The Vincent Boys - Abbi Glines Page 0,67

up and wiping the blood from his nose on his shirt sleeve.

“He’s just my dad’s loser brother’s bastard.”

I didn’t react. He wanted me to. But I didn’t. Mama clicked her tongue like she does when she knows something important no one else does. I let my eyes dart toward her for a second to see what she was up to.

“Actually, Beau ain’t your daddy’s brother’s bastard. He’s your daddy’s bastard. The blood in his veins is the very same in yours, boy. Make no mistake ’bout that.”

Frozen in my spot I let Mama’s words sink in. I stumbled backwards and grabbed the edge of the pool table for support as I stared at her, waiting for some sign that she was lying.

“No,” was Sawyer’s only response.

I couldn’t look at him. Not now.

“Yes. Ask your daddy. Hell, ask your mama. That ought to be loads of fun. She hates me anyhow. Might as well make her hate me more for lettin’ the cat outta the bag.”

She was telling the truth. It was in her voice. I’d heard her lies all my life. I knew how to tell the difference.

“No. You’re just a stupid whore. My dad would never.”

Mama cackled and walked back around the bar to grab a bar towel then slung it at Sawyer.

“Wipe the blood off your face and go home. Once you realize I’m telling the truth then you and your brother can work things out. Like I said, ain’t no girl worth fighting over. You might want to ask your daddy about that too. I’m sure he has an opinion on it. Seeing as the apple don’t fall far from the tree.”

What was she saying? A bitter smile touched her lips.

“I don’t know what’s worse. Finding out you’re white trash after all or having your mama try and foist you off on my dad.” Sawyer spat out the words before turning and walking back out the door he’d come barreling through only fifteen minutes ago.

Ashton

“Well, Grana, I’m back. It’s time to face the music,” I said as I laid the single-stem pink rose on the headstone of my Grana’s grave.

I’d got up at four this morning after spending the night with Leann, to make it back in time for school. I didn’t need an unexcused absence to add to my list of transgressions. My parents were probably going to ground me for life as it was.

I sat down on the wooden bench my mom had taken from my Grana’s porch and brought here.

“I messed up big. You weren’t here to run to so I took off to Leann’s, which probably only made things worse. I even left church right after the choir solo. I doubt Mom and Dad know why yet but I don’t think it really matters.”

I took a sip of the mocha latte I’d picked up on my way into town. School didn’t start for another hour and going home right now would be bad.

“It’s all because of Beau. I love him. Crazy, huh? Beau Vincent, the town bad boy and I have to love him. Me, the girlfriend of his best friend and cousin. But he lets me be me, Grana. Just like you did. He isn’t bad like everyone thinks. No one knows his heart. They can’t look past his foul mouth, beer drinking or rebellious attitude to see he’s just a boy without a dad. No one reached out and tried to teach him any better. He was left alone to grow up. It isn’t fair. Everyone judges him knowing he had no positive influence in his life. His uncle sure didn’t try to care for, discipline or take an interest in him. I think he turned out wonderful despite the bad hand he was dealt. I hate how everyone judges others around here. They call this place the Bible Belt but really, Grana, I think they all need to go read their Bibles a little more. I distinctly remember Jesus befriending sinners, not judging them. Beau just needs someone to believe in him, and I do.”

I took another long gulp of my latte and leaned back on the bench. The church graveyard was quiet in the early morning hour. A school bus passing was the only sign of life.

My phone dinged with a text. I glanced down at it and frowned.

Sawyer: Where are you and where is Beau?

I hesitated, not sure how to answer. The fact Beau was missing bothered me though.

Me: I’m at my Grana’s grave. I haven’t seen Beau