Page 27 of The Tex Hex (Bitches With Stitches #3)

TEX

My body might be going to the clinic, but my brain already climbed out the window and ran. The closer we get, the louder my excuses sound, and not one of them’s good enough to turn around.

I haven’t spoken for miles. Reclining my seat back, I relax into the buttery leather and enjoy the ride, so smooth and sleek compared to my POS. Coop is a beauty.

I can still hear myself from yesterday—yelling, accusing, spitting words I didn’t mean like venom—and Mandy, just sitting there and taking it, absorbing my anger like it was the least he could do. Like I had a right.

I don’t deserve him.

“You okay?” he asks after a few miles.

“No,” I answer, because I don’t feel like lying today. “But I’m trying.” I grip the door handle as he zips around a corner and see the scratches on my knuckles from punching the steering wheel last night. From nearly doing something worse. If Mandy hadn’t come… “Thanks for showing up,” I murmur.

“We made a deal, remember?” He glances over with a grin. “I show up and choose you every day, and you strap your boots on and choose me right back. I’m just keeping up my end of the bargain.”

Fuck.

I blink hard and stare through the windshield.

The clinic sign comes into view, sterile and white like everything else in that building.

I don’t want to go inside. Not really. I don’t want the fluorescent lights and the scratchy paper and the nurse with her fake smile and efficient fingers who looks right through me like I’m a number, not a person.

But I’d rather walk into hell with Mandy than face it alone.

“You don’t have to come in,” I say anyway. “You can wait in the car.”

“I could,” he says, completely deadpan. “But I’m not gonna.”

The clinic is just like I remember—cold, impersonal, and painted in a shade of beige that makes even the healthy people look sick. The woman at the desk asks for my name like it’s the only thing that matters about me. I give it to her and she doesn’t ask for anything else.

Mandy sits next to me in the waiting room, his hand close enough that it brushes mine every time I shift in my seat. It should make me anxious. Instead, it keeps me tethered.

They call me back after a few minutes, but I hesitate.

Mandy’s eyes meet mine. “Go on. I’ll be right here.”

I let them swab me again, take more blood. I sit on that crunchy-paper table with my knees bouncing like a kid waiting to get scolded. When it’s over, I come back to the waiting room and see Mandy still there.

I don’t know why that hits me so hard. Maybe because a part of me still believed he wouldn’t be.

He stands when he sees me. Doesn’t ask for the results. Doesn’t press. Just puts a hand on my shoulder.

“You hungry?” he asks.

My throat tightens. “Starving.”

We step out of the clinic into the late morning sun, both of us shielding our eyes. Mandy’s quiet beside me, and I can feel him glancing over, trying to gauge my mood. I shove my hands in my pockets, not sure how to say what’s sitting heavy on my chest.

I don’t want to mess this up.

We get to the car, and I lean against the trunk, squinting toward the road.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say quietly.

Mandy leans against the back, arms folded. “You didn’t.”

“No, I mean… not just with words. I mean physically. I mean if we ever…”

He waits, patient. Calm.

“I don’t know what those results are going to say,” I admit. “Might be fine. Might not. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Some I didn’t exactly consent to. Some I did. And it wasn’t always safe. Hell, it was almost never safe.”

Mandy’s expression doesn’t change. He just nods. “I figured.”

My stomach twists. “How? Do I have a sign over my head that says damaged goods ?”

“No,” he says. “You told me.”

I blink. “When?” There’s no chance in hell I told him details of that shit. I’d rather fuck a cactus. Dry.

“Every time you flinch at kindness,” he says. “Every time you act like I’m gonna disappear if I see too much of you. That tells me everything I need to know.”

Fuck. I look away, embarrassed.

He straightens. “Tex, I’m not afraid of what you’ve done or where you’ve been. I just want you to be honest with me. If you’ve got something, we’ll deal with it. If not, great.”

He opens my door for me and then I have to bite my tongue while he climbs, shuffles, and maneuvers into the car, hitting his head on the visor twice before he manages his seatbelt.

He looks over at me with a grin and squints at the form in my lap.

It doesn’t occur to me he’s reading my name until it’s too late.

“Wait a sec… Dallas Jackson? That’s your real name?”

“Don’t wear it out,” I say with a mock flourish, pretending to apply lipstick with my middle finger. “It doesn’t get more southern than that.”

Mandy snorts. “That’s about as obvious as… Tex.”

“You think I picked that shit myself?” I ask. “It stuck in Boot Camp, and it stuck everywhere else.”

