Beard With Me: Winston Brothers

by Penny Reid

  He’d been distant at the party, and I guess I understood why. He wanted me to leave. Now, after talking to Cletus, I wasn’t sure what to do, whether to stay or go. But I was convinced if Billy and I just talked things through calmly, the right decision would reveal itself.

  Glancing behind me at Cletus, I saw he had his head tipped back against the window and his eyes closed like he was asleep.

  To be sure, I whispered, “Cletus?”

  He made no sign he’d heard me.

  My heart lodged in my throat—as it had been since this afternoon—I turned to Billy in the driver’s seat. His eyes were on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other at his bottom lip. He was tugging it lightly with his thumb and forefinger.

  He was so beautiful, inside and out. I knew why he wanted me to leave, I understood. I wasn’t mad anymore and I wasn’t hurt about it. Talking things through with Cletus had helped, especially putting myself in Billy’s shoes.

  What if he’d been the one whose daddy cut on him? What if he submitted to it willingly? What if there was a way to save him, but it meant he had to leave? Wouldn’t I want the same thing Billy wanted? Wouldn’t I give him up to keep him safe? I would. I absolutely would.

  And yet. . . I still couldn’t imagine leaving. Nothing would be the same. What if it ruins things between us?

  I told myself we’d be separated by geography, not by forever. We could write, talk on the phone—just like Cletus said—if Billy wanted. This was not the end if he didn’t want it to be, but I wouldn’t know what he wanted until we talked.

  And so, my heart beating double time, I whispered, “Billy.”

  He blinked, shifted in his seat, but he didn’t look at me. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry I ran away, before your football game. That was silly and selfish of me and I’m sorry.”

  He took a deep breath. “It’s fine. I understand.”

  “Billy, we should talk.” I took off my seatbelt. I wanted to touch him, be near him.

  But when I did, he glanced over, frowning at my lack of safety restraint. “What are you doing?”

  I ignored his frown, determined to sit closer since this might be one of our last times together for a while. If I went on that bus with Carla tomorrow, who knows when I’d see him next?

  “I understand why you want me to go.” I pressed my leg to his, tugging his arm away from the steering wheel so I could tuck myself under it. I felt his body stiffen when I rested my head on his chest. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.”

  “Scarlet—”

  “No, listen. I want to stay with you, but Cletus and I talked, and—” I worked to get my racing heart under control “—I don’t want anything to change between us. I want things to be exactly the same. If I leave, then things will change. But, like I said, I understand why you want me to go. If the roles were reversed, I’d want you to go too.”

  His arm behind my back, which had been inflexible at first, relaxed. The hand on my shoulder pulled me close, giving me a side hug.

  “You’re thinking about going?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “I’m relieved.”

  “And you probably already figured this out, but just because I’m in California doesn’t mean we can’t still know each other. I’m sorry it took me a while to calm down and realize that.” I lifted my chin, laughing lightly and pressing a kiss to his neck.

  He instantly stiffened again. And then he removed his arm and leaned away, angling away from me. I frowned at his arm, confused.

  “Scarlet, I . . .” He breathed out. “There’s something you need to know. But first, you should put your seatbelt back on.”

  Dazed by his actions, feeling like he’d pushed me off a balance beam, I stared at him for a second, and then I moved back to my seat, reaching for and clicking the seatbelt into place.

  As soon as I did, Billy said, “Sam is pregnant. I’m the father. We’re getting married.”

  The car was traveling straight ahead, but it was like my center of gravity shifted to one side, everything moving at odd angles. I don’t know how long we sat there in silence, but it was longer than a second and shorter than a minute.

  “I found out tonight,” he continued, sounding to my ears like he was underwater.

  Or maybe I was.

  “She stopped me after the game, she told me she’d found out over Thanksgiving. Her parents know and they said they’ll do whatever makes her happy.”

  “And marrying you makes her happy,” I said without thinking, not recognizing the sound of my voice, the raw spite in it. Turning in my seat, I faced Billy and all his beauty. “What about you? What makes you happy?”

