Tennessee Truths: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers- Romance

by Ashley Munoz

  “How dare he,” Gemma fumed, bringing me back to the moment.

  I waved my hand. “I just need water and sleep, and a divorce.”

  I laid my head down on the armrest of her couch and burped. Gross. I needed a dunk tank to wash this alcohol and men’s cologne off me.

  “Has Bryan reached out yet?” She sat in front of me and pushed my unpinned hair aside. I didn’t look like Gwen right now. I looked like a drowned cat, begging for scraps.

  “He’s called me about fifty times and texted about as much too.” I dug for my phone in my clutch and handed it to her.

  She tapped in the password she’d initially set up for me and started reading my texts out loud.

  “Call me. This isn’t over. Do you have any idea who I am…what you’ve just done? Baby, please. Is this about the woman at the hotel?” Her eyes snapped up to mine. “There was a woman at a hotel?” Her voice rose, and I wished I were sober so I could revel in that news too.

  “Apparently so…” I mused, not even sure how to feel about the bomb he’d dropped.

  “Please tell me you’re ready to take this son of a bitch down,” Gemma pleaded.

  I gave her a blank look. “I don’t want anything from him. Ever.”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “Doesn’t mean you can’t make him pay for putting you in the fucking hospital.”

  Gemma stood, ending our conversation, and walked toward the closet, where she pulled my favorite blanket out.

  “You wanna come snuggle in my room with me?” she offered lightly. I knew she didn’t like to share her bed, which was why she never ever had a man in it. I reached forward, grabbed the blanket, and smiled.

  “No, this is perfect. Love you, see you in the morning.”

  She patted my head like I was a little kid and turned out the light.

  Four

  “It’s not the drive shaft, Harold,” I curtly explained while sliding back under his old Chevy.

  Harold, an older man and frequent almost client of mine, huffed in disbelief like he always did. Thankful he couldn’t see me, I rolled my eyes. The old man never took my advice, and after I worked on his truck, giving him a diagnostic, he would scoff, act like a child, and tell me he was going to get another opinion.

  He never left me alone while I operated, and if I’d had an assistant who actually worked, I wouldn’t have had this problem, but Jessie didn’t. She talked and joked and said she was occupied with “bringing in new clients”, which was bullshit.

  My little sister was a flirt. She was barely twenty and acted like she belonged in Florida on spring break. I wanted to fire her ass, but my dad had begged me to give her the job and begged me to keep her on. Our family had dealt with enough hard hits to last a lifetime, so I just put up with it.

  “Look, old man, you can take my advice and actually pay me to fix it, or you can hit the road. I have other customers to help.”

  Harold made some sound from his throat; I was thankful I couldn’t see his bushy eyebrows pull together and that same old look of frustration tug on that maw of his.

  “Alright, fine. Go ahead and get it worked in then.” He huffed and walked toward the office. I rolled out long enough to see my sister manning the counter. Thank fuck.

  “Jessie, get Harold set up on paperwork for his truck please!” I yelled through the open fiberglass window. She looked over and nodded then proceeded to grab a clipboard and a few papers. Harold walked back through the door to the office just as my cell phone rang.

  I jumped up from the creeper roller and snagged the phone from the counter. “Walker Auto Body and Towing.” I grabbed a grease rag and began wiping all the muck from my hands, pinning the phone to my shoulder.

  “Hey, this is Ezra from Reggie’s Bar. You gave me your card for whatever cars were left overnight.”

  I perked up. “Yeah, that’s right. Gotta car that needs towed?”

  “Sure do, nice little silver BMW. Glad she got home safe, but it’s almost noon and she still hasn’t come to get it.” Ezra’s voice echoed through the phone like he was on speaker.

  I’d have bet my left arm that silver convertible was Faith’s, and I was about to swoop in and tow it.

  I turned my wrist to check the time. “Give me twenty minutes.”

