The Hail You Say (Hail Raisers Book 5) Read online

  She was part of the country club in town. She only wore the best clothes—which was odd in our small, laid back town seeing as nobody dressed up, even the doctors when they went to work. I was fairly sure that the judge wore jeans and a t-shirt under his robes half the time.

  But Madeline was stuck up, and she’d always felt the same way that my parents had.

  That they were better than everyone else.

  Which extended to me, apparently.

  “I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to live in your parents’ house,” she continued as if I hadn’t even said anything.

  I can tell you why, I mused inwardly. Because my brother and mother’s stink permeate that house, and I can’t fucking breathe when I’m inside of it.

  I didn’t actually say that, however. Mostly because I wanted the house behind her, and I didn’t want to piss her off before I got it.

  “It’s just too hard to live there. I can’t stop thinking about them,” I told her, lying through my teeth, and making her think that it was my parents’ deaths that were the reason I couldn’t live there, and not the real reason.

  Though, the statement was partially true.

  I couldn’t stay in my room anymore at that house, because the memories of what used to happen in it were enough to choke me. It also reminded me of who I didn’t save from the same fate.

  When I’d come back after my parents’ deaths, I’d gone to the house and had placed my belongings in the maids’ quarters.

  That was the one room where I didn’t have some sort of bad memory.

  “Oh, darling girl,” Madeline cooed. “We can find you someplace. Why this place specifically?”

  Because this is the one place, in this whole entire town, that doesn’t remind me of my parents or Jay. It reminds me of Reed.

  “I like it,” I answered. “I’m planning on building a new house, and this land is beautiful.”

  Partial truth.

  The land was beautiful. But I wasn’t going to build a new house. I was going to fix up the two-story farm house that was there and make it my home.

  I’d always envisioned myself living there.

  The way Reed and I had wanted to paint it a clean white. How we wanted a front porch swing we could sit on every night. How we wanted a large, open, bright kitchen with a massive island where we could both cook dinner together on.

  Being gone for ten years, and only coming back for visits, I shouldn’t have any sort of tie to Hostel at all. There was literally nobody but Hennessy here for me.

  After arriving last month to deal with my mother and father’s affairs and putting the house on the market, there was nothing left for me here.

  Hennessy, though, was my best friend, and forever would be, and she had a husband now. She had other responsibilities and didn’t need me.

  I had nothing here. No job. No house. No family.

  Nothing.

  I could go anywhere in the world. Anywhere.

  Yet I was here, looking at this house, because I knew that I wanted it.

  That Reed and I had wanted it, way back when I was happy.

  Which, if I thought about it, was the only reason I wanted it.

  That was the last time I could ever truly say that I was happy.

  I was chasing after my happy. Logically, I knew that buying this place wasn’t going to give it to me, but it was a start.

  I couldn’t see myself anywhere but here.

  Why?

  Because, if I was being one hundred percent honest, this was where Reed was.

  Not the physical Reed, but my memories of Reed.

  Memories of my happy.

  And that’s where I wanted to be.

  I just wanted to feel something…anything…besides this deep sorrow that felt like it was lodged deep in my chest.

  A feeling that never felt like it was going to leave.

  God.

  I’d do anything to feel something besides sadness again.

  Anything.

  I could put on a good show, but in the end, I was still just as sad underneath the false laughs as I was when I wasn’t putting on a smile.

  “This place has been on the market for ten years,” the realtor said.

  I knew that.

  “They’re looking for the perfect buyers, to be honest. This place has been looked at by so many people. So many it’s not even funny,” she mentioned. “But they always want to meet with the prospective buyer. They always say no.”

  I looked Madeline straight in the face and said, “Ask them.”

  Forty-five minutes later, I was watching the old man with surprise.

  “You’re the girl that used to sneak up here.”

  I knew the minute he saw me that he remembered who I was.

  Though, it was hard not to when a couple of teenagers used to be on your property as much as Reed and I had been. We’d swam naked in the man’s pond, and ran these woods like they were our own. Sure, it’d been wrong…but Reed and I hadn’t done anything truly illegal. We’d just spent time here.

  I bit my lip. “Yes.”

  The man’s smile was genuine.

  “That boy still around?”

  Something in my face must’ve showed my dismay, because his eyes closed.

  “You and him…y’all reminded me so much of my Jossy and me,” he said. “You want it?”

  I nodded my head. “Yes, sir.”

  His eyes took me in. “You got it.”

  Relief like I’d never felt before poured through me.

  “You really mean that?”

  He grinned, showing me that he didn’t have his teeth in.

  I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t.

  “Yes, I mean it,” he answered. “But, before you go walking these woods…”

  I paused, looking at him. “Yeah?”

  “Have someone come out and sweep it for traps…I gotta say, in my younger days once I got back from war, I wasn’t in a good place.” He cleared his throat. “My Jossy saved me from that. But before she came…everything made me jittery. There are a few traps set up throughout the acreage…I don’t want you to get hurt walking out there by yourself.”

