on social media and probably already had alerts set up.

“More to the point, you look happy.”

“I reckon that’s because I am. I’ve got a second chance with the best girl in the world. Everything else is just details.” Details he knew he needed to sort out. But the music was flowing, and he didn’t want to do anything to scare it off.

“I told you the plan would work.”

Kyle chuckled. “So you did.” He’d had his doubts, but it was hard to argue with the end result. He felt fantastic about where he and Abbey were.

“Speaking of details, when are you gonna make it official for real and ask that girl to marry you?”

The guitar made a discordant squawk as his fingers missed their position on the fretboard. “It’s too soon for that. Way too fast. We just got together.”

Granddaddy slapped the arm of his chair. “Boy, you’ve wasted enough time. It’s not an issue of fast when it’s right. Now’s when you make up for lost time. I’m not getting any younger, and I wanna see my girl go down the aisle.”

Kyle wanted to tease and say he’d live till he was a hundred, but with his condition, that was unlikely to be the case. So instead, he considered what Granddaddy was saying. “It happens, I’ve had a few thoughts on the matter of how I’d propose.” Hell, he’d more or less laid it out in that last interview. Would it mean more to her if he went that route, or should he try to come up with something new?

Before Granddaddy could offer any suggestions on the matter, the sound of a car coming up the drive drew their attention.

Kyle set his guitar aside. “It’s too early for Abbey to be getting home from work. She’s got clients until noon.”

He rose from his seat, trotting on down the steps. It was probably somebody looking for the cidery who’d taken the wrong turn. He’d just give the driver directions.

But his step hitched as he caught sight of the woman behind the wheel.

No.

A mix of panic and fury swirled in his gut, driving him the rest of the way across the yard to where the little tin can of a car had rolled to a stop. She was already opening the door before he could slap a hand against it to keep her inside.

She unfolded from the seat, a bird-thin woman who looked decades older than she had when she’d gone into prison. Her hair was more gray than sandy now, thin and stringy. She was more than a head shorter than him, but that didn’t make her presence any less of a threat.

She couldn’t be here. She’d already done enough damage to this place, these people, and Kyle didn’t want her anywhere near Grandaddy.

Because his hands shook, he curled them into fists. “You get back in that car and get the hell off this property.”

“Is that any way to greet your mother?”

“You’re nothing to me.” She’d been no kind of mother, and thanks to Faye Whittaker and Joan Reynolds, he had occasion to know the difference.

“I gave you life, and you’ll show me the respect I’m owed,” she snapped.

“Respect has to be earned, and you sure as hell never did anything to deserve it.”

“Fed and clothed you, didn’t I? Put a roof over your head.”

“The Whittakers were more responsible for that than you ever were.”

Twyla sneered. “Oh, the high and mighty Whittakers. You always did think you were one of them. Hanging out with that girl always gave you airs. As if you were ever good enough for the likes of them. You’re no better than your daddy and me.”

“I’m nothing like either of you.” He’d spent a lifetime eradicating any traces of his true origins.

“Blood will tell. Blood always tells. You can change your name and how you dress and talk, but that’s all an act. You can’t change what’s down deep inside.”

“You aren’t welcome here. Get in your car and go.”

“I got every right to come back. To see my son. You never even visited me in prison.”

“Why would I? So you could berate me from behind bars? Belittle me from the other side of the plexiglass? You never wanted me. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Always so eager to get rid of us.” A cold fury flashed across her face. “Always choosing them over your own kin. You owe us for that.”

Kyle didn’t like the calculating gleam in her eyes. “I don’t owe you a damned thing.”

“You’ve made good for yourself. A good son would share the rewards of his success. Especially after what you did to us.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“You’ve gone to all this trouble to keep everything quiet. What would all those fans of yours say if they knew what you really came from?”

His stomach lurched at the implied threat. She could ruin everything. It was what she did. And he’d built his entire career, his life, knowing it was a house of cards. But he’d thought he would have more time. And maybe the years had made him feel as if he had more control than he really did. But when had he ever actually had control over this woman?