  It wasn’t that I had a vendetta against Faith; it was just that I hadn’t been expecting to see her show back up in the same shitty town she’d left five years ago. Visit her parents? Sure, but attend an actual function as small and unfashionable as the Truitts’ barbeque? Not even close.

  It’s not like I’d had any time to prepare for her to show up again. No one had sent a town-wide email notifying everyone that Faith Vanderson, wife to the billionaire Bryan Vanderson, was back. My temper hadn’t been prepared to see her face again, much less see her wearing that locket.

  My locket.

  It was a promise I had made to her, one she’d broken. The weight of it sat heavy in my pocket, where I’d tucked it the night before after pulling it from Faith’s throat. The memory of when Corvin gave it to me had been on repeat in my head all night as I lay awake, staring at my ceiling.

  Corvin was an elderly man I had met when my mother was in the hospital for treatments. Through a few turns of events, I ended up going to visit him at the retirement home he lived in. Every Tuesday and Thursday, I took a bag of pork rinds and watched rugby with the old man.

  He was eighty-five, completely alone, and one of my best friends. He’d given me that locket after asking me if I was sure Faith was the one, encouraging me to give it to her as a placeholder for the engagement ring I had hoped to buy for her.

  She knew the history, knew it’d belonged to a man who had been a mentor to me, someone who mattered a great deal to me. I couldn’t believe she had just left without even mailing it back or giving it to her mama to pass along to me.

  After ripping it from her soft throat outside the Truitts’ house, I had tried to distract myself with work. But, distraction only leads to disasters in my garage, so I left and decided I’d head in the same direction I’d seen Faith going in after our little meet and greet. It might also have had to do with the fact that people were talking.

  At the barbeque, more than a few people we’d gone to high school with had taken pictures of Faith and posted them on social media, even tagging me in a few of them. Fucking idiots. I didn’t know what Faith’s situation was, and I didn’t really care, but it bothered me that she didn’t have her security detail. Where the fuck were those guys? Where was her husband? Faith was like a lamb, prancing around in front of a pack of wolves.

  They’d eat her alive.

  So, I had shown up at Reggie’s last night, not exactly following Faith, but keeping a close eye on where she traveled just the same. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty for watching Faith flirt and drink herself stupid. I also didn’t feel the least bit rueful for snapping a few pictures while she did it. I was mostly there to hand my card to the manager, because towing cars was what I did for extra cash on the side.

  But the longer I stood against the back wall, the angrier I became. Something was wrong; I could feel it in my bones, partially because I knew Faith. I knew every inch of her skin, every speck of gold in her harsh blue eyes. I knew every blonde strand on her head, even if I hadn’t seen her in five years.

  Five frustratingly long years.

  The bell on the front door caught my attention, bringing me back to Harold’s truck, which I’d returned to as soon I got back from towing Faith’s car. The murmurs from the front desk had me getting up and wiping my hands. I snuck a peek at the mirror above one of my rolling tool chests. Glancing from left to right to be sure no one was watching, I ran my fingers over my hair a bit to make it look a little more…something. Just…better.

  I hated myself for caring, but I knew who was standing on the other side of that door. Unfortunately, my ex marrying someone dubbed ‘Sexiest Man in Tennessee’ had me a little insecure. It wasn’t like I stayed current on that shit,
but every so often when I went into the Quick Stop, those stupid magazines would be on display.

  Bryan Vanderson was always a topic of Tennessee gossip. His abs, his money, his private jets, his orphan-saving heart—he was the state’s most beloved man, and he’d married one of us, a poor girl from small-town Hicksville. Everyone fucking loved that.

  So, it wasn’t about Faith. Not really. It was more pride than anything, at least that was the mantra running on repeat in my head. But as I cleared the door, I faltered back a step.

  Damn.

  Time had only done her favors, even with the previous night’s ensemble on. That glowing skin, those toned legs, and that smile—she was more stunning now than she’d ever been.

  She flashed a quick smile at Jessie, and in turn, I scowled at her perfectly straight teeth. It’d probably cost her a pretty penny, because the girl I knew had a twisted left canine that made her smile endearing and mine.

