Beard With Me: Winston Brothers

by Penny Reid

  The girl, twisting one of her long, black braids around a finger, looked bored.

  “Well?” she said, tilting her head to the side, her dark eyes narrowing.

  His grin grew and he stood, walking over to her. She also stood, crossing her arms, still looking bored. But then he must’ve kissed her because the room grew loud again with sounds of encouragement. I wasn’t watching. My eyes were on Scarlet.

  If that bottle lands on her, I swear I’ll— I choked on nothing, my hand balling into a fist as I pressed it to the doorframe, losing the battle against my swell of jealousy, anger and resentment rising up.

  Before I decided what I’d do, Scarlet said, “Okay, Daniella and Curtis are out, Janell and Kenny are in. Take your spots. Darlene Simmons, it’s your turn.”

  Someone yelled, “Go get a room, you two!”

  I hadn’t noticed until right this second, but Scarlet held a clipboard on her lap and a pencil in her hand. Her head had been down this whole time, her eyes on the paper on the clipboard, paying no mind to the action around her. It was an awfully visible spot for someone who preferred to hide.

  Two kids took the places Daniella and Curtis vacated while Darlene stepped up to the bottle, giggling, and flipping her long, straight red hair. I stood there, my mind working during this momentary reprieve. I was sure if the bottle landed on Scarlet, Darlene wouldn’t kiss her. Darlene Simmons thought everything was gross—greenery, babies, most kinds of food—everything.

  Giving the bottle a whirl, Darlene stepped back and I gathered a breath, deciding I’d just have to walk in there, pull Scarlet out, and—

  And . . .

  And tell her I was getting married to Sam? And tell her I was expecting a baby? And tell her after she left tomorrow—because, I swear to God, she was leaving—we’d never be able to speak to or see each other again?

  How could I do that? She needs me.

  She trusted me to take care of her, I knew she did. She had nobody, nobody. I couldn’t just make her leave, and then walk away. And now the dam had broken, now the feelings were rushing in, the terrible truth was—eclipsing even my sense of duty—I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I wanted her.

  It felt like bleeding and making no effort to cauterize the wound. It felt close to madness. I knew, with absolute certainty, I’d dream of her and her spirit and her voice for the rest of my life. The belief was soul deep, in my bones and muscles and skin, but particularly in my heart.

  The walls were falling, crumbling, breaking. I was being crushed under the weight of my desire to be with her always, a desire that sought to overturn my honorable instincts. I was suffocating with it.

  “What the hell?” Darlene’s irritated words interrupted my thoughts. She flipped her red hair over her shoulder. “I’m not kissing him. Gross.”

  Agitated, torn, uncertain what I was going to do about Sam and the baby or Scarlet, I incidentally glanced at the bottle and then to whom it pointed. It was pointed at Cletus.

  Silence, as much as silence was possible at a house party, flooded the moment as everyone’s eyes moved to my brother. And so did mine. I’d never seen him appear uncomfortable before, not like this. He was taking a deep breath, and I recognized he was struggling to turn this into a joke, but even I—standing thirty feet away and caught in the disorder of my warring thoughts—could see his ears were red. He was flustered, humiliated.

  “I’ll kiss him,” a voice said, breaking the tense moment. Scarlet.

  Every gaze moved to Scarlet. And so did mine. Paralyzed by wonder, I watched as she stood, setting the clipboard aside, and walked to Cletus.

  Someone said, “Hey! I thought Scarlet wasn’t playing?”

  “Hush, Ben,” someone else reprimanded.

  I held my breath, transfixed by the fire and dislike in her eyes as she walked past a scoffing Darlene. Then Scarlet was grinning at Cletus, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Stand up handsome and give me a kiss.” She held out her hand. He took it, looking as stunned as I felt.

  Her gaze dropping to his mouth, Scarlet’s smile widened. She whispered something, and then put her arms around his neck and kissed him. The room erupted in cheers.

  His hands bunched at his sides, eventually settling on her waist.

