Beard Up (The Dixie Warden Rejects MC #6)

by Lani Lynn Vale

Tunnel would never touch my shoulder again. He’d never give me soft kisses on my nose. He’d never give me a hug or rub his beard along the sensitive skin of my neck just because he could. He’d never wake me up on Saturday mornings—his only day off—by placing wet kisses on every inch of my face. He’d never tell me anything. Not ever again. Because he was dead.

“Hi, Lynn,” I said to my other neighbor as I opened the door. Lynn was a good guy. He looked like a harmless man, but I saw the way he watched things. He moved and acted exactly like Tunnel had when we’d go out to eat, or run to the supermarket. Always watchful. He could see a weapon on someone from yards away. Hell, I wasn’t even sure how Tunnel had known some of the things he’d known. He hadn’t worked in law enforcement for long before he’d passed. A half a year at most once he’d graduated, but that was enough to get a whole lot of experience. It was like cop years aged like dog years. It was as if he was in their heads somehow, and this man, Lynn, was the exact same way.

Lynn was older than me. I’d guess late thirties, mid-forties, and he’d been married when I’d met him. But soon after he’d moved in, the wife had moved out, and I’d watched it all go down from my front porch in disbelief. She’d been caught cheating, and he’d kicked her out of their house. She’d begged and pleaded, and then she became angry, going as far as to hit his car with a metal sprinkler to show her displeasure at being caught.

The screen, after staying on the two for over a minute, moved backwards to Ellen and I, and I shook my head. “Sorry, darlin’,” I told her. “I’m not saving face here only to get it fucked up when I drop you off.” Ellen started giggling. “He wouldn’t dare.” My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket. Jessie (1344 hours): Don’t you fucking dare.

“I can’t do this back and forth business anymore,” I told him. “I can’t sit here and watch her be unhappy. We’re going to have to find another way.” He grinned. “I got a week out of you, though. That was four more days than Silas thought I’d get.” I grunted in reply, then walked out without another word.

if you came back to me some way, that I wouldn’t squander it. I wouldn’t scream. I wouldn’t yell. I wouldn’t question. I wouldn’t hate. I’d love you. I’d love you for every single second that you were gone. I’d hug you. Kiss you. Never let go.” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “I know you. I…that day at the baseball park…you smelled like you.”

“I missed finding your hair on my shirts,” I told her, twisting one of the brown locks between my fingers. “I missed you sleeping next to me and stealing my covers. I missed you bugging me about dinner and what you were and were not willing to cook. I missed you staring at me until I paid attention to you.” I dropped a kiss to her nose. “I missed the way you smelled, and the way you brushed your hair. I missed the way you took long showers and left me all the lukewarm water that our poor water heater could muster. I missed the way you scattered your makeup all over the counter, and the way you left your toothpaste in the sink.” I halted. “But what I missed most of all was the way your shampoo used to scent my pillow. The way you looked holding our daughter. And the way you felt in my arms.”

Nobody told me being a mother was just being a tiny person’s snack bitch.

The first thing I saw were those olive green eyes staring at me intently. “I fucking love y-y-you,” he rasped. What did I say to that? “I love you, too.” Then I started to sob.

“Fucker’s gonna give us all the shits and pukes by the time we’re done here,” Cleo muttered darkly. I looked at him, and his eyes were still on me. His narrowed, and I steeled myself, letting him study me straight on. He took his time, and it was a few long, uneasy moments for me. “Son of a fucking bitch!” Cleo exclaimed.

“I can see you’ve figured it out,” Silas drawled. The tension didn’t break. “What out?” Kettle asked, looking at Silas. “Tunnel, you mother. Fucker.” Every head in the room swiveled around at that, and I scooted my seat away from the table and stood up. “Everybody, sit the fuck down.”

“We finally got him.” I looked up at my uncle. “Now it’s time for you to have the family that you always deserved.” Lynn laughed. “I’m not a family man.” Silas started to chuckle now, too. “It looks like you are now, Joker.” Audrey broke in then, her voice cold and unyielding. “Yeah,” Audrey said. “You can be my uncle. And your first act as my official uncle will be you telling me what room my rapist is in so I can go shove my foot up his ass.” Lynn coughed, looking at Sienna to make sure that she was still asleep.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home?” Sebastian asked. All of them asked. Every single one of them. Loki. Trance. Torren. Kettle. Sebastian. Silas. Sterling. If I saw one of them, they asked.

“Though, at the time, we only thought you’d want it back as a remembrance of your old man. We certainly didn’t think that you’d need it because your old man came back from the dead.” I grinned at Baylee. “Thank you.” She winked. “We made some modifications, though. We think you’re going to like them.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said in between sobs. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch these last few months. I was just so angry and hurt.” I made a humming noise under my breath. “You had every reason to be angry. You have to know that I didn’t have a choice in the fake death at first, but I did have a hand in the way I allowed it to play out. I’ll never forgive myself for allowing you to think I was dead for so long and causing you to carry around the guilt that I know you felt.”

It was a long, painful road back to this point. I’d never take any of this for granted because life just didn’t get any better than this.