by Mj Fields
She opens the dryer and pulls out my shirt. “I washed it.”
“You’re gonna make one hell of a wife someday.”
She shrugs. “Been one for a while.”
“Right,” I say, pulling the shirt on, remembering she’s been the woman of the house since her mom passed away.
“I want to take you out tonight,” I say as I walk out.
“A date?” she asks.
“Practice date,” I tell her.
“Oookay?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m leaving soon. Just want to show you what to avoid.”
She nods, but looks confused.
“Just an idea. We’ll talk later.”
She follows me to the door, and I turn around, bend down, and kiss her cheek.
“See you later?”
She nods.
“Four o’clock good?”
She nods again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Butts Bared
Mandee
Standing at the living room window, I watch as he pulls to the end of the driveway, looks back, shakes his head, and then pulls out. I watch until he is no longer visible. Then I hug myself tight, wishing he was still here. Wishing I could tell him the thing he said to me last night, the “You made a choice trying to make them happy, which isn’t your fucking job, Mandee.” Well, it wasn’t his job to keep leaving because...I pause, thinking: why? Why does he keep leaving?
I pick up Tritt and walk to my room as I think. His dad’s never here, his brothers are grown, he isn’t responsible for his dad’s shitty actions, and his brothers love him—they would never hold it against him—so why then does he hold it against himself?
I run scenarios through my head. They all lead to the same conclusion: he’s no different than me. Except, he doesn’t think that he’s worth it. Neither did I, until something clicked when I met him.
I take the picture of Mom and I off my dresser and look at it. It’s my favorite, taken a year before she died. We thought maybe there was hope when she started being awake and out of bed more. It’s when she started telling me the things she felt I needed to know about love.
Looking back, I should have taken it as a sign she was coming to a sort of peace with leaving.
“Wish you could tell me what to do now, Mom. I feel silly thinking he’s supposed to be mine. But it just feels like he is. I can be brave and bold with him, and he makes me feel beautiful. No one but you and Phoenix have ever made me feel that way.”
I hug the picture and sigh. “So many reasons to want him to stay. So many reasons I don’t understand that seem to push him away.”
I sit on the edge of my bed, and Tritt jumps up and rubs against me. I flop down on my back and scratch between his ears.
“And you’re one of the reasons I think he’s mine.”
After changing my bedding because, well, twelve times, showering, cleaning up cake crumbs, I look at the clock to see its finally noon. I decide to pack up the food in the truck to take to Falcon’s Landing and shoot Phoenix a text.
-Gonna stop and see you in ten or fifteen minutes, okay?
I don’t wait for a response; I start up the truck and back out of the garage.
It’s silly that I look in the mirror twenty thousand times to make sure I look okay when he saw me this morning when I woke up.
This morning, I couldn’t help myself. I woke up early and saw the sheet on my bed was pitched. I made coffee and bacon, came back, and it was still that way. I thought of all he had done to me, with his mouth specifically and, well...like I said, I couldn’t help myself.
I’m so glad I did what I did, because the look on his face, the way he was taken aback. Honestly, I was, too. I will say I have always shied away from oral. I consider it was possibly because I was never with anyone who gave it.
It’s odd to think it, but the uncountable amount of times he told me I was sexy, beautiful, complimented specific features, and took pleasure in giving me pleasure made me want to even more.
When I saw his face, it was something I had never witnessed in my life, and honestly, that look made me feel as beautiful as him saying the words.
I remember how he was in the parking lot all those weeks ago with that...that...
I stop myself from saying slut, because I’m not much different, I suppose. I won’t pretend to know what all those women wanted with him. I couldn’t imagine it was just to have sex. Although that’s what I said I wanted, it’s not the truth.
I wanted him, the man who made me feel beautiful the very first time I met him, to be the one I finally allowed myself to be with after a two-year hiatus from sexual encounters.
I wanted it even more when I saw him at the lake. Then, when he said no, I was crushed, yet I convinced myself I would have been more crushed had I never been with a man like...
Again, I stop myself. I would be lying to myself if I continued. I didn’t want a man like him. I wanted him. I still do, and probably always will.
Shocked by the burn I feel in my throat, I look in the mirror and see, yes indeed, there are tears in my eyes. Why? Because I already feel the loss coming, and it hurts. It hurts so much more than I thought it would. Or is that a lie I have told myself, too?
Several deep breaths later, they are gone. I suppose that’s a tool I could thank the shrinks and counselors for giving me. But I could also thank the Yoga instructor from college. Regardless, it works and I’m tear-free.
I pass the cabins on my way down to the house and start getting those butterflies in my belly. Then it’s straight-up nausea. I didn’t consider what it may be like to see him around everyone since we have been together. The wedding reception, I stupidly and drunkenly feigned shock at him singing, and he sang at the wedding, and that was before. Now? Oh, dear God, now I hoped he wasn’t there, but I also hoped he was.
Be bold, be brave, be beautiful, I think as I turn off the truck and get out, taking one of the four bags.
Brand is on the porch with Mags. He jumps up and waves. “Hi, Mandee!”
“Hi, Brand.”
