by Tracy Wolff
Where could he be? San Angelo wasn’t that big a place, and he hadn’t been here in a long time. While everyone in town would pretty much open their house to the Deuce, she knew him well enough to know that when he was like this, hanging out with people—having to be “on”—was the last thing he wanted.
She paused at her window, looked out over the dark landscape, and told herself not to worry. Heath was in pain, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t do anything crazy, no matter how upset he was. He wouldn’t—
That’s when it hit her. The tree house. Heath was at the tree house.
It was where he’d always gone to think when they were younger. It was where he had gone to escape his daddy’s drunken rages and where he’d gone to lick his wounds when he hadn’t gotten out of the house fast enough to dodge the blows. It was also where she’d given him her virginity all those years ago.
Damn it.
The tree house was the one place she’d avoided like the plague since he’d told her he loved her and then called her by her sister’s name. She’d sworn then that she would never set foot in the damn thing again. And she never had.
She stripped off Harmony’s pajamas and pulled on the yoga pants Heath had brought to her daddy’s hospital room the other day. Ugly past be damned. Heath was hurting, and she needed to be with him. He’d held her hand all the way from Hawaii, all the way from Austin, all the way through her daddy’s surgery. And even if he hadn’t … even if he hadn’t, she would still want to be with him. Still want to hold him as his own world fell apart. No way was she letting him go through this all alone.
Her mother was at the hospital, so there was no one to make excuses to when Lyric slipped into her Birks, made her way to the kitchen for provisions, and then headed to the garage, where her daddy’s truck was parked.
As she pointed the truck toward the tree house—toward Heath—she tried not to think about the last time they had both been there. Tried not to think about the days and weeks and months that had followed, when her heart had felt like it had literally been ripped out of her chest. It was a different time, and they had been different people. Dwelling on that night would only end up hurting the both of them.
She drove west toward Heath’s thousand-acre spread. The Concho River Ranch hugged a good bit of the Concho River. Lyric bounced along in her daddy’s old Ford pickup. The night was quiet and so was the cab of the old pickup truck. It felt strange to be in a vehicle without Neil Diamond playing, and she kind of missed it. Not that she was going to tell Cherry Cherry that.
She rolled her eyes. God, now she believed that old Caddy was alive?
It had been so long since she’d been out there that she almost missed the turnoff to the ranch. The sign was missing, and the trees on either side of the road were overgrown. Heath wasn’t kidding about his place needing work. It was good that he’d hired a new caretaker.
Maybe this place really would be where Heath ended up.
She shook her head. She knew she had suggested it, but she just didn’t see him as a rancher. He hated solitude, and he needed people. Who would he tell his crazy-ass stories to if he lived all the way out here? She was pretty sure the cows wouldn’t appreciate them.
It took her three tries, but she finally found the old two track that led down to the river. She smiled to herself as she drove along it, letting the good memories come instead of concentrating only on the big, bad one that had loomed over the ranch—and her relationship with Heath—for so long.
In high school, Heath had done some of his best fast-talking trying to convince her and Harmony—mainly Harmony—that skinny-dipping was the most efficient way of swimming. No clothes meant no drag. She remembered that on one particularly bright sunny summer afternoon, as they’d all been sitting on a log by the river drinking Shiner Bock, Heath had stripped down to his boxers and dared them to do the same. Lyric knew that if Harmony hadn’t been there, she totally would have done it.
And embarrassed herself all over again.
Back then, she would have done anything to make him love her.
That was the hold Heath had once had on her. That was the hold he still had on her.
The heart she no longer listened to broke all over again for her teenaged self who only had eyes for Heath Montgomery. He hadn’t loved her then, and he didn’t love her now. No matter how it felt when they had sex … no, when he made love to her. They were way beyond just sex.
Her past feelings were getting tangled up in the now. The engagement had started out as a misunderstanding and grown into a giant mess. She was starting to believe that it was real.
She glanced down at the shiny diamond on her hand, the one that had made her heart beat way too fast when Heath had given it to her. Even though she knew Heath wouldn’t end up with a girl like her, that didn’t matter. Just like it hadn’t mattered in high school. She’d known that he wanted the popular cheerleader and not the teacher’s pet who asked for extra homework to fill the empty hours that should have been filled with dates.
He played the part of fiancé so well that she could actually see them ending up together. It was a dangerous kind of game, one that was getting harder and harder to separate reality from fiction.
She wanted something real, and Heath’s feelings for her were nothing but make believe.
Look at her now … still chasing after him. No, wait … she was rushing to his side.
There was a difference … wasn’t there? There had to be.
The truck climbed a small rise, and there was the tree house in a huge majestic oak overlooking the river.
Her heart skipped a beat … okay, several beats.
At the same time, the tree house looked the same and very different. In her mind, she’d built up this image of the tree house as huge and forbidding and evil. For her it was right out of central casting for a tree house horror flick.
In real life, it was a small, ramshackle collection of wood scraps and driftwood. It was the type of tree house where children schemed to sail the seven seas and hunt for buried treasure. Or a place where a lonely boy could retreat after his father had too much to drink and was looking for a target to pound out his rage.
