Page 104 of His Last Nerve

Tim Moonie and a few friends hazed a freshman on the football team. The boy was rushed to the hospital after being force-fed bleach and being beaten within an inch of his life. I tried to get into the court records, but they were sealed. Moonie and his friends got away with it, and that boy’s trauma was buried. That was over twenty years ago.

My stomach growled, reminding me I haven’t eaten today. I hopped of the stool and made my way to the fridge. Maybe I could make Denver lunch. He refused to let me help him with dinner, but the truth was, I enjoyed cooking. Baking more so. My eyes wandered to the green apples sitting in the basket on the far side of the counter.

An apple pie would be good…

All thoughts of food and making it vanished when I heard a car door slam outside. My blood went cold. “Moonie,” I whispered. I rushed to the island and swiped my phone, ready to call for Denver when I heard it.

A woman’s voice.

“Caleb! Caleb, get out here right now!”

My feet were moving and when I pulled the front door open, there was a blonde woman at the bottom of the porch steps. She was wearing cutoff blue jean shorts, black strappy heels, and a black ripped tank. Her makeup was caked on, and her hair was poorly curled.

“Who the fuck are you?” she sneered; her brown eyes glared up at me.

“I think I should be asking you that, ma’am. Can I help you?” I asked, my voice firm. I stepped up to the edge of the porch and put my hands in the back pockets of my jeans.

She studied me for a moment, and then a cruel smile spread across her face. “He fucking you? Is that it?”

I flinched at her words but covered it up well. She didn’t notice, but she didn’t stop, either.

“You know, the last woman he had in his bed was me,” she boasted.

“You aren’t in it anymore,” I returned coolly.

She didn’t like that. The strange woman took a step towards me, baring her teeth. “Where is my son?”

“With his father,” I snapped.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered. I watched as she turned her back to me. She had her cellphone to her ear, shifting back and forth on her feet.

She was nervous.

That made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Where are you?” she barked. I waited. “I need to talk to you.” Another pause. “No, I will not come down to the barn. I’m in heels!” Silence. “Yeah, now!”

The woman turned to me, sporting a nasty glare. “I’ll just wait on the porch for him,” she huffed, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

Alarm bells went off in my head. “No, you won’t,” I said.

“Excuse me?” she gasped, her brown eyes going wide for a second before they narrowed. “Bitch, you don’t have any idea who you’re dealing with.”

My spine straightened. I took a step down.

“Why don’t you come show me then?”

I was on the steps, but even if I wasn’t, I knew that I would tower over her. I learned how to fight when I was kid, running around the streets in my neighborhood away from the older kids. Mom taught me how to defend myself, and the woman in front of me was shouting for Caleb. The second I looked at her, I knew I didn’t want that little boy anywhere near her.

She smelled like cigarettes and cheap Vodka.

If this was Caleb’s mother…

“Cathy!”

Both of our heads snapped to the tall, dark, broad-shouldered cowboy in the black hat stalking toward the house. It didn’t take him long to reach us, but Cathy met him halfway, putting her hands on her hips as she yelled at him. I sucked in a breath as Denver’s body went tight, from his shoulders to his jaw, all the way to his boots.

She just said something that put my cowboy on alert.

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