Free Keeping What's His: Tate (Porter Brothers Trilogy Book 1) by Jamie Begley

man who seemed twice his age with regret shining from his eyes.
    “Sutton didn’t cheat on you, but I guess it doesn’t matter to you now any more than it did back then.” Judge Creech waved his hand toward his door. “Try to stay out of trouble, Tate. I’m retiring next month, and the next judge won’t be as lenient with you as I have been.”
    “When the fuck were you ever lenient with me?”
    “Ask that lawyer of yours. I could have made sure Rachel and those asshole brothers were taken away from you years ago. When did you ever hear about a known drug dealer keeping custody of kids? Greer could have been given a couple of years for selling to that undercover cop and planting evidence when Knox was accused for the murder of Samantha Langley. And, your ass should have been sitting in jail for six months when you assaulted Lyle.”
    “If that’s true, then why cut me some slack when you hate me? You made that plain enough when I was dating Sutton.”
    “If you’re so fucking smart, why don’t you figure it out?”
    Tate frowned. “You did it because of Sutton?”
    “Now you’re using that brain your mama gave you. Why don’t you go home and smoke some of that weed you’re so proud of and think on it a while.”
    The judge placed his bottle of whiskey back in the drawer with the glass before standing up and walking toward the door.
    “Why are you telling me this now? Sutton and I were over a long time ago.”
    The judge opened the door before turning back to him. “You didn’t deserve Sutton then, and you still don’t. I wanted a man who would give his life for her, protect and love my baby girl the way her mother and I did. I kept waiting for you to prove me wrong. I wanted you to prove me wrong.” He shook his head at him. “You’re too big an asshole to realize what you let go, though. God help you when you do.”
    The man left him speechless. He was tempted to go to Sutton and ask her what the hell her father was talking about, but truthfully, he didn’t want to know. No good ever came from dredging up the past. Like a coon dog, it was better to let the fuckers sleep. When you woke one up, the bastards never shut up. They could keep you awake for hours before they quieted down, and he had lost enough sleep over Sutton already.
    *  *  *
    Sutton pushed the broom under Pap’s bed, sweeping several huge dust bunnies out along with am old shoebox. She stared down at the box, recognizing it instantly. Bending over, she set it on the bed then returned to cleaning under the bed. She grabbed the dustpan, sweeping the huge pile up and tossing it into the trash can in the kitchen.
    She went to the refrigerator, taking out a cold beer and popping the top. She took a long drink before going back into the bedroom and picking up the box, tucking it under her arm. Carrying the box and beer to the front porch, she sat down on the rocking chair, propping her feet onto the porch rail. She drank half the beer before she took the top off the box and stared at the myriad photos taken the summer she had been with Tate.
    Taking another swallow of her beer, she picked up the first photo, gazing down into Tate’s roughly hewn features. He was wearing the straw hat she hated. Shirtless and covered in sweat, he had stood, braced against the same porch rail that her feet rested on now.
    She still remembered that day. They had walked through the woods from his house. He had stopped halfway to her house, pulling her close for their first kiss. The unexpected passion he had raised in her had frightened her into breaking away from him. Then she had run the rest of the way back to Pap’s house. Tate had chased after her, his laughter following her.
    He hadn’t changed much from his picture other than a few lines at the corners of his eyes, and his body had become more muscular. The biggest difference was his eyes. The man she had seen the other day showed no mercy.
    Sutton dropped the picture back into the box, picking up