He bounds down the stairs, wavy black hair, shaped in an almost Mohawk, bouncing around.
“Need some help, little lady?” he asks.
“I might,” I tell him, “but they’re heavy.”
“I’m a cowboy; I’m strong.”
“I heard that about you,” I say as I give him the pan of chicken and dumplings. “You got it?”
“Sure do. Want it in the kitchen?”
“That would be lovely.” I do a sort of curtsy then walk back to the truck.
I have a pan of scalloped potatoes in my hand and am walking around the truck when the door flies open as Gray storms out. He looks angry, upset...both.
“Don’t just take off, dammit,” I hear Gage say before I see him.
“Be back for the next big family wedding.” Grayson is looking back at him.
“Talk to me, Gray. No damn secrets. You need help, I’m here.” Gage’s tone is almost a plea as he grabs Gray’s shoulder.
“Hands, Gage, fucking hands,” Gray snaps.
Gage lifts his hand in the air. “This is fixable, forgivable. Don’t just fucking leave. Not after all this.”
“I’m fine.” He turns around and sees me. His eyes narrow, while my heart beats in my throat, already feeling the loss.
“How you gonna get by when you’re broke? Jesus, Gray, at least take some money for...” Gage stops when he sees me.
“Mandee brought food,” Mags says, standing up. “Why don’t you take that, Gage? Gray, I think she may need help with the rest.”
“Is there more?” he asks, face turning red.
“I suppose so. She left her door open,” Mags answers.
“It’s totally fine. I can—”
“I’ll get it,” he snaps.
I look up at Mags, who is watching Gray with sadness in her eyes. Then she looks at me and gives me a sad smile before nodding toward my truck.
I look over to see Gra
y carrying two huge pans and hurry to get one.
“Here, let me,” I say, holding out my hand.
“I got it.”
“Gray,” I whisper, “please.”
He looks at me, eyes wild and clearly pained. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I ask, needing answers.
He looks past me. “Don’t push.”
“Okay,” I say, and he looks back down at me. “Okay.” I nod. “I won’t.”
He lifts his chin once then walks by.
I stand frozen, confused, wishing I hadn’t come, because I think I just lost him.
“Come on, Miss Mandee,” Mags calls out to me.
I look up and nod. My feet move, but my mind has yet to catch up.
Once up the stairs, I ask Mags, “Is Phoenix here?”
“She’s up playing in the cabins. My girl has an eye for design.”
Brand comes running out. “Anything else, little lady?”
“I think it’s all set,” I tell him.
“Mags, you wanna go?”
“Scooter’s waiting to take us up.” She smiles. “Why don’t you run up to the barn and grab some fishing poles. After we go visit your grandparents, we’ll go toss a few lines in.”
His feet start moving before she has finished her sentence.
She turns and looks at me. “My boy, Gray, is running again. Any chance you can get him to stick around longer?”
“Me?” I ask.
She smiles and pats my shoulder as she walks past. “Ask Phoenix about the eyes in these woods.”
“But...”
“Butts and bare asses all over the Landing these days.” She chuckles.
“Does she—”
She stops and turns around. “She knows nothing, but I have a feeling Gage may. Woke me up walking in that night. If he knows, she will soon enough.”
“But, does he? Is that why they’re—”
“Fighting? No, Miss Mandee. But if he figures it out and doesn’t tell her...” She shakes her head. “Secrets destroy lives. No need for love to be wasted because of that.”
“I...I...”
“You...you...take care of what you got going on now. Make it quick, or more than one love is gonna be wasted.”
I stand there, thinking of what to do, how to stop him, or how to let him go, if that’s really what he wants. Then I hear his voice, his very angry voice, yelling as he gets closer with each word.
“I’m out, Gage! Don’t fucking push me.”
When the door slams, I jump.
He walks past without saying a word.
“That’s it?” I call behind him. Because it can’t be it. It just can’t.
He stops and turns, his eyes huge and darting around before finally settling on mine. “You have something more that needs to go in, Mandee?”
I shake my head.
“Okay then,” he says, turning around again.
“Gray!”
With his back to me, he shakes his head as he walks away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hurt
Grayson
Fucking unreal, unbelievable, and unfathomable the kind of shit I came from. And now...now I’m getting on my bike, turning my back on the girl who gave me bacon and a blowjob because she fucking wanted to. The girl who fucking thinks I’m something other than a wanderer, or a fucking motherfucking fuck up. The girl who—God, help me—I can’t fucking stand leaving, but for them, for all of them, I have to do just that.
I throw on my helmet and start the engine, look in the rearview, and see her fucking perfect face, perfect hair, perfect fucking for me, and I see those eyes, the ones that are hurt, but she’s standing strong, stronger now than when I first saw her. I know damn well she’s going to feel it when I leave, just like I’m feeling it now.
Hurt.
I hit the accelerator and my back tire slides left and comes down hard on my leg. I manage to get it back together and take off, spitting stones behind me.
I pass Mags and Brand on the scooter with poles. I pass the cabins and see Phoenix on one of the porches, hanging blankets. I pass Mags’ place where I shared coffee with Mandee. I pass Phoenix’s old place where I shared fucking everything with her.