  Billy blinked, like my words were a blow and he needed a moment to absorb them.

  But I wasn’t finished. “Cletus told me you broke up with her. You. Broke. Up. You don’t marry someone you broke up with.”

  “She’s pregnant.”

  “Not everyone who makes a baby together gets married.”

  “But I do.”

  I snapped my mouth shut, crossing my arms and lowering my chin to my chest because suddenly it hurt so bad. I didn’t have a name for anything I was feeling but I knew I was going to cry. Not right now, but soon. I was going to cry buckets.

  Build a wall, build a wall.

  He breathed out; it sounded pained. And then he hit the steering wheel with his palms, cursing under his breath.

  “I can’t be my father.” He spoke to the windshield, his voice unsteady, shaking his head. “I won’t be him.”

  I laughed bitterly, again speaking before thinking, “Well, you are. Because your father married your mother when she got pregnant with Jethro, and clearly he didn’t love her either.”

  Billy recoiled and then glanced over at me, and the look in his eyes felt like a punch in the stomach. He looked at me like I was a stranger.

  I turned to the passenger door, immediately ashamed of myself. But I couldn’t apologize. The chaotic emotions I had no name for had concentrated into a single sentiment. I decided I was angry. So. Angry. Because if I wasn’t angry, I was going to be devastated.

  I’d grown comfortable. I’d relaxed. I’d started dreaming. I’d breathed easier. I’d taken for granted that any part of my life could be wonderful. I was wrong.

  So I decided to hate him. I hated him for making himself matter to me, for teaching me to dream, for making me want him and then taking himself away so abruptly. In that moment, I hated him more than I wanted him, more than I wanted to breathe or live, and so I clung to it, I buried myself in it. I dug my nails into my selfish defense. I had to.

  It was the only thing keeping me from crying like an idiot and begging him to change his mind.

  “Scarlet—”

  “Don’t talk to me.”

  I heard him breathe. I heard his hands squeeze and twist the leather of the steering wheel. I heard him shift in his seat.

  “So, you’re leaving?” he asked, his voice that monotone, robotic one from the party.

  I rolled my lips between my teeth, refusing to answer, building my wall, brick by brick. I would pretend he didn’t exist.

  But how does one pretend the world doesn’t exist?

  This was the end of my world. The end of knowing Billy, kissing Billy, making Billy laugh, singing with Billy. This was the end because he’d made himself the center of it. How long had it taken? Seven days? A little less? A little more? How had he done it? I’d been so careful. I’d never accepted pity. I’d never asked for charity. Never. And the worst part was, I knew better!

  I’d thought Carla was a fool for relying on Cletus, for trusting him with her secret, for expecting him to protect her, have feelings for her. But I’d been the fool.

  This is why you don’t pet strays. You don’t teach them to expect gentleness. Getting their hopes up just ends up being an unkindness instead, in the end.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  *Billy*

  “How many young men fear that there is a monster
inside them? People are supposed to fear others, not themselves. People are supposed to aspire to become their fathers, not shudder at the thought.”

  Veronica Roth, Allegiant

  We arrived at the Maryville bus station just after midnight, and I parked on the street rather than in the lot. If the Wraiths arrived, I didn’t want to be trapped. Cletus’s soft snores and Scarlet’s enraged silence provided the soundtrack to the end of this horrifically shitty day. Cutting the engine, I reminded myself to breathe in and out, told my heart to keep beating.

  Things can only improve from here.

  Scarlet wasn’t the only person who counted on me, it would do me well to remember that. Momma, Cletus, Ashley, Beau and Duane, Roscoe, and now Sam and our child. This instinct to make Scarlet the center of my universe was as bewildering as it was powerful, and I had to fight against it.

  My eyes moved to the right, to look at her. I’d resisted for almost an hour but in the end, I was helpless to stop myself, even though doing so sent a shock of agony through my body. Her back was to me, the side of her head resting against the bench seat. Her arms were crossed over her stomach, not her chest. She seemed curled forward.

