by Shey Stahl
Imagine if I heard his voice.
Imagine that pain.
When Blaine gave me the tickets and basically told me we were going, I wanted to. I did. And I had every intention of going.
I wanted to get out of the car and hear that voice, the one that held me close and whispered in my ear when I needed him the most.
Only I couldn’t.
I even drove out there and listened to the muffled sounds coming up from the lake.
I just couldn’t actually get out of my car, my hands shaking on the steering wheel as the tears fell over heated cheeks, a reminder of the heat, and the way he made me feel. Even in my car, my heart knew he was close.
That night, I finally sent him a message. It was the first one since that day in April when I left him.
I’m so proud of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. It’s just…hard.
I wasn’t lying, I hoped that.
He sent one back, almost immediately.
I hope someday you will give me a chance again. I love you.
Staring at his message, I immediately wished he was there with me, holding me. I wanted him so badly my body ached like the first day of a cold, head pounding, throat sore, ready to give up. I wanted his gentle touch—a heartbeat like mine, warm, not cold like this car and my fears.
There was parts of this world, things that happen to you that break your faith in love and the ability to move on. It doesn’t happen right away. It happened slowly, like that cold, then before you knew it, you woke up and felt like a train hit you.
I was never more than those letters, suffering alone beside a headstone, reliving my pain where black ink touched pure white.
I was lost in words, sparks of heaven bursting down and carrying me away.
I have looked at a cloudless sky and thought of one man as he whispered in the darkest of nights, “Kiss me under the stars, love me and they’re ours.”
Maybe I would never love anyone the way I loved Beau, but I was okay with that. I had lost myself completely in this grief but then again, did I ever really know myself at all?
I went from the girl her parents had forgotten about, to the girl whose dad up and left.
Then I was the girl whose mom wasn’t all there, because she got in a car drunk and made a really bad decision.
Then I was the girl struggling to make something of herself on her own.
And when I did, I met a boy who changed my world.
The time I had with him was worth it.
I still felt like my life started the day I tripped into his arms and met him officially.
When I made it home that night, I wrote another letter to Dixie and placed it on her grave the next morning before work.
If anything, maybe she could help her mama out and make me see what it was I was missing.
I took one last look at the stars. Here’s to the night we felt alive.
She didn’t show.
“Thank you for coming everyone,” I said, before exiting the stage. I was sure some were disappointed they didn’t hear what they wanted, but I gave them one hell of a show, I was sure of that.
They wanted “Everlasting Light” and I didn’t play it. Refused to. If she wasn’t going to listen to it, I refused to play it live.
I caught a lot of crap for not singing my number one single, but how could I when that was her song, meant for her, and she wasn’t there?
It was a piece of me and her, together, and if I was going to sing it live at Lake Martin, it needed to be for her.
I told myself I would wait for her. A girl like Bentley was one you waited for, but now I was starting to doubt myself, and my plan because it didn’t work.
For months I had poured myself into my music, obsessing over every single lyric as if somehow I could make her see I was there for her still, if she would just listen to me.
Inside my bus that night with Miles, Wade, and Gavin hanging out, I nearly dropped my phone on the ground when I saw there was a message from Bentley.
I’m so proud of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. It’s just…hard.
My stomach churned thinking of her. The cold grabbed my insides again and again as I tried comprehending what she had sent.
I tried to picture her face, wanting to burn the image into my brain, never forgetting how perfect she was, the delicate twist of her mouth when she smiled, or the way her eyes lit up when I would sing for her.
I hope someday you will give me a chance again. I love you.
With tears in my eyes, I moved back to the bedroom at the rear of the bus to be alone, leaving the guys drinking, and stared at the letter in my pocket, crumbled around the edges because it was the one I couldn’t bear to take out of my wallet, I never would.
The way I loved your daddy was the type of love that only came around once in a lifetime. It was the kind of love that didn’t know any better, foolish love that soared high above the night. The kind of love that smelled like a summer breeze through an open window.
The reality was, he changed me, completely. I live my life differently because of him.
I was learning to live in the moment and never for the future again.
If she meant that, why didn’t she show up? What was stopping her?
I stared at myself in the mirror that night, asking myself if I should let her go and why I was doing this to myself. I told myself to forget about her, but I couldn’t. Bentley was my heart, and how could you move on without your heart?
I made her a promise. I told her I would always love her and I meant that. I would. If anything, if she wouldn’t come back to me, the least I could do was keep my promise to her.
The one I wanted to keep, the one that I would take care of her, bring back Dixie, I couldn’t keep.
This one I could.
Gavin and Blaine planned a fall wedding, to which I was a part of. I knew Blaine getting married meant she’d invite her twin brother.
I wasn’t in any way prepared to deal with that. I had to think back to how long it had been since I last saw him. April. I hadn’t seen him since April and here it was November.
Seven months.
The exact amount of time I was pregnant with Dixie.
“Is Beau singing?” I asked Blaine as she got dressed that afternoon.
