Wade Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, products, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This story is also set in a southern state (Georgia); please keep in mind that accents are different all over the world and I like to use them. It isn’t a typo or a lazy way of typing. It’s how it’s spoken. (Or at least the way I speak it, Y'all.) Although I do try to eliminate typo’s and misspellings, they do still happen. Nastiness and negativity do not affect them nor does it affect my love for writing. To everyone who chooses to comment or review, I appreciate you, more than you know!

  Enjoy : )

  Contents

  Foster

  Wade

  Foster

  Wade

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  Wade

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  Wade

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  Wade

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  Foster

  ~Bonus~

  Wade

  “Kingsley, put your shirt back on. Nobody wants to see your saggy man titties.” Kayson Kennedy teased his brother, who was currently showing their other little brother, Jase and me his new tattoo. It had been a couple of weeks since they’d half-assed forced me to come out with them. What was supposed to be a quiet night out, turned into a drunken night of debauchery…and earlier, Kingsley and Jase had both come into the station to harass me until I agreed tonight. Luckily, it was just a later dinner because I was on-shift at the station.

  Walking my big ass into their tattoo shop a month ago to commemorate my fallen squad leader and best friend since basic, Lieutenant Fredrick Lawly; but it was proving to be a giant pain in the ass, knowing this big, dysfunctional, ridiculous family. A giant pain in the ass in the form of new friends. Apparently, they’d taken one look at my stone-faced expressions and shitty ass attitude, and decided that I needed to be friends….with all of them.

  “Kayson, I think you’re jealous of my man titties.” Kingsley huffed and slunk back into his chair at our table.

  “I love your titties, baby.” Kingsley’s husband Morgan whispered not-so-quietly to his man, earning a smug smile to the table.

  “Everyone stop callin’ them titties.” Their other brother Jody grumbled, just this side of quiet, causing them all to erupt into gales of deep-toned laughter. I had to admit that hanging out with these guys the few times that they’ve talked me into coming out with them over the last month, I found myself wanting to laugh with them. They were hilarious in the most insane ways, especially Kayson and Kingsley. Neither man had much of a filter when it came to brain-to-mouth situations, but that’s often times what made them so ridiculous. It was impossible to know what either of them was going to say or do next.

  “You boys causin’ trouble over here?” Our pretty little waitress who made flutter-eyes at all these tatted up, giants, asks as she saunters up to our table.

  “Not us, darlin’,” Kayson answered looking way to convincing at being innocent.

  “Mmmhhmm.” She hummed, not buying it for a second, but also not seeming to care one little bit, as long as his attention was on her for the moment-and it was. Kayson’s husband Conner sat beside him looking amused.

  “Can I get y’all anything else?” She finally pried her eyes off the idiot and looked around the table.

  “Can I get the check, please. I need to be heading back.” I tell her, pulling out my wallet and throwing down a 20 dollar bill for my burger, fries, and drink. I’d leave the rest for compensation for having to put up with the loud bunch, even though she seemed to enjoy it. I was on the midnight shift tonight, and these guys kept odd hours. When they closed up shop, it was about my lunch break; hence, coming out to the diner with them all before heading back to the little building where myself, my co-worker Willis Kilson and our dispatcher, Margie worked. In a town this small, we only had five deputy sheriff’s employed at the station. We doubled up and had one night on, one night off, and every couple weeks we’d switch up so someone could get a weekend off. It was nice they done that, but up until I’d met these guys, I hated the time off. I hated being at home in my too-quiet house by myself with all kinds of time to think about what brought me here.

  “Your money’s no good here, Sheriff. Danny said so.” The peppy girl sounded determined. Danny is the owner of Danny’s Dine-In, and he’d been shamelessly flirting with me since the first time I’d come in. Unfortunately, this was the only eatery open this late, save the golden arches, and while I liked cheeseburgers and fries as much as any red-blooded American, I refused to eat there.

  “Well, you tell Danny that I appreciate the offer, but just like last time and the time before that; I’ll go ahead and take my ticket, please.” I tacked on the please at the last minute because my impatience at his advances was showing. Danny was a nice guy. He was also married with three kids under five. While I was somewhat still in the closet but not actually hiding, I wasn’t going to fuck around with someone that had a family at home. Being quiet about it wasn’t logical, I knew that; but it wasn’t something that was discussed in the CORPS; you kept that shit to yourself. I had to trust my team to keep my ass alive, and I wasn’t willing to risk one of them being a homophobic bigot or someone who’d look the other way when I was in danger, simply because I like to have my dick sucked by a man.

  “Alright, sugar. One minute.” Our waitress pouted as she turned and walked back to the counter to rally up our tickets.

  “Alright, y’all, so, while I got you all here…” Jase started, “Ms. Jay had a contractor come out and give an estimate on the upgrades needed at the house. It needs to be wheelchair accessible because as you know, Braylee’s surgery is in a couple of months and she’s going to be tied to that thing for a while. Not to mention, it just needs to be done anyway. Ms. Jay said she’s had to “pass” several times over the years because her house wasn’t equipped for someone in a wheelchair.” The guys looked serious for once, and I knew who Ms. Jay was, I’d met the woman at the children’s home a couple of times when she’d had trouble with a runaway about a month back.

