Eat Crow: Cheap Thrills, #6

By Mary B. Moore

Logan

I made a mistake seven years ago and opened my mouth, letting words fly out of it that I didn't mean. I said something about the one person I never wanted to hurt and lost my best friend. Now she's back and needs help her with her loss, and I'm going to be the best rock in the history of rocks and make it right between us again. 

I'd do anything to get Bexley Heath back in my life, even if it means helping out with her dog, who hates me and loves to destroy everything around him. 

Time doesn't kill love. Neither does a giant Irish Wolfhound eating my favorite chair.

Bexley

I'd successfully avoided Logan Richards for seven years, but somehow losing my grandpa brought him back into my life. Perhaps Papa was right when he said in his last letter that it was time to get over it and just let it go. Life's too short, and forgiveness is divine, right?

He's my anchor when I need it and my tissues when I cry. But that doesn't mean I can't reward my dog for causing him grief and destroying some of his furniture, though, does it? To heck with it, good Doyle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary B. Moore
• Release date: Aug 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201539023

Book preview

PROLOGUE

LOGAN

The countdown to graduation was on, and I was ticking off the days now.

There’d be no more getting up at the ass crack of dawn or staying up until my eyes started burning, working on papers about stuff I was never going to need to remember.

No more juggling life with football or teachers who spoke down to us like we were idiots.

Tonight we were having a party to mark the starting point of the end of school, and staring at the fire we’d started as I lifted my beer to my mouth, I worked out the number of days I still had to fake it for.

Seven weeks left. Seven times five days a week at school was… Shit, what was it? That’s how exhausted I was, I’d forgotten basic math. Thinking a little harder, I got it—thirty-five days.

A movement behind the flames caught my attention, and I watched as my dad’s best friend’s daughter laughed at something one of my teammates had said.

I’d known Bexley since we were babies. We’d spent every birthday, holiday, most vacations, and whatever else had come up together. She’d been my constant shadow from day one, and it hadn’t bothered me up until about two years ago when things had changed overnight.

We’d parted ways as the Logan and Bexley who were best friends, but then I’d had a dream about her. I’d kissed and touched her in it, and it’d been so vivid that I swear I felt how soft her skin was and how great she smelled.

The next morning, I’d noticed the changes in her.

Gone was the gangly and petite girl I’d always thought was pretty, and in her place was the new Bexley Heath. Long dark hair that reached to the middle of her back, tits that were slightly too big for her frame, an ass that would fit perfectly in my hands, and curves that made my brain go blank when she walked up to me in a freaking basic black tank that I’d seen her wear many times.

That’s all it took.

I didn’t want anything tying me down, so I’d tried to pull back from her, but our parents’ friendships didn’t allow me to do it completely.

Since then, I’d dreamt about her and watched, but I’d also changed how I was around her as much as possible. There was no more touching and no seeking her out. Instead, I’d thrown myself into football and everything else I could, and I’d gotten a ‘girlfriend’ seven months ago with no strings attached to the relationship.

It was the last thing on that list that’d had the most significant impact. Renna hated everything about Bexley, including her name.

See, Bexley was named after where her grandad—my grandad’s best friend—family came from, a place in London called Bexley Heath. It’d started as a joke when her mom was pregnant seeing as how his last name was Heath, but then her grandad had fallen in love with the sentimentality of it and it’d stuck.

Renna thought it was dumb and tacky, and she also hated the amount of time I spent with her outside of school, regardless what excuse I gave her for it.

And at that moment, I’d never seen anything more beautiful than Bexley Anne Heath.

Her head was thrown back as she laughed, with her hair was just tickling the top of her ass. Skimming my eyes down her, I stopped when I saw her tits bounce in the white t-shirt she was wearing, that showed her white lace bra off more clearly than she likely realized.

Shaking my head and mentally kicking myself for being such a dick, I continued down her body and then noticed how her toned legs flexed in her cut-off shorts as she steadied herself.

It was just my luck the shadows from the fire emphasized all of the bits I loved the most.

And that was the crux of my problem—I wasn’t just a horny teen. I had a crush on Bexley, but I didn’t want to.

