by Piper Frost
Affton’s set. She’s got money pouring out of those designer handbags I’m sure she designed herself. She’s got nothing to worry about.
I would have a world of hurt rain down on me if I knocked someone up.
Maybe it’s time for a change.
I spend the next month waiting for a phone call from her. A picture to pop up on her social media. Something. Anything that tells me she’s happy. She’s not posted anything new in going on a month now and it’s starting to worry the fuck out of me.
I’m not prepared for what she does post though, when she finally comes out of hiding.
In the middle of the workday, almost a month to the date since she called and told me the news, I open social media to an inspirational picture she posted just hours ago.
“If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.” It’s an image with tiny footprints on it… No.
My eyes go wide.
“Holy shit,” I mutter to myself. Fuck me. She…she lost the baby. “Dad!” I bark, stepping over the kid I just aided in birthing. Baby goats are probably the best part of this job. My dad can have the cattle. I just want to play with goats all day.
“Over here!” he yells from the corner of the barn.
“Dad, I gotta make a call. I’m stepping out.”
We’re in the middle of the spring birthing season and we’ve been swamped lately. I never thought helping out my dad in his line of work could be so rewarding but I’ve come to love it as much as I love living in the country.
“Okay. Make it quick, we got another farm across town to make it to in a little bit.”
I ignore him, almost running outside and pulling up her phone number, hitting send immediately.
When I get immediate voicemail, and it’s not her voicemail, my stomach plummets. I groan, kicking dirt and swiping my hat off, rubbing my head. Why the hell would she get a new number and not tell me?
I glare at my phone for a minute then pull up social media and DM her.
Tommy Barns: I need you to call me. Code red Beany.
I hit send and stare at my phone. She’s always fucking active on this thing, she’s gotta see the message. I lean back against the barn and feel like I wait an entire lifetime for that tiny ‘seen’ message to pop up under my message. Thank god.
Affton Hart: This is Ms. Hart’s assistant. I will let her know you messaged.
My eyes go wide. Her assistant? She has a fucking assistant?
Tommy Barns: Please make sure she does. It’s very important.
***
The message was never replied to. I’m still waiting on it. But that conversation I had with her, the day she told me she was pregnant, made me realize I needed to get my life in order.
So at thirty-one I did just that.
***
“Here are your keys,” the realtor says, smiling wide.
I’m not sure why she’s smiling. I just bought the cheapest, shittiest house on the outskirts of town that I could find. I probably made her no commission, but here she is, smiling like she just won the lottery.
“Thanks,” I say, shoving them in my pocket and grabbing my paperwork.
The house is mine. I hunted forever for one that I could completely remodel that was still in my budget. And as a bonus, this house comes with a few acres of land. Perfect.
On the drive to the house I call Grant.
“I signed today, want to help me demo this bitch?” I grin.
“I’m working all week, man.” He groans. “Working all these jobs is fucking stupid. Fucking adulting is fucking stupid. Know what’s not stupid? Being drunk and fucking. Nothing stupid about that shit.”
I laugh out loud. “You’re the only guy I know that still bitches about adulting, Grant.” I want to tell him to grow up a bit, but I’m just now starting that phase of my life so I’m not really one to talk. God, growing up does suck. “Hey, you’re not leaving town for Halloween, right?” I pull into my driveway and can’t help the smile from spreading on my lips. My own fucking house. My own property. Damn this feels good.
“I wouldn’t miss that shit show for the world,” he says.
I rattle off my address and tell him to stop in whenever he can. I could use his help and he’s really the only one I can rely on.
I get to work figuring out what and how to demolish this place.
My goals in life from ten years ago are much different now, not all of them changed, but most changed for the better. This house is about to be the best house this town’s ever seen.
***
It took an entire year of renovating, but I’m proud to say that my house is the best house I’ve ever stepped foot into. Nothing high and mighty. Nothing massive. But it’s mine, and every inch of this place I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into.
I’m just walking into the house after a week in Vegas with my best friends for Chase’s wedding. A week with some super close friends, getting to catch up with more old friends, and all the booze we could drink. I was able to catch up with Bo, Affton’s younger brother, and from the sounds of it he didn’t know much more about her than I did. Brandt Kenshaw offered me a job as the Ranch’s full-time vet so I start there next week. All in all it was a pretty fucking fantastic week. My girlfriend, Rachel, was supposed to come with me but she backed out last minute. Probably a good thing, because I considered eloping while we were there. Only seems logical, right? I’ve got the house. She’s been in my life for eight months now. I should probably marry the poor girl.
I walk into an empty house and head straight for the back door. As much as I love being inside this place, the backyard is my favorite spot.
“Ginnie!” I yell. The minute the back door opens she comes running for me. Goats are better than dogs any day of the week.
Rachel wants a dog so she’ll probably get what she wants, but Ginnie and I have a special bond. I helped birth her a year ago and for some reason I asked if I could buy her. Don’t ask what I was thinking, but I needed a companion. Other than regretting putting such nice floors inside my house just to have her hooves ruin them, everything has been great.
“Hey,” Rachel says, walking out the back door about an hour later. “Didn’t know you were home.”
