Page 41 of Quiet Rage (Wicked Falls Elite #5)

Kellen

I can honestly say, four months after the night I ended Dad’s life, that I’m finally starting to understand his filing system.

Clearly, the man thought he was going to live forever, because he didn’t bother to put anything in place to help me keep things running smoothly in his absence. He didn’t see the time ever coming, and I’ve been paying for it ever since.

But what else was I going to do? Follow Tamson around?

Watch her from afar? It turns out I’m pretty damn good at multitasking, because that’s exactly what I’ve been doing when I’m not here at The Archer’s Den or trying to organize the desk in Dad’s study.

There are still surprises here and there—secret books, people he paid under the table.

I would bet at least half of them came to me quoting fees higher than anything he ever handed over, but there were no records kept, so how would I know?

It’s easier to pay them off and get them out of my face before telling them I won’t need their services anymore.

Because for the most part, I won’t. A lot has changed around here, and it’s going to keep changing until this business looks the way I want it to.

My neck is stiff after bending over old ledgers for the past hour. Another fun twist: he had the handwriting of a serial killer, almost impossible to read sometimes. I can imagine him sitting in hell, telling himself at least he’s making my life difficult from beyond the grave.

The joke’s on him. As time-consuming as this is, as many nights I’ve gone home with a headache and tired eyes, it’s still a hell of a lot better than what he put me through before. There are a lot of lives that are better today than they were four months ago.

Including my dragonfly. She’ll always be mine, even if she isn’t ready to admit it to herself.

We will always be connected. Maybe I should be glad that I have the distraction of work to keep me from following her every move.

There are actual whole hours in my day when I don’t think about her.

My heart still speaks her name with every beat, but I don’t always have the chance to obsess now.

Asking myself if some asshole is trying to pick her up at a coffee shop, and how long it would take me to cave his face in for it.

I’m rolling my head from side to side and rubbing the back of my neck when one of the guards pokes his head in. “Boss, somebody here to see you. Says his name is Easton.”

That’s a surprise. Almost like my past life is coming back to remind me it existed. That’s how disconnected I feel now from the way things used to be. “Let him in,” I reply. It’s only another few seconds before he walks in, looking serious for the first time since we met.

“Look at all of this.” He blows out a low whistle, taking in the overstated furnishings Dad set up a long time ago.

“I haven’t had time to redecorate.”

“Well, I know one thing for sure: it’s not because you’re too busy answering the phone when your friends call.”

This is the Easton I know. Always a fucking smartass. “That’s what you came here for? To bust my balls?”

“I haven’t had a chance to do it in so long.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he sighs, standing on the other side of my desk. “It’s good to see you. We’ve all missed you.”

Now that I think about it, it’s been way longer than four months since I checked out. Everything became about Tamson. “I’ve been busy around here,” I settle for replying. “I wish I could be around. I do.”

“Funny you should say that, because I was going to invite you over right now.”

“You didn’t have to come all this way.”

“Well, you never answer your phone, so there’s only one way to get your attention.

That’s showing up and getting in your face.

” He looks down at the pile of work spread out in front of me.

“This will still be here in a few hours. We have some porterhouse steaks back at the house—Preston’s going to grill them. There’s one with your name on it.”

Now I’m annoyed with myself, because I can’t remember the last time I had a solid meal. I’ve been grabbing what I can, when I can. The idea of a thick porterhouse makes my mouth water. “It sounds good, but?—”

“No buts. I’m serious. Besides,” he adds with a grin. “Emma has got a friend over. You might be interested in her. She’s pretty cute. She’s nice. You could use a distraction.”

“I’m not interested in some girl.”

“I think you’ll be interested in this one,” he says with a mischievous grin.

That gets my attention. I know Tamson is friends with Emma. Could it be?

“Who?”

“You’ll have to come along and find out. Seriously,” he insists when I groan. “A couple hours. You can spare a couple of hours. It looks like everything is running pretty well right now. Business looked pretty damn good when I walked through.”

Business is good, maybe better than before.

Because while I’m trying to legitimize Dad’s businesses, that means there’s no reason for people to avoid this place.

I forgave all debts, wiped the slate clean.

There was so much money coming through from all the different revenue streams, the debt he held over people’s heads was small change in comparison.

I get that in the end, it was more the principle of the thing.

Making sure people understood he was not to be fucked with.

Nowadays, customers can feel free to come in without being pressured by the prostitutes who no longer work here. No drugs, no rooms for addicts to crash in. All of that shit is in the past. We’re going legitimate. Dad would never believe how much more money we’re raking in now because of it.