Pulling out onto the road, I hang left and drive past the driveway leading down to Garrett and Juliana’s place. I fight not to pull in, drive down, pull my fucking father out of there, and take him to the lake, like he did me, when I finally confronted him about his shit.
I caught him, pants around his ankles, fucking that girl. It was after Gage told me what fucking was. I was so fucking young, so little, and he saw me.
After he finished, he sent her off, and then...then I got pushed around, hit, told that I was in trouble, and he told me that my mom would never stop crying if she ever found out.
I kept his secret.
When we came back to the States, I confronted him. I was smaller then, but big enough that I thought I could tell him, if he didn’t stop, I would tell her, and them.
He not only told me, but showed me how little he fucking cared about us. He pulled me out of bed that night and dragged me down to the lake. He told me that he was doing what he had to for all of us. That I needed to learn that was what men do. That if I ever became a man, I would understand. Then...then he told me I was easily replaceable, just like my mother. That she would die if she knew, and that would be my fault.
He held me under the water and brought me up. Each time, I begged him to stop. Each time, I begged he did it again. Ad each time, it was longer and longer.
He stopped when I was too exhausted to fight and too exhausted to beg.
“Just like that.” He let go of me. “Keep your mouth shut, and everyone will be fine.”
Add to his shit, Mom’s tears, Garrett’s outbursts, and the fact I saw Gage throw a fucking rock that killed a man, I was weak.
Was.
But I became stronger. It started with building that fucking treehouse, forcing myself to face my fear of the night caused by Garrett’s nightmares and Dad’s fucking near drowning me. I wasn’t sleeping anymore unless Mags was telling me stories. Still, that sleep was with one eye open. So, I walked the woods, to the fort, and I faced those fears. I stayed as long as I could before trekking home before anyone—well, anyone but Mags—knew I was gone.
Now...now I get what my brothers went through. I couldn’t be happier that they are happy, and I can’t bring myself to say a fucking word, because if I do, everything changes.
The fucker let it slip that Mom knew. Now I have no fucking clue what to do about that, either.
Gage is trying his best to forgive her. Not sure he ever will now. Mags is fucking clueless about it, or she would sure as shit have called her out on it. I don’t know if Juliana knows, but if she does, well, that’s going to fuck everything up between her and Garrett, and crush the trust being built between all of them, so Brand fucking loses.
I fucked him the only way I knew how.
Every time he comes around, my account gets drained. Last time was a year ago. He played the same old song, told me he needed cash, and that, if I couldn’t help him out, he would have to call in the bonds on Falcon Construction, and then we would all be financially devastated. He told me they would know I knew, and I would lose them, too.
I knew when he came back it wasn’t for Garrett’s wedding, so I drained that fucking account. Apparently, he found out and now he thinks he holds all the cards.
He told Gage I have a fucking gambling problem. Only gamble I have ever taken was on a hand I knew was a loser—him.
Now Gage is looking at me like I’m nothing but a problem, and I don’t like it one bit.
I need to get the fuck away, because I have no fucking clue what to do next.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Chapter Twenty-Four
Another Great Day
Mandee
Watching him leave, I try to find something of comfort, but my heart hurts so damn bad.
“Goodbye,” I whisper. “Goodbye.”
From behind me, Gage clears his throat, but I can’t turn and look at him, not when tears are filling my eyes.
“Thanks for all the food,” he says.
I clear my throat. “You’re welcome.” Tears fall, and I try my best to wipe them away without him noticing.
“Not sure we’ll eat it all.”
“Freezes well.”
“You need Phoenix?” he asks as I hear him walking down the stairs.
“Nope, just dropping of food. Lots to do. Tell her I’ll see her Thursday?”
He grips my shoulder. “You sure?”
“Yep.” I pat his hand. “Enjoy the food.”
He takes his hand off my shoulder, and I start to walk away.
“Hey, Mandee?”
I stop but don’t look back. “Yeah?”
“Put my mind at ease here?”
I don’t say anything.
“Something going on with you and Gray?”
Not anymore, I think. “No, of course not.”
“Hmm...” he says, and then I head to my truck.
I drive past the woods and want desperately to go there, but I know it will hurt more if I do. Instead, I decide to head to the bar, because I don’t want to go home, because home now reminds me of him.
After disarming the alarm, I walk in and look around. I decide it needs a good cleaning and not because it’s dirty, but because I need to do something. First, I will stock the coolers, check the bottles, and get the drawer set up for tomorrow. As bad as today feels, tomorrow, knowing he’s even farther away, that’s going to hurt even worse.
I turn on the juke box, add free credits, and then hit random shuffle before heading back to the office.
When I finish stocking and setting up the cash drawer and staring at the wedding pictures I have on my phone, namely staring at Grayson and allowing myself to believe he’s staring back at me, I walk out into the bar and look up at the clock. It’s three o’clock, and right now, I’m missing my dad.
I sit down at the bar and call him.
He answers with, “Everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine,” I answer. “Just sitting at the bar.”
