by Bryce, Megan
Ginny closed her eyes.
Oh, how it hurt.
They didn’t talk about it but it lay there between them. A gaping black void they thought would be filled with children. Filled with a future, and now there was nothing.
They’d tried and they’d tried. And now there was no money to try anything else.
Ginny followed him, hugging his back. She laid her head against him and listened to his heart.
She said, “I have what I want. I wouldn’t choose anyone else for a dozen children.”
He laughed bitterly. “No children, no money. No job. You’d do better on your own.”
“If that was really true, I would have left you already.”
“You stay because of loyalty.”
“No. I stay because I love you. I stay because I like you. I stay because you’re mine.”
She crawled under his arm to look him in the eye. “I didn’t marry you because of the children you’d give me, I just assumed that would follow. I didn’t marry you for the fortune you want to make back. I married you because I love you. I married you because I like you.”
He shook his head. “There is nothing to like about a failure.”
“Tanner. . . you can’t help success. It’s luck. Whether something works out or not depends on outside factors. How many men came out the same time as our grandfathers, did the same things with no results? They were in the right place, at the right time. Their wealth was built on luck. You can’t judge yourself a failure if success is based on luck. You can only judge yourself against how hard you work. You have to be happy with that, no matter what the results are.”
“The results are we will be living in a cockroach-infested apartment with rags on our back.”
“I’d be happy living in that cockroach-infested apartment as long as it was with you. Because I know you will be working to get us out. Because you see what isn’t but what could be. Because you have hope in the future. That’s worth liking. That’s worth loving.”
“Even if we never get out?”
“Yes.”
He pushed her hair back from her face and said, “I’m not willing to leave it to luck.”
“No. You have to work for it, too. You just can’t base your self-worth on whether you’re successful or not. Whether we’re successful or not. I’d like to be a part of it. Let’s make something together, Tanner. Just the two of us.”
“And when Cole does what he does? When Maggie needs you?”
When she didn’t say anything he shook his head, stepping away from her. “You chose me over your dad when we got married. I think that’s why he let us get married, honestly. But not Maggie. Never Maggie.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Ginny. Loyalty isn’t a fault. I just don’t want you to ever have to choose again.”
She said, “I’d choose you.”
He sighed as if he didn’t believe her and she said again, “I’d choose you, Tanner. Next time I’d choose you.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
Ginny was half-afraid he was right.
Maggie was awoken a few hours later by a light tapping at her window. Halfway through “Shave and a Haircut” she flung the sheet off, glancing at the clock, cursing when she saw it read four-thirty.
She padded to the window, raising the blinds to glare at Cole.
He grinned and held up two cups of coffee.
When she opened the window he said, “I brought sex, too. If you hurry.”
“What do you want?”
“To get even, obviously. And to make you think twice about waking me up so early without any kind of incentive.”
She looked at the cup in his hand. “Point taken. Next time I wake you up, I’ll be sure to bring something scalding hot I can throw at you. Or wait, just give me that one.”
Cole shook his head. “Cranky. You’ll feel better after you say it.”
She narrowed her eyes and he said, “I know you’re thinking it. Just say it.”
“No.”
“Stop being a lady. It’s only me.”
She waved toward her clock and said it. “It’s four-fucking-thirty.”
He chuckled, a deep low sound in the dark that made her stomach wobble. Made her think of other activities that happened in the dark.
He said, “Feel better?”
“No. I’m still awake.”
“Awake’s good. We’ve got paperwork to do.”
She started to close the window. “Come back in four hours.”
“Nope. We’ve got a date with a sunrise, a blanket, and a watering hole.”
She raised her eyebrows at him and he said, “Just trying to keep the good times rolling. Yesterday went better than I could have hoped.”
“Taking me out to the watering hole is not going to do the trick.”
“When was the last time you were out there?”
“Oh, about sixteen years ago.”
He grinned at her. “You could have got it back if you’ll remember.”
She pursed her lips. “I remember.”
“Good thing one of us is willing to forgive and forget.”
“Perhaps you should remember that the person who is willing to forgive and forget is not me.”
She started to shut the window again and he said, “I’ll just go ring the doorbell a few times.”
“You know I don’t take well to threats.”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
She crossed her arms. “Find something else.”
“I already offered sex.” He held up a cup. “And coffee.”
“I don’t know why you thought that would work.”
He sipped. “Wishful thinking. But I did get some creamer for the coffee. Caramel macchiato.”
Maggie glanced at the cup he was holding and he said, “I probably should have led with that.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m not eating again until Monday.”
“It’s not eating, it’s coffee. But I suppose that means you don’t want the donuts I’ve got in the truck.”
Her stomach woke up at the mention of donuts. What was it about overeating? She could go months without caring for food but one day of stuffing her face and her willpower wobbled at the mention of donuts.
