But I don’t. I don’t feel anything, and the more I watch my friends enjoy life, the more panicked I feel that something is irreplaceably broken inside of me.
My friends finish off their drinks and grow restless, and decide to move the party to Rob’s house for a bonfire. I decline, saying that I’m going to order food and head home, taking Lisa’s car back to my place.
I used to love barn parties like that, but can’t right now. I can only hold up the front that everything is okay for a little while, and my soul is tired. I’m going to stumble and fall soon, dropping the facade and revealing to everyone that there’s nothing left inside me.
4
Chase
I stand in front of the vent feeling cool air blowing in my face. It feels fantastic, and couldn’t have come at a better time since the summer heat index is rising daily. The air conditioner repair guy left only an hour ago, and I turned down the air as cool as it can go in an attempt to get the apartment down to a comfortable temperature. I need to put away everything I ordered online, including bringing the old mattress downstairs.
I don’t want to move away from the air, but I have shit to do and am hanging out with Josh at the bar tonight. I told him I can jump right in and take over, but he insisted on one day to ‘shadow’ him and then another few for training. It’s the proper way to do things, I suppose, and the pace of life is slower here in Summer Hill than what I’m used to.
And I should stop taking risks.
I’ve been running on luck, and luck runs out. One day shit is going to hit the fan and I’ll get hurt beyond repair. I close my eyes, inhale one last breath of cold air, and then go into the bedroom and heft the old mattress down the stairs and over by the barn that’s full of junk. I opened the barn doors earlier this morning only to promptly close them, overwhelmed by the sight of things. I’m going to need multiple dumpsters to get rid of all that shit.
I stop by the river, watching the water rush by, and think of the woman’s words from her message about the river flooding. I stand there a moment longer than I planned, summer sun baking the back of my neck, lost in thought about her. I woke up thinking about her and had to listen to one more message, which was left a few days from the previous. All she said was that she took Tinkerbell and Dolly to the vet, and he liked her idea for the cat shelf.
I went back and listened to the older messages again, not able to get enough of her poetic words.
It’s insane.
It’s weird.
I’m wasting my time.
I need to mass-delete all the messages and set up my own voicemail. If I’m going to be staying in this town for a while, I should start to establish some sort of life for myself. But I can’t bring myself to delete the messages. I need to listen to them all at least.
Like a good book that keeps you flipping pages, I want to listen to message after message and hope for a happy ending for this woman. Which is weirder and more insane than the curiosity of listening to the messages in the first place.
I wipe sweat from my forehead and go inside, taking solace in the whirl of the air conditioner. I spent a few hours setting up the rest of my stuff and washing all the dust-covered dishes that were left in the cabinets. Hunger takes over and I finish off the casserole Melissa cooked.
Having no food left, I grab my keys and get in my Mustang, using the GPS to find my way into town to get groceries. Summer Hill is a small town but has a decent amount of stores for a town of its size. I get groceries and head back, hustling to get everything done in time to shower before going down to the bar.
Fridays are busy with discounted beer and karaoke. I stay behind the bar, trying not to cringe at the country music, and watch Josh talk to the regulars, filling drink orders without even having to ask. I’ve always been a bit of a people watcher, and am able to get a good read on most within minutes of meeting.
The night goes on and the crowd remains steady. I’m getting bored, and being bored usually leads me into trouble. Because being bored means my mind has time to wander, and when you stumble around in the dark, it’s easy to trip and fall. And falling into the truth of why my life feels so unsatisfying isn’t something I want to do.
I tap my fingers on the bar, half-listening to Josh and an old man named Joe talk about a cow being found with its stomach ripped open by mountain lions. A group of girls walks in, dressed in shorts and tight skirts, looking like they belonged in a club, not a hole-in-the-wall tavern like The Mill House. They go for a booth in the back, and Erica, one of the waitresses working tonight goes over to take their order, returning with a pitcher of margaritas.
A table that emptied minutes ago still has dirty dishes on it and seeing as I have nothing else to do, I go over and pick them up, taking them into the kitchen. When I come back, I see another group of women walk through the door. Two walked in, but my eyes go to one.
Her brunette hair blows back from the draft created by the open door, and her white dress swirls around her long, lean legs. She’s not dressed like her friends—the girls in clubbing clothes—but rather looks like she should go to a fancy tea party with the Queen of England. I watch her for a moment, unable to get a read on her and decipher if she’s stuck-up or a bit eccentric to be dressed like that in a place like this.
Josh catches me staring and raises his eyebrows.
“Who is that?” I ask him.
