Gravel Road Read online

  Copyright © 2018 by Stephie Walls

  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.

  Dedication

  M…Never forget where you come from.

  Gravel Road

  Stephie Walls

  Edited by

  Josie Cruz Edits

  Edited by

  Judy’s Proofreading

  Cover by

  Wicked By Design

  Photography by

  Todd Thorp

  Cover Model

  Steve Kalfman

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Miranda

  2. Austin

  3. Miranda

  4. Austin

  5. Austin

  6. Miranda

  7. Miranda

  8. Austin

  9. Miranda

  10. Austin

  11. Austin

  12. Miranda

  13. Austin

  14. Miranda

  15. Miranda

  16. Austin

  17. Miranda

  18. Austin

  Epilogue

  Operation Build A Bag

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Stephie Walls

  Prologue

  Miranda

  The screen door slammed behind me. Over the years, I’d grown so used to the rattling when it would bounce off the frame and settle shut that I didn’t notice the footsteps approaching in the kitchen. It was an old farmhouse, and I’d long since learned to ignore the creaks and pops. As a little girl, the noises kept me up, and I had always been convinced someone lurked in the house, roaming the halls late at night.

  I ducked my head into the fridge to search for orange juice. When I realized I had company, I stood, stepped back with the carton in my hand, and came face to face with my sister’s scowl. Then I noticed her tapping foot. I cracked open the container, brought it to my lips—it drove her insane—and drank more than I actually wanted, simply to irritate her. I flashed my brows at her, the citrus burning my throat. And when I finally plopped it on the counter, I let out a satisfied sigh, followed by an obnoxious burp.

  Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her hip out to show her disapproval. “It’s amazing you have any friends at all with manners like those.” We had this fight frequently, and I didn’t care any more now than I had the other hundred times the topic had come up.

  I shrugged, closed the OJ carton, and placed it in the fridge, in that order, hoping she’d be gone when I turned back. No such luck. Clearly, she had something on her mind; I had no idea why she didn’t spit it out. We could fight about it, and then I could go on with my day. My elbows met the counter on the island between us. Had Sarah not been glaring holes in my head with her beady, blue eyes, I might have laid my entire body across the tiled top. Even at ten in the morning, the Texas sun was brutal. Leaning toward her with a grin on my face did the trick. I squeezed my breasts together with my arms for good measure—another bone of contention between the Adams girls. She was flat as a flitter.

  “I got a call from your coach this morning.”

  Crap.

  I stood, squared my shoulders, and prepared for battle. This wasn’t going to go well. “Isn’t that a violation of some sort of privacy law?” There had to be rules against the school sharing student information with siblings. I thought for sure they could only talk to legal guardians or parents, and my sister wasn’t either one of those…regardless of what she believed her role in my life to be.

  “She said you didn’t show up for camp yesterday. Which is odd, since you left the house with your bag, and I specifically remember you telling me that was where you were going and why you wouldn’t be home last night.” Her nostrils flared and her cheeks flushed. The vein on her temple started to throb, and that was the point I was certain I was in deep.

  I waved her off, hoping to defuse the situation before it reached DEFCON five. A level two or even a three I could defend, but much above that and she’d bring my daddy in—and neither of us wanted that. “It’s not a big deal, Sarah.”

  “It’s a huge deal. You made a commitment to those girls.” Sarah dropped her hands and closed her fingers into tight fists at her sides. If spit started to fly out of her mouth, I was leaving. “Do you have any idea how bad it looks for the captain of the squad not to show up?”

  “Previous captain.” Jenna Jackson had assumed my role upon graduation. “And it’s cheerleading, not the Nobel Peace Prize. There are tons of other seniors there to help.” I held her gaze and refused to back down, while secretly praying her breathing didn’t become any more erratic. The more her chest heaved, the greater the trouble I was in. “I’m going next week. Chill out.” I dared to round the corner of the island, thinking I’d be able to shuffle by her and escape to my room. I couldn’t be that lucky.

  She wrapped her fingers around my bicep, and I wished I’d worn something with sleeves. The tank top I had on did nothing to ward off her claws digging into my skin. “Where were you?” It had to be a hundred degrees outside, yet the coolness in her tone sent chills up my spine, and goose bumps erupted across my body.

  Yanking my arm from her grasp, I debated whether to lie or tell the truth. I was beyond being able to get out of this without repercussion. Now I needed to lessen the punishment…not that I’d adhere to her rules, anyhow. “The lake.”

  Her chest rose with the deep breath she took, and the beat in the vein on the side of her head hadn’t slowed. Then she released the air along with a whistle. “All night?”

  “No. There was a field party at Twin Creeks.” One of the largest farms in town also happened to be owned by my boyfriend—or rather, his parents.

  Sarah’s shoulders relaxed, and she regained her normal color. “You were with Austin?”

  That boy could do no wrong in my sister’s mind. She turned a blind eye to the fact that he’d taken my virginity and had often snuck out with me in the middle of the night. The Burins were well-known and equally as beloved. Truth be told, Sarah had always had a thing for Austin’s older brother, Charlie. Her desire for one Burin brother made the other angelic by default.