  She was angry, and that was fine. It was good. I could bear her anger if it meant she’d leave Green Valley and never return. Or so I told myself.

  It’s not too late. Ask her to stay. Tell her you won’t marry Sam, tell her you’ll find another way.

  I closed my eyes against the cowardly thought, breathing in slowly, or trying to. I couldn’t seem to inhale deeply, there was something blocking and restricting my airflow.

  “There’s Ben,” Cletus said, startling me out of my thoughts.

  I turned and glanced at my brother behind us, finding his eyes on me and full of sympathy. Shit. He’d heard everything.

  Facing out the windshield again, I watched Ben’s truck approach, the only one on the road. Instead of parking on the street, he pulled into the parking lot. I heard Cletus mutter a curse, followed by, “George H. Croissantwich, what is wrong with that boy? Let me out and I’ll tell him to move to the street.”

  “No. I’ll do it,” I said in a daze. “Cletus, come sit up here in the driver’s seat, just in case we have company.”

  My movements sluggish, I opened my door and then the cab door behind it, not waiting for Cletus to switch seats before walking over to Ben. He’d also stepped out of his truck, but he hadn’t turned off his engine.

  “Billy,” he called, making me wince.

  I gave him a stern look, shaking my head, and then whispered as soon as I was close enough, “Did you find Jet?”

  “Actually, he found me. And he had her.” Ben motioned to his truck.

  I leaned to the side, peering into the cab and spotting Carla curled up on the back seat.

  I breathed out, relieved. “Good. That’s good. Move your truck to the street so we can get her out and—”

  “Let’s go,” Scarlet’s voice interrupted and a second later she walked past me, moving to the passenger side of Ben’s truck.

  Ben glanced between me and her, his forehead wrinkling. “I thought—”

  “You mind driving us to Knoxville, Ben? Tonight?” Scarlet’s eyes were on Ben. “I have money to pay for a hotel.”

  I said, “No—”

  While Ben said, “I don’t mind,” both of us speaking at the same time.

  Still not looking at me, Scarlet opened the passenger door and hopped inside the truck. My feet were moving around the hood before I realized what I was doing, and I held the handle of her door, keeping her from closing it.

  This can’t be it. This can’t be it. We have more time.

  “You’re going tomorrow. Cletus and I will drive you.”

  “I honestly don’t mind, Billy.” Ben had climbed back inside and shut his door, buckling his seatbelt like it was all decided. “I’ll take good care of them, I promise.”

  Scarlet tugged on the door again, her eyes—no longer the color of stained glass or the sky, but now gray like sand and slate—staring unseeingly forward.

  “Wait.” I gripped the handle tighter, unable to catch my breath, words tumbling out of me, “Please. Wait. Please.”

  She looked at me then, her face stone, her gaze granite. “Let go.”

  “Just wait a minute—”

  “No.” Scarlet’s eyes turned glassy, and all I could think was that this couldn’t be it. This wasn’t how we ended. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

  Before I could think of anything relevant to say or do—a bargain to strike, words that could force her to understand and not hate me—Scarlet gave her head a subtle shake, saying quietly, “Goodbye, Billy. Have a nice life.”

  “You want to talk about anything, anything at all—” Cletus placed his hand on my shoulder, patting it “—I’m always here to listen to your woes.”

  We were sitting in my truck outside our house. He’d driven us home. I didn’t remember any of it, only the anguish of watching Scarlet leave. I replayed it over and over in my mind. And then I’d hit rewind, reliving the entire day, looking for the moment I could learn from. There had to be a lesson here, something actionable . . .

  Don’t have sex until you’re married.

  I breathed out a humorless laugh, my eyes stinging. And then I laughed harder.

  “Didn’t you use a condom?” Cletus asked, suddenly seeming agitated.

  “I did. Every time.”

  “Hmm,” he said, sounding even more agitated. “She wasn’t on the pill?”

