Page 1 of Rhett Redeemed

Prologue

Con

The last few months of my life have been a complete whirlwind. I feel like I’ve forgotten who I am. Like I’ve been going through the motions of life, but really, deep inside I’m flailing.

Falling.

Lost.

I rest my hands against my flat stomach, my eyes closed and my mind trying to process everything that has happened.

I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know how every decision I made led me to this moment. But I’m here. And now I’m going to have to face the music.

Because I’m pregnant.

And the father?

My sister’s ex-boyfriend.

Chapter One

Con

There has to be more to life than this.

Work and home, home and work—the daily grind and routine has me caught in a rut. I’m alive, but I’m not living.

There’s nothing like working hard every single day and still only barely getting by to ruin your morale. And for what? Only to go home alone, and then do it all over again the next day.

“Table six is still waiting,” says my boss, Max, impatience filling his tone as he breaks me out of my pity party.

“I know,” I reply absently. “I’m on it.” I say that as I continue to wait for the food. There’s not much I can do if the food isn’t ready.

As I watch Max flit around to nag another waitress, my mind wanders back to when my father was alive. When I was in college and living my best life. Don’t get me wrong, my father was not the best dad. He wasn’t even worthy of an honorable mention. But he did what he could. He paid for college, at least, and tried to make sure I had what I needed to find success in life. I can’t exactly say we had a close bond either, but my mom used to always say, “You only get one father,” and it stuck, especially after she passed away.

Now that he’s gone, I’m glad we tried. But here I am six months later, a college dropout with a full-time waitressing job to pay the mortgage on his house so I can have a place to live.

Did I get the shit-end of the stick?

Probably.

But when you lose your mom and then your dad, and a house full of memories is all you have left of them, you hold on to that. Even if the memories aren’t always the best ones.

So now I’m here wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life. I haven’t always made the best decisions, and at some point, I need to find a better path. Basically, I need to stop being a hot mess.

Yes, I’m kind of alone in the world, but this is my life.

And it’s up to me to make some changes to make it better.

I have to be the hero I need right now instead of sitting around waiting for him to stroll in.

Because he isn’t coming.

The food for table six finally arrives and I carry it out, a plate in each hand, and place it down on the table. “Sorry for the wait—here is your steak and seafood chowder.”

I pick up the table number as the two gentlemen thank me, and then head over to wait on two men who have just walked in and sat at table eight. They’re both bikers, going by their leather cuts—we get quite a few of them in here.

I pull out my notebook and glance between the two of them. They are both good-looking, and give off vibes that they know it, but the blond man instantly catches my eye, his blue eyes scanning the menu and then looking up at me. He exudes power, and recklessness, and apparently I’m drawn to that. Who knew? I normally go for the average Joe—decent looking, decent job. I find that if you don’t set my expectations too high, I’m less likely to be disappointed.

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