“Sierra Belmont,” he says like the name should have some sort of impact on me. “Right, you have no idea who anyone is. Her parents pretty much own the town.”
“They own the town?”
He nods and turns, filling a glass with beer. “You had to see the big, white plantation house on your way into town, right?”
“Yeah, it’s hard to miss.”
“That’s their house. And most of the farmland in Summer Hill belongs to them. They sell their crops to big manufacturers. They’re loaded.”
I narrow my eyes, looking at Sierra’s pretty face. She seems too unsure of herself to be stuck-up, though the fact that she hails from a rich family would lead me to believe that to be the truth.
“But they’re good people,” Josh goes on. I’m fairly certain everyone is a ‘good person’ to him. He has a tendency to see the good in everyone…including me. “Sierra doesn’t come in here often, though. I honestly can’t recall the last time she came in.”
“It’s one of her friend’s birthdays,” I say, reading the lips of the woman in tight black shorts and a leopard-print top.
“Oh, I should give them a free round,” Josh says.
I just laugh and shake my head. I already planned to tell him that half-priced beer on the busiest night of the week is a huge loss, but I’m biding my time. The night goes on and I keep watching Sierra. She’s quiet, smiling when her friends are looking, then retreating inside herself as soon as they look away.
When a group of guys shows up and one slides into the booth close to her, I give myself a mental slap in the face. Sierra is pretty, with large breasts and a nice figure. I need to get my imagination under control. I go into the kitchen and help with some cleanup for a while before going back to the bar.
I’m surprised to see Sierra sitting there, Kindle in front of her, and a slight scowl on her face.
“I told you,” she says to the guy next to her. “I have a boyfriend, and he’ll be here any minute.”
The guy next to her is on his fourth beer—I know because I saw him get served three and then he took one from his buddy—and doesn’t believe Sierra. I don’t either, and can tell right away she’s a bad liar.
“I’m not worried about your boyfriend, baby,” Beer Guy says and leans forward. “He’s not here yet and I don’t think he’s coming.”
“He is.” Sierra pulls her shoulders in, looking uncomfortable.
“Why you gotta be like that?” Beer Guy goes on.
“I’m not being like anything,” she shoots back.
“Just talk to me, sweet cheeks.”
She shudders an
d shakes her head. “No, thanks.”
“You know what, I took a chance talking to a pretty girl and you gotta go and be like that. You don’t have a boyfriend and you don’t have the balls to tell that to my face.”
Sierra looks exasperated. The ‘I have a boyfriend’ line might be the oldest line of shit in the book, but it’s said to let someone down gently. Hell, even I’d rather hear that than a blatant ‘I’m not into you.’ Beer Guy takes a swig, and turns, obviously checking out Sierra’s breasts.
“I shoulda known you’d be a bitch,” he mutters.
I rush forward but stop myself before I throw a punch and start a fight. And for some reason, I don’t think Sierra wants to be rescued. She’s looked uncomfortable being here since she walked through the door, but not scared or weak. So I play her game instead.
“Hey, babe,” I say, coming up behind her. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up at work.”
She turns around and looks into my eyes. God, she’s gorgeous. I give her a small smile and an even smaller nod, then flick my eyes to the guy trying to pick her up, letting her know what’s going on. A second passes and I’m regretting what I just said, thinking Sierra is going to get up and walk away, assuming I’m even worse than the guy next to her. Then her full lips pull into a smile.
“Oh, hey, boyfriend. I’m so glad you finally made it.”
I would have laughed at her obviousness if I weren’t well-versed in bullshitting. “Me too. Work was crazy. Being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company keeps me busy.” She laughs, and I take the barstool next to her.
“You work too much. I think we should put that private jet to use this weekend and get away.”
“Good idea. We can go to Hawaii?”
She lets out a dramatic sigh and shakes her head. “We just went there two weeks ago. How about Paris instead?”
“Too cliché. Iceland?”
“Too hipster.”
Now I laugh. I put my hand on the counter and Sierra slides hers forward, so our fingers are touching. The gesture is small and is the last thing I expected to send shivers down my spine. “There’s a little island in Scotland,” I start. “Everything is rocky and green, and you feel like you’re the only people left on earth when you stand on the cliff overlooking the ocean, feeling the spray of the waves on your face. Legend says mermaids gather in the coves on the cliff. Maybe we’ll see one.”
Her smile turns genuine and she looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.
“It sounds lovely.”
“It is. I’ve been there before. For business, of course.”
Beer Guy leans over, eyeballing me. “You’re her boyfriend?”
“I am,” I say. “You got a problem with that?”