“You do give off strong Texas energy,” Mandy says, like he’s diagnosing me with something terminal.

His shoulders shake with laughter, and he wipes his eyes on his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes. “It’s just… Dallas Jackson .

It sounds like the name of a guy who wears rhinestones and owns a white leather couch. ”

“You say that like I don’t have a rhinestone belt at home.”

“Oh my God , you do not.”

“I do,” I lie, deadpan. “And proud of it,” I say, then narrow my eyes. “But seriously. If you tell the Bitches, I’ll haunt your ass in this life and the next.”

“I won’t tell them,” Mandy promises, still catching his breath. “But I will think about it at every inappropriate moment from now on. When I watch you at work, around the guys, and when you’re baring your soul in a heart-to-heart.

I flip him off again—same finger, same flourish. “You’re an asshole. I guess it’s a good thing I joined the Army, or things could have taken a turn for me.” Like dancing on stage at The Watering Hole.

He’s not even looking at me, he can’t, from the tears in his eyes. The laughter dies down, but the warmth lingers. It’s good. The laughter, the release. He’s good for me.

We end up splitting a basket of chili cheese fries at the Tavern. I'm too jittery to eat much, but being with him makes it easier to pretend I’m okay. Mandy tears open a packet of ketchup with his teeth, which shouldn’t be hot, but here we are.

My phone buzzes, interrupting thoughts of Mandy tearing through my undies with his teeth like that.

It’s the clinic. My stomach lurches. Mandy looks up, catching the sudden tightness in my shoulders. I answer with a shaky “Hello?”

The voice on the other end is warm, professional, and boring. Like they don’t realize they’re holding my whole damn life in their hands.

“Negative across the board,” they say. “You’re good to go.”

I mumble a thank you and end the call with a stunned sort of exhale.

Mandy’s eyebrows raise. “Well?”

“Negative.” It comes out in a breath. “Everything’s negative.” Relief slams into me like a wave. I blink a few times, trying to keep it cool, but my hands are shaking a little when I reach for my soda.

Mandy smiles at me across the table. “That’s great.”

“It is.” I lean back, trying to let it sink in.

He picks up his burger and takes another bite, and it hits me suddenly.

He doesn’t care either way. I mean, he probably cares, for my sake, for my health, but he wasn’t freaking out, worrying about how my results or how my past was gonna affect him.

I watch as he sucks ketchup from his big, thick fingers, and desire courses through me, warming my blood.

If he’d suck my dick like he’s sucking his fingers…

“Technically… we don’t have to use condoms. I mean… assuming you get tested too.”

Mandy stares at me, then bursts out laughing. Loud and sudden, like I just told him the funniest joke he’s heard all year.

“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. Too soon?

He waves a hand, trying to breathe through the cackling. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “It’s just… you really don’t see my scars, do you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” He wipes tears from his eyes. “You really think I’m out here having random sex? That someone sees this—” he gestures vaguely at his face, “—and goes, ‘Yeah, can’t wait to see the rest of that naked’?”

He’s doubled over laughing now, shoulders shaking, burger dropped on his plate.

“First of all,” I fume, “there is nothing wrong with the way you look. You’re hot as fuck.”

Someone two booths over glances our way, and I lean in, dropping my voice just enough to carry. “What? He is. Just look at him. Big fat dick too.”

Mandy turns crimson , laughing harder, eyes wide. “Jesus Christ, Tex?—”

“What?” I say innocently, sipping my soda. “Just giving credit where credit’s due.”

“Oh my God,” he says, still laughing. “Let’s get you out of here before you make a bigger scene.”

“Making a scene is what I’m known for,” I brag.

Mandy snorts, wiping his tears with a napkin. “Don’t remind me.”

I catch him watching me with that soft look that always makes me feel like I’m worth something.

“Just so you know, so we can put this ridiculous conversation to rest, I’ve had my blood drawn more than a vampire’s mate.

I’ve been tested for everything, time and again.

And contrary to what you think, I haven’t had sex in all that time. Not once.”

My brows lift. “Seriously?”

He nods. “Seriously.”

I stare at him, surprised. “Well, you could’ve . I mean it. You’re hot. And cute.”

I lean across the table and give him a kiss on the cheek. He turns redder.

“So…” I say, trying to sound casual. “Does this mean we don’t have to use condoms? ‘Cause my shift at Hooters doesn’t start for two more hours. I’ve got time to kill.” Mandy laughs when I waggle my brows, and his blush seals the deal for me. I’m definitely getting underneath this man soon.