  I fought against huffing out my irritation. “He was there. Along with two hundred of his closest friends.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice. I could win points by telling her what she was dying to find out, but I had a stubborn streak a mile wide. And I doubted she wanted to hear that Charlie spent the evening sucking face with Sissy Tomlin.

  Her lips pursed and then flattened into a straight line. “Was Charlie there?” My sister was mean as a snake when it came to dealing with me; Charlie Burin, however, melted her heart. He also didn’t have a clue she existed. They’d gone to school together for twelve years, she’d headed up every social committee in Mason Belle, and we’d eaten Sunday supper with their family more times than I could count, yet he still managed to forget her name more often than he remembered it.

  “Yes.”

  “You know he and Daddy are working on an irrigation project, right?”

  I did. I just didn’t care. The inner workings of a cattle farm didn’t appeal to me. I did what Daddy required me to, nothing more, nothing less. Chores weren’t my idea of a good time, and I loathed manual labor. I didn’t mind tending to the horses his hands used to traipse all over the property, so they’d become my responsibility years ago. I was oblivious to everything else. Not even the hot guys drew my attention once they left the barn.

  “So?”

  “Did he mention it?” This was her way of circling a do
nkey’s butt to get to its tail, and I didn’t like the smell of crap.

  “I didn’t talk to him.”

  Sarah’s eye twitched, and her nostrils flared; gone were the daydreams of Charlie. “Well, if you weren’t talking to the Burins about the farm, then I can’t imagine what kept you out all night.” As if that even made sense.

  This was precisely why Charlie didn’t have a clue who she was. If she believed irrigation systems were appropriate topics for parties, she’d likely never been to one. And if her idea of socializing included mention of watering fields, it was no wonder she remained single.

  She arched a perfectly sculpted brow and waited. I wondered if she could touch her hairline with them. “Your reputation is already questionable. Pulling these kinds of stunts only cements what people in town think of you.”

  My expression hardened, and it was my turn to cross my arms. “No one in Mason Belle gives a flip what I do. And last time I checked, you weren’t my mama.” I made no attempt to hide my anger, and my tone conveyed every ounce of my contempt.

  Her jaw dropped like I’d slapped her and the sting of my palm pained her cheek. “I’m the closest thing you’ve got, and I’m ashamed of who you’re becoming. This is not how you were raised.”

  That wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard from her before. The first time she had said it, it hurt. The second time, I lashed out. Then it became boring, and it no longer bothered me. Sarah hadn’t asked for this role. She’d been forced into a quasi-motherly position when my own mom skipped town, leaving us alone with Daddy. He did the best he could; although, no matter how hard my sister tried, she’d never be Mama.

  I ground my teeth together, biting back the words I wanted to hurl her direction. Sarah loved riding her high horse, but one day, someone would knock her right out of the saddle, and that fall would be painful.

  “Are we done?”

  “Not quite.”

  I’d neared the point of stomping my feet, regardless of the fact that it wouldn’t accomplish anything. It didn’t matter that I was eighteen. Even young adults were capable of full-blown temper tantrums.

  “You’re grounded. You can go to cheer camp. That’s it. There’s plenty to do around here.”

  My mouth hung open in shock as my sister folded her hands together in the prim-princess fashion she used to quietly claim victory. A demure, pageant smile tugged at her closed lips, and she blinked slowly, her pale-blue eyes cold and unfeeling.

  “For how long?” I squawked.

  With her fingers laced together and her elbows locked, she gave me a hint of a shrug. “Two weeks should make my point.” A shimmer of amusement danced across her expression. And people believed she was the perfect sister.

  What a load of crap.

  No way. This was the summer after my senior year. Austin planned to pick me up after lunch. Legally, I was an adult. Sarah had no right—or jurisdiction, as far as I was concerned—to lecture me, much less punish me.

  “Not happening.” I grunted and moved around her.

  My weight had shifted to the first step when she called out, “Don’t test me on this, Miranda. I’ve already talked to Daddy.” Of course she had.

  “Whatever.” I huffed and stomped to the second floor, making certain she—and whoever else might be near the house—heard every one of my objections. And just in case they hadn’t, I slammed my bedroom door to ensure they did.

  The next couple of hours, I threw things around my room in protest. And when I couldn’t stand the forced captivity, I sought to make my overbearing sister’s life miserable around the house. It was childish to huff and blow, and glaring at Sarah only served to further agitate me, not her. The minutes ticked by like hours, and staring at a clock didn’t help pass the time.

  Sarah thought she had the upper hand. She believed she’d won the war, although it was just an insignificant battle. I refused to ever wave a white flag. If she wanted to act like my mama, then she could deal with the repercussions of what would have been a teenage pregnancy, if indeed, she had given birth to me. Defiance wasn’t my middle name, but now, I considered having it tattooed on my right butt cheek in her honor.