Arms winding their way around my neck almost made me jump, as the almost suffocating stench of cheap perfume mixed with the flavor of the beer I’d just sipped. There was a point where you wore that much cologne or perfume that people could taste it, and that’s how much Renna sprayed on herself. I swear my clothes and car were going to stink of it until I burned them or got rid of them.

Hey, handsome, she giggled in my ear. What are you up to all on your own?

I was breathing fresh air and enjoying life.

Grinding my teeth slightly, I muttered, Nothing, just thinking.

With her arms still around me, she sat down heavily on the log I was on, facing backward so that she was almost on my lap.

About our future?

This was her recent thing. She wanted us to be together forever. I was eighteen years old, for fuck’s sakes, I wasn’t settling down now. I didn’t know what career I wanted when I left college, or even if I wanted to go to it, but I did know I wanted to experience life. I couldn’t do that with someone I genuinely didn’t see a future with.

Her.

No matter how many times I told her or ignored her when she started, she just kept pressing it.

When I didn’t answer, she went straight to her next favorite subject.

"Is she still following you around? she asked, looking where Bexley had been standing. I heard she begged you for a ride tonight. That’s just pathetic."

No, Bexley hadn’t. She’d said she was coming here to her mom, not knowing I was walking past her in the store, and I’d stopped and offered her a ride. I wanted to stay away from her, but I couldn’t stop myself at the same time. She’d tried to decline, but her mom was the one who’d said yes.

I wasn’t touching how relieved I’d been when I’d left, knowing I was going to be in a car alone with her for a measly ten-minute drive.

Sighing, I threw the rest of the beer that I couldn’t stomach anymore into the flames and made a note to come back in the morning to pick it up. I offered her a ride, Renna. Just leave it alone.

Her arms dropped, and then she took a deep breath in that meant she was going to rant.

What does that mean? That you’re dumping me? Really? We’re seven weeks away from graduating, prom is soon, and you’re my date for it. And what about college? We’re leaving to start our lives together away from this shit hole.

I’d never mentioned prom, college, nada, but Renna was the queen of drama and twisting shit. The only reason we’d last this long was because I was a teenager with hormones, and she’d been interested.

Yeah, I was that big of an asshole, but there’d been numerous occasions when she’d fucked other guys, so I’d just kept us as we were, relieved it wouldn’t lead to some sort of expectation that I couldn’t fulfill.

Until now.

Something had changed, and I didn’t know what it was, but the casual arrangement we’d agreed on had morphed into something crazy in her brain.

I was just so fucking tired of the drama and bullshit, and her screeching it all out for everyone to hear was the final straw.

Standing up, I let it all out, forgetting we had an audience as I said what I needed to.

Dumping is too formal a word to use for what we have together, but I’ll make it clear just in case. Whatever we have together is over. It’s been over for a while, but we just never said the words, and that’s on me. We were never going to go to college together, never going to be more than this, I gestured between us.

Mimicking my stance, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. "It’s because of her, isn’t it?"

That’s when I snapped. No, it’s not because of Bexley. How many times do I have to tell you the only reason she even registers in my life is because of our families? She’s nothing to me, a no one. Where do you think the money came from for me to take you out on dates? I get paid to drive her around and do shit with her.

I didn’t hear the gasp that came from the girl we were discussing, who’d walked up behind me to tell me she was leaving. If I had, I’d have turned around and seen the devastation on her face as she fought back tears and done everything I could to take it back, regardless of how many people saw me doing it.

I was just too focused on ending this bullshit.

You fuck other guys. Where in your mind does that make us an emotionally invested and committed couple? No, Renna, it’s over. I hope you have a good life.

I said the last bit as I turned around to walk back to my car, meaning that I frowned when I saw Layla Townsend holding a crying Renna.

And I totally missed Mark Montgomery’s fist as it flew toward my face, making contact with my eye and knocking me out cold.

Six weeks later…

Bexley

Honey, Mom said quietly as I sat on the steps watching my dad and his dad laugh about something as they turned meat on the barbecue. Are you sure you’re okay? I’m worried about you.

Picking at the label on the unopened bottle of sparkling water in my hand, I shrugged and watched the bubbles moving around inside it.

You didn’t go to prom, you’ve stayed home every night for the last six weeks, you don’t go to any of the games at school when Logan plays—

Don’t mention his name, I hissed, squeezing the bottle.