  I should’ve listened, but I didn’t. Why? Because I thought I knew. I thought, since I’d spent so much time here, and we’d never seen anything like that around, that there couldn’t possibly be anything there.

  Oh, how wrong I was.

  Chapter 6

  Well aren’t we just two scoops of grumpy with a dash of asshole this morning.

  -Baylor to Reed

  Reed

  Present

  I read the scribbled note and smiled.

  Just because you drive a big truck, doesn’t mean that you can park like a dick. :)

  It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. I knew exactly who it was from. I’d know that pretty handwriting anywhere. Krisney had always had such pretty handwriting. Though, now, it looked a little more elegant.

  I flipped the paper over and saw a receipt for a package of Skittles, two Dr. Peppers, and a bag of pork rinds from yesterday.

  Krisney.

  Though, she likely didn’t know that it was my truck she was writing that note on. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have bothered.

  I wanted to tell her it was hard as hell to park a dually in a fucking parking spot made for a goddamn compact car, but then I would have to talk to her. Then I’d have to admit to myself that I fucking missed her.

  I’d arrived in town two days prior, and I was walking into my new job located at the county hospital. The private practice that I accepted a position with had their offices there.

  My brother, Travis, was kind of pissed that I wasn’t working full-time for him like he’d hoped, but the OB position at the clinic in town had opened up suddenly and I’d pounced on it.

  Not that I didn’t love the auto recovery business, but I didn’t like it as much as my job as an OB/GYN
.

  But the real excitement didn’t have to do with actually being at home. Nor did it have to do with the fact that I was no longer in Germany away from my family.

  Nope.

  The one and only reason I was excited to be home had to do with a certain strawberry blonde with the long hair and bouncy curls. The one who had the power to bring me to my knees with just a look.

  Yep, that woman was my heart and soul. A heart and soul that I couldn’t have.

  The night that I found out that her brother had raped my sister—and had been raping my sister for quite a long time—I had called it quits with us.

  I loved her, but I wasn’t sure how the hell we were going to come back from that.

  I mean, how do you look a person in the face and tell her that it’s okay that her brother raped your sister?

  Sure, she didn’t have a goddamn thing to do with it, but my mind wasn’t fucking rational.

  It was a swirl of emotions, and I was just trying to do the right thing.

  Not to mention I knew it’d be hard for Amy to see Krisney every day and not be reminded of what had been done to her. Now, it didn’t matter, because Amy had committed suicide.

  Goddammit.

  I wiped my hand across my brow and wiped it on my slacks, wishing I could wear jeans.

  And I would…eventually.

  Once I was established, then I’d start wearing whatever the fuck I wanted. Until then, though, I’d make it look like I was one to follow the rules.

  Which was laughable, really.

  Rules were meant to be broken.

  Which made me look like a hypocrite seeing as I wouldn’t break my own rules when it came to Krisney.

  It hurt to see her fucking handwriting.

  It was more than obvious to anyone who ever saw us together, heard about us together, that we still had feelings for each other.

  Growling under my breath, I got into my truck and made my around to the doctor’s parking lot, trying super fucking hard not to think about what Krisney had written, or how she fucking smelled, or the way she parted her goddamn hair now.

  Nope. I thought about what I was going to do when I got home—drink some beer.

  I thought about what I was going to eat—cold pizza.

  I even contemplated going to help Travis out once I was done here—which didn’t last long because I decided I was still angry with him for telling me I was a douche bag for taking a job when I knew he needed help.

  What the fuck ever.

  That man had men working for him now. It wasn’t my fault that he had more work than people to do it.

  By the time I’d pulled into the hospital, I’d effectively thought about nothing important.

  I walked inside, straight up to the office that I’d be working in, and didn’t stop until I was in what they called my new office but was more like a fucking filing room with overflow filing cabinets.

  The cabinets were empty, but they still were taking up the majority of the room.

  There was a small desk in the corner of the room that followed the wall in an L shape.

  There was a tiny postage stamp-sized window with bars on it and a paper shredder.

  That was it.

  Not a single thing else to make this room look anything like anything other than what it was – a medical records room.

  Grimacing, I set my lunch down on the corner of the desk, shucked my leather jacket, and walked back out to the back area where the other doctor and nurses were gathered around an open box of donuts.

  “Ladies,” I murmured, sidling up to the edge of the desk and peering into the box. “Can I have one?”

  I’d, of course, eaten breakfast.

  I’d eaten a breakfast taco with sausage, egg, and cheese that my mother had made in bulk and stuffed into my freezer. But one couldn’t resist donuts. It just wasn’t done.

  “Oh!” The nurse closest smiled and swept her hand over the box like she was doing a magic trick. “Help yourself. We have plenty.”

  Dr. Torres grunted. “Yes, please eat all my donuts.”

  I grinned at Dr. Torres.

  I liked him.

