HONORED: The Mountain Man's Babies Read online

  Honored

  The Mountain Man’s Babies

  Franke Love

  Contents

  ❤️READER NOTE❤️

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue 1

  Epilogue 2

  Also By Frankie Love

  About the Author

  ❤️READER NOTE❤️

  Thank you for reading HONORED!

  I love writing about these rugged mountain men and the women they’ve claimed and sharing them with you is such a privilege!

  Your support means so much!

  xoxo, frankie

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  HONORED: THE MOUNTAIN MAN’S BABIES

  By Frankie Love

  When my cousin Jax bails me out after a bar fight, I head to his middle-of-nowhere cabin.

  Not my first choice but who knows, maybe I’ll become a real fucking mountain man.

  I’m not the only person staying at Jax’s place.

  His wife’s cousin, Honor, is here too.

  Suddenly this mountain is looking a hell of a lot better.

  When Honor tells me her life is complicated it’s the understatement of the century.

  Besides having a tender heart and the face of an angel, she’s a sister-wife, on the run from her ex, desperate to give her children a better life.

  I’ve spent the last few years fucking around while Honor’s been raising her babies.

  It’s time for me to get my shit together.

  No one thinks Honor should get involved with another man, especially a man like me.

  But they don’t understand—Honor is my woman now.

  And I’m not leaving this mountain until I have her.

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  Copyright © 2017 by Frankie Love

  Edited By:

  ICanEdit4You

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  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  1

  I keep one hand on the wheel as I wipe my eyes unsuccessfully. My minivan barrels down the highway as I leave the only life I’ve ever known behind. Tears streak my cheeks, my heart races, and even though there are three crying babies in the backseat of the beat-up van, I’ve never felt so alone in my life.

  Which isn’t saying much, considering I’m a sister-wife.

  People are always around. Always watching.

  Always judging.

  But no one sees me as I escape.

  My flip phone—the one I bought at Wal-Mart last week—buzzes. As it rings, milk seeps from my engorged breasts. Having a twelve-week-old baby will do that to a woman, especially when her infant is screaming from his car seat.

  I can’t pull over to answer the phone or nurse Titus because I have to keep driving. I must keep driving and never come back. With the windows down, the summer sun warms me up to the idea of a new forever. A forever I never considered for myself.

  Freedom.

  An hour later the babies are asleep and I pull over to fill the tank at a gas station. My stomach growls, but I don’t know if it’s from nerves or the fact I haven’t eaten in hours. I grab forty dollars from my wallet, debating taking another five for caffeine, but I don’t have that much to spare. Not now. The $112 I scrimped to save is for this escape, not to spend on frivolities. I packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and carrot sticks. I can have one of those while I drive.

  I hand the cash to the cashier, my eyes on the van.

  “You okay, sweetie?” she asks, pointing at the milk stains on my blouse. But I don’t have time to be embarrassed. You can’t afford to be when your children’s lives are at stake.

  “I’m fine,” I say, eying the Snickers bars on the counter.

  “Are you traveling alone?” she asks. I look up at her then, her gray hair clipped back, revealing pale blue eyes. I lower mine, not wanting to be noticed. Just wanting to get far away.

  “Yeah, it’s just my kids and me,” I say softly, knowing I have no man to protect me, take care of me—here or anywhere. Knowing I’ve never had a real man in my life. The father of my children is nothing but a cheat.

  She clucks her tongue, picking up the Snickers and handing it over. “Listen, mama, the chocolate’s on me, and grab yourself a coffee on your way out, okay?”

  My eyes fill with tears again. I need this more than she knows. I blink away the memory of leaving my sister-wives, without telling them I was going for good.

  But I needed more... and not just for me. For my children.

  For my sons.

  “Thank you,” I manage, wiping my eyes with the cuff of my hand-sewn blouse. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  “It’s the hormones. I remember. It’s been a long time, but you never forget.” She smiles warmly, then wags her finger at me, telling me to get a coffee to-go. I do as she insists.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, with 16-ounce cup of steaming coffee in one hand, pushing open the door with the other.

  “And remember to take care of yourself, honey,” she says as I leave.

  Pumping gas, I look at myself through the van window, seeing my sleeping babies all in a row, and I think that the cashier has no idea what my life has been like.

  Taking care of myself has never been an option. I haven’t slept a full night in years, but even through the haze of restless nights with a newborn cradled against my chest, I know that being a twenty-two-year-old with three children under three is not the reason I’m always tired.

  I screw the gas cap on and slide open the van door, unbuckling Titus, and as I reach over him his one-year-old brother Thomas stirs. I kiss his forehead, willing him to stay asleep. His two-year-old brother, Timothy, opens his eyes. They meet mine.