Shuffling closer, she leaned her head closer to mine. Logan? What did he do?

I know you paid him, I rasped and then choked out a laugh. "Everyone at school knows y’all paid him to hang out with me and give me rides. I’m that chick, the chick a guy gets money to hang out with."

I never gave him a dime, she argued, sounding incredulous. Why did he say that?

Feeling only slightly better about it all, I opened the abused bottle and took a mouthful.

Once the sharp feeling from the bubbles left my throat, I shook my head to clear it. I don’t know. All I know is that he said it, so whoever who was at the party heard it. Now everyone at school knows, and I can’t even list all the names I’ve been called, including Bexley Hooker.

What? she shrieked as she jumped up, getting the attention of both dads. "Which one of you paid Logan? Which one?"

That’s where it all began, her questioning both men while I let the numbness grow inside of me. Even Pops coming over didn’t help, and he was one of my favorite people in the world.

The human heart can only take so much hurt, and your emotions at the age of eighteen were fragile. So, I shut them off.

I didn’t feel anything, didn’t want to feel anything, but I knew that me going to the college I was going to was for the best. I’d been upset when I’d made my choice because of the distance from my family, but now I needed it.

And then the man who’d started it all walked around the corner, just as my mom laid into the dads about payments and bullshit.

Dad looked like he’d had his heart stomped on as she repeated what I’d told her, and Logan’s dad, Will, looked like he was going to be sick.

Slowly, Logan turned his head to look at me, and I caught the look of regret and pain in his eyes before I looked away again.

Ask me if I cared.

Not one fucking bit. Not even a crumb of a bit.

I was never going to see him again, and I hoped he lived with this for the rest of his life.

CHAPTER ONE

LOGAN

Seven long, regretful years later…

N ow, Lawrence Heath’s granddaughter, his pride and joy, Bexley, is going to tell us about him, the priest who was leading the funeral said to us all as we sat crammed into the pews of the church.

That’s when I got my first proper look at Bexley in seven years, as she walked up to where the priest was waiting for her, wearing a smart black dress. In the time that’d passed, she’d moved from being a beautiful girl to being a stunning woman.

At five foot five inches, she’d probably reach my collarbone, but the heels she had on would bring her to my chin. She still had her dangerous curves and long dark hair, but the innocence I remembered that she worn so well had been replaced by maturity.

Right now, it was also replaced with devastation because we were burying her grandpa, but I reckoned without that, she’d bring a man to his knees, because he’d know immediately she was totally out of his reach.

I never wanted to think of this day happening, she began, her lower lip trembling slightly. I never wanted to imagine a day when I didn’t have my hero here to lean on, to talk to, to laugh with… she cleared her throat after the last word came out sounding so raspy I almost winced.

My pops was the best man I’ve ever met. When I was a little kid, he told me life would pass me by in the blink of an eye, and that I needed to make the most of it because I never knew what it’d bring. Last Sunday, when I rang him to see how he was, I never expected for a second that he’d have a heart attack while I was on the phone to him, or that he’d hold on until I got to the hospital to hold his hand. On the last word, all of her strength disappeared, and she had to grab the lintel to stop herself from falling.

I didn’t think about what I was doing, I just did it.

I jumped up and walked quickly over to her, putting my arm around her waist, and taking Bexley’s weight to give her the strength to continue.

Through heartbroken tears and body-wracking sobs, she told everyone about the man who’d always been there, who’d laughed more than he got angry, who loved with his whole heart, and who’d fixed everything that’d ever broken in her life. She told stories about him that made even the hardest man in the room blink rapidly to stop their tears, and she outlined who he’d been in the best way possible.

After that, I took her back to where she’d been sitting and sat down with her on my lap, holding her in place as the service continued.

When she cried, I wiped those tears away.

When she struggled to breathe, I rubbed her back to calm her down.

When she sobbed hard enough to almost fall off my lap, I held her that bit tighter, hoping it would help her get through this.

Piersville would miss Lawrence, and we wouldn’t be the same without him, so it was hard for everyone to say goodbye to him. But what made it worse was when her dad, my grandpa, my father, Hurst Townsend, and I got up to carry his coffin to his final resting place.

Why?