As panic tried to claw up his throat, he remembered what Abbey had said and relaxed a fraction. He had more control than he thought. “My fans aren’t a concern. They’re in it for the music and you can’t touch that. You won’t get a penny out of me.”

Dropping any prevarication, Twyla firmed her jaw. “You’ll pay, or I’ll go to the press. Tell them everything.”

The idea of it terrified him. But Kyle understood that if he gave in to her demands and paid her once, it would establish a pattern that would never end so long as both his parents were living. They’d always think he owed them something, and he wasn’t locking himself into that kind of devil’s bargain. Besides, she couldn’t be ready to act. She’d leave here, lick her wounds, maybe consult with his father. Then she’d be back with some other offer. It wasn’t her pattern to choose the nuclear option first. His daddy had always been the decisive one.

“You’ll get nothing from me but a boot up the ass.”

“Get off my property.” Granddaddy’s voice shook with rage.

Kyle swung around to find him standing just a few feet away, arm draped over one crutch. His face was an alarming shade of red.

“Hello, Roy.”

“Don’t you hello me, you harpy. You get the hell away from here. You got no business coming back here.” He hobbled forward, and Kyle leapt close to keep him from toppling on shaky legs.

“I’ve got this, Granddaddy.”

But Granddaddy ignored him. All his focus was on Twyla. “You were terrible employees. Terrible parents. You never treated Kyle right. Never loved him the way you should.”

“How we raised our boy was no business of yours.”

Granddaddy raised his crutch, as if about to strike out with it. Kyle snagged it before he could swing. That was the last thing they needed. His mother would absolutely press assault charges.

Before anybody could say another word, another car came up the drive. Kyle recognized the sound of Abbey’s Honda before it came over the hill and into view.

Twyla apparently decided adding someone else to the mix was too much because she edged back toward her own car. “Think about it. I’ll be in touch.”

Abbey skidded to a halt in the middle of the driveway and leapt out, racing toward them. But Twyla was already in the driver’s seat and backing up.

Granddaddy waved his crutch, shouting incoherent threats after her as she drove away.

“What the actual hell is she doing here?”

“Not now, Abs.” Kyle had his hand on Granddaddy, doing his best to keep him stable. He didn’t like the older man’s pallor. “We need to get him inside and calmed down.”

Evidently realizing there was nothing more to be done about Twyla, Abbey turned her attention to her grandfather. Together they got him back inside and into the recliner. As soon as he was settled, Kyle paced away, desperate to find some distance and control.

* * *

Abbey quietly shutthe door to Granddaddy’s room. The entire encounter had left him drained, and she hoped he’d nap for a while. If they were lucky, he’d have forgotten Kyle’s mother by the time he surfaced. If they weren’t… well, they’d deal with it. For now, she needed to do damage control with Kyle himself.

But she took a moment in the hall to slow her breathing and find some calm. She was more than a little rattled herself to have Twyla back in their lives. This woman was one of the two people who’d all but ruined her family. There was little Twyla could do directly to them now, but she could still attack Kyle. The woman knew exactly how to stomp all over his insecurities. She’d created them, after all. Abbey knew that, in whatever time she was here, Twyla probably slid right back into those toxic patterns, attacking his worth, stoking his shame. She just had to hope that her own hold over him was stronger.

Kyle stood in the living room, knocking back a glass of some kind of alcohol. It was barely past one in the afternoon. He glanced at her as she came into the room. “I’m sorry.”

Her gut clenched as she wondered exactly what he was apologizing for. The resolute lines of his face said he’d made some kind of decision. She was terrified it would be about them. But she kept her tone quiet and neutral. “For?”

“This is all my fault. She would never have come here if not for me. Granddaddy didn’t need that. He could’ve been hurt—or worse—trying to protect the child I used to be.”