  “Anyway, Cobb Ross said that we could use his banquet hall for a fund raiser and Joker and I was racking our brains to figure out what we could use…”

  “My art show! The gallery!” Morgan piped up, excitedly. “I mean the students at the gallery, we could auction off their paintings, it’s for a good cause, I know some would volunteer…Cobb would chip in with a couple of his pieces; I know he would. I will too!”

  “That’s an awesome idea; I can’t believe we didn’t think of that.” Jase playfully slapped Joker’s stomach, who was sitting next to him smiling.

  “Joker suggested a bachelor raffle.” Jase rolled his eyes, and I saw Jody frown, which wasn’t unusual.

  “And why would Joker suggest that? Bored already?” Jody asked pointedly to Joker.

  “Hey!” Jase snapped, more serious than I’d ever seen him. “Cut that shit; he’s given you no reason to act that way. He suggested we all do it, for fuck sake. It would be a date for charity, not a prostitution ring or a “buy-a-bride” auction. Fuck, Jody, what’s your problem?” We all watched as Jody warred with something he wasn’t saying. I needed my ticket to hurry the fuck up. I didn’t wanna get mixed up in this family drama.

  “Kingsley said y’all were looking for places to live,” Jody answered accusingly.

  “So?” Jase prodded.

  “You’re moving out, and you didn’t think to tell Cam and me?” Jody asked, and I noticed his husband Cameron blanch. This was getting worse, and I wanted to escape.
<
br />   “Seriously, Cam?” Jase looked accusingly to Cameron this time.

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about it yet!” Cameron defended.

  “You knew?” Jody roared.

  “Hey, alright, let’s calm down. We’re in a place of business.” I tried to calm them. We’d gained the attention of several patrons as well as fucking Danny, who came up from the back.

  “Hey, Wade, everything okay here?” He asked me like he didn’t know each and every person at this table.

  “We’re fine. Just waiting on the check.” I didn’t look at him as I spoke.

  “Now, I’ve told ya before…”

  “Here ya go, guys. Sorry, it took me, I wanted to separate it for y’all.” Thankfully, our waitress appeared and doled out our tickets. I took the 20 for mine and handed it back, sliding out of the booth.

  “Keep the change, have a good night,” I said to her, then to everyone at the table.

  “We’ll text ya about the fund raiser!” Morgan called, just before I’d hit the door on my way out.

  “Ma’am, I need to know if you wanna press charges?” I ask the ranting woman for the third time.

  “I want him to give a shit about what he’s putting me through!” She argues her point once again. My patience has hit its limit. This is a small southern town, meaning crime is pretty much non-existent unless you count the occasional domestic disturbance or drunk and disorderly. Everybody pretty much kept themselves to themselves unless they were gossiping with one another about whatever the fuck people like to know about someone else. Too much energy for me, I could give a shit.

  “I can’t do anything about that, ma’am.” I cut her off before she starts to say something else to piss me off. “What I can do, is take him in, charge him with unlawful entry and it’ll be taken before a judge. Or, I could let him go and tell him to find somewhere else to sleep tonight and y’all two can work it out with each other another time. What I will not do, is play counselor to your dating games. Am I taking the man to jail, or not?” I ask, frustration clear as day in my tone. The woman finally gets smart and shuts her mouth. I can tell they’ve been drinking, but they’re at their own home so there isn’t a whole lot I can do about it.

  “No sir, I’ll let him come back in.” She pouts, turning on her slippers and walking back into the house. The man sways on the sidewalk before stumbling passed me.

  “Keep it under control; I don’t wanna come back out here tonight,” I tell him, earning a loud swallow and an immediate nod. When I pulled up in my county issued police car and stepped out, the man all but pissed his pants in fear. Those types of men who have a few to drink and use that as justification to cheat on their women or take their hands to them in anger are always scared of guys like me. Guys who demand respect and give it to those who’re deserving. Guys who could squash this little twat into the dog shit he is, with one hand tied behind my back. Lucky for him he was extremely cooperative, and his girlfriend is a pushover. That made my night easier.

  This is what I’d wanted; I had to keep reminding myself of that when I got called out on these bullshit calls. Sure, it made the night drag on, and my patience for people was at an all-time low; but I wasn’t getting blown up or shot at, which is a big change from my last job. I didn’t lose my friends and the people I’d considered my family. I didn’t watch people die in the streets or murder women and children to prove a point. I was home. Except, the city where I previously lived was loud, and kids squealing around outside, playing on our block sounded like the tortured screams of the desert; car horns were just car horns until I started waiting for the imminent blast of an explosion. Fireworks weren’t fireworks, they were live rounds; and shiny pieces of trash on the sidewalk, wasn’t trash, it was a weapon, used to wipe out anyone in a half-mile radius. I couldn’t deal. I’d tried therapy, I spoke with some of the most decorated, certified specialists about PTSD and Combat Stress Reactions. I still flipped out at grocery stores and on public streets. I had major fucking meltdowns in front of strangers and random passersby. Something had to give.

