Morrison (Caldwell Brothers #2)

Jared pipes up, “Got a few places available in my building. It’s nothing fancy, and I wouldn’t say it’s the best neighborhood, but it ain’t the worst. And I’ll be there to keep an eye on ya if you need something. Just a thought.”


We finish up the rest of the night in casual conversation as my mind continues to sort out what I can afford for my own place. I am relieved when I get off work to find that Morrison ended up driving my car back from Vegas. Even though it’s a piece of shit, already having a car means one less thing for me to try to squeeze into a budget right now. I’m also in shock, because the man has a Porsche, for crying out loud, so why would he drive my beater of a car?

He looks like hell, but he won’t tell me what happened. The bruising has turned yellowish, so I know it’s a few days old. Part of me needs to know if one of Monte’s guys did it; however, I know Morrison won’t tell me if it was.



It takes me three weeks of working and saving for all the utility deposits on top of rent and deposit for the two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment I now hold the keys to. The apartment building, luckily for me, has only three units on my floor. One belongs to Jared; there’s my apartment; and the other belongs to a little old lady who, when she heard me moving in, came to her door with a baseball bat, totally ready to kick some ass. She also happens to be an awesome baker and greeted us with chocolate chip cookies two days after we finally finished the move. It may not be the nicest place or be in the best neighborhood, but it could be a whole lot worse.

Among the many other things she did Livi took me to a secondhand store, where she helped me outfit our living room with a futon and a small TV and entertainment center. We don’t have cable, but we have more than enough DVDs to keep Ris Priss occupied. Blow-up mattresses will have to do in our bedrooms for now, but it’s a start, and it feels good.

Morrison has been quiet other than talking about Marisa. Those two have bonded, and I am not sure how I feel about it. I try to keep my personal feelings separate from his relationship with my daughter.

It stings, though. He won’t even kiss me. For a man who had to have me any way he could get me the night we met, now he doesn’t offer more than a quick hug in passing. Does my past turn him off that bad?

Of course, in the grand scheme of things, none of that matters. I have my daughter, a job, and now my very first place, all on my own.

Checks and balances—my scales are all even. For the first time in my life, no one owns me. For the first time in my adult life, I can say with confidence I owe no one.

It feels good.





Chapter 17


Morrison


I stand in the doorway of the room originally intended for Momma and then occupied by Hailey and Marisa. I hate seeing it empty, though for a while it couldn’t have been more perfect…for her and that little chick. Not even gonna lie to myself: Their leaving is the second hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with.

Hailey was strong when I met her—fierce, actually. Never in a million years would I have thought she felt like that fuck really owned her. Given what she went through, I understand she needed to build a wall. I wanted that wall strong, and not only for her.

The little one needs her momma strong, fierce, and independent, and she is seeing that now, no doubt about it. She even told me “Mommy is happy all the time now” on Wednesday night, my night with her. Those nights, I take her out of the nest, so to speak, and we have dinner.

Hailey’s new nest. The original nest—the home in which my family embraced both my girls—was great for the two of them. And for us, too. I’m sad to see that time end.

However, now little chick and I have our one-on-one Wednesday date night, and fuck if she doesn’t have me opening doors and shit. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve wined and dined someone who actually tugs at the hardened Caldwell heartstrings. Okay, so it was chicken tenders, fries, and milk shakes, but dammit, it was a step.

Someday soon, I am gonna give that to little momma Hailey.

“You okay?” Hendrix asks from behind me.

“Monday nights, I want the bar,” I tell Hendrix, looking over my shoulder.

“For?”

“Cards, man. I need that. I also need a couple nights at the bar.”

“I’m down with that. Livi gets pissed when she trains someone and then they get caught fucking up, so she insists on being there a couple nights. I’d like her little ass at home more often, though. Weekends are getting busy as hell, too, if you can work then. Sally, me, Livi, and sometimes Jagger can hardly keep up. You want—”

“I’ll help out wherever, but I have a few plans of my own.”

“Atlantic City? Reno?”

“Nah, man, I’m here for good. I left Aces in Vegas, retired his ass. I’ll sell my place in Atlantic City, too. Now I want something else. I appreciate the job, and I know it’s only for three or four hours on Friday and Saturday when you get overwhelmed. I have no intention of taking money out of your pocket.”

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