  I breathed out, my eyes and nose stinging, blinking away tears as I watched them, watching Scarlet rescue my brother. Watching Scarlet rescue her friend. If she stayed in Green Valley, her father might find out about this moment. He might punish her for it. Obviously, she knew this was a possibility, but she’d rescued Cletus anyway.

  But then, that was Scarlet. Brave, beautiful, strong, sweet, funny, stubborn Scarlet.

  God. Protect her, keep her safe, and I will do what’s right. I will let her go.

  She didn’t need me to rescue her. She could rescue herself. She doesn’t need me. Watching her now with Cletus, this, also, I felt soul deep, in my bones and muscles and skin, but particularly in my fractured heart.

  Scarlet and her beautiful spirit would be just fine as long as she left. Neither would last if she stayed in Green Valley within the reach of the Wraiths. Her father would crush her, body and soul. I couldn’t let that happen. My responsibilities might’ve shifted, Sam and our baby had to be my priority now, but I wouldn’t let Scarlet down either. I’d find a way to convince her to leave.

  And then, I’d find a way to let her go.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  *Scarlet*

  “Love doesn't conquer everything. And whoever thinks it does is a fool.”

  Donna Tartt, The Secret History

  Leaning away from Cletus, I opened my eyes and smiled up at my friend. “Now, was that so bad?” I said the words so only he could hear. Everyone else in the room was making such a ruckus, I didn’t have to whisper.

  Cletus’s mouth pulling to the side, he gave his head a subtle shake. “I owe you one, Scarlet.”

  I laughed, sliding my arms from his neck. “I’d say we’re even.”

  “Cletus and Scarlet, you’re both out,” came Charles Boone’s laughing voice from somewhere behind me.

  Cletus leaned to the side, his hands still on my hips. “You taking over, Charles?”

  “Sure thing, Cletus. Go take a break with your girl. And Darlene, you’re out too.”

  Darlene made a sound of protest, arguing that she should get to go again, but I didn’t stay to hear her tantrum. Cletus was leading me by the hand toward the French doors at the back of the room. We ducked out, trying not to open them too wide as we left. It was still cold outside, and the Weller house was cozy.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, pulling me along the deck until we were away from the doors. Letting my hand drop, he leaned against the railing. “But thank you.”

  “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine. You’re a good kisser.”

  A breathy, shy sounding laugh tumbled out of him and he shook his head. I couldn’t see him real well, but I hoped he was blushing now for good reasons instead of Darlene’s snit.

  “You know, that was my first kiss.”

  “Was it?” Huh. Well. How about that. Maybe all Winstons were just great kissers.

  “Indeed,” he confirmed, nodding. “Thanks for making it memorable. I’d much rather kiss you than Darlene Simmons.”

  I laughed again, also leaning against the railing and crossing my arms against the cold, my jacket was somewhere inside. “Well, Cletus. I’m honored. And I hope one day you’re able to give someone, just as awesome as you, her first kiss.”

  A small, thoughtful smile tugged at his mouth, the light from the interior windows giving his face and crazy hair an orange glow. Cletus glanced down at his shoes, took a breath, and then lifted his eyes again. “Will you please reconsider?”

  My smile fell away and so did my good mood. “About leaving?”

  “Billy and me, we can go to the store first thing in the morning, get you and Carla snacks, supplies. Whatever you need.”

  I was already shak
ing my head before he’d finished. “No. I’m not going.”

  “We have plenty of money to send you both, more than enough, even after Hank takes his cut.”

  “No, Cletus.” I crossed my arms around my middle. “Please stop pushing me on this.”

  I heard him heave a big sigh. “Is this about Billy?”

  I thought about lying, because the truth made me feel stupid and weak. But instead, surprising myself, I said, “Yes. Yes, it’s about Billy. I’ve never felt like this before. I think I need him. I’ve never—I can’t . . . I’ll do anything he wants. I just want to stay with him.”

  Cletus made a short grunting sound. “Scarlet, what if the roles were reversed? What if Billy was the one being abused by his father and he wanted to stay just to be with you—” Cletus lifted a hand as I opened my mouth, raising his voice over my protest “—even if leaving meant he’d be safe, but he wanted to stay, suffer through it, so you could be together. Would that sit right with you?”

