Fourteen
Westin
I needed to talk to my friends without Betsy around. Shit had gone down, and it had gone down fast.
Graduation was around the corner, and things were fucking falling down around my ears.
It took all my self-control not to punch the steering wheel. Only Betsy’s pale, frightened face kept me from raging.
Dirt spun beneath my tires as I took the turn to Josh’s farm faster than I should have. The house was lit up, but the only car in the driveway was Josh’s dad’s.
Like me, they were probably racing around town trying to find Betsy.
As we pulled to a stop, I took out my phone and shot off a quick message to the boys. My phone alerted right away that people were responding, but I didn’t read the messages.
We sat in the truck, silent.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” I cut her off. “Don’t apologize. Not for this.”
“It’s my fault.”
“For the love of God, Betsy, please stop fucking talking. I can’t handle it.” Those were the exact opposite of the words I meant to say.
Shocked silence filled the cab of my pickup. I opened my mouth to speak, but Brant’s bike drifted into the driveway and stopped next to us. He kicked the stand on the bike and pulled Betsy’s door open. She went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. What a fucking asshole idiot I was. Not once since she told me what had happened had I held her.
Her legs went around Brant’s waist, and I remembered how it had felt to have her like that around me. Since everything had gone down with her grandmother, we hadn’t been together, and I missed it.
Before I could do anything about it, Josh skidded to a stop, Landry close behind him.
Josh jumped out, and just like Brant had done, went to Betsy, wrapping his arms right around her even though she was still holding Brant. Lan moved slower though. He watched Josh and Brant without expression. We’d known something was about to happen. We should have expected this.
I had to get back to my dad, and not to appeal to his better nature.
If fear of God didn’t make him do the right thing, then maybe fear of all our secrets being spread over the county would.
Fifteen
Betsy
In the weeks that followed, everything went sideways.
I went back to school where I had become a pariah. That was the least of it though. I could deal with the disgusted faces and under-the-breath comments. I put my head down and did my work. My only goal was to graduate. Everything that came after that would have to, well, come after.
Without dance as an outlet, I started to snap at the boys. It wasn’t right, and it sure as hell wasn’t fair. All my anxiety and anger just built and built in me until I was seething. When people glared at me, I started to glare back.
If someone said something nasty, I had a comeback. It was only a matter of time until I got into trouble with teachers who were more than happy to put me in my place.
“What are you doing?” Lan asked me one day, when I took a step toward Violet Harris after she spat out, “Slut,” as she passed me in the hall.
“Did you hear her?” I asked.
He slid his arm around my waist. “I did. But you need to ignore it.”
How was I supposed to keep ignoring everything? But Lan was right, even though I wasn’t a robot, or a doormat.
He and the boys had to deal with their own shit, too. Lan’s friends on the baseball team wanted nothing to do with him. They seemed to think that, in addition to being my boyfriend, he was with Wes, Brant, and Josh, and their obvious discomfort with that made them keep their distance.
From the time I moved in until school ended, the boys spent hours at Josh’s house, going home only to sleep, but even when we were together, it wasn’t like it used to be. We were wound tight, and after a few incidents of biting each other’s heads off, we seemed to come to the unspoken agreement to just keep our mouths shut.
I tried to get a job, which was stupid. No one wanted to hire me. Not even Brant’s parents who had a sign on their cafe door advertising a dishwasher position. He’d gone with me to ask about it and had almost lost his mind when his mom shook her head.
Every relationship we had was falling apart, and the worst part was, I was afraid ours would be next.
Graduation came, and I celebrated it by sitting in Josh’s empty house. I decided it was pointless for me to go. I had no family, and I could just imagine what people would say when I went across the stage to accept my diploma. Staying home would be best for everyone.
No one even really argued with me about it. “It makes sense,” Josh said when I announced my plan. “Just stay out of the spotlight for a while.”
“I’m not trying to be in the spotlight.” The retort was on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it inside.
Once school was out, it was easier to keep my thoughts to myself, but harder to not notice how the boys were changing. I saw Josh every day, but only because I lived in his house.
Brant would stop by most often, then Wes.
Lan…
The connection we had—I used to be able to look at him and know what he was thinking, but he was closed off from me.
I wanted to make everything better, and I didn’t know how. I tried holding his hand, leaning against him. I invited him on walks, or to play one of the old games I found in a closet at Josh’s.
But this new Landry didn’t have time.
He didn’t even have time to kiss me goodbye.
Somewhere deep inside me, I started to accept that this was the end and Lan was trying to pull away. Maybe he felt like he shouldn’t. Like he couldn’t.
My Landry put people ahead of himself, but he was like one of those animals who hid when they were injured. Landry hurt, and this self-imposed isolation was his way of protecting himself.
Lying in bed one night, alone, I came to a decision. It was time to leave Shawville. The boys might have responsibilities here, but I didn’t. If we stayed, if I stayed, it would be the end of us. I knew it.