She said, “You should have led with the donuts.”
He took another sip, smacking his lips. “I honestly thought I was going to have to hold you down to get you to eat them.”
“You were looking forward to it, weren’t you?”
“Little bit.”
She thought about donuts. Thought about washing it down with sweet, rich coffee and said, “I don’t want to do paperwork at four-thirty in the morning.”
“Believe me, that makes two of us. But I have a point to make.”
She cocked her head. “If I go with you, we’ll call it even?”
“Even. I don’t want you coming over tomorrow at four. For paperwork.”
She nodded, shutting the window, ignoring his suggestion to leave those shorts on.
A few minutes later, she hopped into the cab of his truck dressed in jeans and running shoes. Cole handed her a coffee and she took a long sip, the brew rich and bitter and sweet on her tongue, and she noted the donut box sitting on the seat between them. Cole flipped open the box, picking one out and taking a big bite before turning on the ignition.
Maggie made herself wait until they turned onto the main road before she picked out a maple bar, just to give her flagging willpower a little punishment.
Cole laughed at her and reached for another.
They ate and drank in companionable silence, the dark confines of the truck cozy. She wouldn’t ever say it out loud but Cole was right. The truck was more comfortable than her car.
He drained his coffee, sighing. He smiled over at her and she raised her eyebrows in question.
He said, “I like watching you eat.”
“Just how long have you been without a girlfriend, Cole?”
They bounced along until they pulled up to a pool of water, the sky just beginning to lighten.
Maggie got out, plopping her hands onto her hips, turning in a circle, taking in the watering hole. The trampled muddy edges, the liberal smattering of cow patties.
She said, “It looks the same. Maybe smaller.”
He looked at her expression and nodded. “Why is it that the things you love as a kid are a little disgusting as an adult?”
Maggie laughed. “It really is disgusting. I used to love wading around the edges and now I’m wondering why I didn’t catch some horrible disease.”
Cole put down the gate on the truck and jumped up. He unrolled two camping mats, putting a cardboard box between them.
Maggie sighed at the proof that they really were going to do paperwork so early in the morning, then squared her shoulders and handed her briefcase up to Cole before climbing up the wheel.
He said, “Why didn’t we ever come out here when we were sneaking around? Lots of privacy out here.”
“Maybe because I would have stopped sneaking around with you if you’d reminded me about it.”
“Teenage boys do have a sixth sense about that sort of thing.”
Maggie sat down cross-legged, opening her briefcase and snorting. “I doubt men ever outgrow that sixth sense.”
She pulled out a printed spreadsheet, squinting at it in the early morning light. She said, “This isn’t going to work. I, at least, didn’t wake you up uselessly.”
She looked up to find him watching her. He said, “We can snuggle under the blanket until the sun comes up.”
“No.” She wiggled around on the mat. “I might take a little catnap, though.”
Cole handed her a blanket, then sat down, safe on the other side of the box.
Maggie lay down, throwing the blanket over her even though the morning was warm enough without it.
She said, “I’ve gotten new terms with nearly a third of my creditors. I think by the end of next week, it’ll be almost all of them.”
“Already?”
She grinned. “Apparently the thought of you and me scares some people.”
Cole smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Oh, I am. Jackson Harwood was waiting for me when I got home last night, and believe me, that’s a change.”
“I believe it. He was gouging you.”
She shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I knew they were terrible terms but I needed cash.”
“I hope you didn’t let him off the hook too easy.”
“No. But he brings out the worst in me.”
“I thought I brought out the worst in you?”
She laughed. “Sometimes. But you don’t call me a frigid whore. Or words to that effect.”
There was silence where Cole sat and Maggie closed her eyes. And imagined one more time Cole smashing his fist into Jackson’s face.
Cole said, “He said what?”
Maggie opened her eyes. “I made him pay for it. I’m only sorry you weren’t there to see it. I know you would have liked to watch.”
“You can’t have done anything to make him pay for that.”
She rolled onto her elbow, not trying to hide her smile. “Two percent and a one-year moratorium.”
Cole blinked. “Whatever happened to fair and equitable?”
“I didn’t want him to agree.”
He smiled and lay down on his side, facing her. “I’m still going to smash his face in.”
Maggie sighed. “No, you’re not. He apologized. That was part of the deal.”
He shrugged. “Still going to.”
“You think anyone is going to work with me if you go around making my word worthless?”
“You think I’m going to let you work with a man like that?”
“I’ve been doing it for years. I don’t see why adding you into the equation makes any difference.”
He flopped onto his back. “He’s a shit and he deserves a fist in the face.”
She said, “Yes and yes. He was also pretty drunk.”
“Is that an excuse?”
“No, just a comment.”
Cole said, “You shouldn’t have told me.”
“I know. He also called me a bitch.”