  My stomach fluttered uncomfortably, imagining the scenario Cletus described. “It’s not the same.”

  “It’s the same, and you know it. You’d want him to leave, right?”

  My chin wobbled, so I pressed my lips together, glancing over my shoulder and into the night. The peaks of the trees blacked out the sky in places, but beyond I could see the night sky reflected in the lake. My vision blurred. Neither the moon, the sky, nor the lake offered me any answers.

  “I don’t want to leave him, Cletus. I just found him.”

  My friend stepped closer and, after a brief hesitation, placed a hand on my shoulder. He then patted my shoulder. “There, there.”

  A sad laugh burst from my lips, and I shook my head. “‘There, there’? You need to work on your sympathy and comforting skills, Cletus.”

  “I’m not good with crying women. It muddles the brain. So stop crying and listen.”

  “I’m not crying.” I shrugged his awkward hand from my shoulder, sniffing. “You make good points, but I can’t—”

  “Y’all can write to each other, you can talk on the phone, right? He can visit you in California. Heck, maybe Billy will go to school out there. You never know.”

  My throat tight, my heart aching and hoping and torn. Even so, my voice was scratchy as I choked out, “I’ll miss him so much.”

  “And he’ll miss you. But, Scarlet, let me ask you this: if there was no Billy, what would you do? Would you go? Would you take the chance to escape? Have a home and a roof? Or would you stay?”

  I released a watery sigh, not wanting to answer because I knew exactly what I’d do. I would leave in a heartbeat.

  Cletus gave me a tight-lipped smile, his eyes moving between mine like he could read my thoughts. Maybe he did, because the next words out of his mouth were, “You and Carla will leave tomorrow morning. Best to leave from Knoxville. Honestly, it’d be even better if you left from Nashville. Maybe Billy and I could drive you over.” He seemed to study me for a minute before adding, “It would give you two more time together, time to talk.”

  I blinked rapidly against the unshed tears. “Doesn’t Billy have work tomorrow?”

  “He should call in sick. He never takes a sick day. And I’m sure he’d see driving you as something more important than work. He only went to that football game tonight because I wouldn’t let him chase after you. Plus, it was their qualifying game for the playoffs.”

  Happy for the subject change so I could collect myself, I asked, “Was he expecting lots of college scouts?”

  “I don’t know, I doubt that’s why he went. More like, he hates letting people down and his team was counting on him.”

  I nodded, my heart giving a little twist.

  I’d been acting like a fool, and yet I still didn’t want to go. I knew I should go, I knew it made the most sense, I knew Cletus was right—that we’d be able to write to each other, and talk on the phone, and maybe he’d visit—but it wouldn’t be the same.

  “Are you okay, Scarlet? Do you need another shoulder pat?”

  “No, Cletus. I’m good on shoulder pats for now. It’s just, I hope I didn’t add to Billy’s worries.”

  “You did,” Cletus said flatly. “Lay one of your kisses on him and I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

  I rolled my eyes and chuckled. At the same moment, the noise level of the party increased, sharpened, like someone had opened a door, allowing the music and friendly chatter out of the house. Both Cletus and I turned toward the sound, and I straightened away from the railing, my heart thunk ka-thunk-ing.

  “Billy,” I whispered, twisting my fingers.

  He was looking at me, of that I was sure, but I couldn’t make out his features very well. His back was to the light of the house. But goodness, even though I was happy he was here, my nerves were going haywire too.

  But it was Ben’s voice that said, “Scarlet,” as he stepped away from Billy and walked toward us, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “You and Cletus snuck out. I didn’t even see you leave.”

  “Oh. Hey, Ben.” I gave his silhouette a small smile in greeting—wondering that I hadn’t seen him before he spoke—but then immediately returned my attention to Billy’s approaching form.

  “You came,” Cletus said to his brother. “How was the game?”

  “Billy was great,” Ben answered, standing in the spot next to me so that he was between me and the Winston boys. “Star of the game. Glad I left the team in such capable hands.”

