I'm Only Here for the Beard (The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC #4)(38)

I wanted to say something along the lines of, 'Maybe she's reading that you hate me right now' but chose not to open the can of worms.

It wouldn't be good to deal with this now, in public with the whole freakin' morning rush of men and women watching us hash this shit out.

I really, really tried not to laugh at what happened next.

But I couldn't help it.

The moment that Butterfinger allowed herself to be hauled across the slick concrete, half of her body in Sean's large arms and the other half stubbornly dragging behind her, I just couldn't help it.

Sean glared at me to silence my laughter, but I could only turn and watch out of the corner of my eye while I said my goodbyes to Mr. Thorton.

"You really shouldn't laugh, dear," he informed me. "And I shouldn't, either. He found my dog for me. I think that's why she hates him, though."

I agreed.

Two days earlier, Sean had disappeared for nearly the entire day, and only later that night would I get a thank you call from Mr. Thorton for having my boyfriend look for his dog.

A dog which happened to be staying at one of his neighbor's houses being fed dutifully by three kids in their parents' backyard, the parents none the wiser.

"You think it's because she's not getting fed his Twinkies and Little Debbies for dinner anymore that she dislikes Sean so immensely?" I asked for confirmation.

He nodded, smiling when Sean finally got to the truck and lifted the hundred and fifteen-pound dog into the passenger seat.

I walked forward and gave Mr. Thorton a hug.

"Be careful going home. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Mr. Thorton smiled. "Yeah, but I usually don't walk on Fridays. If I walk tomorrow, I will not be walking on Saturday, okay?"

I pursed my lips, then gave the old man a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah," I agreed. "But I'll still be here, even if you aren't."

I had to hide the smile that threatened my lips when Mr. Thorton turned on his patented glare.

"That, young lady, better not be a guilt trip."



       
         
       
        

I shrugged, then wiped my eyes with my sleeves.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

He rolled his eyes and walked slowly to his truck.

I followed suit, but went one car past Mr. Thorton's to Sean's big blue behemoth.

I did manage to get in myself this time, though, so I was getting better. Even if it wasn't coming as fast as I would like.

"You ready?"

I turned to study the man who'd waited until I was all the way in before getting in himself.

"Yeah," I said softly, wishing I would get more than two words from him at a time. "Ready."

He started the truck up, and he drove home.

Without, I might add, saying a damn word.





Chapter 12


If you like to spoon, you'll love to spatula. That's where I flip you over and make sure you're done properly on both sides.

-Pickup lines that don't work unless you have a beard

Naomi

Three weeks later

I was officially over Sean's shit.

As I walked out of the station and saw him up close and personal with his ex, I decided that it was high time that I either shit or got off the pot.

It'd been three weeks of nothing but Sean ignoring me, and I was officially over it.

Something needed to give, and it wasn't me.

It was him.

He either needed to forgive me, or I needed to move on, because I was tired of feeling this way.

I walked to my car, a car that I was lucky to have since Sean had been taking me everywhere for the last three weeks.

But he'd wanted to go vote on the way to work, and I'd needed to stop to get some ladies' utensils, aka tampons.

Something that he'd allowed me to do either because he didn't like dealing with women's shit, or he was tired of being around me.

Regardless, I now had my car in my possession, and things were about to get real.

The moment I got to my car, I bleeped the locks and opened the passenger side door, easily extracting a spiral bound notebook from the floorboard and started writing my note with a pen I'd found on the ground outside of a gas station the day before.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I bit my lip, wondering if I should answer it or write the note.

I answered the phone.

"When are you coming home?"

My mom.

"Today."

Her inhale was swift and sharp, and I smiled.

Then I wrote my note.

I don't want you to be mad at me anymore. I was being stupid. I'm a girl, and we do stupid things sometimes. But ever since I've gotten out of the hospital, you've broken my heart a little more each day. It hurts. I miss my friend. Don't be mad at me. 

I placed the note on the seat of Sean's bike, hoping that it didn't blow off with a gust of wind.