  I loved that little flaw of hers and that her parents couldn’t afford braces. I loved that she was always confident and stunning with it. Now it was gone, and she was all refined perfection and rich. So…fucking…rich.

  I pushed the door open fully and moved toward the front with somewhat of a slow swagger. I wouldn’t be nice, or kind—not even decent to Faith Vanderson. She didn’t deserve any of those things from me. She’d get asshole Jace, because that was all that existed anymore; she’d made sure of that when she left five years ago.

  “No, I don’t understand. There was no sign posted that said I had to remove it by a certain time. The only tow sign was for non-patrons, but I was there as a customer last night,” Faith argued politely, probably not recognizing the raven-haired college student in front of her. Jessie was nodding her head like she understood, but I could tell by the far-off look on her face that she had no idea how to handle this.

  “Jessie, you can take a break. I got this,” I said, making my way toward the back of the counter and setting my eyes on Faith. Her jaw dropped slightly, and those light eyebrows shot to her forehead. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but her doing a double take toward my sister wasn’t it.

  “Jessie Walker? Little Jessie…Messy Jessie?” Her voice went soft and her eyes frantically searched my sister’s face for confirmation that this woman was in fact the little girl she had played dress-up with and taken to the ice cream parlor, whose hair she had braided, the child she’d played big sister to—the little girl she’d abandoned.

  “Yeah…uh…” My sister faltered, looking between us.

  Faith walked around the counter and pulled Jessie into a tight hug, all while Jessie looked back toward me with panic written on her face.

  “It’s me, Faith Morgan…don’t you remember me?” Her voice came out muffled from her face being shoved into my sister’s shoulder. I saw the second recognition hit Jessie as her face, which had turned toward Faith, snapped back to me in surprise.

  I refrained from showing any emotion or giving my sister anything. Even though Jessie knew everything, the whole painful story, there were still days where I found her wiping tears from her face while she stared down at an old photo of her adopted older sister.

  Jessie wrapped her arms around Faith, hugged her back, and started crying.

  Fuck. Me.

  Both women started blubbering about each other and, pulling away, Faith picked up Jessie’s long black hair and gushed over it and how pretty she’d become. Jessie gushed over Faith’s shorter hair (which I didn’t like one bit) and how good she looked. Done with this little reunion, I stepped up and cleared my throat.

  “Okay, back to business. Jessie, go take your break. Faith, if you’re here to get your car, it’ll be $250.” I shuffled some papers in front of me and darted my eyes away from that blue gaze that was filled to the brim with judgment. Her locket burned a hole in my pocket as she narrowed those eyes on me in anger.

  “No, there’s no way in hell I’m paying that. You’ve had it for—what, an hour?” She folded her arms across her chest, which pushed her cleavage up. It seemed like she wasn’t used to wearing something so low-cut, because she suddenly looked down at her chest and released her arms, a small flush creeping into her cheeks.

  I laughed and leaned on the counter, toward her, invading the small space she had.

  “Aren’t you worth like three billion dollars? I think you can handle a little tow fee.” I winked at her and gave her a seductive smile, because I hated that she’d sold out and married a rich man. I’d continued expecting a baby bump to show up in the news whenever little features were done on the power couple.

  I’d continued expecting something to surface to show me why she had moved on so fast, but nothing ever did, and in every fucking clip, she was wearing that locket around her neck. Even in the special I was forced to watch of her wedding day, there dipped into the V of her dress was the silver chain that belonged to the locket I’d given her. I hadn’t known what to make of it then, and seeing her at the barbeque the previous day with it still attached to her neck had caused me to feel the exact same way. Hopeful. Confused. Angry.

  Her scoff brought me back to the moment. Faith was standing before me, turning three shades of red, fuming angry. Her crazy was about to show. I remembered Faith’s crazy side—moonlit dares, her riding shotgun in my truck while we kicked up mud, skinny-dipping in the lake… I loved her daring, brazen side. Those memories surfacing made my stomach flip and my pants grow tight.