Because she got up, too, and moved to the front of it, balancing it on her right shoulder and hooking her arm over her dad’s neck. Seeing it, the crying got louder in the church, and I felt the tears fall faster down my face.

It was beautiful, but it was heartbreaking, too.

We were slightly off-balance given the height difference, but we made it work without saying a word and walked the coffin carefully out of the church and across the graveyard, with almost the whole town following behind us.

Once there, we moved it onto the straps waiting, and watched as the attendants put them in the right place to lower it into the ground.

Then, we all stood with our hearts in our hands as the priest read out a prayer for him as they began to lower him.

They’d only just started the process when Bexley collapsed onto her knees and screamed, "I can’t let him go. Please, don’t do it! Make him come back, please."

The last word was her literally begging them, and I couldn’t take it. I wanted to make it happen, but I just didn’t have the power to do it.

Dropping to my knees next to her, I pulled her back onto my lap and rocked her, with her begging still audible through her sobs. Her dad, Kenton, got down beside me and wrapped his arms around us, whispering into his daughter’s hair, trying to help her through it, as her mom, Lorena, moved to my other side to do the same thing.

We were cocooning her, powerless to fix how broken her heart was. It was the worst moment of my life, and that said something.

She still hadn’t settled by the time it was over, so her mom drove us back to their house. The deep growl that came from the big ass dog that’d belonged to her pops stopped me in my tracks as I carried her inside, but I managed to veer around him and go up the stairs, and lay down with her on her bed while the doctor sedated her.

It was the final push of the knife that’d been plunged into my heart seven years ago, fucking sedating her on the day she buried her beloved pops. Neither of them would’ve wanted it, but it had to happen because she was struggling to breathe and her pulse was all over the place.

Years ago, I’d had a childhood crush on her.

Years after that, I’d made the biggest mistake of my life, and it’d been my wake-up call.

Days after that, I decided to join the police and stay in Piersville after I’d graduated from the Police Academy. I’d explained it all to her parents and Pops, and promised that I’d make it all up to her. I’d transformed from the selfish teenager to a man who got his shit in order.

And I’d waited for her to come back.

For seven years.

Now she was here, but she’d lost a piece of her soul. We all knew it—they were just that close.

Five days ago, when he’d died, I’d sworn I’d get her through it.

After today, I didn’t know how, but I’d take anything she threw at me if it helped her recover.

It felt like I’d wanted her my whole life, and that came with doing my best to get her through the hard times, even if it meant staying away. I didn’t want to stay away from her for this one, though, so I was going to do everything I could to help her without hurting her even more.

I knew I could do that. She was my reason for existing.

CHAPTER TWO

BEXLEY

Two days later…

Honey, you have to eat, Mom tried again.

It wasn’t that I was making it happen, I just felt nauseous when I even thought about food. Every part of my body hurt and felt exhausted, and my stomach was part of it.

I can’t, I croaked, my voice sounding harsh from all of the crying. The doctor had checked it out this morning and said I’d strained my vocal cords and assured me it would get better with time.

Apparently everything I felt right now would get better with time.

They were lying. The pain in my heart couldn’t possibly get better. How did losing someone you loved more than life ever feel better?

What about a cracker? Dad asked as he sat on the coffee table, ignoring the glares coming from Mom.

See, the coffee table was a priceless antique that’d belonged to her great-great-great-grandmother. It’d been lovingly cared for since the day my grandma had given it to her, telling her the story of how it’d been brought across the seas on a ship and tracked over hundreds of miles in a wagon when they’d first come here. So, when my dad sat on it like he was at that moment and the wood creaked, she freaked out.

Before she could lecture him, a knock on the door interrupted, and she got up to answer it.

She’s going to kick your ass, you know, I chuckled weakly.

Logan’s here, Mom called as she walked back in with him behind her.

Dad only just managed to grab Doyle by the collar, before he could even think about going toward him. I watched all of it out the corner of my eye, but my mind was on the way Mom made it sound like it happened every day instead of it being what it was—weird.

Seeing that I was up and about, a small smile grew on Logan’s mouth until Doyle growled at him, and he shot a glare down at the huge Irish Wolfhound. It was a good look on him, broody and fierce, but that wasn’t what made my heart start beating like a drum band. Oh no, that was the fact he was wearing his Police uniform, and the sleeves were short so I could see the tattoos on his arms.