  I looked at Cletus and then at Ben, unsure what to say. Ben had been standing on the sidelines during spin the bottle all night, saying he was there to keep an eye on me. Since he’d used his teasing smile, I assumed he was just teasing.

  But now here he was. Again. His presence was beginning to feel oppressive.

  Cletus ignored Ben and frowned at his brother. “You’re the last to arrive. Why’d it take you so long?”

  “Sam needed to talk to me after the game.” Billy finally spoke, his cadence stunted and monotone, almost robotic, his attention affixed to his brother.

  “Good. She’ll stop pestering me?”

  “Yeah. I think so. Then—” he glanced at me, his blue gaze glinting in the moonlight “—I stopped by the campsite to find—uh, to look for y’all. It was empty, so I came here.”

  I swallowed around something hard, I reckoned it was my heart. I needed to talk to him. I’d been an idiot to run away earlier. I’d promised myself, after going those three days avoiding Billy for no reason and causing myself a load of misery, I wouldn’t run and hide from him again. I’d promised myself I’d talk to Billy. What was the point of hindsight if I just kept making the same mistakes over and over?

  “Wait, wait.” Cletus grabbed Billy’s arm. “Wait a minute, what do you mean there was no one there?”

  “Just what I said. There was no one there.”

  Ben took a side step closer to me, his arm brushing mine. “What campsite are y’all talking about?”

  “Shit.” Cletus shoved his fingers into his crazy hair, his eyes dropping to the deck. “Shit.”

  “What?” Billy glanced between me and Cletus. “What’s wrong?”

  Cletus shook his head, clearly dismayed. “Carla was supposed to be there. She was supposed to stay put.”

  “Do you think they have her?” I asked, breathless with terror.

  Ben shifted even closer, his body pressing against my back and side. “What are y’all talking about? What’s wrong? Is Scarlet in danger?”

  “I think she’s headed to the bus station. She had a little money, not a lot, but a little.” Now Cletus was rubbing his forehead. “I think she’s scared and is taking off, not waiting for us.”

  “If they find her—” I started, my voice breaking, unable to finish the thought.

  Billy’s eyes collided with mine, held, and I saw intention there, determination. It could’ve been you, he seemed to say. This is why you have to leave.

  But then Ben stepped forward, breaking my line of sight
and demanding, “Someone want to tell me what the heck is going on?”

  Cletus, as always, had a plan.

  The first thing he did was fill Ben in on a truncated version of the backstory. Then Ben was given his orders: find Jethro and make sure the Wraiths didn’t have Carla. I was impressed with Ben. He hadn’t hesitated when it was made clear how much danger Carla was in. He listened, and then did as he was told, no complaints or questions asked. Apparently, he thrived on taking orders.

  The rest of us—Cletus, Billy, and I—drove in Billy’s truck to the Maryville bus station. It was the closest to Green Valley and the only one she’d be able to make it to on foot, but it was unlikely she’d made it yet. If the Wraiths didn’t have Carla, Ben would meet us at the station. We would wait in Maryville until she showed up and they’d then drive us back to the old Oliver homestead. We’d sleep at the campsite and then leave first thing in the morning for Nashville, with Billy driving.

  If the Wraiths did have her, then Ben would call the police. He was the only one who could call it in and not be pulled into a lot of trouble, so it had to be him.

  Armed with our plan and our parts to play, we disbanded, leaving Hank Weller in charge of the party. For some reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on, I had complete faith that the kid could handle it.

  The first part of the ride to Maryville station was spent in silence. It wasn’t a long drive, twenty minutes down the mountain, but Cletus zonked out almost immediately in the cab seat behind us, leaving Billy and I alone with each other in the front.

  Strangely, given all the upheaval of the day, my thoughts turned to the day prior, to sitting under the winter sky and singing with Billy while he played his guitar. I caught myself smiling at the memory, remembering his laugh and thinking about how harmonizing and singing duets was a little bit like kissing. It kinda snuck up on you, how good it felt. You couldn’t do either very well or effectively without two people. And, now that I’d done both, I couldn’t stop thinking about doing them again.

  With Billy.