Morrison (Caldwell Brothers #2)

“Nothing, man. I’m just…busy right now.” I see her turn right, and the fucking light turns red. I look at the Dodge in front of me, ready to drive over his ass, and then I catch a glimpse of the silver balls swinging from the tow hitch. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”


“Hey, brother, you in trouble?” Jagger asks.

“No trouble. No.” I punch the steering wheel out of frustration.

“What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay! I’m gonna lose—” I stop when I realize I am about to admit to my little brother that I am literally chasing ass.

“Lose what? A game, a bet?”

“Yeah. No.” I hit the wheel again. “It’s complicated.”

“Uh-huh. I see.”

“Good.” The right-lane light is green, and no one is moving. I lay on the horn. “Come on, you ball-swinging motherfucker!”

“Bro, what the fuck is your problem?” I can tell by the tone of his voice he is seriously concerned.

We’re moving now, thank God.

“Road rage, man. I need to chill out, but dumb asses that sit at green lights piss me off.”

The light is yellow, and I am one car behind the intersection. Silver Balls slows down, and I lay on the horn. He flips me off, then punches the gas. His silver balls fly in the air. I punch it and make it through as the light turns red.

“Fuck yeah, bitches!” I yell out my victory.

“Seriously need to chill, man.”

“Just celebrating the small stuff.”

“So, when you coming home?”

“When I have the bankroll I need,” I say, swerving left to try to locate Hailey’s car. I spot it two lights ahead. She’s heading out of the city. I’ll be able to catch up.

“You ahead?”

“Yeah, sure am. You need some cash?”

“Nah, I have a fight in two weeks. I’ll be good.”

There isn’t a hell of a lot of confidence in his voice. “You sure, man?”

“I’m good, Morrison.”

“Don’t bullshit me. If you need something, let me know.”

I slam on my brakes, stopping right at a red light. “Fuck!”

Jagger laughs. “Traffic again?”

“Fucking red lights. Total bullshit.”

I grab my phone and hit my online banking app. I transfer two grand into his account. “Just sent you some cash. If you don’t need it”—I pause as I look up and see the light is green, punch the gas, and lay a little rubber—“then put it back after the fight. You’ll have it if something comes up.”

“Unnecessary, man.” Jagger sighs.

“That’s what brothers are for. Look—” I hit the brakes when Ball Sack’s nuts fly again. “Tool,” I hiss.

“Excuse me?” Jagger laughs.

“Look, I’ll catch up with you. I wanna snap a pic of this asshole’s truck and send it to ya. I’ll get with ya soon.”

“Sweet. Thanks, man.”

“Like I said, that’s what brothers are for.”

I grab my phone and take a pic, then send a message.

For men who ain’t got enough of their own, there is now help. Big trucks and fake balls can help give you back your confidence. WTF!

I push send as the light turns green.

I follow her for ten minutes until we are in a small, upscale community. But the girl I’ve been playing with isn’t upscale. She doesn’t seem like someone who looks down on people. She seems fucking authentic.

I try to turn off the crazy scenarios I have playing in my head, ’cause I am logical. I’m calculating. I am not one to let myself get wrapped up in emotions. I want facts, and I wanna see with my own eyes, so I continue to follow.

Two minutes later, I am on a side street in an honest-to-God fucking school zone. Now I have some really crazy shit rolling in my head. I watch as she pulls over and jumps out of the car. Then she runs inside this preschool while I wait.

When she comes out five minutes later, she is laughing and smiling at this little kid she has in her arms. The kid is dressed in a little pink romper with a matching bow in her hair and pint-sized Chuck Taylors. This kid is about the show. Well, her parents are, anyway, and the girl I’ve been borderline obsessing over isn’t show. Hailey is all tell.

I take in a deep breath, my mind calming the fuck down. I allow myself to rationalize this situation, and pretty much figure out that Hailey has a day job as a nanny or something. This makes me laugh, because I was right: Although her body is all soft skin and sexy, sharp curves, her exterior, her show is not. But hot damn, when I am in her, on her, touching her, I can read that tell, and she is not as hard and rough around the edges as she thinks she needs to be.

I pull out after she is two blocks ahead and follow. I should turn around. She isn’t crying anymore; she’s smiling. She wasn’t going to some man; she was picking up someone’s kid. I should chalk this up as a stupid-ass move and turn around. But I don’t.

Two miles away, she pulls up in front of an apartment complex in not the best part of town. She carries the kid inside, and then I see another chick pull up. She gets out of her car and runs to the door Hailey went in.

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