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

by Ashley Munoz

  “Okay, so I need to leave it here?”

  “Yeah, maybe borrow your parents’ car for a bit, or if your husband has another he can send you,” he added with cool indifference. A harsh retort was on my tongue, but my marriage wasn’t any of his business, so I just ignored it.

  “Yeah, I’ll figure something out.” Walking back toward the car, I pulled free my hoodie, legal papers, and a few other things I didn’t want to be without for the week or two my car would be in the shop. With my arms full, I headed back toward the entrance to talk to Gemma but paused with my hand on the door.

  “Thank you for working it in, Jace. I appreciate it.” I pushed out my gratitude as gracefully as one would a burp, then I moved as quick as possible to avoid any cruel remarks he might have for me. Somewhere in the back of my mind there was a small desire to pull out the comment he’d made about taking me to dinner, but it was dangerous to mull over fantastical ideas that would never and could never happen.

  Now all I needed to do was get through the week and get my car back without thinking about those thoughts or interacting with Jace again.

  “Dad, what on earth are you doing?” I scrunched my nose, eying my father’s movements. He was in the garage, wearing his suit from work, hovering over the engine of his Lincoln.

  “I just wanted to check the levels, so if you need to borrow it, it won’t break down on you.” He unscrewed the cap to the oil and pulled the dipstick out. My father wasn’t exactly mechanically inclined, so I wondered if he even knew what to look for. I wouldn’t say a word, though, because he was being sweet as pie.

  “You don’t have to do that, Daddy.” I walked toward the hood, trying to help him.

  He heaved a sigh, wiping the end of the silver stick with a thick rag. “I heard your new car is already in the shop.”

  I nodded silently, not wanting to drag the issue out any more than it already had been for the day. I was hot, tired, and hungry.

  “Heard it’s at Walker Auto…” he started, keeping his eyes on the engine. Jace was an awkward topic for us. Knowing Jace had been the source of many of my ramblings and complaints at the dinner table in middle school, it hadn’t been easy for him to accept the guy as my boyfriend.

  In fact, he’d spent a good six months icing Jace out, no matter how hard Jace worked to win him over. Dad didn’t start warming up to him until June had a massive health crisis, requiring a week stay in the hospital.

  I’ll never forget the day my daddy drove us over with two huge boxes full of food for them. Dad never said why we were taking them canned goods and mac and cheese, but I had once overheard someone whisper that the Walkers were living off of grace, sweet country air, and nothing else.

  Afterward, we started inviting the Walkers over for family dinner or brunch once a week, and Dad didn’t mind that I hung out over there. So, when Jace dumped me not two weeks before we were supposed to leave for college, I wasn’t sure how my father would react, but I assumed he was just tiptoeing around my own emotions. Both my parents knew I still loved Jace and didn’t want anyone to be unkind toward him.

  Gemma didn’t understand that logic, but my parents supported me on it.

  “Yeah, Jace agreed to look at it,” I answered, toying with one of the rags on the tool table.

  “That a good idea? I didn’t think you two were running in the same circles anymore.” He stood straight, watching me intently.

  I shrugged. “It was the closest place.”

  He waited, watching me, looking at the engine, hesitating. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

  “Just be careful. He isn’t a road you want to wander down again,” he warned.

  I nodded, unsure why it felt so odd to agree with him. I walked over, hugged him, and left him to his tinkering.

  Eight

  I had finished my day with my best friend, Seth, drinking a few beers. We were at the local bar, dancing a bit with a few women, and I was essentially doing everything in my power to push out the memory of Faith being in my shop, asking for help. Sure, she was paying money for it, but she’d still come to me to fix her car.

  It meant nothing, but the fact that I couldn’t get my mind off the softness of her voice or how smooth her skin looked in that summer tank, how delicious the curve of her ass was in those jeans was proving to be a problem. I’d decided to move her car up to the front of my projects so I wouldn’t have to deal with her any longer than necessary.