  I shook my head. “Her parents didn’t want her on the pill, told her they thought it encouraged premarital sex.” I paused, thinking about what I’d just said, and then started laughing again.

  Cletus made a sound, like a grumble. “I think you’re in shock.”

  “I’m in something,” I said, still shaking my head. I’m in hell.

  Removing his hand from my shoulder, my brother pulled the keys from the ignition and opened his door. “Come on. Let’s go inside. I need to let Lea out. You ever been drunk before? Want to do that?”

  Breathing in as deeply as my lungs would allow, I opened my door, stumbling out slowly while Cletus jogged up the front steps to the house. He held the screen ajar as he unlocked the front door, his dog bursting out of the house like a rocket.

  As always, she came to me first, licking my hand, tail slowing to a subdued wag.

  I looked at her, suddenly irritated. She thought I was the alpha? She was wrong. I wasn’t shit.

  “What the fuck?” Cletus strode to the end of the porch, his steps rapid-fire, the sound reaching through my self-recrimination and making me aware of a different noise.

  Motorcycles.

  Now alert, I spun just as four motorcycles pulled into our driveway, and behind them was a truck.

  “What do we do?” Cletus asked, clearly spooked.

  “Go inside,” I commanded, closing my truck door and positioning myself between the motorcycles and the front steps. “Go inside, Cletus.”

  “No way. I’m not leaving you out here—”

  “Well, well, well. Look who it is. The QB.” Gears was the first to speak as he wore no helmet. “Great game you played tonight, son. I enjoyed it.”

  “I did too.” Darrell slid out of the truck. He was grinning at me. “You’re a hell of a ball player, son. It’s a pleasure to watch.”

  “What do you want?” Cletus asked from his spot on the porch and it took everything inside me not to turn around and scream at my brother to go inside. It wouldn’t do any good. He wouldn’t listen, he was as stubborn as—

  As Scarlet.

  “Right to the point, huh?” Raymond King stepped off his bike, motioning with his head toward the house. “Good. Let’s get this over with.”

  “No one else is here, it’s just us,” I said, my voice low and firm. I didn’t want them trashing the house, my momma didn’t need to come home to that.

  “I believe you.” Darrell strolled slowly forward as four
of his brothers walked past me and to the stairs. “Get a hold of that one,” our father said, lifting his chin toward Cletus. “He’s going to be a problem, his temper is worse than mine.”

  I turned, a new spike of adrenaline pumping through me as I watched the four men surround and then restrain my brother—a boy—before he had time to react.

  Facing Darrell again, I inhaled deeply without issue; fear must’ve cleared my lungs. “What’s all this about?”

  “You know what it’s about.” My father was still grinning, the other two men from the truck coming to stand at his shoulders. “But if you need me to spell it out, it’s spelled, C-A-R-L-A and S-C-A-R-L-E-T. Ring any bells?”

  “Billy, what does that spell?” Cletus asked, sounding as though he truly didn’t know. He used to do this to our father often, pretend to be stupid just to piss him off.

  Darrell ignored Cletus, his flinty eyes coming to me. “We know you were in Maryville, dropping them off to Ben McClure. We know he left with both of the girls in his truck. We know you helped them. And now they’re going to pay, and so are you.”

  “You won’t find her.” I shook my head, denying his claims, because I had to. Fear like I’d never experienced tore at the seams of me, my brain, making it impossible to comprehend this reality.

  He’s lying. He doesn’t know. He’s bluffing. He doesn’t have her.

  “Oh yeah? Because we know where she is right now.”

  “You don’t,” I continued to deny, needing my version of the situation to be true.

  “We do. She’s still with Ben McClure at a little hotel in Knoxville.” My father waited until my expression changed—and it did—because he was telling the truth. He knew where she was. “See, we all got cell phones now. You should look into it, they’d help keep everyone connected.”

  As though to prove the truth of his words, Darrell withdrew a black flip phone from his back pocket, showing it to me.

  God. God. Please. Please.

  “What do you want? What’ll it take to let her go?” I said and thought, reaching, hoping there was something.