Brady Remington Landed Me in Jail(10)

I just shook my head, but a grin tugged at my lips.

CHAPTER FIVE

As Brady pulled into my driveway and parked the car, I couldn't move for a moment.

Bent over the garden gnome was my grandfather in overalls, a John Deere Hat covering his greying hair. His old leather boots still had duct tape around them. The sight of Neil fidgeting with the garden gnome shouldn't have stopped me, but it did. I was my grandpa's little girl. When he found out that I'd had sex…

I swallowed and closed my eyes.

"Ray…" Brady murmured gently.

I knew that he'd read my mind.

"Come on…it's not like you have to tell them."

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because when they ask why I didn't tell them after it happened—I'm going to have to tell them that I chose to lie."

"It's not lying, it's just…sex is personal and you don't have to tell them everything."

"Of course you'd say that."

"Come on, don't be like that. I know that I can't understand where you're coming from, but it's not like—I was a virgin too once."

"You were a boy! You are a boy," I cried out. "It's not the same thing at all, Brady. And you don't even—" I stopped myself, just barely.

The silence was heavy.

"I don't what?" Brady asked quietly, but I heard the savagery beneath the surface. "I don't have parents like you? You don't either, Rayna."

"It's not like that," I murmured softly. "I'm sorry. I'm the good girl. I'm the…I'm the one who makes Viola and Neil go to church. I'm the one who insists on sitting at the table for our meals and not in front of the television. Having sex is not me."

Brady was quiet. I was afraid to look over at him, but I did and what I saw halted my own misery. The sparkle in his eyes was gone.

"What'd I say?"

His shoulder jerked in a shrug.

"Come on, Brady. What'd I say?"

"Nothing," he growled. "Leave it alone."

"What?" I insisted.

"Leave it alone, Ray. You don't want to go there."

I looked down at my lap.

"Look…," Brady started. "…you can just…tell them that you wanted to say something when you knew what to say, but you didn't know what to say for a while. How’s that?"

"Thank you and I'm sorry for whatever I said to upset you."

"I'm not upset."

"I know, but…" I knew better. "I'm sorry. Will you tell me later?"

He jerked his head in a nod and I knew an emotion was just simmering underneath the surface. I reached for the door, but Brady's hand stopped me as he squeezed my shoulder. I needed that.

"We'll, um...we'll talk later…okay?" Brady stumbled out.

I nodded my head, thankful, and squeezed his hand in return. "I'm glad Mr. Stephens dropped the charges."

A scowl appeared. "You talk to that ass**le, you tell me."

I nodded, but when I straightened and moved away from the car I realized that I didn't know who he meant; Kid, his father, or Joshua. I didn't think Brady would've wanted me to talk to any of them, but that's a confrontation for another day.

When Brady's door slammed shut, I glanced back and watched as he stuffed his hands in his jeans. He had a shirt on now as he strolled to where my grandfather was bent over with a poking stick in hand and a gnome to torment. As the two started to converse I sighed, ducked my head, and reached to open the screen door.

Viola called from the kitchen, "Well, at least you had the nerve to walk through the main door and not crawl back through your window. I'm supposed to thank you?"

My grandmother arched an eyebrow and lifted her potato peeler. "I love Brady. I want that to be said, but you hear me—if I come into your room again and have a heart attack when I find that you're not there—I will use this peeler on his hide."

"Okay."

"And another thing…" Viola skimmed a hand through her greying hair pulled back in a ponytail. "I talked to Sharon and she said that boy did not have supper last night. I know you two have breakfast, but I didn't see it so I don't count it. You call him in here and we're all going to sit down for a good meal."

I nodded promptly and spun on my heel. Brady was on his haunches, studying whatever my grandfather was poking at. Neil would always poke around those weeds by the gnome. I was thankful for a moment that no matter what occurred, some things never changed.

Viola yelled behind me, "And then later tonight, you can explain to me why Kid Stephens called this morning."

"What?" I whirled back around.

She pushed the bowl of half-peeled potatoes away and skimmed a hand down her red pressed shirt. "That boy's nice and all, but I don't want you spending time with him."

"Wait a minute—Kid Stephens called here?"

"Hmm mmm," she harrumphed as she turned to place the bowl in the sink.

"And he wanted to talk to me?"

"Hmmm mmm." She rinsed off the potatoes.

"Why?"

"Why do boys usually call girls?"