Putting the past out of her mind, she parked next to the oak and climbed out of the truck. She grabbed the paper sack of provisions. She had all of Heath’s favorites—Jalapeño Cheetos, Shiner Bock, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream, and celery. The fact that she knew Heath’s favorites so well was something she didn’t want to think about.
She picked up the flashlight her father kept in the door pocket and used her butt to shut the truck’s door.
With the sack in one hand and the flashlight in the other, she stood under the tree.
“Heath?” Before she climbed up using boards that he’d nailed to the tree when he was ten years old, she wanted to make sure he was actually up there.
The wood panel covering a window popped up, and Heath smiled down at her. “Wanna come up?”
He sounded way too cheerful to be sober.
“I guess you don’t need the six-pack of Shiner I brought.” She shone the flashlight on the bottom of the tree house. It hadn’t exactly been engineered. The structural integrity had come from the mind of a fifth grader. Gingerly, she stepped on the first step.
“The more booze the better. Bourbon before liquor, never been sicker—wait, I got that wrong—Bourbon before beer, all in the clear. Yep, bring on the beer.”
“How much have you had to drink?” The first step held her weight so she climbed to the next one.
“It’s not the amount I’ve had, it’s the amount I need.” Something whizzed by and shattered on a rock. It was a bottle. “I’m out. I should have bought two bottles. Does San Angelo have a liquor store that delivers?”
“I don’t think so.” She made her way up two more steps and used the flashlight to knock on the trapdoor. “Even if they did, I doubt they’d come all the way out here.”
The trapdoor
opened, and Heath smiled down at her. “A flashlight. You’re so smart.”
At least Heath was a happy drunk.
She handed up the sack. “I brought you some comfort food.”
He took the sack and then reached down, clamped his hands under her arms, and pulled her up as if she weighed nothing. The tree house was long enough that he could lay down flat, but too short for anyone over five-five to stand up.
Heath closed the hatch and dug through the sack. “I’m starving.”
“You’ve been up here the whole time?” She sat with her back against one of the walls and her legs crossed at the ankle.
“You brought Jalapeño Cheetos and celery?” He leaned over, cupped her face, and kissed her. “Thanks.”
He’d kissed her just like that right here all those years ago … only, he’d called her Harmony. That hurt was so deep that even tears weren’t possible. It still hurt.
The past was dead and gone, she reminded herself. It had nothing to do with now.
Maybe if she kept saying it over and over again, it would become the truth.
He broke off a stalk of celery, laid it on his jean-covered thigh, opened the Cheetos, selected one, placed it in the groove running down the back of the stalk, and bit in. “So good. I haven’t had celery and Cheetos since high school.” He held up the hem of his T-shirt. “You might not have noticed, but now I’m sort of a health nut. Have you seen my washboard abs?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. I believe I licked each one of them last night.” She couldn’t take it if all he wanted was sex … not here, and not now. He needed comfort, but she needed to forget. Those two things seemed mutually exclusive.
“Now that you mention it, I do seem to remember that you have a very talented tongue. Trick number seventeen comes to mind.” He crunched on his celery as he twisted off a Shiner cap one-handed. He offered her the beer.
She waved it off. “One of us has to drive home, and it’s not going to be you.”
“Suit yourself.” He gulped down the beer. “Good stuff.”
How did she approach the one subject he didn’t want to talk about?
She reached into the bag and pulled out the ice cream and a spoon she’d swiped from her parents’ house.
“Hey, that’s my I’ve-had-a-shitty-day ice cream.” The wounded look on his face was almost enough to make her put it back, but it was ice cream.
“Finders keepers.” She peeled off the pint container’s lid and delicately raked her spoon across the top. She licked at it. Ice cream was a delicacy and should be savored.
“You can’t call finders keepers if you already knew it was there.” He grabbed the pint and the spoon right out of her hand.
“Pig.” She didn’t try too hard to get it back.
“I love to watch you eat ice cream.” He dug into the ice cream like his spoon was a shovel and then brought it to her lips. “You take these delicate bites … always have.”
He’d noticed how she ate ice cream? How had he had the time for that when he’d always been so busy looking at Harmony?
“That’s too much.” She sucked in a little bit. “Too much and you get brain freeze,” she said around the ice cream swirling on her tongue.
He grinned. “That’s why. You always have a well-thought-out reason for everything.”
Was that good or bad?
He shoved the rest of the spoonful into his mouth. “You eat it slow … savoring the flavor, but I like to shovel it in.”
He fed her a small bite and smiled as he watched her eat it.
He tried a small bite and shook his head. “Nope, when it comes to ice cream, I’m a shoveler-in-er.” He thought about it for a second. “There are some foods I eat slowly, but not because I want to savor them … I just don’t like them. Take brussels sprouts, they’re stinky and they taste bad.”
“I can’t disagree with you there.” She wasn’t good at being coy or sly or beating around the bush. “When are we going to talk about your future? What’s next for Heath Montgomery?”
