True for You by Marquita Valentine Read Free Book Online Page B

matter that I’d taken care of the
food problem the same day I’d left. I’d left her all the
same.
    “I
walked into town and went shopping,” she says, heading to the
kitchen.
    “You
walked?” I croak. It’s five miles to Sweetland.
    “Couldn’t
find the keys to your dad’s car or I would have driven it.”
She fills my plate full of fruit and some toast. “I couldn’t
figure out how to work the gas stove or the microwave, so no bacon or
eggs.”
    “That’s
okay.” It was more than okay, because I felt like parasite on
the bottom of a pile of shit. I’d left her here, without any
resources, not even the basics. She was wearing my clothes because my
drunk ass had burned hers, for crying out loud.
    “Would
you like coffee?”
    “God,
yes.” And some whiskey with a shot of a vodka and a couple of
six packs.
    She
pours a cup, sets everything on a large tray, and brings it to me
while I keep standing there, doing nothing to help her. “Here
you go.”
    I
take the tray and set it down, picking up the plate of food and a
fork. “Thank you.”
    “You’re
welcome.”
    “I
want to apologize.” Best to get on her good side, before I tell
her that I’m leaving again. Could this day get any worse?
    Her
face remains the same, smooth and emotionless. “Okay.”
    “My
temper got the best of me. It won’t happen again.”
    “Because
we won’t be together after today… or because you’ve
decided to grow up?”
    Her
words, while true, sting. At twenty-four, and after all I’ve
accomplished in life, you would think I’d have more maturity
than to stomp out of a room at the mere mention of my ex’s name
to pout for three days.
    “I’d
like for us to stay together, and I’m willing to make it worth
your while.”
    The
corners of her mouth turn down. “I don’t want your money,
Jackson.”
    “If
we stay married, then it’s our money,” I point out.
    “Only
if we have sex,” she reminds me. As if I need reminding of
that.
    I
take a step toward her, and she steps back, her eyes wary. “I’m
not asking for sex. I’m asking for your help.”
    “How
will pretending to be married help you?”
    It
wouldn’t hurt or help me, but since she doesn’t know
that, and I can’t think of a real reason why, I make one up.
“Because I can’t get the money I’ve earned until
I’m… thirty or married.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s
in a trust and that’s the conditions of it.” Okay, so I’m
half lying. I really couldn’t get to my money until this year,
but she doesn’t have to know that. Or that I already have
access to it.
    “What
about your dad? Are you still rebelling against him?”
    Damn.
The girl doesn’t forget anything. “That’s just
icing on the cake.”
    “I’ll
stay married to you if,” her hands twist together, the ring I’d
given her catching my eye, “you’d agree to pay for me to
take classes at night, at the local college? On the bulletin board
near the town hall, I found the flyer for ones they’re
offering—”
    That’s
what she wants—an education? Not a lump sum of money? “Deal.”
    Her face lights up.
I’ve never seen her so happy, not since the time I tried
teaching her how to play guitar. I grin, unable to help myself. Her
joy is that contagious. My guilt is gone, replaced by the certainty
that while I’m away in New York, Bliss will be fully occupied.
She’ll want for nothing while I’m away, too.
    Whatever
she needs, I’ll gladly supply it before I go.
    “I’ll
go sign up today,” she says, practically bouncing toward the
stairs.
    I
rub my hands together. Being married is a hell of a lot easier than
I’d thought. I planned to be married for as long as it pissed
off Everett. Which most likely meant that Bliss and I would be
together until someone murdered him in his sleep.
    “While
you do that, I’ll take a shower, and then later we can go get
some lunch to celebrate.”
    She
stops at the top of the stairs. “I can’t.”
    My
grin fades away. “Why