Sighing, I stand, and I can’t ignore the stiffness in my back and legs after being in the same position for so long. He could be right. I need a short break. And the possibility of seeing Tamson tips my decision. “You’re not going to let this go until you get your way, are you?”

“Wow. It’s almost like we used to be good friends at one point who understood each other.”

He’s chuckling as we leave the office, taking the side door out of the building to cut straight to the parking lot. Being with him is good. I needed it. I almost forgot I used to have a life. Friends.

I don’t want to lose that. He couldn’t have showed up at a better time, even if I didn’t feel that way at first. As I follow him on the familiar route to the house he and Preston share with Emma, I think back on how isolated Dad eventually became.

Uncle Joe was his last good friend, the last true ally.

There was nothing beyond the business for Dad once that bridge was burned for good.

He lost his connection to everything that should’ve mattered.

That’s not going to happen to me. I need to wake up and find a little balance in my life while my friends still give a shit.

Easton’s waiting for me by the time I park in the driveway, and we walk around the side of the house together. “It’ll be like old times,” he promises. “We’ve got a fridge full of beer. You need a break. Kick back, eat some beef, talk to people who aren’t employed by you.”

I would tell him to fuck off, but he’s hitting a little too close to the bullseye for me to pretend otherwise. That’s pretty much what my life has been.

He opens the privacy gate, and the sound of voices floats in the air. Her soft laughter carries my way, and a smile spreads across my face.

“Look who I found.” Easton strolls into the yard, jerking a thumb behind him. “I managed to convince him to take a break. Make sure we record this date for posterity.”

Emma and Preston are sitting at a table with their guest, who turns in her chair and smiles at me. The glow from lit torches and hanging lights makes her hair shine like gold and her eyes sparkle.

“Dragonfly,” I greet her.

“It just hit me we’ve been friends for months, and she never came to visit,” Emma chirps happily.

“Hi.” I grunt, taking in the sight of her. She looks good. Healthy. Her smile is wide and warm when I take a seat next to her and almost shudder from head to toe when the familiar scent of her shampoo hits me like a speeding train. Lavender, she told me. Now it’s real.

And it’s good. The mouthwatering aroma of grilled meat soon fills the air while we drink our beers, and everybody catches me up on what’s been going on since I took on what’s been more than a full-time job.

“I’m not gonna lie and say I haven’t let the professors take it easy on me because I’m bereaved,” I admit, polishing off a beer.

“But I don’t think that’s going to fly next semester.

I need to get shit nailed down with the business now so I can handle both. ”

“You really plan on doing that?” Tamson asks in a soft voice. I don’t hear any doubt or skepticism. She cares. That’s all.

And fuck me if that doesn’t sound good. She’s the missing piece. Someone who just cares. A grounding force, a gentle voice. “I’m not going to give up school, and I’m not going to give up the business. I can do both. Most of it can run itself. I just need to set up systems.”

“If anybody can do it, you can,” Preston predicts as he pulls the steaks from the grill along with foil-wrapped potatoes and a pan of vegetables. Easton helps bring everything to the table so we can gorge ourselves—and we do. For the first time in months, life feels normal.

Better than normal, because I have Tamson next to me. Giving me little smiles, wiping butter from the corner of my mouth with her napkin like it’s the most natural thing. It feels natural, too. That’s the best part.

No, on second thought. The best part is when it’s time to leave and she nods with a smile when I offer to take her home.

“Sure, that would be nice. Thank you.” My hopes soar—I should know better, I really should, but this is a good sign.

It’s been two months since I’ve sat down with her, so I’m starved for a good sign.

The silence that falls between us as we walk to the car doesn’t feel awkward. It’s comfortable. I feel comfortable with her. The tiny smile she wears tells me she might feel the same way.

It’s that, plus the endless well of need at my core, that make me turn toward her once we’re in the truck.

I have to say this, or I’ll regret it like hell otherwise.

“Listen, if you really want to go home, I’ll take you.

But it’s late, and if you want, you could sleep at my house tonight? ” I murmur.

Her cheeks go pink, and she bites her lip. When the worry lines appear over the bridge of her nose, I have to prepare myself for disappointment. I took it too far. She’s not ready yet and might never be.

“I don’t have anything to sleep in,” she murmurs, lifting a shoulder. “But sure. I mean, I would like to spend more time with you. Catch up.”

She can call this whenever she wants to. I’ll even follow her rules if it means the luxury of having her with me, under my roof, breathing the same air.

For the first time in months, she’ll be where she belongs. With me.