  “My worth is more like three hundred, and this tow fee will wipe me out. Please…isn’t there anything we can work out? Any kind of deal? Maybe if I pay the tow fee but not the storage fee?” Her eyes disarmed me. They belonged to the old Faith, the one who was desperate, who had to hustle her ass off to pay for art classes and supplies because her parents couldn’t afford them. The one who sold everything under the fucking sun to whoever she could find just to have money for a prom dress, the one I fell madly in love with.

  I cleared away those memories that got caught in my throat and turned away from her. “Can’t you call your husband and have him come get it? Or wire you some money? Not sure what your deal is, but I know you can afford this, Faith.” I kept my stance firm, my words crisp, driving home the point that I wasn’t letting her off easy.

  She bit her lip and looked around just as her eyes watered. Fuck.

  Was she really poor? What in the hell was going on with her?

  “Um…how much do you charge per day? It might take me a few days to gather up the money, but I’m sure I can get it by…”

  I picked up the desk phone and started dialing what I had up on my browser page on the work computer.

  Faith eyed me. “What are you doing?”

  I put my finger up to indicate I needed a second.

  “Yes, hello, is Bryan Vanderson available? I have his wife here and she needs—” The receiver was ripped from my fingers so fast I didn’t even have time to lower my hand from my ear.

  What the hell?

  I stood there with my hand still in the same position by my ear and watched as her chest rose and fell as little breaths moved in and out of her mouth. She looked dazed, panicked, cornered.

  “Dammit. I can’t believe you called him.” She exhaled heavily. “Shit.”

  I waited, unsure how to proceed. I hadn’t been expecting that.

  She briskly tugged at her purse. “Here, just take my fucking money.”

  She started rustling through her large brown purse as tears slipped down her face. She pulled a wallet free, where there were literally only two one hundred-dollar bills and a few twenties. The flap fell open, revealing a license but no other cards. I also noticed her bare ring finger…which shifted something in my gut, my chest, and my jeans. Like the holy trinity, Faith always affected all three.

  Holy shit.

  Is she single?

  She threw down the two hundred dollars and began counting out the fifty. I was feeling like a dick. I felt even worse when she tried to make the last dollar with chan
ge in quarters and a few dimes.

  She was broke, and I was taking whatever she had left. Shit.

  “Happy? Now give me my fucking keys, Jace,” she seethed, wiping furiously at her face. I turned, snagged her keys from the back wall, and gently handed them to her.

  I wanted to say something.

  I considered handing her the money back, starting all this over. I considered what a dinner date would be like, one where we sat like civilized adults and talked about what on earth was going on in our lives, because Faith had a story and I wanted to hear what in the hell it was.

  But I didn’t do any of those things because she was lost to me…a stranger, a means to an end, someone just passing through. Regardless of her situation, she wasn’t staying here in Collierville. Best to just give her the keys and forget she was ever here.

  Five

  The dishes clanked together as I added another clean plate to the drying rack. An apron was wrapped around me, rubber gloves drawn up to my forearms, and my hair was pushed back away from my face with a pink headband—exactly how I used to dress to do dishes when I was a teen. Since being home, my mother had put me to work.

  So far, I had dusted, weeded flower beds, vacuumed, helped cook, and of course helped with the dishes every night. I didn’t mind, the monotony of it a welcome distraction. Tonight, however, my mind was busier than normal. Jace towing my car, his anger, his eyes…those mean calculating orbs digging into me, telling me I shouldn’t be back in this town. I had been here first, dammit. I wanted to say that to him, but it’d likely come out petulant and childish, things I didn’t want to seem in the eyes of Jace Walker.

  “Hey sweetheart, want to give those dishes a rest and come talk to me?” my dad asked over his mug of coffee. He was the male version of Lorelai Gilmore where coffee was concerned, would drink it in his sleep if he could.

  “Sure, let me just dry off,” I replied, pulling the gloves off and situating myself in the kitchen chair.