  She could get her car then move on with her life or do whatever the hell it was she was here for. I still had no idea what was going on with her, but I had noticed that some of what she’d grabbed from her car were legal papers with the state seal on the front. My mind wandered over the possibility that she might be going through a divorce, or that maybe he’d died…but that couldn’t be the case. In fact, neither were likely the case. Every puff piece of celebrity news and gossip portrayed the couple as happy, in love, and always together.

  I kept drinking to get the different ideas of what might be happening out of my head. I had made a plan with Seth on a napkin, a plan to get her out of my mind and out of my thoughts. We were drunk as hell, but our plan consisted of fixing her car then getting a restraining order against her, so if she showed up anywhere else, all I had to do was call the local sheriff and he’d take her away. It seemed like a solid plan; all I had to do was find a way to convince the court that my heartbreak was enough evidence that she could harm me and put me in danger. Stumbling out of an Uber, barely making it into my fifth wheel was how I ended my evening.

  Voices drifting through the windows woke me in the morning. I opened my eyes and blinked, trying to figure out exactly who was outside the trailer and why they were here so early. My head was pounding from my poor decision to drink myself stupid the night before.

  I fumbled to the left and reached for my cell, but it tipped off the small side table.

  Shit.

  I lazily dove for the phone just as female laughter filtered inside.

  I froze.

  I knew that laugh. The last time I’d heard it, the woman who created that sound had been sidled up next to me singing at the top of her lungs to a Blake Shelton song while running her hand down my thigh. I had filed away all the minute details about Faith Morgan in my head, memorializing her. That day was supposed to be the day I proposed to her.

  Her soft laugh echoed through my window again, bringing me back to staring at the faded drapes in my fifth wheel.

  Why is she here?

  I straightened up and tripped, hitting my head on the small overhead storage area above my bed then extracting my legs from the sheets. Trevor jolted up from his spot in the kitchen and started barking.

  “Shhhh, shit, Trev. Be quiet.” I brought my hand to my head, trying to rub away the ache. I walked around my bed and met Trevor, patting his fur, all while I kept trying to look through the windows that lined the kitchen.

  With my eyes trained on the blurry silhouettes near the front porch of Dad’s house, I flung my door open and stuck my head out.

  Light assaulted me, forcing me to blink rapidly, and at my sudden appearance, the laughing and murmuring of the girls stopped.

  “Uh…bro, can you put some clothes on?” Jessie seemed to choke on the words.

  I looked down and realized too late that I was standing in my boxer briefs. My eyes slowly traveled back up and unfortunately clashed with Faith’s sharp blue ones.

  She was standing in a pair of tight jeans with a loose-fitting tank, and her short hair was braided in two symmetrical lines. Her small nose was scattered with freckles, and those eyebrows of hers, which were currently near her hairline in surprise, were shaped all feminine and pretty.

  She looked like a woman. Her flowy tank somewhat hid her figure, but there was no mistaking how generous her breasts were now, and fuck me and this entire day, but it made me think of that freckle on her right tit.

  “Jace!” Jessie shouted as Trevor pushed past me and ran right for Faith. She put he
r hands out like she could stop the assault, but we all knew that wasn’t happening. He jumped on her, mauling her to the ground.

  “Shit.” I ran after him, pulling on his collar. Jessie was behind me with her hands over her face, covering her eyes as Faith lay on the ground, moving her face from side to side to dodge Trevor’s licks.

  “Dammit, Trevor, get off.” I tried to assist with pulling him off her, unsure why the hell he kept attacking her.

  “It’s fine. Maybe he smells Trudy on me or somethin’.” She propped herself up with her hands, watching as I pulled Trevor back. Her gaze wasn’t on the crazy dog I was hauling; it was on my chest, or more specifically, the tattoos I’d gotten.

  I hadn’t had any the last time she’d seen me like this, and I wondered what she thought of them—until I realized too late that some of my tattoos were ones she’d recognize. Near my heart, scrawled in black ink were the words Ugly truths hung around a pretty neck.