  Luckily, my family was scattered here and there, and I had a cousin in small town, USA, Georgia. Madison, to be exact. A gorgeous little touristy town with only a couple thousand people in residence. It was quiet, almost too quiet. I’d come for a visit, just to get out of the city and found myself falling in love with the sounds of crickets outside my window at night. I’d never known a place could be so quiet, but the peace; man, the peace that came along with that quiet was something I didn’t know I was needing. My nightmares haven’t stopped, but they’re fewer and farther between. I still had moments of panic and flashbacks, but I could walk down the street or go into a store without nearly killing someone. It was progress.

  Being a Marine is a damn good job until you’re forced to be a civilian; then everything you learned and everything you know how to do is useless in the real world. I don’t have cause for combat and killing here in small town, USA. Therefore, finding a job was tricky. My Commanding Officer for the last seven years recommended me for recruitment in California; needing to convince young men and women to sign their lives away for better education, more money or to serve their country. Fuck that; I’d seen first-hand what that shit did to the people who were unlucky enough to come back. You couldn’t pay me enough money to talk a kid into doing that. Hence, why my ass is at a small, county, sheriff’s department. I’d gone from Lieutenant Colonel. Raylan Wade, to Deputy Sheriff Raylan Wade. I was fine with that.

  Because I had to undergo therapy for medical release and I needed to pass the fucking mental and psychological testing to become a law enforcement officer, I felt like I had to shut myself down. I had to hide all those reason’s I jumped at my own shadow and freaked out over seemingly nothing. That made me unapproachable and intimidating, I’m told. And while I’m grateful that the Kennedy’s seem to want me around, I wasn’t so sure about this fund raiser they’d cooked up. I needed the time I had to work out an excuse on why I couldn’t go. Maybe I’d volunteer to work; dressing up and schmoozing people wasn’t my thing and I couldn’t tell a finger painting from a masterpiece. They’d appreciate my absence, I’m sure.

  “Hey, Wade.” Margie Garnet worked for dispatched. Recently widowed and a long-time employee doing this very job, it seemed like she lived here most of the time. Home was too painful and too empty without her husband of 47 years. She should’ve retired years ago, but being a respected, grandma-like, pillar of the community, people trusted her. Sometimes she could talk a problem out without dispatching one of the five sheriffs that the county employed because she knew the caller and likely the problem, and I think she had a soft spot for me.

  “Back out at Lisa and Barry’s again, huh? Did she make him leave for the night or did they work it out?” She asks, no doubt hearing all about the feud from a text or phone call before I’d even gotten back.

  “She let him back in,” I tell her honestly, figuring she already knows anyway. She shakes her head in disgust.

  “Everyone knows he was out with Tina this morning, shopping for baby clothes. In a town this small it’s impossible to hide infidelity. Young men only think with one brain nowadays and it ain't the one in their heads. Foolish, foolish boys.” She mumbles, clearing off some of the folders on her desk and filing them away while she rants. “Young ladies used to be taught to respect themselves and to not take that kind of treatment from a gentleman who didn’t appreciate her. Sad days when betrayal is so common and overlooked. My Morty would’ve never stepped out on me. He loved me too much. I did all I could for him, no doubt about it, and he did the same for me. Marriage is hard work, but it’s worth it. Bless him.” She whispers the last bit, and I went from amused at her rumblings to sad for her loss. 47 years with someone would be hard to learn how to live without them once they’re gone.

  “Next time we get called out, how about you go out and there instead and teach em’ a thing or two.” I smile at her scoff. I could just see her out th
ere giving a piece of her mind to a barely legal homewrecker and her cheating, married, (and not to her) boyfriend.

  The rest of the evening was pretty much uneventful. I made a couple of rounds around town, but everything was mostly quiet. It was Ladies Night at The Dugout, which was a honky-tonk bar on Wednesday nights and other themes on other nights of the week. It’s rare when somebody gets rowdy, and we need to be called out, but Ladies Night is known for guys getting huffy when they get rejected by a lady who just wanted to go out with her girls. Tonight, was no different, luckily, the presence of law enforcement was enough to have the man in question slinking out and heading home. No harm was done, and the ladies got a free round, per Davis’ request. Davis owned The Dugout and newest gay member in town if gossip served right. Being around the Kennedy’s and their extended family, I wondered what my type would be if I acted on impulse and actually wanted to settle down with someone. I knew I could do it here, but the thought had just never occurred to me before meeting them; now, every time they were around, it seemed to be all I could think about.

  Foster

  ,

  “Can you stop for a second, please?” I ask my boyfriend of the last five months, Jeffery, just before he shoves himself to the hilt inside me. My pained whimper couldn’t be misconstrued as anything other than pure agony with none of the bliss he so often promised me.

  “It’ll feel good in a minute, babe, just hang on.” He says, not giving me a chance to get used to the intrusion before pulling out and thrusting back in as forcefully as he did the time before. I could hardly breathe, the white-hot, searing pain was almost blinding. I tried to crawl away, but his body on my back was making my escape impossible.

  “Jeffery, it really hurts, can you go slower?” I almost beg. This was the third time we’d been together like this, and even though he’d swore to me that it got easier the more we did it, nothing was further from the truth.