“Nothing … there is no next.” He was completely serious. He truly believed that his life was over. It made her sad for him even as it made her a little angry. Football wasn’t everything. He had so much else going for him, so much more to make his life full and rich. Why couldn’t he see that? Why couldn’t he see her sitting here, offering herself to him?
“Of course there’s a next. You’re Heath freakin’ Montgomery. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on with your life.” She wasn’t the pity party type. “You have to face the future sometime … can’t stay here forever.”
“Why not? What if I don’t want to face the future?” He looked around. “I’m never coming down from here.”
“Be serious. You can’t live in your tree house.” She reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. There were times, like right now, when she could see the lost little boy peeking out of Heath’s grown-up eyes.
“Why not? I like it here.” He fed her another ice cream bite. “Who says I have to come down and live in the real world?”
“Well, I guess you could stay here, but let me point out a couple of small details.” Lyric looked around. “I don’t see any plumbing. Going to the bathroom might be an issue.”
“Nope, I’ll just do what I’ve been doing all of these years.” He pointed to the trapdoor. “I just open it and let her fly.”
She shuddered. The steps were directly under the trapdoor, and she’d used her hands to climb up here. She wiped them vigorously on her pants. If only she’d thought to bring some hand sanitizer. “What about food?”
“What about it?” He nodded at the bag. “You’re going to bring me food every day.” He pulled her onto his lap. “We’re going to get married and live here.”
Never mind that she lived in Hawaii. And they weren’t getting married.
“We can’t even stand up in here.” She pointed to the low roof. “I refuse to open the trapdoor and let her fly.”
“Suit yourself. You can always go to the bathroom when you go out for food. Although, I don’t think it’s good for your body to only go once a day.” He nuzzled her neck. “And we don’t need to walk around up here. We can kneel. Walking’s overrated … kneeling’s where it’s at.”
“You’ve got it all figured out.” She giggled as his lips hit a particularly ticklish spot behind her ear. “So your plan is to have your way with me up here?”
“Nope, I’m too tired.” Gently he laid her down, and then he snuggled in behind her. He laid his arm out flat so she could use it as a pillow. “I’m so damn tired of thinking about tomorrow and the tomorrow after that. I’m so damn tired of missing football. I’m just so damn tired.”
“So this is how we’ll spend our evenings once we move in here permanently?” She had to admit, it wasn’t half bad. “Just living in the moment.”
“I love it here.” He patted the wall behind him. “Some great memories.” He yawned. “I seduced the right girl here, and then I messed it up by calling her the wrong name.”
The words hung in the air, and it took her a full minute for their meaning to sink in. He knew. Wait a minute. He knew?
“Hang on … we need to talk about this.” Her pulse cranked up as everything she’d told herself tonight came crashing down around her ears.
His only response was some soft snoring from behind her.
Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What was she going to do? What was she going to do?
She wanted to wake Heath up and demand some answers, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what those answers were. Wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. Not yet. Not when she could barely get her head around what he had just said.
Several hours later, a black hole was spinning around her as she studied the event horizon and Hawking radiation. She was floating in space and still able to breath in spite of the lack of air. It was so weird. Just when she was about to prove that Hawking radiation was real, her left butt cheek sta
rted to vibrate. Did that have something to do with the black hole? She went perfectly still. The vibrating stopped and then started again. Her eyes fluttered open.
Blazing reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows streamed into the tree house through the cracks between the boards. Sunrise. There was a warm body snuggled in behind her. Heath.
His left front jeans pocket vibrated again.
It was social sacrilege to answer someone else’s phone, but she’d love to snuggle back into sleep and continue her research into black holes. So she reached behind her, worked the phone out of his pocket, and swiped her finger over the screen.
“Hello.”
There were several seconds of silence on the other end.
Just as Lyric was about to end the call, a male voice said, “May I speak with Heath?”
“He’s asleep right now.” She tried to be as quiet as she could, but Heath was practically snoring on top of her.
“This is Dalton Mane, the general manager for the Fort Worth Wranglers. I’ve been trying to get in touch with Heath. Will you have him call me.” The last sentence hadn’t been a question.
“Absolutely, what is this regarding?” Lyric knew damn well what it was regarding, but she wanted to hear this Dalton Whatever say it out loud.
“The offensive line coaching job.” Dalton was all business.
“Coaching?” It made perfect sense. Heath would be wonderful at coaching. “I’ll tell him, and I’ll make sure he calls you.”
“I would appreciate that. Thank you very much. Good-bye.” He hung up.
No small talk—she liked Dalton already.
“You answered my phone?” Heath’s voice rumbled in her ear. “You answered my goddamn phone?”
“It was ringing, or, well, buzzing.” She really didn’t have an excuse. “It was the Wranglers’ general manager.”
“You answered my phone. I’ve spent the last week dodging every damn phone call I could, and you just went and answered it?” He was all righteous indignation. “You had no right. I’m not ready to talk to anyone yet.”
“I know … but it was good news.” She turned over and faced him. “They want you to coach the offensive line.”