My door creaked open, and I rolled onto my side. Josh was wearing a t-shirt and boxers and smiled when he saw I was awake. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I whispered. I pulled back the covers, inviting him to join me. His body was warm, like a furnace, but my room was cool from the air conditioner so I nestled closer.
He smoothed his hand down my hair. “You were quiet tonight.”
It’s funny he would say that when I’d been thinking about how much quieter all of us had become.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Not really. “I’m worried,” I said. “And I feel like I’m taking advantage of your dad.”
“You’re not,” he replied. He trailed his hand from my head to my arm, skimming it along my skin and raising goosebumps.
“I think I should move,” I whispered, afraid of his reaction.
He stilled. “Why?”
“In Mobile or Birmingham, or maybe somewhere down by the coast, I could get a job. If no one knows who I am—”
“We only have a few weeks until Wes and I leave for summer session at Samford.”
“I was thinking about Birmingham,” I said again. “I could be in town where you are.”
“We’ll be practicing for hours. It’s not like we’ll be able to see much of you.”
What was he trying to say? Stomach cramping, I thought for a second I was going to be sick. “I don’t have to go if you don’t want me there.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” Josh let me go and pushed against the mattress until his back was against the headboard. I sat up, too, moving so I could see his face. “I just mean, let’s not make any rash decisions right now. So much has happened.”
Did he think I didn’t know that? My grandmother was dead and so was my dream of going to Juilliard. By some miracle, I’d graduated and now I had to be smart. Make a plan and execute it.
“I don't know why you’d bring this
up right now,” he whispered.
I found myself apologizing. “I’m sorry.”
He crossed his arms and stared out the window. I touched him, curling my fingers around his forearm.
“Josh. I won’t go anywhere if you don’t want me to, okay?” That seemed to calm him, because he uncrossed his arms and opened them to me. I went into them, resting my head on his chest so I could feel his heart beating.
We fell asleep that way, wrapped in each other’s arms. But when I opened my eyes in the gray dawn light the next morning, he was gone.
Sixteen
Westin
Landry had come to a conclusion that turned my guts: we didn’t have any choice. We had to leave Betsy.
I fought him. With every argument and every bit of logic I had, I fought, but it came down to one thing. If we stayed with Betsy, Landry’s father, with the help of my dad, would ruin the lives of everyone.
Dad had already made it impossible for Betsy to work here. I was a cautionary tale, and he spread the word far and wide. Instead of embarrassing him, my dad reveled in the role of a man who was true to his beliefs. I stopped going to church, but I heard from Landry that the entire congregation prayed for us every Sunday.
And when I said us, I meant me, Landry, Brant, and Josh. The misled youth. The lost young men.
Betsy was the snake, and you didn’t pray for the devil.
I’d called Juilliard myself after everything went down, and they wouldn’t talk to me. They just referred me to their website and the requirements they had for their dance students.
Stupid me. When a week went by, and then another, I thought the worst was out of the way. Then Coach Randall called me and told me he’d heard some reports about my conduct off the field. He suggested I make some changes before I attend summer session.
Josh told me—white-faced and shaking—he’d gotten the same call. His dad had just come to terms with him leaving, how could he tell him he’d lost his place on the team?
“It doesn’t mean forever,” Landry said. “It doesn’t even have to be real, but it has to look real.”
I shook my head through his explanations and plans. I didn’t want to hear them. We couldn’t do this.
Betsy wore a ring on her finger with the word promise on it. Now we were going to—no.
No.
“This way we have a chance,” Landry said quietly. He cracked his knuckles, something I hadn’t seen him do in years. “Westin. We don’t have a choice.”
Seventeen
Josh
Brant stared at me, his face pale, eyes wide. I was sure I had the same expression on my face.
Landry and Westin sat across from us. People in the DQ gave us a wide berth. Old friends ignored us. Girls whispered.
Food sat between us but remained uneaten. I didn’t have an appetite.
“This—” I started to speak, but my voice disappeared. “He can’t do this.”
But Landry’s father could. And he had. Over the last few weeks, Dad had commented about the price of the feed going up.
In front of Brant was a notice his parents had received this morning announcing thirty days until the rent went up on their cafe.
“Betsy wants to leave,” I got out finally. “She wants to move to Birmingham. We’ll do that.”
Landry shook his head. “She can go, but we can’t be seen with her.”
“I’m not fucking abandoning her.” Brant sucked in his cheeks before grabbing his hat off his head and flinging it onto the table. “That’s not fucking happening. She needs us.”
“It won’t be forever,” Westin said, and I stared at him in shock.
“How can you even consider this?” I asked.
He didn’t give a shit about his father or what people thought. And this didn’t affect him. It wasn’t his family in the crosshairs. It was ours, mine and Brant’s, who were threatened.