I wasn’t sure if that was allowed, but who was I to question it when—even to me—it looked so good? I mean, I was the last person who should find the man attractive, but the look was working for me.

Grief—it warps the heart and mind of all who experience it.

Good to see you in the land of the living, he greeted, his eyes on me before shifting them to my dad. How are you holding up, Kenton?

Not getting up, Dad shook his hand. My baby girl got up today, so I’m starting the road to healing. But now I’m thinking my dad’s dog has bad blood with you over something, and I’m amused for the first time in over a week. Thanks for that.

Hearing that just made me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world. Pops was his dad, but instead of being able to mourn and heal, he’d been looking after and worrying about me. I needed to get my shit together and stop being a wussy.

Feeling tingles on the side of my face, I looked up and saw Logan watching me like he knew what I was thinking. That started a new riot of emotions off inside me.

On one hand, having someone know and understand what I was thinking and why was a nice feeling. It meant I didn’t feel like the head case other people would probably assume I was.

On the other hand, the hurt he’d caused me went so deep that I didn’t know if I found him being inside my head all that comforting. Add onto that the guilt I was feeling for my dad and the heartache for Pops…

See, grief totally warped your mind. Who could keep up with a hundred emotions and conflicting thoughts at once?

Turning away from him, I tuned in to what Dad was saying.

…I didn’t want to do it so soon, but he insisted it be read as quickly as possible after he passed away.

They were talking about the will.

Why? I mean, if I died, I’d want people to go about getting used to life without me and let them get their heads around it.

Death made people greedy, so why would you want them eagerly waiting for what they were getting?

Sighing, Dad said quietly, Because of you.

Me?

Nodding, he picked up his cup and mumbled into it, You’ll understand when the lawyer reads it out to us later.

Feeling slightly nauseous again, I got up and walked back upstairs to my room, intending to have a shower and look like a normal person for it.

All the while, I was stuck in a repetitive cycle of questions.

Why me?

Why so quickly?

And why was Logan here?

What was I going to do?

Three hours later…

Now I had the answer to two of my questions, the first two to be exact.

The will was being read so quickly because Pops had left me his house. The stipulation was that I couldn’t sell it until I was thirty—five years from now—and I had to live in it. If I didn’t do that, the property would remain empty, and no one could enter it apart from me. That would mean it would start to crumble and go to shit with a bow around it.

The house was old and had been one of the first to be built when Piersville was established. It was a large Victorian style property that stood out even now, but had done even more so when it was first completed.

The town was founded by settlers from all corners of the world, who set up homes and sold what they were skilled at making. In my family’s case, that’d been furniture and anything wooden. They were skilled carpenters and furniture makers, and had worked with the other settlers to utilize their trades, too.

Partnerships had been formed throughout the town, and the wares had been sold all over the country. Rumor had it that my family had helped build many of the original homes in the town, but I hadn’t ever checked to see which ones.

Pops’ house was beautiful, with long windows, wooden floors, intricately carved light fixtures, and details that were so intricately done, it was hard to believe they’d been made by hand. He’d modernized it over the years, and it was perfection.

He knew I loved the house and wouldn’t let anything happen to it, so he’d put me over a barrel to move back home instead of returning to my job as an English teacher in Boston.

My question was, why? No, my questions—plural—were all why.

Why would he put those stipulations in the will?

Why did he want me to move back here, knowing why I’d left?

Why had he died?

Why did it feel like life was never going to be the same again?

Why? Why? Why?

And most of all, why wasn’t I as upset about it as I should be?

I know this all seems unusual, Miss Heath, the lawyer murmured as he looked up from the papers on his desk. "And, if I’m honest, it is rather unusual, but Mr. Heath was very clear. He discussed the matter with your parents before he wrote the will, and it was agreed they would receive the items they wanted and your dad would inherit the business, but the property and finances were all yours."

I wanted to throw up on the guy’s beige rug.

Are you attached to your rug?

It was a miracle that he understood what I was saying, seeing how it came out of me sounding like I was being strangled. Which, I guess, was technically accurate because my breakfast was now lodged in my throat.

Did PopTarts taste as good coming up as they did when they went