  Her eyes narrowed as she read them. Then they jumped to the scripted letters to the left of my heart. On what looked like a page from a book, Dear Pip was inked in black with a red line running through it.

  I wanted to turn around, to end this examination and the vulnerability of the moment, but I also wanted her to see me. I wasn’t ashamed that I had inked a confession on my skin, because once I’d done it, I had felt like it released something in me, freed it so there was no way I would regret it, even if it was harsh.

  “Dude, I am not kidding, go put some freaking clothes on!” Jessie yelled from behind her hands, ending the moment. Faith shook her head and began wiping at her face, and I turned and pulled Trevor with me as I headed back toward my fifth wheel.

  I shut the door and drew in a deep breath through my nose. I was going to need clothes, coffee, and vodka to handle this situation, because I didn’t want to see Faith Vanderson—or Faith Morgan, or any other name she might go by—here at my house.

  I grabbed the ends of my hair and tried to regain my composure. I snatched a pair of jeans, pulled them up, and hoped like hell when I opened the door again, the woman who’d stolen then smashed my heart to pieces would be gone.

  Nine

  Things couldn’t get any worse. My face was prickled red from seeing Jace in a pair of boxer briefs, sans shirt. I’d married a billionaire who worked out every single day with a personal trainer, drank kale that was imported from King Trident’s garden or some fancy-ass place like that, and used some moisturizer that was made from pearls found in the most remote parts of the universe—but billionaire muscle had nothing on country muscle.

  Nothing at all.

  Then there were those tattoos.

  My body hummed with memories, like touching the button on a sleeping time machine, activated and ready to dissect every word inked onto his chest. It was a heartbreaking confession.

  I’d broken his heart somehow.

  He regretted me. Somehow, in my stomach, something churned, screaming that if he truly regretted me, he wouldn’t have etched me onto his skin, keeping me a part of his life.

  “Are you okay?” Jessie put the back of her hand to my forehead for the third time, and just like every other time, I swatted her away.

  “I’m fine. Just not used to this weather—or dogs, apparently.” I cleared my throat and fanned my face.

  “Want some tea?” Jessie asked, perking up. Her long black hair framed her heart-shaped face perfectly, making her look grown up and not at all like the little girl I used to babysit. I had come over to help do her hair for her date and spend the day with my old friend. I hadn’t thought Jace would still be living here, or rather, so near to where he used to.

  The Walkers’ single wide trailer sat in the same spot it always had with the white lattice covering the bottom trim and a beautiful rich blue paneling covering the outside. There was a wide, covered porch with warped, old steps leading up to the house and a small chain-link fence containing a patch of lush, green grass.

  I had always loved this house. June Walker had done what she could with what she had, ensuring potted flowers littered her porch and always meticulously sweeping leaves and other debris clean from the parking space, porch, and yard.

  Never in a million years would I have expected Jace to be living outside the house in a large fifth wheel, just ten feet away from his childhood home.

  My mind raced, thinking over what that meant. Did it mean he didn’t have a big family? No kids, no wife? At least none came out behind him when he opened the door, no wedding ring was on his finger, and no other car was parked alongside Jessie’s…not even his was there.

  I deflated, unsure of what that meant. Anyone could have been living in there; a woman could have been tucked away in his bed, sleeping as I sat there thinking about him. Him coming out alone didn’t necessarily mean anything.

  My hormones and stupid heart ignored all the discoveries. Instead they hungered for things they shouldn’t have had an appetite for anymore.

  I followed Jessie into the house without a look back toward the fifth wheel. A hard hit of nostalgia landed square between my eyes and dead center in my heart as I looked around the living room and saw they still had that same tattered white and beige sofa set, the same blue recliner that never popped back up unless someone pushed from behind. The only change was the sixty-inch flat-screen against the far wall.