“You’re my family, too, asshole,” he ground out. He lifted his chin, swallowing hard. “And Betsy doesn’t want one of us, she wants all of us.”
“So we break her fucking heart and then what, write her an email? Call her?” I asked. “Sorry, Betsy, we had no choice?”
“She’ll forgive us,” Westin said, but he spoke like a man who wanted to believe something so bad he’d talked himself into it.
I wasn’t so certain.
Leave.
Save my dad. Save my future. Save the farm.
Save Brant’s family. Their livelihood.
Landry’s future.
Westin’s scholarship.
It was all tumbling down. With a few well-directed shots, Jay Shaw and Luke Morehouse had taken everything we’d built and destroyed it.
Eighteen
Brant
Storming away, I left my friends in the Dairy Queen calling after me. My bike was parked next to Josh’s truck, and I got on, peeling out of the parking lot before anyone could stop me.
I wasn’t even sure where I was going.
For an hour, I drove. The wind roared in my ears and my heart pounded, and I wanted to be sick because I didn’t want to do this.
I didn’t.
But I didn’t know what else to do.
If it was just me, I’d say fuck it. But it wasn’t. My parents were innocent. My brother. He’d already seen his hours cut way back at the firehouse, and though he hadn’t complained, I could tell from the way he looked at me that he blamed me.
I turned a corner and blew by Josh’s driveway before skidding to a stop and turning around. Betsy would be home.
I had to see her. I had to stare into her eyes before I made a decision that would change our lives.
She must have heard me coming because she was out the door before I shut off my bike.
“Hey!” She wore the biggest fucking smile. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail and bounced as she leapt off the top step to run to me. When she got close enough, she jumped and I caught her.
How could anyone expect me to give this up? She smelled like flour and had a dab of white on her forehead. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“I made biscuits,” she said, pulling away. “Then I was going to weed the garden.” Studying me, the smile faded from her lips. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t lie while she watched me, so I hugged her back up tight and nodded. Lifting her, I kissed her neck and breathed in her scent. Nothing smelled as good as she did. I kissed her, trailing from her neck to her earlobe and then down her throat. “You taste so good.”
She laughed breathily before returning my kisses. Linking her hands behind my neck, she shifted so her mouth was lined up with mine.
We stared at each other, studying the changes that had slowly taken root since everything had gone to shit.
I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. Messy beard. Messy hair. Wild eyes.
Don’t look at me. I kissed her because I couldn’t take the look in her blue-green eyes. I kissed her because I wanted her eyes closed so I didn’t have to see how much she loved me.
Betsy moaned, and I nibbled at her lower lip, drawing it between my teeth before sliding my tongue into her mouth.
She tasted like sweet tea and lemon, and my dick was instantly hard. “Shouldn’t taste so sweet,” I said against her lips.
Betsy turned wild. Her hips rocked against mine, seeking friction to relieve an ache I created. Me.
She loved me.
And I was going to leave her.
But not without tasting her. It made me the lowest, rottenest scumbag that ever walked the face of this Earth, but I would have Betsy before I left.
Unlike the other guys, I wasn’t certain of her forgiveness. If we did what we planned, I wouldn’t deserve it.
So I was going to take what she was offering, and I was going to thank God for it, because the memory might be the only piece of her I had for the rest of my life.
I didn’t even know where we were going, but I started walking. Tripping upstairs, knocking into doorways. Something fell to
the floor and shattered, but then she was under me and everything was perfect.
I sat up to rip my shirt over my head, and she watched me so trustingly. How could she be this mix of innocence and sin?
“Take your clothes off,” I got out as I unbuttoned my pants. I wasn’t a fucking gentleman, not right now. I was desperate to get inside her as fast as I could before the clock stopped.
Fumbling with her pants and shorts, Betsy glanced around the room nervously. She wore a perfect, lacy bra, and I groaned. The next thing I knew, I was sucking her nipple right through the material. Her fingers dove into my hair, holding my head as I pulled against her flesh.
Warmth poured off her, and I couldn’t even imagine how delicious her soft skin would taste. I reached for the clasp, undid it, and slid the bra off.
Knowing something was beautiful and seeing it with your own eyes were two very different things. Her breasts were perfect. Pale pink nipples, creamy skin.
No one would ever be as perfect as Betsy and the idea of it, of ever being with someone else, broke my heart a little more.
I took her breast into my mouth, and she arched her back, making little sounds that had me sucking harder, gripping tighter.
Betsy’s nails dug into my shoulders as she called my name, and I was done.
I pressed my cock against her, and she bucked and writhed beneath me. She needed me. I pushed my hand beneath her panties while I nibbled the skin around her breast. Drawing back, I watched her as I slid my fingers between her legs.
She squeezed her eyes shut, crying out my name over and over. She was right there on the edge, but I had to feel her when she came.
I moved between her legs, not even bothering to pull off her panties, just ripping them to one side so I could run my tip through her heat.
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