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  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Chapter 12
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Chapter 12

Hit me up, cousin.
After shooting off a text to Barrett, I gather the menu from the four-top the hostess seated me at to scan it, side-eyeing my phone in hopes he’ll finally return it. Barrett’s been dodging me since the Apple Festival last month.
Before my and Dad’s confrontation last week, Carter Jennings had already done his fucking worst to desecrate all remaining relationships with everyone Jennings. Having eradicated his place in the annual family tradition at our festival stand to represent our farm on Labor Day weekend. Which only further justified the two swings I landed even as I continue to grapple with the fact it happened.
That I struck my father. Twice.
Though I wasn’t there, small-town news traveled fast that Barrett was seething mad when Dad showed up shitfaced and on a war path.
Barrett had taken it most personally since his future consists of taking over the family farm. Since that day, a large majority of the Jennings crew have been slow to answer and harder to reach by Mom and me, making us accomplices by association and blackening our wool. We’ve now been made to feel like outcasts from everyone aside from Uncle Gray and Granddad, who both check in every week or so. Though, at this point, I think it’s more out of obligation to Dad.
An obligation I’ve also ignored since I faced off with my father in that parking lot. Since then, I’ve spent every minute that I’m not sleeping outside the doors of the Jennings house. Some of those days with Dom at the library, using his place of refuge as my own while inhaling and memorizing Delphine’s curriculum.
But today, I found myself in need of a different type of distraction and decided to seek it out the same way I have the last few times we’ve hooked up.
Sensing her stare, I glance up to see Kayley eyeing me as she takes an order while I sweep her costume. Thigh-high stockings showcase her long legs, an inches-above-appropriate pleated skirt hanging from her curvy hips. Combined with the white collared button top, it’s no big mystery what look she is going for. For me, it’s a fucking summons, one I savor every inch of. My thorough sweep of her is slow and deliberate until I lift my eyes to hold her light blue return stare.
My invitation’s receipt comes by way of a subtle lift of glossy pink, lush lips. Lips I spent last summer obsessing over, stretching them with the thrust of my cock every chance Kayley gave me. Though my attention is a bit more divided now than it was last year or the year before, it’s the divide itself—a pair of silver eyes—that has me seeking this hookup and reality check.
Satisfied I’ve extended the invite and unable to think of a better way to spend Halloween than playing principal, I glance back down at the menu.
“I don’t know why you even bother when you always order the same thing.” This voice comes from my left as I look up to greet Sean’s latest obsession. An obsession who’s hustling shifts between Horner Tech and Sean’s parents’ restaurant to earn her way through cosmetology school.
“Sup, Layla,” I greet as she peers down at me, wearing jeans and a form-fitting long-sleeve Pitt Stop shirt, her gorgeous blonde mane secured in a messy bun. “Didn’t feel like dressing up?”
“I’m too boring these days and work too damned much,” she says with a sigh. “I swear, if I didn’t know everyone in this town, I’d rob Triple Savings and Loan.”
“I might help you,” I joke, “restoring my truck might cost me an internal organ.” I glance around the bustling restaurant. “Looks like business is pretty good.”
“Yeah, today. But the last two shifts, I only had a few tables. I was better off saving the gas money.”
“Sorry to hear it. How close are you now?”
“To getting my cosmetology license?” She frowns. “Not much longer, and believe me, I can’t wait. Between sweating in that fucking factory during the summers”—she lowers her voice—“and dealing with some of the old-timing assholes here that think tipping pocket change is enough, I’m about to go batshit.”
“It’ll pay off,” I tell her, tucking this conversation away to suggest her as a possible recruit on Tobias’s next trip home. Layla is good people and trustworthy, and despite T’s misogynistic hangup, it wouldn’t hurt us to have a lady bird within our ranks.
“Well, tell you what, if you’ll have me, I’ll be one of the first in your chair.”
“I’d be honored to get my hands on that beautiful head of hair before the United States Marines lop it all off,” she says, playfully running her fingers through it. It’s easy to see why she’s Sean’s current obsession, but unclear to him at the moment is that she’s in a league of her own and way out of his wheelhouse.
“You really on the menu for something else?” she drawls suggestively, which gives me a little pause.
“Not a bad idea to switch it up sometimes,” I shrug.
“I agree, but”—she glances behind her, biting her full bottom lip—“from the daggers Kayley is shooting our way, it could get tricky for you.”
“Nah.” I grin. “Kayley knows you don’t fuck with High School.”
“As if she could judge,” she muses. “But you’re right, I don’t, so relay that to your idiot starting quarterback, would you?”
She nods toward the kitchen where Sean’s currently flipping burgers on the line.
“Yeah, he’s a bit slow on the uptake in that respect, but he does throw a mean spiral.”
“He does, especially for a junior.” She cocks her hip. “Though, aren’t you a senior this year?”
“Yeah, I’ve got Dom and Sean beat in age by a few months shy of a year, which they both hate, and Mom started me in kindergarten when I was four. Probably because she knew I was smarter than that paste eater.” I toss a thumb toward the cut-out between the kitchen and dining room.
Timing impeccable, Sean looks up from where he’s helping man the grill, eyes flicking between the two of us as we share a laugh.
“Well, I don’t disagree with her.” Layla sweeps me appreciatively. “The maturity shows.”
“Wouldn’t be so obvious if he didn’t act like an overheated stray dog,” I chuckle as Sean narrows his eyes on me. “So, do yourself a favor and don’t give him any kibble, and he’ll eventually find another porch to stalk.”
“Got to give him credit.” She grins as she eyes him, “He’s persistent.”
“You’ve got a boyfriend, though, right?” I ask her.
“In between. The last one was an asshole, just like the one before him.” She shakes her head. “I think I might have developed an unhealthy weakness for bad boys.”