  I had once again retreated to my bedroom after my antics to irritate my sister accomplished nothing. With the window open in my room, I’d created a sauna. It only added to the discomfort of living under my sister’s thumb, even though it served a purpose. The second I heard it, I glanced at the clock. He was right on time. Austin’s dually had an unmistakable sound of grit and brawn, much like Austin himself. It was as identifiable as a Harley or a Mustang…to anyone other than my naïve sibling who was about to be blindsided by the cavalry.

  I jerked myself off the mattress, ignoring how it stuck to my sweaty back and arms, and I raced to slide my toes into my flip-flops. No sooner had I slung the door open than my sister stepped through hers ten feet down the hall. It wasn’t much of a head start. My long, dark hair fanned as I twirled toward the stairs. It would only take seconds for Sarah to realize I was on the move. If she caught hold of my arm, she’d sink my battleship—fight lost, war over.

  The throbbing in my chest only increased with each step I took, while a trickle of sweat ran down my spine, and despite the discomfort of attempting an escape, the satisfaction of defiance outweighed the side effects. This was one game I planned to win. I was younger. I was faster. And I wanted to leave more than Sarah wanted to stop me.

  “Miranda.” It was a warning—one I didn’t heed.

  Tennis shoes would have made for an easier escape. Nevertheless, I had committed to a plan, and I would see it through. Once I got outside, my timing had to be perfect. Too early, and I’d have to wait for Austin to pull up before I could jump in the cab of his truck; too late, and he’d have to wait. Either would provide precious time for my sister to intervene. To be successful, my feet would need to be moving when the truck rounded the gravel circle in front of the house, so he would only have to slow down to allow Charity to help me inside.

  The warnings got louder the closer my sister got. “Get back here, young lady.” She had gained ground, although I didn’t waste time looking over my shoulder to see how much.

  Freedom dangled in front of me, only seconds away. I ripped the front door open as she hit the foyer. Two strides across the porch and I leaped from the top to the driveway as Austin’s diesel engine revved. Our friends roared to life when they realized I was on the run, and I prayed Austin didn’t slow down. Charity hung over the front seat toward the dash to pull on the handle; this wasn’t the first time we’d executed this maneuver. The passenger-side door swung open under its own weight, and my empty spot—next to Austin—waited.

  With the grace of a gazelle, I leaped into the truck. “Go. Go. Go,” I yelled and waved my hand.

  Austin picked up speed through the left curve, and the door closed with the motion of the vehicle. He hollered with excitement like I’d just survived the meanest bull in the rodeo for a full eight seconds. I twisted to face the house and leaned half my body out the open window, laughing. My hair whirled around my cheeks and neck with the wind at my back. Even through the strands obstructing my view, I didn’t miss my sister’s rant on the porch. I couldn’t hear her over the truck and the people in it, but I could, however, see the fire I’d lit inside her. The fuse had been ignited, and that raging inferno was about to blow.

  Thank God I wouldn’t be around to witness the explosion.

  I righted myself in the seat, ran my fingers through my long hair to get it out of my face, and bent across the cab to kiss Austin on the cheek. In an instant, he snaked his right arm around my lower back. Our lips met in an electric, yet brief, exchange. When he broke away to focus on the road, my gaze lingered on his profile. Austin had been the boy every girl wanted, just like his brother seven years earlier. Only this sister had caught this brother’s attention early, and we’d been together since the start of our freshman year. He’d never had eyes for anyone other than me, and there wasn’t another guy in
Mason Belle who even piqued my interest.

  It wasn’t his chiseled jaw or his sandy-blond hair. It wasn’t even the taut muscles or his year-round tan. Those were all bonuses. Sprinkles on top of the icing. Austin Burin was a gentle soul with the heart of a lion. And he was fiercely protective—of me. There wasn’t anything that boy wouldn’t do to ensure my happiness, and his parents adored me. No one within a hundred-mile radius believed there were two people more perfectly created for each other, regardless of my sister’s speculations and insinuations over my reputation.

  Austin pulled me close on the bench seat, and our friends clucked like chickens in the back. Half of us had been grounded for the stunt we’d pulled last night, not coming home. The other half had managed to avoid getting caught. I reached for the knob on the stereo, turning it up as loud as I could without blowing the speakers.

  Country music blared through the cab and out the windows. The bass vibrated the seat, and the sound moved through me. We drove toward the lake I’d grown up swimming in, and I thought of my sister shaking her fist on the front steps of the house. Her expression was priceless and worth whatever punishment waited for me when I returned. Sarah Adams needed a hobby other than torturing me. Not that I could deny that tormenting her brought me a level of satisfaction that nothing else rivaled. Despite Sarah’s attempt to calm my wild streak and end my fun, life was pretty close to perfect.

  The zing of adrenaline had begun to subside by the time Austin brought his truck to a stop. He hadn’t even cut the ignition, and our friends piled out of the bed in the back. A cloud of dust rose under the weight of their feet, and I coughed as it reached the open window. The same cloud followed the group on their way to the water, and we were left alone.