He thought about it for a minute, then said, “Nope, can’t beat him up for that. It’s the truth.”
She laughed. “But you can for calling me a frigid whore?”
He nodded. “Yep. ‘Cause they’re both lies.”
She watched the thin clouds roll slowly across the sky, looked at the horizon getting brighter and brighter.
She had been frigid. With Jackson. But she’d thought that sex would always be like how it had been with Cole. Hot and fun and mind-erasing. She’d been unprepared for it not to be.
She’d also been unprepared for it to be circulated as gossip.
Cole said softly, “You sure I can’t plant my fist in his face?”
She turned her head to see him watching her. “I’m okay. I’ve been dealing with Jackson Harwood for a long time. And his one-year moratorium nearly gives me a positive cash flow.”
“And that makes it okay?”
“To me it does. I wish there were a few more of him, actually.”
“Guess I’ll have to be happy with that.”
“Guess so.”
The sun broke over the horizon and Maggie closed her eyes against the blinding light. Felt the rays warm upon her face.
Thought about keeping her eyes closed and taking a little nap.
And then didn’t think anymore.
Six
When she woke up, the sun was higher in the sky and Cole was breathing heavily next to her.
She watched him, looked her fill. Traced his dark eyelashes, his slightly crooked nose from one fight too many.
And thought it was nice to have a friend again.
An enemy who sometimes felt like a friend.
She had family. Her sister.
But no friends. Never had had any. Except Cole.
He opened his eyes and smiled at her.
She smiled back. And felt one more angry, hurtful memory become just a memory.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d be forgiving him in no time.
He sat up, stretching, and said, “Finally got my nap.”
They worked for hours, until they were sweaty and sticky, until the papers were limp with the humidity.
And at the end, Maggie had a list of creditors she still needed to contact. And a near surety that in a month or two she would stop spending more money than she was making.
It felt good. It felt hopeful.
They rolled up the camping mats and Cole said, “You’re not going to come over at four tomorrow, right?”
“I’m not going to come over at all.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be out at Midland again Monday. I won’t be here if you need me.”
She nodded. “I can take it from here. And as Ginny says, I’m pretty okay with swinging your weight around even when you’re not there.”
“Mm. Hot.”
She chuckled. “You’re easy.”
“Pretty easy. What about you?”
He jumped down, holding a hand up to her. She ignored it to sit on the tailgate.
“I’m not easy at all.”
“Just a little kiss. This place needs a memory. A good memory.” He looked around. “‘Cause frankly I don’t want to ever come out here again.”
Maggie looked, too. And decided she was finally willing to let this watering hole go. Her father had spent years grumbling about losing it but now she realized it hadn’t been the watering hole. It had been the defeat.
Cole stepped between her swinging legs and said, “I’ve been thinking about California.”
“California?” Then she remembered that’s where she’d said they would have gone. If things had been different.
>
He said, “I’m glad we didn’t go. This is where we belong.”
“You’re just glad you didn’t end up swinging by the balls.”
“Yep. And I’m glad we could come out to the watering hole together.”
Maggie said, “They don’t have watering holes in California?”
“Not this one.”
He cupped her face in his hands, then just looked at her. He said, “I had a good time yesterday.”
“It was productive.”
“It was good. Today, too.”
When she didn’t disagree with him, he whispered, “We always have a good time together, don’t we, Maggie?”
She whispered back, “Almost always.”
He leaned down slowly, his blue eyes so bright she couldn’t look anywhere else.
She wrapped her hands around his wrists, not sure if she wanted to push him away or hurry him up.
He put his lips on hers, still watching her. Taking his sweet time, tasting her lips, in no rush to move things along. Maybe not even wanting to move things along. Just happy to have her close, their breaths mingling.
When she finally closed her eyes, finally leaned into him, he sighed. Sighed and wrapped his arms around her. His lips soft and relaxed against hers, his arms warm, holding her loosely.
It was a slow kiss, sweet and warm. A kiss that made her wish they were different people. Made her wish they had a different history. A different future.
He pulled back and looked at her. Then said, “That’s a good memory.”
She smiled. “Now can we get out of here?”
“Tired of eau de cow patty?”
She’d forgotten all about it.
But she nodded and he stepped back. Maggie hopped down, forcing her legs to walk, forcing herself to turn away from him.
Wishing Cole wasn’t hot and fun and mind-erasing.
Because it hadn’t been the sex, it had been him.
It had been them, together.
When they hopped into the truck, Cole blasted the air conditioner and Maggie nearly groaned with relief.
He said, “Once you’re back in the black, we’ll have to figure out what to do with that extra cash.”
“I’m taking suggestions.”
“I’ve got a watering hole I could sell you.”
She snorted. “Forget it. I don’t want it back.”
He smiled, putting the truck into gear. “Good. Now where are we going for lunch?”
