Page 41 of The Tex Hex (Bitches With Stitches #3)

TEX

The apartment is quiet, the kind of quiet I used to dread.

Not too long ago, silence meant I had nowhere to hide.

No noise to drown out the voices in my head.

Being alone used to feel like punishment—like being locked in a room with every awful thing I believed about myself echoing off the walls.

In the quiet, I remembered every face that used me, every time I gave my body away just to feel wanted.

Every second I sat alone, I wondered if maybe that’s all I’d ever be—used up, hollowed out, not enough.

But tonight, it doesn’t feel like that.

Tonight, the quiet feels earned. Peaceful. Almost safe.

Dixon Dallas sings softly to me through Mandy’s Bluetooth speaker, talking about riding his man and instructing me how to give a better blow job. I'm listening, Dixon, but some of us are just born with natural talent.

On the coffee table, a candle flickers low, some expensive lavender and sage thing that Mandy tossed in our basket after he heard me sigh when I picked it up and smelled it.

He always does shit like that, anticipates things I might like, things to pamper me with.

The man spoils me rotten. The candle smells like clean skin and calm days, like something I don’t have to deserve to enjoy.

What Mandy doesn’t realize is that every time I light it, the memory of why he bought it for me makes me feel calmer and happier than the actual scent.

I’m sprawled on the floor in my favorite pajama pants, the ones with rainbow unicorns flying through the air, riding obscenely large eggplants, and a ratty old tank top that says Hooters Training Camp .

Of course, I cut it into a crop top. My legs are half under the coffee table, my back propped against the couch.

I’ve got a sparkly purple gel pen in my hand.

The glitter catches the light like it's got something to say, too.

My cocoa’s going cold beside me, but the marshmallows are just the way I like them, half melted and gooey around the edges.

Brewer’s assignment was simple. Write a letter saying goodbye to the version of myself I used to be, the one who didn’t know how to survive without shame, the one who thought destruction was the only thing he deserved. And then burn it, shred it, bury it—whatever I need to do. Closure.

Except it’s not simple.

It’s fucking brutal.

I have no words. They’re stuck in my head, stuck in my throat, stuck in the past. My hand doesn’t want to move, my fingers won’t cooperate. The paper stares back at me. The pen feels too heavy. But I breathe deep, take another sip, and start to write.

To the boy who didn’t know better,

You’re not weak for what happened to you.

You didn’t ask for it. You didn’t deserve it. And you survived anyway. You found ways to keep yourself upright, even if they weren’t always healthy.

You got high. You got reckless. You let people touch your body like it didn’t matter because that was the only time you felt seen or valued. And then you hated yourself for it.

You thought if you gave enough of yourself away, someone might finally want you.

I know why you did it. I don’t blame you anymore.

I’m sorry I treated you like garbage. I’m sorry I looked in the mirror and saw filth instead of someone trying to hang on.

You were hurt, but you were never hopeless. You were doing the best you could to stay alive.

You tried to disappear. And when that didn’t work, you tried to be wanted. Even if it hurt.

And now… I’m saying goodbye.

Because I’m not you anymore.

I have a man now who holds me like I’m worth something. I laugh more than I cry. I eat breakfast, brush my teeth, and sleep with both eyes shut. I practice healing and self-care because I know I’m worth it. I deserve it. We both do, you and me.

You didn’t get that far. But I did.

I’ll carry you with me, but I won’t let you drive.

I just want you to know that I forgive you. And, I love you. Not many people ever said that to you. You certainly never said it to yourself. But now, now I can say that.

Goodbye, Dallas Jackson.

—Tex

The pen trembles in my hand when I finish. My chest feels like it’s cracked wide open. There’s a sharp pain behind my ribs, like something’s been dug out of me with a dull spoon. I can barely breathe.

I don’t realize I’m crying until a tear hits the paper. It smears the “T” in Tex.

My legs are numb. My fingers are cramped. But I sit there, staring at the letter like it might explode if I look away. Something shifts inside me. Not peace, exactly. But something lighter.

Heavy boots fall outside the door. Keys jingle in the lock. The door opens and Mandy steps in, carrying a grocery bag and looking halfway to exhausted. Then he sees me and he stops short. His brow furrows. “Hey. You okay?”