Relaxing a bit, she crossed over and took the glass from his hand, sipping at the amber liquid herself. The bitter smoke of whiskey hit her tongue, and she grimaced. “This wasn’t all about your mother. We’ve been really fortunate since you’ve been here that he’s had mostly good days. This is one of the bad. They happen sometimes. You’ve just never seen it before. That doesn’t mean it was your fault.”

“He was fine before she got here. I should have been able to keep her away, but I just never thought she’d dare show her face here again. My mistake.”

Abbey set the glass on the coffee table as she thought of the woman she’d seen in the crowd last night. “I think she was at Jam Night.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I didn’t realize it was her. But I don’t know what I could have done if I had. There’s no law against attending a public event, and neither of us would have wanted a scene there.” But at least they might have been forewarned that Twyla was in the area. Too late now.

Kyle’s shoulders were rigid, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. His blue eyes were arctic, and Abbey felt like he was oceans away instead of a hand span.

“What did she want?”

“Money. And maybe to see how much she could rattle me. Or us.”

Mission accomplished on that front.“You can’t pay her.”

“I know. I told her as much. She threatened to go to the press and tell everything.”

Which was exactly what he was afraid of. Abbey had done her best to mitigate that fear. But she didn’t know what was he willing to do in order to protect his reputation. “What did you say?”

“I called her bluff. Told her she wouldn’t get a dime.”

“Do you think she’ll really do it?”

“Not immediately. She’ll come back with another offer. More threats. Even if she went to the press, nobody’s going to run the story without confirming that she’s actually my mother.” He turned away, pacing to the window to look out, but Abbey didn’t think he actually saw the orchards beyond. “I should have enough time to craft something myself. I’ll need to talk to Deanna. Figure out the best way to handle it.”

“You’re going to beat her to the punch?” She hadn’t imagined he’d take that risk.

“I don’t see any other alternative. The public will remember what they hear first, not what’s necessarily true. That’s why scandal endures so fucking long.”

Old, familiar shame swirled around him, bowing those broad shoulders, dragging him away from her.

Screw that. She’d promised to call him out on bullshit, and this certainly qualified.

Abbey crossed over, sliding in front of him so he had to look down at her. “Look, this sucks. Nobody’s saying it doesn’t. But you’re not alone in this.”

“I don’t want this blowing back on you or your family.”

“If it does, it does. The law is on our side. The evidence is damning to both of them. It’s why they were put away so long. There’s no version of this story where you didn’t do the right thing.”

“It’s not like I think I should have done anything different. I just... What do I have to do to be free of her? Of both of them?”

“I don’t know. But no matter what, you have to remember I love you.” She slid her arms around him. “We’re in this together.”

He finally, finally focused back in on her, drawing her close and pressing his brow to hers. “I love you, Abbey.”

“We’re going to get through this, okay?”

“Okay.” Sliding a hand into her hair, he brushed his lips over hers.

Abbey rose to him, wanting him to feel how much he meant to her. She wasn’t letting him go again. Wouldn’t let his parents or anything else come between them.

“Oh, my.”

Startled, Abbey broke the kiss, turning her head toward the voice. “Mom? Dad?”

Her parents stood in the doorway to the kitchen, mouths agape. Faye had one hand pressed to her throat, and Mark’s eyebrows were near his hairline. And why shouldn’t they be shocked? When they’d left for their cruise, she’d been here on her own. She’d been angry with Kyle for years, for reasons they knew nothing about. And now they were home, and Kyle was here, and they were so clearly involved.

“You’re home!” God, how could she have forgotten they were due back in port today? Heat suffusing her cheeks, Abbey eased back, refusing to jolt like a guilty teenager. They had nothing to be ashamed of.

“We, uh, saw the news and decided to drive on back from Mobile.” Her father didn’t seem to know where to look.

The news. Right.

At some point in the past ten days, Abbey really should have sent an email or something giving them a heads up about what was going on.

Taking Kyle’s hand in hers, she offered a nervous smile. “I can explain.”