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“Let’s get goin’. I’m sure Kylee Jo’s in fits wantin’ to see her daddy.”
Chapter 17
Carly
Colton keeps a firm grip on my thigh as he navigates the winding back country roads. He smiles down at me and winks every so often, in classic Colton fashion.
As we pull into the driveway of his parents’ house, we are greeted by the sassy little Kylee Jo. She is sporting black leggings printed with silver sparkly skulls, a silver top, hot pink chucks, and her signature hot pink tutu. She is the sassiest little six-year-old I’ve ever met. Her personality is so bubbly and bright. She comes bouncing down the sidewalk, bursting with excitement, and squealing at the sight of her Daddy.
“Daddy, Daddy! I’m so glad you’re home!” she shrills as Colton lifts her up and spins her around. She hugs his neck tight, but once her eyes lock onto mine, she jumps from his arms and races to me.
“Carly Jo, you came to see me just like you promised!”
“Well, of course I did, sweets. Made a promise to ya!”
“Come on; let’s get my girls inside. I’m starvin’, and it’s too damn cold out here,” Colton says. Kylee Jo stops dead in her tracks, crossing her chunky arms over her chest while she shoots daggers at Colton.
“Daddy, don’t make me tell Mamaw that you’re talkin’ yucky again.”
“My apologies, princess. But don’t go gettin’ your old man in trouble now, ’kay?” Colton says, holding up his pinky for her to promise on.
“Deal, but remember, Princesses don’t like yucky talk, Daddy. ’Kay?” Kylee Jo says, hooking her tiny pinky around Colton’s, binding their promise.
Stepping inside the Weston home, my senses are filled with Southern goodness. Fried chicken, one of Emily Weston’s special recipes. I follow Colton into the kitchen, where he kisses his momma on top of the head, before taking the plates from her hand and setting the table. I give her a warm hug, then help her set the food on the table. The back door swings open and Bill, Colton’s dad, comes storming through the house, spitting and sputtering obscenities to nobody in specific. He disappears into a room at the end of the hall, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Uh oh, Mamaw. Poppy ain’t a happy camper,” Kylee Jo says.
“Oh, just over-look the old coot, sugar. Poppy has probably had a bad day at work again. Come on; get washed up for supper.”
We all sit and prepare our plates, and my taste buds are watering in excitement. Kylee Jo reminds us all to say grace, then we dig in. Oh my god, the first bite is sheer heaven. I could get fat eating like this every day. Bill pulls a chair out at the head of the table and sits as Emily prepares his plate.
“Rough day, honey?”
“Not now, Emily; don’t get me riled up again,” Bill says, shaking his head as tension envelops the room.
“Fine, dear, but please don’t be rude. We have company, or did you not notice Carly?” Looking up, Bill’s eyes meet mine, and he laughs a hearty chuckle.
“Well hell no, I didn’t notice. You’ll have to forgive me, sweetheart, it’s been a long ass day.” I smile and nod politely. Bill always intimidated me. He has a very blunt demeanor, and you can never tell whether he is being serious or if he is joking.
“Where the hell you been all these years, girl?” Choking back on the bite of food, I swallow quickly so I can answer him.
“South Carolina.” Quick, short, and to the point.
Shoving another bite into my mouth, I look away from him, silently praying that he doesn’t ask any more questions. “South Carolina, yeah? Nice beaches.”
“Old Man, what’s goin’ on at work that had ya all worked up when ya came in?” Colton asks as he senses my tension. Bill clinks the silverware down on the plate and leans back, letting out a huff of air.
“That damn jackass of a partner. Ah hell, I don’t know what I was thinkin’ getting mixed up with him. Damn son of a bitch, ain’t nothin’ but a cocky ass little prick.”
“Bill, language already! For Pete’s sake, mind your manners,” Emily cuts in.
“Sorry, dear. I just get so worked up thinkin’ ’bout it. Wish to God I’d never laid eyes on the bastard.” Emily raises her eyebrow, warning him to keep his tongue in check.
“So what’s he doin’ to piss in your cheerios?”
“He wants to run Dalton Trucking his way. Thinks because he has that master’s degree he knows more ’bout the truckin’ business than I do. Prick doesn’t know shit. He may own a coal company, but that doesn’t mean he knows a damn thing ’bout haulin’ the shit they mine or the trucks that haul it,” Bill replies.
“Which coal company?” Colton asks?