  I’d met him before, but with me being in and out of the city for ten years with the Army, and then the Reserves, I hadn’t had time to establish any relationships in the medical community around town.

  I’d met him the last time I’d been in town outside of a Waffle House. We’d helped assist a pregnant woman who went into labor while eating her breakfast, and we’d hit it off afterward.

  He’d been in the Army around the time that I had, but hadn’t gone into the Reserves like me, but had chosen to open his own practice.

  He’d said during that time that if I ever moved home and needed a job, to call him.

  I’d done so when I’d gotten home, and it just so happened that he had an opening. Which worked out fucking perfectly for me.

  “What’s on the agenda today?” I asked.

  Dr. Torres grimaced. “About that.”

  My brows rose, but before Dr. Torres could expound on his cryptic statement, another answered my question.

  “Do you mind taking Dr. Kemp’s patients today?” the nurse that ran the office asked.

  I believe her name was Pearl or Opal, but I couldn’t quite remember. It’d been an old-fashioned name for a young girl, though. I did remember that.

  “Sure,” I agreed. “I’d love to.”

  And really, I would.

  Because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Hadn’t stopped thinking about her in five freakin’ months.

  Every waking and sleeping moment was dedicated to her. Her pussy. The way she tasted. The way she smelled. How she felt in my hands. On my hands.

  And I’d never admit it, but I licked my fingers clean the moment I got to my office after leaving her there, standing with my come dripping out of her.

  I wasn’t proud of myself.

  I’d been stupid, careless and forward.

  Never, never, should I have done that at work. Not only because of the moral code, as well as rules of conduct, but because now I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about her.

  Yet when it came to Krisney, my control was shot.

  When we’d both gone to Germany, neither one of us realized that the other would be there.

  We’d done everything we could to avoid each other once we did know the other was there, yet we saw each other everywhere.

  Then, after everything that had happened with us that day in the exam room, she’d left without another word.

  Germany and the Reserves altogether.

  She’d been in the reserves like me and had only been there for a temporary assignment, but I’d thought she’d stay longer.

  It surprised the ever-loving shit out of me that she hadn’t.

  She loved the Army.

  Or at least I’d thought she had.

  Maybe the Army was just her escape. Maybe, just maybe, she’d needed to get away from her parents. And once they were no longer in the picture, she had no longer had a reason to stay.

  I’d certainly not given her a reason to stay, that was for sure.

  Two hours later, I was in the lab looking at a few lab reports for patients when the nurse, Opal, started chatting with me while running her routine tests on a few of the patients’ urine.

  I was standing off to the side, with a full view of the little metal door that she kept opening and closing as she explained the process she used when she ran the tests, when I froze.

  I looked straight into the eyes of the one person I thought it’d take me weeks to see again.

  My mouth fell open, and my eyes slowly went down the length of her body.

  Oh, shit.

  Chapter 7

  My hobbies include being difficult for no reason and ignoring texts.

  -Krisney to Reed

  Krisney

  I moaned, stomach swirling and tilti
ng, as I made my way out of bed.

  I skipped the jeans, going straight for the yoga pants, and slipped them on.

  They were tight.

  Sooooo tight.

  I was almost embarrassed by how tight they were.

  Like, I probably looked like a busted can of biscuits at this point.

  They were a size small, and it was obvious to everybody as well as to myself that I wasn’t a size small anymore.

  I’d gained weight…and when I said I gained weight, I meant that I gained weight.

  Not a pound or two. Not even five. Hell, I probably would’ve been happy with ten.

  I was at twenty pounds of weight gain since my parents had died, and yeah…that was a lie.

  It was because I was in a depression.

  Ever since I’d left Germany…and Reed…I’d been off.

  I ate everything in sight. I’d stare longingly at the door, almost fantasizing that one day I’d see Reed on the other side of it. Then there were the dreams. Oh, God. I couldn’t stop them.

  I’d wake up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding and not because of anything good. Because of lots of bad.

  Jay. Reed leaving me. Amy dying.

  God, I couldn’t freakin’ think.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  And now my pants didn’t fit anymore.

  Dammit!

  I needed to go on a run, but the idea of running was about as appealing as having my fingernails pulled off.

  I needed to stop eating food, but the idea of giving up food made me want to die a little more inside.

  What I didn’t need to do was think about what I was having for lunch.

  But did that stop me as I tugged one of the oldest t-shirts I owned on? No. I still thought about hitting up Whataburger for lunch on the way home from my useless appointment.

  Well, not so much useless.

  Maybe.

  I’d been having some weird cramping going on, and I’d mentioned it to Hennessy, along with all my weight gain, and she’d somehow convinced me that I needed to go see a gynecologist to make sure that I didn’t have some form of cancer that was eating my reproductive tract.

  Hennessy was a worrier.

  So, I was humoring her. I’d go see the doctor, and I’d happily tell her that she was fucking crazy once I had my number one with an extra-large French fry. Oh, and the biggest fucking sweet tea that they had there. Which was big.