“Yeah. I wanted to come give her some attention since I was gone for so long.” I smile and lean for a kiss, getting her cheek. She must be in a mood so I go back to playing with Ginnie.
“How was the trip?”
“Fine.”
“Hey, so…” She sits on the chair on the back patio and looks out over the land. “I was thinking.”
“That’s never good,” I joke, laughing. It falls short when I see the annoyed look on her face.
Only one other girl I could make look like that, but back in the day it was a look I strived to earn because I knew I could fix it with sex. And my god, I loved the sex with her. These aren’t things I should be thinking about when my girlfriend says ‘I’ve been thinking’.
“Are you happy with us?” she asks and I look at her.
I really look at her. She’s nice. She’s pretty. She’s not a bitch, so that’s a plus, I guess.
“I mean…sure…” I furrow my eyebrows. I know where this is going but I’m not really certain I care.
“Do you ever see us getting married? Having kids? Tom,” she says and I cringe. I fucking hate being called Tom and Rachel insists on it. She says Tommy makes me seem twelve. Affton never had a problem with it.
Don’t ask why I’ve been thinking about her more and more lately. Maybe it’s just that things are settled down here and I finally realized how fucking stupid I was thirteen years ago to let her go without telling her how I felt. Maybe it’s because I have everything I’ve ever wanted except the one thing I needed most in my life.
Affton Hart.
“No,” I whisper. “I…no. I don’t. “ My eyes hit Rachel’s and I feel insanely guilty until she starts laughing.
“Thank god!” She laughs. “I’m sorry. You’r
e a good guy and all, Tom, but I just feel.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s just no connection. I want that tingly feeling…I don’t get that with you.” She makes a face and I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I guess you’re right,” I say. “So then?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m too young to settle. The sex is really good though!”
I bark out a laugh.
That’s the magic dick for ya.
“Hey, it’s all good. I totally get it.”
She walks over and gives me a hug, then steps toward the door. “I got most of my stuff out of here while you were gone, but I’ll grab the rest and head out. Have a good life, Tom.”
“Yeah, you too.” That was so…weird.
I’m not even sad, because she’s right. We both deserve those tingles. The only girl I’ve ever gotten tingly around hasn’t been back to town since she left. But I’m about to pull out the one card she probably doesn’t remember. Because while she was out making a huge life for herself, I was sitting here waiting for something I didn’t even realize I was waiting for until just this minute. It all makes sense. Why I couldn’t ever find the perfect girl. Why I never felt like things were right around here.
It’s always been Affton.
I still don’t have a phone number that actually rings for her, but I’ve been following her social media and know for a fact that someone runs it, so I type out a simple message.
Tommy Barns: Your birthday’s in three days. You’ll be thirty-five. It’s about time for you to move back here and make good on that deal we made fifteen years ago. I miss you Beany. Please just call me.
The message is read immediately.
Affton Hart: This is her assistant. I will let her know you messaged.
I roll my eyes. So much for that attempt. I know how well relaying my message went over last time.
My jaw is sore, but all the bruises are hidden under concealer, foundation, and contour. I used to be so proud of my makeup skills, now I’m embarrassed that I’m a pro at hiding abuse. Three glasses of wine got me this bruise. I had some liquid courage inside me and I talked back. I couldn’t even tell you what it was about, but I remember being hit.
“Uh, Affton,” Diamond says and glances behind her like she’s checking for someone.
“Hey, what’s up?” The look of worry on her face makes my heart rate pick up. If I screwed something up, Corey will not be happy.
She partially closes the door and scurries toward my desk. “Pull up your social media account,” she insists.
“Why? What is it? Trolls again?”
“Pull it up!” She waves her hands and glances toward the door again. “I didn’t want to delete it before you—” With an annoyed huff, she pushes my hand out of the way. I’m not moving fast enough for her apparently, but my wrist is still sore. “Before you saw it,” she whispers, going into my DMs.
Tommy Barns: Your birthday’s in three days. You’ll be thirty-five. It’s about time for you to move back here and make good on that deal we made fifteen years ago. I miss you Beany. Please just call me.
“He’s an old friend,” is the first thing that blurts from my mouth. My wide eyes shift to her and the smile on her face makes my cheeks heat up. “Delete it! Oh god, don’t delete it! He’s just an old friend I haven’t talked to in a really long time.” I stare at the screen until she chuckles.
“You prob should delete that message. Want me to monitor that account closer…before someone else does?”
“Yes. Please.” My nodding head won’t stop and I probably look unbelievably guilty but I’m not! I’m a faithful wife.
When she walks out of my office I take a few deep breaths. I have to tell him not to contact me on here. If Corey saw this, I’m sure my broken wrist would be nothing compared to what he’d do.
My long fingernails fly over my keyboard as I respond.
Affton Hart: Tommy, you CANNOT message me things like that. I do not manage my own social media!
The fact I get an immediate reply makes me reel back before quickly glancing toward my door.
Tommy Barns: Trust me, I know. On multiple occasions your 'assistant' has lied to me. Thanks for telling me you have an assistant by the way. And happy early birthday Beany.