“No, he asked that we not have him play at the wedding.” Blaine stared at herself in the mirror, probably second-guessing that damn dress.
“Why?”
Blaine shook her head, reaching for her make-up bag to touch up her lipstick. “Because it’s my day and he doesn’t want any of the attention on him.”
Goddamn him, why’s he gotta be so damn sweet?
I had no idea what to expect when Blaine asked me to be her maid of honor. I had never been in a wedding, and I also wasn’t sure how their family would treat me.
After all, I broke up with their son. I definitely wasn’t worried about Beau’s father, he could take a flying leap off a cliff for all I was concerned with. It was his mother I worried about. Would she think I was a complete bitch for that?
The wedding was done up as fall country theme complete with hay bales next to whiskey barrels and twinkle lights hung up. It was beautiful and if I was getting married, I’d want something like that.
What wasn’t as beautiful was the fact that I had drunk an entire fifth of Fireball since I arrived at Gavin’s parent’s house in Montgomery because I knew Beau was going to be there.
It terrified me to think of us in the same room since I broke his heart.
With that fifth of whiskey came my spunky clumsy side.
Not only did I feel completely out of place, but I was ready to cry myself to sleep next to the hay bales in my self-pity.
Blaine felt the same, and it was her family and wedding. Poor girl. She’d been crying all morning and looked pissed at her husband-to-be for making her have a wedding instead of getting married in Vegas, which she literally begged him to do, and then threatened to shove a candle stick up his ass
if anything went wrong.
As I watched her that morning, I felt bad for her.
I’d be pissed, too, if I had to wear that dress. Apparently it had been passed down from his mother and it was a tradition the bride wear the groom’s mothers dress. I had never heard of such thing. It sounded like some crazy cult religion if you asked me.
Which no one did, because I was the drunk girl no one would even look at.
Blaine resembled the Michelin tire man with all those ruffles. She wasn’t impressed, that was obvious.
I was in the living room with their relatives, most of whom I didn’t know, aside from Beau’s grandma.
I was pretty sure I was supposed to be doing something, at least I thought I was, holding a bouquet of flowers and all, but no, I was holed up in the corner, leaning against Blaine’s grandma, doing shots with her.
The wedding would be starting shortly outside the Koche home, followed quickly by the reception, all in an attempt to get it in before the weather changed. I felt like the weather tonight. Impending doom.
“How do you say Gavin’s last name?” Grandma Edith smirked, knowing what I was going to say.
“It’s pronounced Cook, but to me it sounds like koo-chee.”
We both broke out in giggles and passed the bottle back and forth. My eyes kept scanning the crowd, unsure of what to think when I noticed that dark hair and those eyes I still dreamt of.
It was then I noticed him, tall dark and handsome standing next to Gavin, his hand clasped over his shoulder as if to congratulate him.
Stupid. No one should look that good.
And look at me. I was a drunk train wreck in my lilac tear-stained dress.
It was a wedding after all. Wasn’t everyone supposed to be drunk?
As I sat there beside Grandma Edith and our booze, Beau came over.
Oh shit, really? He’s coming over now?
He was walking toward me, the way only Beau Ryland could walk, making sleepy, slow steps look sexy. After all these months my heart remembered him immediately, the beat speeding and my skin burning.
Before he reached me, his mom was standing in front of him, nodding to Jensen to his right who was also drunk. Like I said, everyone drank at weddings.
“Just talk to him, Beau,” his mom said, shoving at his shoulder. “He’s your brother.”
“I have nothing to say to him,” Beau returned, looking back at the bar set up to his left. He hesitated for another moment, looking at me and then chose the bar, not ready to come over to me yet.
Thank God!
Staring at me, blues so deep and tortured I feared they’d never be free, he hesitated again as he reached for his drink the bartender handed him.
How badly had I hurt him? Like bad enough he’d never talk to me again?
After the concert he texted me a few times, but still, we hadn’t actually spoken, and I didn’t go to the concert he specifically scheduled for my birthday at the exact place we met.
Asshole move on my part for sure.
Beau moved away from the bar, back at least a foot, and then looked at me again, sighing, before he turned and walked outside with Miles.
Blaine came rushing out, crying, and holding her Michelin tire dress, like the crazy emotional bride she was today. “Bentley, get your ass in here! I need you right now.”
I swayed slightly holding onto Grandma Edith’s fragile arm for support. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe I’m not bridesmaid material today.”
“Well that’s a good thing because your drunk ass is the maid of honor.” She stomped her foot for dramatics. “Now get in there right now!”
“You should have had Payton do this.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes because we’re such good friends.”
I was actually glad Payton wasn’t here. It’d be too soon if I never saw her again.
I suppose it was about time I started my duties as the maid of honor.
As far as I was concerned, and let’s face it, I wasn’t exactly a good person to be making decisions right now, but my duties as maid of honor meant taking a few more shots—or at least that was a duty for myself.
Blaine had other ideas when she said, “I need you to walk down the aisle with him.”
Was she fucking serious?