“Do me a favor and don’t mention that to Sean. I have a feeling it would not bode well for any of us.” I extend my menu toward her. “I’ll take my usual, please.”
Grabbing the menu, she gives me a wink. “On it, and don’t forget you promised me that first haircut.”
“It’s a date,” I say, just as Sean snaps an “order up!”
“I think you’re being summoned,” I draw out, unable to help my grin.
“Which is idiotic”—she elevates her voice for Sean—“considering that’s not at all how we do it here!” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll be back.”
My cell rings just as I spot Kayley approaching in my peripheral. Lifting it, I see Mom’s calling just as Kayley makes it to my table. I lift a finger to keep her idle as I answer.
“Hey, Mom.” I roll my eyes suggestively down Kayley as she not so subtly brushes her bare thigh against my arm. “I’m kind of in the middle of some—”
“Tyler,” Mom croaks. At the sound of it, I go rigid, and Kayley’s brows draw, sensing the shift in me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I . . . your father and I have been in an accident.”
Already on my feet, I place some cash on the table, shooting Kayley an apologetic look before hauling ass out the door and onto Main Street. Bypassing a few trick-or-treaters with bags and buckets in hand, I round the corner of the red-brick building, plugging my open ear. “What happened?”
“We were out running errands, and your father lost control of the wheel.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m a little banged up, but I’m okay. The doctor is releasing me now.”
“Is Dad—”
“Tyler,” she interjects as dread settles low in my gut. A gust of freezing air hits me as I run my palm down my face.
“What, Mom, what?” I ask, seeing the anguish in his expression when we faced off before shooting up a fast prayer that it’s not the last memory I’ll have of him—with him.
“He’s in jail,” she relays tearfully as my fear immediately morphs into fury. “No one else got hurt,” she adds quickly.
But it’s what she’s not saying and the implications of it that has my mind racing as the full weight of what’s happening settles in.
“Why was he driving in the first place?” The question feels like lead coming off my tongue as lividity fills me. Whatever explanation she gives is drowned out by the blood that starts to pulse in my ears. Any excuse won’t be good enough. Only the truth that my dad was drunk and got arrested for DUI.
The rest of the unspoken fear in her voice is due to what the more damning consequences could be aside from the legal mess and possible jail time. Her genuine fear is that this isn’t or won’t be Dad’s rock bottom.
No, this is just the heads-up that it’s coming, and we both know why.
Chances are Carter Jennings’s most recent fuckup just ended his twenty-year career as a US Marine.
“I’m on my way home.”
* * *
Mom sits in a chair in the living room, silent tears trickling down her bruised cheek. A goose egg now sits fully formed at her right temple, both of her wrists taped. Sitting on the couch opposite her, I take in every detail, my rage festering and threatening to take over as I bristle across from her in wait. Uncle Gray had called in a favor with one of his cop buddies—the favor allowing him to post bail before Dad had to serve the required time in the drunk tank. They’re due any minute, but I can’t help but address my mom as the seconds tick down.
“Mom—”
“I know what you’re about to say,” she sniffs, gently blotting away her tears, “and I’m asking you not to.”
“Please, Mom. Please just leave him. He’s not going to get any better. Things are just going to get worse.”
Pushing the ottoman sitting at the foot of her chair to the side, I take a knee before her and gently grip her hands in mine.
“I’ll help pay the bills.” A sob bursts from her with my offer. “I’ll do whatever you need me to. It’s been you and me for so long anyway.” I squeeze her hands. “We can make it work without him. At least until you get on your feet.”
“Enough,” she clips, her return gaze flaring in warning.
My own temper flares at the sight of it. “Jesus Christ, Mom. Look in the mirror. He could have killed you!”
“Stop,” she whispers, “just stop.”
Releasing her hands, I shake my head in aggravation.
“Why are you taking it easy on him?” I shout. “The man has condemned everyone in this house for the slightest fuckup. We got no mercy, did we? Why should he get away with this? With any of it.”
“Tyler stop!”
“No, you deserve better. He’s a piece of fucking shit for cheating on you—”
Mom raises her hand to strike me, and I visibly flinch, gaping at her ready hand, her brown eyes piercing me as venom spews from her mouth.
“Don’t you ever talk about your father like that again. My marriage is none of your goddamn business, do you hear me? Stay out of it!”
In that moment, as I study my mother’s poised hand, ready to strike her son because she doesn’t want to hear the truth come out of his mouth, I decide that, in the future, when it comes to matters of the heart, I’ll never make anyone else’s relationship my fucking business.
“Tyler.” Uncle Grayson’s voice sounds from the entryway before we both turn to see Dad and Uncle Gray standing feet away. Front door still open, their collective expressions tell us they didn’t miss a word of our exchange.
“So, this is how it is, huh?” Palming the ottoman, I slowly stand, sharing my glare between my parents. Silent, damning seconds pass as Dad slowly sweeps Mom, missing none of it—not the bruises, bandage, or the tears streaming down her cheeks before his eyes lower.
“You want me to stay out of it, Mom? Consider it done,” I clip out bitterly, “I’m completely fucking done.”
Mom gasps my name, and I scowl down at her, betrayal coating my voice. “He’s all yours, Mrs. Jennings . . . and you fucking deserve each other.”
Mom cups her mouth as I barrel out of the living room, slamming the garage door on my way out, feeling the finality of it.
Pressing past all threatening emotions, instead, I shift my focus to my future, on my brothers, and our game plan. It’s all I have left and all that matters.
Once outside the garage, I start at a dead run, speeding toward a future that’s beginning to take shape, the edges of the map becoming more defined with each step. I race toward it by order of the host of the silver-gray eyes that inexplicably have been calling to me like a beacon. A beacon that fills my chest with a slight glimmer of something that feels a little like hope.
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