I huff and groan then lean forward to make sure Corey's not coming. I scroll up to see what Tommy’s talking about. I never got another message. Then I see it.
Tommy Barns: I need you to call me. Code red Beany.
Code red? I look at the date he sent that and my heart drops. He sent that message around the time I miscarried five years ago. He couldn't have known though. I quickly delete all our messages then sign out of my profile. Finishing my workday when all I can think about is Tommy is more painful than the sting in my jaw. I wish I could tell him. I need him to help me, but the only thing I’d be doing by asking for his help is possibly putting his life in danger. I hate to say I don’t know what Corey’s capable of. I know most of it, but I don’t think it’s the extent of everything.
On my drive home, I sit in traffic and grab my phone. I log out of my Affton Hart profile then log back into a profile I haven't used since I was a teenager.
Country girl at Hart: Message me here, okay?
Again, I get an immediate reply and it makes a small smile flit to my lips.
Tommy Barns: Yeah, cool. So how's the soon to be birthday girl doing?
I bite my lip and shake my head. Why I still get giddy over Thomas Barns’ attention is beyond my comprehension. I'm a married woman. I'm a much older woman from the last time I saw him, hell even talked to him.
Country girl at Hart: I'm old : (
Tommy Barns: That shit happens Bean. How's the blue hair and cats treatin ya?
Country girl at Hart: HA! I miss your stupid face.
So fucking bad. I tear up and quickly, carefully wipe at my face, moving forward in traffic.
I see that he's read the message, and those small dots show me he's typing something, but then they stop. I stare at the screen forever, waiting for that reply to come through and a horn honks behind me because I’ve left a big enough gap to let two cars in. I speed forward and almost rear-end the car that just cut in.
“Shit!” I huff but my phone beeps.
Tommy Barns: Last I heard, you didn't like my stupid face. Beard's become one with my face.
Country girl at Hart: Pics or it didn’t happen.
I don't know what the fuck I'm doing flirting with my old best friend. Corey would literally kill me, but he has no idea this account exists and I know how to cover my tracks. I had to hide shit from my parents when I was younger.
Tommy Barns: Or you could just come home and see it in person.
Country girl at Hart: Yeah right, you boot wearing, chew spitting southern boy. I'm sitting pretty in California, nowhere near dusty sunsets.
Tommy Barns: California. Everyone around here's been saying you were living in Paris. Decide to stay a little closer to home?
Country girl at Hart: You know I've been in California since I left, Tommy. How's home? You wouldn't happen to know if my crazy brother's ended up six feet under yet, would you?
Tommy Barns: Your brother? Beany do you really not talk to ANYONE from here anymore?
I huff and swipe at my cheeks that have had steady tears rolling down them. Traffic breaks up at my exit and I try to type out my response before I make it home but the tears are already making me drive erratically so I don’t get it all typed out until I’m in my driveway.
Country girl at Hart: Haven't talked to anyone at home in a long time. Miss you! Maybe talk soon!
I sit in my car a minute longer, waiting for Tommy’s response, but pretending I’m looking for something, just in case Corey watches the surveillance footage.
Tommy: That's sad. Your brother's good. He's been through shit, but he's good. We work together at the ranch. He married a while back, not sure if you knew about that. Chase is married. Felder's married and divorced and fucki
ng gone LOL. Brandt's married with a football team of kids running around. Grant's still a drunk. Hey, remember that pact we made when we were younger?
Of course I knew my brother got married...I never made it to the wedding. I shake my head at myself. But hearing everyone else's life events, it’s a little shocking for all those southern boys. No surprise about Felder though. I always told Tommy he would only bring him down.
I read his last question three times before signing out and quickly deleting all traces of that account. I don’t know if Corey is home and I don’t want him coming outside to see where I am. I get out of the car and slam the door, thinking over my response to Tommy’s question about our pact.
Yeah, we said we'd get married when I turned thirty-five if I wasn’t married. But, I'm married, and abused, and probably going to see an early grave if I don't come up with a plan.
“What were you doing out there so long?” Corey asks the second I open the front door.
I jump. ”I didn’t know you were home.”
“I’ve been waiting for you, Af. What the fuck took you so long to come in the house?”
“I dropped my gloss.” I hold up the tube I pulled from my purse before I opened the door. “I was trying to find it.” My smile is set, but it’s hurting my sore jaw.
Putting out his palm, he tells me, “Give me your phone.”
I immediately hand it over then walk around him, playing it cool while I go about what I normally would when I come home from work.
After almost ten minutes, he snickers. “Why would you let Diamond post this picture?” Walking toward me, he holds up my phone, displaying a picture of me in Denmark.
“You know I don’t control what she does on my accounts,” I mutter.
“You look like a fat whore. Your midriff is exposed like you’re a fucking teenager. You don’t look appealing.”
If I don’t look appealing, why am I working for Trenton!
“I’ll delete it,” I offer immediately.
“Leave it. I want people to see how fat you are,” he snickers and walks away with my phone. “Af, did Charles Gold contact you today?” he calls from the kitchen and I bite my lip.