“No way.” I shook my head. “Not happening. I’m not the one getting married. Are you insane?” I was shaking my head so much I was making myself dizzy. “Are you sure you want to marry him anyways? You’re last name will be Koochee. I could call you B-koochee. You didn’t think that through, did you?”
“He’s one of the groomsmen,” she was ignoring my teasing all together, and hit me with, “I thought I told you that.”
My eyes narrowed. “No you didn’t fucking tell me that. This feels like another one of your plans to get me to talk to him, or be near him in hopes we will talk.”
Blaine raised an eyebrow and lifted her dress in an aggravated motion. “Do you really think you have any room for negotiation today?”
Shrugging, I slouched against the wall where I was sitting trying to apply make-up. “I guess not.” I stood up, swaying a little, but standing made me appear more stable. At least I thought so.
When we were downstairs and the wedding was just about to begin, Blaine cornered me again, pointing at Beau standing against the wall, his head hung, staring at his feet. “Walk with him, or I will never forgive you for this.” She pointed to the bottle I got out again.
“Walking.” I took another swig from my bottle only to have Grandma Edith walk by and take it, mumbling something about bullshit traditions before dumping the flower girl’s basket of flowers out on the floor.
I really liked Edith. I knew where Beau and Blaine got their humor from.
Blaine looked at me and pointed, as if I was a child who refused to listen to instructions. “Get over there. I’m not telling you two to talk, I just want you to walk together, that’s all. And then you can go back to not talking.”
I did as she said without another word, though I knew she was lying. She wanted us to talk.
Beau stepped toward me, and as I hooked my arm around his, I looked around.
Oh God, we’re touching. Don’t trip. Don’t breathe. Don’t do a damn thing, or say anything.
My lungs felt like they were going to freeze up any moment. Then he was beside me, keeping my gaze much longer than I felt comfortable with. The warmth of his body felt like acid on my skin, though he was barely touching me. He was still that shining star in the dark I couldn’t look away from.
Fuck, look at him! That jaw, that scruff, the eyes against the black tux.
I’m a fucking idiot for letting this go.
I tried to breathe through my frustration when the music began. Blaine noticed and glared.
I winked at her, pushing back the bile rising and trying to force a smile.
Beau looked over at me, smiling tightly, like he wanted to say something, but it pinched, hurt too much.
So I spoke first, though I told myself to remain quiet.
“You had to show up looking like this, didn’t you?” I asked him as we started to walk down the pebble stoned path leading to the archway. The sun was setting now over the field, little slivers of chalky pink and purple peeking through slate gray. I hated it because of the reminder of the nights I spent with him at the lake.
Beau tilted his head toward me to listen, but he continued to face forward. “You’re just as pretty as I remember,” he replied, low-toned and turning slightly.
“That’s cliché.” Shaking my head, I sighed. “The Beau I remember would say something charming right now.”
Beau laughed, mostly under his breath. He nodded, checking our surroundings. Now wasn’t exactly the greatest time to be having a conversation. “Okay,” he said easily, tightening his elbow to his side to pinch my hand in place.
Never let go of me. Please.
Touching his body, even if it was just his arm, felt unfamiliar and inaccessible, like
a lost shoe suddenly found months later, only to find it didn’t fit anymore or wasn’t nearly as comfortable as you remembered.
He wasn’t unfamiliar and inaccessible. He was warm, a security I craved knowing I’d never fall with him beside me.
When we reached the arbor, Beau let me go, and then there was the awkward staring at each other since we technically had to face one another.
I felt nauseas. Like any minute I was going to spew cinnamon whiskey over Blaine’s entire wedding.
Thankfully the ceremony was finished in a matter of ten minutes, and I barely could focus, what with trying to avoid puking all over the bride, until I saw the expression on Beau’s face when the minister asked them to repeat after him.
The pain in his eyes was clear. Again, his stare held me. I couldn’t look away.
Why did I let him go? Why did we lose Dixie? Why was this so fucking hard?
And then I puked. Luckily we had walked back down the path and had returned to the house so I made it to the bathroom just in time.
As I sat there on the edge of the tub, trying to get myself together for the sake of Blaine, I thought about his face again and what it was he was feeling.
Just go out there and tell him you love him.
I wasn’t in that bathroom five minutes and Blaine was looking for me.
After today I was sure I was up for the worst best friend ever.
She handed me a cold rag right before the reception started. “When you get married I’m going to drive my car through that motherfucker.” I knew she wasn’t serious, but if she was, I deserved it. “Don’t come out of here until you’re sober.”
Twenty minutes later I emerged.
The reception was in the backyard. All the chairs from the wedding had been pushed aside and made way for a makeshift wood dance floor and a small stage where Beau was standing with Miles and Wade, his back to me.
Everyone was concerned about the weather so things got started pretty early, but it was pretty damn funny that everyone’s hair was a mess from the humidity and the women’s dresses were blowing up from the wind. Strategically placed white umbrellas offered a little shielding.