I sniff and swipe at my face with the back of my hand like a six-year-old. “Yeah. Mostly.”

He crouches next to me, fingers brushing my cheek. His eyes fall to my mouth.

“You’ve got a—” he kisses me slowly, tongue flicking over the sticky mess. “There. Marshmallow thief.”

I laugh a little, surprised I still can.

“What can I say? Sweet things stick to me.” Seriously, though?

I must look like a fucking mess with my sniffly nose, blotched eyes, and now marshmallow lips to boot?

Fuck my life. Why can’t I be one of those pretty criers like I see on the soap operas?

Even still, my heart does that stupid flutter it always does when he does something like that. Gentle. Thoughtful. Devastating.

He raises an eyebrow at the letter. “Journaling?”

“Sort of.” I swallow hard and exhale. “Okay, not exactly. It’s more like… closure. Saying goodbye to who I used to be. The guy who didn’t think he’d make it. The guy who hurt himself just to feel something. Brewer said I needed to let go.”

Mandy reads the letter in silence. His eyes flicker with emotions that cut right through me—pain, pride, love.

When he looks back at me, he’s not crying, but he’s damn close. “Do you feel lighter?”

“A little. Still scared though.”

Mandy slides his big hands over my thighs, grounding me. “Of what?”

I touch my chest. “That he’s still in here somewhere. That one day you’ll look at me and see him.”

“I see you, ” he says. “The man who faced it all and came out stronger. Who made a home here. With me.”

I reach for him without thinking. “You make it easier. To be someone worth loving.”

“Tex,” he murmurs, and kisses me like he’s tasting me for the first time. Learning the ins and outs of my mouth, the flavor of my tongue, and the feel of my lips.

I grip his hips and pull him closer. His fingers thread through my hair.

“I don’t want to be that guy anymore,” I whisper.

“You’re not,” Mandy swears.

“I want to be the one you wake up next to for the rest of your life.”

“You already are.”

The paper crinkles between us. He takes it and folds it gently, setting it on the table like it’s precious.

“I’ll keep it,” he says. “Not because I need the reminder, but maybe someday, you will. Just to see how far you’ve come.”

Mandy helps me off the floor, and we end up on the couch, tangled up like we always are, his arms around me like a shield.

“I love you,” I say into the curve of his neck. I can feel his scar tissue against my lips, warm and rough, and I place a kiss there, doing my best to heal his wounds like he’s healing mine.

He presses a kiss behind my ear. “I know.”

Some time later, much later, I wake with a start. Violently, like I was ejected from my dream. Though it was more a nightmare than a dream. In the dark, I can barely make out Mandy’s sleeping form. He’s a big lump of shadow, breathing softly and curled around my body like a weighted blanket.

Narrowing my eyes, I ball up my fist and plant it in his shoulder with force. Mandy barely stirs, so I kick his leg and toss his arm off me. That gets his attention, the loss of my body beneath his hands.

“Get off me, you big lying cheater!”

Mandy’s head raises, peering over me with instant concern. “Tex? You okay?”

“No, I’m not okay! I’m far from okay. How can I be? You… you…”

“I what?”

“You cheated on me! Lying cheating bastard.”

“Me?” Mandy asks, bewildered.

You’d think I just swore he was purple, or had three dicks. If only!

“Yes, you,” I accuse matter-of-factly. Sitting up, I turn to him, and even though he can’t see my expression in the dark, he can probably feel the anger coming off me in hot waves.

“I was training a new Hooters Boy, and you,” I point angrily, “you ordered a piece of cake from him! You allowed another man to bring you chocolate cake!” I slap his arm again for good measure.

“You checked out his little orange shorts when he walked away!”

“Did I?” Mandy asks, and I can hear the laughter tinging his voice.

“You bet you did. And,” I add, “you told him it tasted delicious !” Ignoring his laughter, I continue. “You said it just like that, all sexy and shit.”

Mandy turns to his back and tucks his arms beneath his head, like he’s enjoying this story. Rat bastard!

“So, is that considered cheating? Ordering another man’s cake?”

“Of-fucking-course it is! You better only be ordering my delicious cake!”

“Okay,” he agrees easily. “Just yours. Anything else?”

