Page 13 of Love Me, I Dare You

“Look, if this is the way our conversation is going to go, then I’ll save us both the trouble and just ask you to get the hell out of town, Nash. If you aren’t willing to make an effort and not be such a fucking asshole, then why did you even come back?”

“Because you called, Monty. You never had, and if you could shove your pride to the side and make the call to let me know you needed help, then I was going to be here. Regardless of the past ten years, you’re my brother. It’s not your fault the dead beat asshole ruined our home. He doesn't get to just die and leave us in shambles, picking up the remnants of the mess he made. We deserve the money that property was once worth.” I pause, running my fingers through my still wet hair from the rain storm I walked through to get here. “We’re family.”

A sharp gasp rumbles behind me, forcing me to turn abruptly and come face-to-face with a pair of piercing blue eyes intent on telepathically making me burst into flames. I’ll admit the ire in them nearly succeeds.

“You don’t get to throw that word around like it means something.” Monroe stands in the darkness, visibly trembling with anger as she glares daggers in my direction. Her chest heaves, shoulders rise and hands fist at her sides as she tries her hardest to fake composure.

My little sister always had a short fuse and temper and apparently not much has changed.

Dressed in a matching set of fall inspired pajamas with little pumpkins and coffee cups, she watches me carefully, her dark hair a tattered mess on her head from her pillow. She looks so grown up yet still like the young girl she was when I left.

Delicate black ink artfully decorates her pale skin and even in the darkness, I can tell the intricate designs were masterfully crafted by the girl herself.

“Monroe,” I say, but she interrupts me as she steps toward me, closing the distance between us. Her hand falls on my chest, her finger digging into my leather jacket.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Nash. I won’t stand to hear whatever excuse you had the last decade to come up with if you ever saw me again.”

A soft, nervous chuckle leaves my lips as I place my hand on hers. Our hands fist together and for a second, before I ruin the moment, her gaze softens, bringing back the teenage girl she was when I last saw her.

“Don’t worry, Izzy,” I say, calling her by the nickname I gave her when I couldn’t correctly say her name. Her middle name is Isobel, and at two years old I couldn’t pronounce the name Monroe, so I started calling her Izzy and had ever since. “I have no intention of apologizing. It is what it is.”

Monroe spins and rushes out of the room. I can’t tell where she runs off to until moments later, I hear her heaving in the distance.

Monty clears his throat, warning me to tone down the asshole. He won’t stand for me to speak to her in this way. I may be an asshole to him and everyone else, but Monroe deserves better.

“Did she just puke at the mere sight of me?”

His lips turn up at the edges, amusement clear in his expression. “Nah, I think she’s coming down with something. I heard her in the bathroom last night and again this morning. She’s been helping at the bar the past few nights but didn’t go in yesterday or today.”

That last thing surprises me. “At Bailey King’s bar?”

Monty nods, not at all surprised I know about it. I have less than an hour back in Crossroads, but word around here travels fast. Just like it's not shocking he heard I was coming before I arrived, news about Bailey hitting my ears is easy to believe.

“Yeah, the bar she opened up with Jameson. It was originally supposed to be Bailey and Monroe who had invested and opened the bar, but suddenly Monroe backed out. Jameson bought out her share and stepped in to take over. Monroe mentioned wanting to focus full-time on her interior design business and it just wasn’t the best investment for her at the time.”

That was interesting. The Bishops and Kings were not meant to fraternize and here they were going into business together. It looks like times have changed. “How’d Mayor Bishop feel about that?” I ask, referring to Bailey's father, who, after all this time, was still mayor of Crossroads.

“They accepted Monroe,” he says, reaching for another beer. This time he didn't offer me one. “Not at first, and definitely not after the girls came back from school one weekend, and Bailey had just as many tattoos as Monroe did. They called her a bad example and swore she’d coerced Bailey into ruining herself, but eventually they came around. Monroe, for some odd reason, seems to care a lot about what the Kings think of her.”

“Monroe? Our sister Monroe? The one who gives zero fucks about anyone’s opinion of her?”

“Yeah, it must have something to do with the Kings being the exemplary parents she never had. After you left, things got pretty bad around here before they got better. She found comfort in Bailey and Billie Cole.” Guilt stabs me in the chest hearing how much my going away affected Monroe. Of course, it brought her and Bailey together. They were both grieving my absence.

I nod, unsure of what else to say. I didn’t come here to hear how shitty things were while I was gone. They weren’t much better for us when I was here, which is why shortly after I left,Monty and Monroe moved out, and both Beau and Theo left Crossroads. They’ve at least returned for holidays, but I couldn’t get myself to come back. Not after what I’d done to Bailey.

“Look, Nash. It's not going to be easy, but I know Monroe will come around. You just have to give her time.”

“I’m not here to stay, Monty. I came back to help you do whatever we need to sell the ranch and get the bastard's affairs in order. But I’m leaving as soon as that’s done.”

“You say that now, Nash. But Crossroads has a way of making you see what you need. There’s something here for you. Something you ran from all that time ago, something that terrifies you, that’s kept you away. But time heals mistakes. You’ll find what you didn’t come looking for.”

His wise words make my chest ache because I know there’s some twisted truth to them. There’s no way he knows the extent of why I left. Maybe about my argument with Jase, but definitely not about the ultimatum I got from Bismarck King.

All I’d told Monty when I left was that my time here had run its course. That Crossroads was a poison that ran through me and was threatening to take me down the longer I stayed. And once again, I felt that poison seeping into me just hours after I set foot on the wretched soil. Crossroads had ruined everything good about my life and I’d ruined everything good in her to spite it.

There was no coming back unscathed.

“That’s the problem, Monty. There’s nothing left for me to find.”

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