  “Shush, now, sleepy head,” I whisper, brushing a tendril of his blond hair away from his sweaty forehead. His head falls back, giving in to the sleep his tiny body craves as if he knows how badly I need him to stay quiet.

  With Titus in my arm, I sit in the driver’s seat, pushing the seat back so I can nurse him. He latches onto my nipple, my swollen breast releasing milk, and my entire body seems to relax for the first time in weeks.

  My babies are safe. I am sound. We can do this. We are doing this.

  I reach for the phone, seeing the missed call was from Harper. I press call back and listen to it ring, only once, before she’s on the line.

  “Honor? Are you okay? Is the plan still in place?”

  My eyes scan the empty parking lot, knowing that Luke won’t even notice I’m missing until tonight, when he looks around the supper table, at his other two wives, and realizes I’m not there. That three of his sons aren’t either.

  It’s my sister-wives, Kind and True that I have to worry about. They think I’ve left to do the grocery shopping... but eventually, they will realize I haven’t returned.

  “Yes,” I tell her, the only
person I could think of calling when I got the courage to leave. After all, she was engaged to Luke four years ago, before he started a cult and everything changed. “I’m about ninety minutes away. It’s still okay, isn’t it... you haven’t changed your mind?” I sniffle, my emotions bubbling up again.

  “Of course, I haven’t changed my mind. You’re my cousin. Just focus on getting here.” Then, softening her tone, she adds, “That’s all you need to worry about now.”

  “Okay,” I tell her. “I’ll get back on the road. See you soon.”

  “I should have come and gotten you,” Harper says.

  “No. I needed to do this on my own. I needed to do this for my sons.”

  “You’re being really brave,” she adds her words a comfort I need more than she knows.

  Not wanting to cry, I tell her good-bye. Not feeling very brave. I just feel desperate. Desperate for my life to be more than it is now.

  I buckle Titus back in his seat, turn on the van, and put it in drive.

  Taking a bite of my chocolate bar, I look back at the gas station, thinking of the attendant. How sweet she was with me.

  She was right about needing to take care of myself.

  And I know that getting away from Luke is the first step in the right direction.

  It’s the best way I take care of my children. Of me, too.

  I needed to get them away from their father, away from his cult.

  I needed to run away in order to start over.

  2

  I’ve made a lot of shitty decisions leading up to tonight, but damn, even as it was happening I knew it was an all-time low.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d been locked in the slammer. And not the first time I took the fall for my friends.

  After hours of sitting on a hard bench in a holding cell, Officer Bailey tells me bail was posted.

  My eyes narrow. I have friends, sure, but they’re about as likely to get a bond to bust me out as winning the goddamned lottery.

  “Lucky man,” Officer Bailey says as I follow him to a desk where I sign out and get my shit. Not that there’s much for me. This town is feeling much too small these days. Can’t get a fucking drink without someone wanting to start something.

  I run my hand through my hair, listening as the officer explains I have to show up for my hearing next week.

  “You say it wasn’t your fault, Hawk, but you’re still gonna need to stand before a judge,” he tells me. Under his breath, he adds, so only I can hear, “And you need to find some new friends, son.”

  He can call me that because he and my ma used to date, years ago, when I was a teenager. My ma’s been dead five years now, but I know Officer Bailey has a soft spot for me because of the past. Because of the memories… certainly not because of the woman my ma was when she died. A drunk who got behind the wheel.

  “Finding new friends is easier said than done,” I tell Bailey, shaking my head.

  “I know you were trying to do the right thing by sticking up for your buddy, but you knocked the guy out cold; his wife’s pressing charges,” he says as if I don’t already know it.

  “I’m not trying to justify shit—”

  Bailey cuts me off. “Yeah you are, and I understand why, but I’ll keep seeing you in here if you don’t change things for yourself, Hawk. You need to stop taking care of your friends and give them a chance to take care of themselves. It’s time for you leave this place and start over.”

  “I got my job here,” I tell him. “I can’t just go.”

  He shakes his head and opens the door to the lobby. “Listen, it’s not the tats or the muscles that are gonna get you in trouble.”

  I frown, not following.

  “It’s the way you are determined to stick up for the underdog that’s gonna be the death of you. Besides,” he adds, “you can’t save them if you’ve lost yourself.”

  I clench my jaw at this, because even if it’s fucking true, what difference does it make? Starting over is easier said than done.

  In the lobby, I shake my head when I see my cousin Jaxon waiting for me, looking around, uncomfortable as fuck. He must be, he screwed around on Sheriff Martin’s daughter; he’s the reason he left town in the first place years ago.

  Yet here he is. Bailing me out.

  He’s the only guy I know with as many tattoos as me, yet the two of us couldn’t be more different. He got himself a wife and a bunch of mouths to feed and I don’t envy him any of that.

  Still, he’s got his shit together.