“There’s a whole lot else! Was his ass hotter looking than mine? Was his sway as pronounced?”

His chuckle rumbles like low thunder building before a storm. “I don’t know, was it? You were there, so you tell me.”

“You can bet your sweet fucking ass he doesn’t swish like me!”

In a move as quick as lightning, Mandy rolls over onto me, trapping me beneath his huge, warm body. He pins my arms above my head, leaving me at his mercy. His breath tickles my face, his nose brushes mine, and I feel his smile though I can’t see it.

“Nobody swishes like you, baby. Your cake is so delicious, so rich and satisfying, I’ll only ever want to eat yours. No one else’s.”

Slightly mollified, I nip at his bottom lip and can’t help but press my hips into his, checking to see if he’s hard like me.

He is.

Mandy glances up above the bed. “I feel like Dolly's watching us. It’s… weird.”

“Don't worry about what Dolly sees. I'm pretty sure she'd approve.”

Because I’m about to let you fuck me, to prove you want my cake, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let Dolly ruin my chance.

“I'm positive there's no one like you in the entire world,” Mandy murmurs teasingly against my mouth.

I can’t hold back my snort as Mandy rolls his hips again. “There absolutely isn't. I promise you.”

I shift until I’m able to reach my bikini undies and shuck them quickly before tugging at Mandy’s briefs.

He gets the hint and scooches out of them, then resettles over me, pinning my hands again.

I love this, feeling completely helpless and submissive, and the only reason I can pull it off is because it’s him. My Big Guy, who I trust implicitly.

Mandy slides his hard cock along mine. Without lube, his skin drags on mine, creating hot friction that’s borderline uncomfortable. “Grab the lube,” I say, unwrapping my legs from his waist so he can move.

He rolls and comes back with the bottle. “Do you need some light to do this? I can turn on the lamp.”

“No,” I whisper in the dark. “It feels safe. I know it’s you.”

The click of the cap tells me he’s slicking up his dick, and he pushes into me, not meeting much resistance. The breath leaves my body as he settles inside me to the hilt.

“Only me,” Mandy rumbles, sounding like he’s melting. “Only ever me… inside you.”

Damn straight, Big Guy. Only ever you.

He moves slowly at first, savoring the tight squeeze of my ass. Eventually, his rhythm builds, and I fold my legs up, bending my body in half, my knees knocking into my shoulders.

Every thrust of his cock makes me cry out. Makes my body inch forward. It's obvious how much I love it from the sounds I make and the way I move with him, meeting every thrust. I love his cockhead rubbing over my gland, the stretch and burn.

“You’re so full of my cock,” Mandy hisses, driving into me harder. “I wish I could stay in you forever. That you could take a piece of me with you wherever you go.”

“You can. Come in me. Fill me with your load.”

“I wish…” he breathes hard, sucking in a breath, “there was never a time when you weren’t a part of me, connected with me.”

Mandy’s thighs slap against my cheeks. His big body tenses, and he shoots inside my ass, painting my channel with his seed. His words and his grunt and the warmth of his cum are my undoing. I spill between us, coating both our stomachs. He drops his head to my chest, and I straighten out my legs.

“I mean it, Mandy. Only you. Forever and ever. Just you and me.”

His lips press into mine, and the kiss is soft and sweet and perfect. A promise.

“You have no idea what you do to me. You…” he swallows and toys with my hair, brushing it off my shoulder. “You…”

“Rock your world?” I supply. “Turned it upside down?”

He grins. “You hexed me. A Tex Hex.”

“A hex? Like voodoo magic mojo? You think I’ve got that?”

“In spades, baby. All you had to do was look at me, speak to me, and…”

“Your heart went BOOM,” I finish for him. That’s what he told me once, and I never forgot it.

“Yeah, BOOM. You hexed me.”

My heart swells with my love for him. With the way he loves me, how he builds me up and never lets me fall, always makes sure I feel safe, and satisfied, and valued. Mandy treats me like I’m worth everything, and to him, I am. I know that’s how he sees me. I believe that now.

“I learned that from Dolly.” Pressing another quick kiss to his lips, I add, “That and the swish.”

His arms squeeze me tighter, and I kiss the laughter from his mouth.