Page 51 of No One But You

“That’s fine. His bail is one hundred and fifty dollars.”

I nodded. “Not a problem. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No inconvenience.” Patrick stuck out his hand again, and I shook it. “It was good to finally meet the guy who replaced me in cornhole—and other places.” Patrick walked to his squad car. “Talk to ya later.”

I watched as he pulled out of the lot. My brow raised. What did that mean?

Patrick—I heard that name before—but where? It wasn’t just that he was Bryson’s original cornhole partner.

Then it hit me. Patrick and Kora dated for a while until she broke up with him.

I gritted my teeth and unlocked the back door of the salon and let myself in. I slammed the door in frustration and leaned heavily against it. “I’m not your replacement. You fucking dick.” I had to get these feelings in check. With Terry here, shit could go south quickly.

My father's here in Orlinda Valley, I just met Kora’s ex, and not under good circumstances.

I glanced across the room. Painting was just the thing I needed.

The next day ended up being a total shitshow.

My first day being in charge, and I couldn’t focus, and it was obvious. I also got snippy with Kora on the phone. It seemed as if she heard about Terry being arrested—yet another issue about a small town. I’m sure Patrick wasted no time letting her know. Nothing was confidential. She called to see if I was okay. That was it. She was concerned. I was always the one to deal with family issues and I did it alone. Never had anyone to help, and when it was offered, I never really knew what to do with it. She insisted, and I finally told her it was none of her business.

The interstate passed outside my truck windows, and my exact words came to mind. “Kora, it’s none of your fucking business. Stay out of my family issues.”

That was smart—dumbass. I sighed deeply and flipped the turn signal to merge onto the exit ramp. “Great way to mess up the one good thing you’ve ever had.”

Her voice was quiet and oozed with hurt when she said fine.

I hurt her and it sucked. But I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s the only way I knew to treat those I care about. I had learned from the best. Well, it didn’t matter at that minute. I’d have to deal with it later. I pulled into the police station. I don’t have the time to worry about it now.

I slammed the truck door, trudged heavily into the station and up to the counter.

An older lady with big red hair sat there. “Hey, sugar plum. How can I help you today?” Her voice had a strong southern twang.

I cleared my throat and glued a grin on my face. “I’m here to pay the bail for Terry Lawson.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet.

“Yep. You’re Kai, ain’t cha? The hunk doing the work over at Shear Perfection?” the big-haired woman asked.

I forced my eyes not to roll. I didn’t have time for this. “Yes, ma’am, I am. And you are . . . ?” I made eye contact and tilted my head. Hopefully, I seemed genuinely interested.

“Aww, sugar plum, how rude of me. I’m Ethel. Tonya told me all about you and that you and that sweet niece of hers, Kora, have been spending all kinds of time together.” She gave me an exaggerated wink as she continued to type on the computer in front of her. “That’ll be one hundred and fifty for bail.”

I placed the money on the counter. Ethel typed more and a receipt printed out, then she picked up the phone next to her desk. “Kai Lawson is here to pick up Terry.” Ethel agreed to whatever was said, then typed more. “Patrick will bring him up here shortly.” She typed some more, then folded her hands under her chin. “That Kora is so adorable. She’s my grandson’s teacher, and he has the biggest crush on her.”

I chuckled. Smart kid. “Well, I can tell you, she loves her job. If every teacher had that much enthusiasm, school might be a good place to be.”

“You didn’t like school much?”

“No. Not really.” A loud bang from behind a door got my attention.

“That would be Patrick and your dad.” Ethel slid some papers through another window as a scruffy and aged man appeared at the window. Patrick told him to sign and slid a ziplock bag toward him. I heard beeps, then a click, and the door next to the counter opened, and there he was.

A boulder lodged in my gut.

I shook my head, and my eyebrows lowered. Last time I saw my old man, he looked rough. Now he was just old. The sad thing was, he was only fifty-five but looked almost seventy. His skin was dehydrated and extra wrinkled like crepe paper, and his bald head had age spots. I had no resemblance to this man that I could make out, and for that I was forever grateful.

“Well, lookee here. My son tried to run, but I found him anyway.”

My eyes narrowed. What the hell was I going to do with him?

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