  I look back at Bailey, knowing he must have called him in.

  Bailey just shrugs, gives me a small smile. “I can’t help but look out for you.” Before I can say anything, he goes back into the office.

  “You came down here, for me?” I ask, hating that Jaxon left his home in the mountains, about ninety minutes from here, to get me out of jail.

  “You’re the closest thing I have to a brother, dumbass.”

  Jaxon’s in his thirties, but I’m twenty-five. Growing up, he was always like an older brother to me.

  I scratch my head, knowing I’ve fucked things up and hating that he’s here, cleaning up after me.

  “We should go to your place,” Jaxon says as we leave the station. “You need to say goodbye to this town and get your shit.”

  I scowl, climbing into his truck. “And where do you think I’m going?” I ask as Jax pulls out of the parking lot.

  “I think you’re coming home with me. I’ll give you work, the mountains are a fine-ass place to clear your head. What the fuck, Hawk? Starting fights?”

  I push back. “I didn’t start shit. I just finished it.”

  Jax gives me a sidelong glance, not having any of it. “You just happened to be in a bar fight, after getting arrested a few months ago for stealing a goddamned car—but you’re clean as a fucking whistle?”

  I shake my head. “You don’t know shit, Jaxon,” I tell him.

  “You wanna explain it to me?”

  I run my hand over my beard, not interested in Jaxon being some tough-ass guy to me as if he’s my fucking father. I never had a father and I sure as hell am not looking for one now.

  “You wouldn’t understand, Jaxon. We’re not the same, never have been.”

  Jaxon doesn’t answer, and part of me resents the way he’s changed as he’s gotten older. Less a friend and more of a judge.

  He turns into the bar parking lot where my truck has been since the bar fight. A sweet-ass ‘47 Ford pickup truck, glossy black with wooden rails. This is my motherfucking baby and I need to get her home.

  Before I get out of his car, Jaxon tells me what he thinks. “I love you man, I do, but a year ago you were charged with breaking and entering. Your rap sheet is getting pretty fucking long. You’re on a path going nowhere, fast.”

  I open the door, pissed that he thinks he has any fucking clue. I got that B&E charge because I was trying to get my friend Jim’s tools after his ex kicked him out of the house. And this bar fight is the same fucking story—Trevor was getting harassed for no good reason.

  Dammit. I slam the door shut, and Jax follows me to my truck.

  “Why do you want me to come to the mountains, anyway?”

  “We need another guy on our crew. I know you love the shop—but we both know you’re not getting the hours you want.”

  “Being under the hood of a car is where I belong, not swinging a goddamned axe.”

  Jaxon shrugs. “There could be worse things than learning a new skill.”

  “I’ve saved up a shit ton of money over the last few years, I can ride it out until the shop starts getting more work. I plan on opening a shop of my own soon as I can.”

  Jaxon shakes his head. “It’s great you’ve saved so much, but you’d be a fool to open a place here. Not in a town that can’t even support one mechanic shop.”

  I grip Jaxon’s shoulder, knowing the truth in that. Refusing to admit it to myself. And sure as hell not wanting to just randomly look on a map and ch
oose a place to relocate. Deep down, I know I want direction, meaning. Some fucking purpose to my life.

  Maybe this is the wake-up call I’ve been waiting for.

  “You’re right,” I tell him, shaking my head. “But dammit, the mountains? What the fuck is there to do out there?”

  “Spend time with your second cousins, chill out. At least out there, you won’t blow through your cash.”

  I shrug, not knowing what I’m fighting so hard against. I’ve been meaning to come out to his place for ages, and after bailing me out tonight, I owe him, big time. “I’ll come help your crew if you really need it,” I tell him. “But if I’m working for you, I’m paying you back for helping with the bail. You understand that?” I look him in the eyes, meaning it. Right now, I’m accepting his offer, but I’m not taking any handouts.

  “Understood,” Jax says.

  “But I need a week or so to finish up a car I’ve been working on for Trevor, but after that, I’ll drive to your place, sound good?”

  Jaxon frowns. “And so you can stand before the judge, right? I don’t wanna lose that bail money.”

  “Right.” I nod, not wanting to let him down. The last five years have been painful. It seems like I haven’t been able to get a leg up since Ma died. It’s always one thing after the next and I’d love to catch a real break.

  “You promise you’ll show? We’re starting a new house next week, but we’re still trying to wrap up the renovations on a little cabin -- that’s where I’d send you. Buck is working on it and could use another set of hands.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “You’re staying with me, okay?”

  I cock a brow at him, trying to count in my head how many babies he’s got in that place.

  “The motel in town is seedy as shit—besides Harper will be pissed if you refuse our guest room.”

  I shake my head at this fool. “Damn, she’s really got your balls in a vise, doesn’t she?”