  Jessie led us into the kitchen and tugged on the old fridge, its handle taped in place with black electrical tape. Five years later and it was still barely hanging on. On rusty instincts, I reached over the dishwasher and snagged two plastic cups. Just as I set them on the small island, I heard a gruff, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  I slowly turned around, knowing I’d see an angry expression marring Jace’s handsome face, but I wasn’t prepared for the red that was flushing his cheeks, betraying his embarrassment. My face turned ruddy, maybe to match his coloring; maybe I hated myself for making him feel uncomfortable.

  I hated the shame that lurked behind his blue eyes, the same shame that had sat there when my father used to grill him about his future. Out of old habits that apparently hadn’t died, I wanted to fold myself into his arms, soothe his worries, and promise I’d always choose him. Because I would have.

  But he hadn’t chosen me.

  “We’re getting tea,” Jessie finally answered, saving me from acting like an idiot. I’d nearly forgotten what this asshole had said and done to me since I returned home.

  “I can see that, but what is she doing in here?” Jace moved his arms around as though Jessie didn’t know where here was.

  Was I not welcome? After all these years, after all this time…

  Fucking figured.

  “I was just here to help Jessie, didn’t mean to intrude,” I softly explained with my arms raised in mock surrender. The kitchen was small with a modest-sized island in the middle, nestled into the faded linoleum at our feet. If I walked all the way around it, I’d still have to walk past Jace on the way out, unless I left through the back door. I had done it all the time when I was younger, but now it felt too personal.

  “Well, she can meet you at your house. No need for your little meetups to convene here.” He flicked his hand toward me but kept his head lowered, as if hiding his face. I let out a heavy sigh and pushed forward, not caring if I bumped into him or not.

  “Message received, asshole.” I rammed his shoulder on my way past and kept going until I had cleared their porch steps and was almost to my parents’ Lincoln.

  “Faith, wait. Please.” Jessie quickly ran down their rickety porch steps and hustled toward me.

  I paused with my door open and watched as she got closer.

  “He’s been a bit of an ass for the past few years, sorry.” She flushed. She wasn’t justifying her brother’s behavior, just telling me how it was, which was…surprising. I tried not to read too much into the ‘few years’ thing. For all I knew, something had happened when he dumped me, but he’d never told me.

 
; Maybe he hadn’t gotten into that college he’d applied for; maybe something had happened to his mama. My stomach twisted with discomfort at the mere idea. He’d worked so hard for her medicine, worked so hard to help her, there was no way she just…

  “Jessie…” I whispered, nearly out of breath. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t even thought to ask yet, but now didn’t feel right—not with Jace standing guard on the front steps like a gargoyle. His arms were crossed, making his biceps bulge, and the smirk that forced his lips to twist just a hair to the right made him look like he was keeping a secret.

  Which of course he was. I wanted to demand answers as to what I’d done all those years ago to make him leave me, why—after everything—it was so easy for him to let me go. Instead I stepped forward, hugged Jessie, and said, “Come over to my house. I’m there all day.”

  I got into the car and drove away, refusing to look back, refusing to do anything but inhale short, tiny breaths. I needed answers, and I wasn’t too proud to accept that the boy I’d once loved would never give them to me.

  Ten

  The afternoon light danced along my mother’s living room floor as the trees swayed in the breeze outside. I closed my eyes, soaked up the warmth of the sun, and relished not having to feel the chill from the wind. I loved these lazy summer afternoons.

  “Sugar, you wanted to see me?” my mother asked, adjusting her earrings as she walked in.

  “Yeah, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind gossipin’ a bit with me, like we used to?” I smiled innocently.

  She broke into a huge grin and ran off to the kitchen. Returning with a small box of truffles, she sat next to me and settled in.

  “You have a box on hand for idle gossip?” I joked while plucking a chocolate from the box. What I meant but wouldn’t say was that she had more on hand from gossiping about my situation the other day. A small twinge of hurt wormed through my heart thinking of my mother entertaining gossip about me. Of all the people in my life, she was the one I wanted to slam the door in people’s faces, telling them I wasn’t a topic of discussion—but that wasn’t her.