Southern Heart by Madison, Natasha (best fiction novels .txt) 📕

into the room and forget our first kiss altogether. Forget the way she felt in my arms, forget the way she looks at me. Forget the way I want to make everything shine around her. Forget that I want to be that better person, not just for me anymore but for her. I lick my lips and lean in just a touch more as her eyes slowly close. "Che—" I start to say her name, and then we both hear the crushing of rocks in the driveway followed by two car doors slamming. I move away from her, our hands falling to the sides of us.

The door swings open, and I see that it’s Ethan followed by Casey, and they both look at us. I look down, afraid he is going to see I took advantage of his sister. "Hey," Casey says, coming over to the kitchen.

Chelsea smiles at him and walks around the island, going to her uncle and hugging him. Ethan just stares at me. "Did you want a cup of coffee?" Chelsea asks Casey.

"No," he says. "Mayson." I look over at him. "We need to talk."

"Okay," I say, looking at him and then looking back at Ethan. "Let’s hear it."

"Why don’t we…" Ethan starts, looking at me and then looking at Chelsea.

"Oh, you did not just do that," Chelsea says, folding her arms over her chest. "You did not come into my house"—she points at the floor—"and dismiss me like that, Ethan McIntyre."

"Oh, shit. She used your whole name," Casey says. "If she is anything like her momma, that means you’re in trouble." He puts his hands on his hips, looking at both of them.

I fold my arms over my chest and wait to see what Ethan says. "You were the one who didn’t want to be involved." He points at her.

"And you were the one who put me in the middle of this." She advances on him. "So now is not the time for you to try to protect me.”

"She’s right," I hear myself say, and all sets of eyes swing my way. "She’s in this all the way."

Ethan shakes his head. "This is a bad idea," he mumbles.

"Did you find anything from the woods?" I ask, not sure I can take much more of not knowing.

"Nothing," Ethan says. "We checked everything, but we can’t see that far out."

"We are fixing that today," Casey says now. "I am having cameras installed all over this place. If a fucking squirrel eats a leaf, I’m going to find it."

I look at them, and I can feel I’m missing something. "What are you not telling me?"

"We found a couple of things," Casey says, and I can tell he doesn’t know how to start.

"When was the last time you used the name Braxton?" he asks, and my eyebrows pinch together at his question.

"I paid forty-seven dollars and twelve cents to change my name. I never used it again. Even when I joined the military, I used Mayson." I look at them both. "Why?"

"Seems like Braxton Michaels has left a hefty paper trail for the past eight years," Casey says. "How many credit cards do you have?"

"Zero." I fold my arms over my chest. "Pay cash for everything."

"According to your credit report, you have over thirty different credit cards," Ethan says. "All maxed out. All in collections."

"How the fuck can that happen?" I ask, and they exchange a look. My pulse kicks up a bit as I process the information.

"We need some answers," Ethan says.

"You aren’t the only one who needs fucking answers!" I almost shout. "I’ve kept my head down, and I never applied for a credit card. I don’t even have a fucking bank loan for the cabin." My hands go to my hips, and I try to reel in my anger.

"How is that possible?" Chelsea asks.

"I gave Ethan a good chunk down, and I paid him monthly." I swallow down. "With interest."

Ethan nods. "I have one bank account that my money is deposited to and that’s it."

I close my eyes now, the pounding in my head getting even worse. "In case you guys missed the memo, I don’t do material things. I have enough clothes for a week. That’s it. I have a truck that is paid for and the cabin." I look at Chelsea now. "Other than that, I have nothing." My pride be damned at this point. I have nothing to offer her. I have nothing to give her. I am nothing.

"There is more," Ethan says, his voice going low.

"How can there possibly be fucking more?" My voice is tight. My heart is pounding so fast it is going to look like I’m panting in a minute. "What else can there be?"

"We just scratched the surface," Casey says. "You have over twenty-seven apartments that you rented in twelve years."

"I’ve been on tour seven times," I tell them. "I signed up for every tour I was offered. When I was home, it was for a couple of weeks at a time, and I stayed in motels. Again, paid in cash."

"Does the name Rosalie Henderson ring a bell?" Casey asks, and I shake my head.

"Not in the least," I tell them, and I look over at Chelsea, who just looks down now. Her hands are now wringing together.

"Braxton Michaels married her four years ago." I stare at him, my mouth going open.

"Excuse me," Chelsea says, walking toward her bedroom. I want to chase after her, but I know that if I do, there will be even more questions, and I definitely don’t have the answers to those either.

"Wait!" I shout, and she stops mid-step. "I don’t know her," I say.

Ethan looks at me and then looks at his sister, and from one look, he knows something is up. "I mean, she was thirty-five," he says, and Chelsea turns around.

"Well, did anyone go to her and find out who she is?" I ask. "Do we have an address? Let’s go find her, and she can tell you she didn’t