by Aubrey Watts
Nola grumbles something inaudible in response and takes a sip of his coffee.
“Cassandra.”
It takes me a second to realize I’m being spoken to. I sit up straighter and look at Lucy. She smiles at me.
“Sorry, what was the question?”
“No question, dear, I said you can stay behind with me and Alma if you’d like.”
She reaches across the table and gives her daughters limp hand a squeeze.
“Sure,” I say, nodding, “I’d like that.”
After breakfast, I help the girls clean up.
Macon brushes past me as I gather plates and silverware up from the table to be washed. He touches my arm and pulls me into a walk-in pantry, out of earshot from the rest of his family. My heartbeat quickens when his hand brushes against my face.
“You alright?”
His breath is warm against my face, and for a moment, I forget where we are. I nod, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “I am,” I say, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck, “are you?”
He nods, but there’s a fleeting look of hesitation in his eyes. I smile at him and press an encouraging kiss against his face, being careful not to brush against his nose. It looks worse in the daylight.
Macon leans down and kisses me. When his father calls his name, we both jump like guilty teenagers and pull away from each other. “This shouldn’t take too long,” he whispers, rolling his eyes, “if you need anything, just call me. I put my number into your phone when you fell asleep on the plane.”
“You did?”
He nods and steps out of the pantry. I do shortly after, watching out the window as he makes his way across the yard, towards the barn with his brothers. Macon, Trent, and Nolan take off into town shortly after while the Griff and Adam start their morning chores—which from what I can see, consists of feeding the cows and chickens, cleaning up manure, laying hay, and plowing.
I spend the rest of the morning inside the house with Lucy and Alma. They are spitting images of each other—with soft hair that curls near the ends, doe eyes accentuated by long dark eyelashes, and full lips that have a sort of natural curve to them.
“I really like your blouse,” I say to Alma when her mother leaves the room. “I have one just like it back in Los Angeles.”
Small talk, that’s all it is, but I figure it’s worth a shot. To my surprise, Alma looks up from her hands—which she has been wringing together from the moment I first laid eyes on her—and smiles at me. She almost looks like she might say something, but when her mother reappears in the living room with a fresh load of laundry, she seems to change her mind.
“So, Cassandra,” Lucy says, taking a seat in the loveseat across from me, “how did you and Macon meet? Have you been dating a long time?”
Dating.
“Uh,” I say, crossing my legs, “while.”
“We met at the beach,” I lie for the second time. Because it certainly sounds better than the truth—we met in a club, three days ago, when both of us were drunk. Oh, and we just had sex, for the first time, too.
Lucy smiles and begins folding the clothing in her lap. I reach into the hamper to help her.
“That’s nice,” she says with a nod, “Macon has always been such a sweet boy, or man, I suppose. It’s always been odd for me—looking at my children as adults.”
I nod at her, unsure of what to say.
She points at me and smiles. “He likes you. I can tell by the way that he looks at you. He hasn’t brought a girl home to meet us in years, has he Alms?”
Alma doesn’t speak, but she meets eyes with me, briefly, and shakes her head.
“I really like him too,” I say quietly, setting the shirt I was folding down on the coffee table, “he’s a great guy, your son.”
“All of your children are, actually.”
Lucy smiles again and stands up, grabbing the hamper.
“Thank you sweetheart,” she says, tapping my hand as she exits the room with the hamper full of folded laundry tucked under her arm. When she’s gone, Lucy exhales a deep breath.
“Hey,” I say to her, keeping my voice low, “I know you don’t know me…but you can talk to me if you want…”
“I…I know what you’re going through. Kind of.”
It’s not a lie. It’s just not something I’ve ever admitted out loud.
“In college, I want to this frat party. And…there was this guy there who I thought was really cute. We talked for a long time, and he seemed really nice. Then I got up to go to the restroom. And when I came back, we talked some more, and we both continued drinking. Then…”
Alma is staring at me, eyes wide, listening intently. I can hear her mother in the kitchen preparing lunch.
“Then?”
It’s the first word I’ve heard her say since I met her.
“Um.” I swallow hard. “Then…we went upstairs, to his room, I think. And…I don’t know. All I remember is waking up with my clothes on, in this strange bed that wasn’t mine. I got dressed and left. I don’t know what happened. I probably never will. I have this entire blank spot in my memory. I found out later, from a rumor going around campus, that he put something in my drink.”
The story comes flooding out. Alma blinks and adjusts beside me on the couch. I watch as she loosens her grip on her fingers.
“If I tell you,” she whispers, meeting eyes with me, “do you promise not to tell anyone? Not even Macon?”
I hesitate before nodding. “Of course.”
She looks over her shoulder to make sure her mother can’t hear her, but the water is running and our voices are drowned out.
“I didn’t get a good look at his face.” She bites down on her bottom lip and smoothes a wrinkle in her skirt. “It was dark out. And I had been drinking. But he smelled bad…I remember that. His smelled like chewing tobacco, and I remember that he spit of a big wad of it out into the grass before he kissed me. And when he pulled back, I saw something. His…his tooth was gold. And I…”
His tooth was gold.
Alma’s voice cracks. Her words vibrate against me. I’m lightheaded, incapable of processing the rest of what she has to say.
“I think it might have been Trent.”
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About the Author
Aubrey Watts has been an avid reader of contemporary romance novels since she was a teenager. Trouble is Aubrey’s first full-length novel and the introduction to her Orsen brothers series—however—it is not her first foray into writing; she’s been doing that since she was old enough to pick up a pencil!
Aubrey, a Rhode Island native, cherishes her family and friends and believes whole-heartedly in the release that a good book has to offer.
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Brothers #1)