Drunk enough to say whatever is on his damn mind, Beer Guy widens his eyes and looks at me, taking in my muscles and tattoos, then runs his eyes over Sierra. “I didn’t think a pretty lady like her would go for a guy like you.”
“But you thought she’d go for a guy like you?”
Beer Guy lets out a snort, laughing for a second before realizing I insulted him. He finishes his beer, sets the bottle down, and gets up with an indiscernible huff.
“Thank you,” Sierra says, taking her hand back. She leans in when she talks, having to speak over the music. Her brunette hair brushes over my arm, and we lock eyes again. Something passes through me when we do, almost like a faded memory being brought back to life.
I don’t know this woman.
I have no memories of her.
So why does she feel so familiar?
“No problem. I’m Chase, by the way.”
“Sierra. Nice to meet you.” She puts her hands on her Kindle but doesn’t turn it on. Her posture changes and she’s back to looking uncomfortable.
“So…are you from around here?” I ask, acting like Josh didn’t give me the rundown on her entire family mere minutes ago. The question perks her up. She’s used to people in this town knowing who she is.
“I am. Are you?”
“I am now. I just moved here.”
“Oh, nice. Welcome to Summer Hill. How do you like it?”
I shrug. “It’s different than what I’m used to.”
“It’s like its own little world here. Where are you from?”
“A few places,” I say with a laugh. “I was in New Jersey before this. And New York before that for a year. LA for a few years too, and I really have been to Scotland.”
Her head tips as she looks at me with curiosity, letting her eyes wander over my body. It’s obvious, yet innocent. It’s like she’s looking at a work of art, just taking it all in before she makes a judgment. I can’t tell what the verdict is.
“Why did you move so much?”
“I was trying to find a place that felt like home.” The words leave my mouth before I have a chance to think about it. The honesty shocks me since I’ve worked hard to deny it to myself. I’d told myself I moved around a lot because I didn’t like being tied down, that staying in one place too long creates expectations and attachments to people, two things I did not want.
Sierra’s green eyes soften. “Did you ever find a place that felt like home?”
I slowly shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Maybe you’ll find it here.”
Behind us, the bar is full of life. The music is loud. Drinks slosh on the floor. The smell of cigarette smoke wafts through the open doors, carried in on the fresh night breeze, making the air stale. But all I see is Sierra.
“Maybe.”
Josh sets a to-go bag on the counter in front of Sierra. “I see you’ve met my brother,” he says to her.
Sierra looks from Josh to me. “Oh, I didn’t know you were related.”
Josh laughs. “Took me years to finally get him here. I had to use a guilt trip,” Josh whisper-talks to Sierra, pretending like I can’t hear. “He’s going to take over for me after my wife has the twins.”
“You’ll have your hands full for sure. And you have a little girl already, right?”
“Yes. Dakota. She’s enough of a handful on her own.”
“She’s cute. I saw her in church a few weeks ago.” Sierra puts her money on the counter and slides her Kindle back into her purse.
“Thanks,” Josh tells her. “Have a good night, Sierra. It’s good to see you out again.”
“You too. Good luck with everything.” She slowly slides off the bar stool. “Thanks again, Chase. I appreciate it. That guy was rather persistent.”
“No problem.” I fight the compulsion to kiss her. “See you around.”
“Yeah, I’m sure I will. Bye.”
She pulls her keys out of her purse and heads out the door. I watch her leave, getting swallowed by the sea of people before disappearing out the door. Right as the red door swings closed, I see him.
Beer Guy.
He’s staggering as he walks, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Sierra’s back is turned, and she doesn’t see him coming. He’s headed right to her, and he doesn’t look happy.
5
Sierra
It’s been well over a year since I felt even the slightest inkling of attraction to a man. The moment I set my eyes on Chase Henson, everything changed. Tall and muscular with tattoos covering his arms, he’s a tall drink of water that I don’t need but desperately want to sip. His well-structured face didn’t help my case. The strong jaw, full lips that promise to give the best kisses, and deep, hazel eyes were enough on their own to make me have dirty thoughts.
But there was something else about him, something I could relate to but couldn’t exactly put my finger on. Maybe it was the way he said he was trying to find a place that felt like home. Things changed this past year, and while I love Summer Hill like an old friend, the sense that I belong has vanished like whispers in the wind.
I press the unlock button on Lisa’s key fob, then remember the battery has been dead in this thing for the last six months. It’s turned into a bit of a running joke between
us since she complains about it all the time but has yet to put in a new battery.
The sounds of the bar echo behind me, getting louder for a few seconds as the door opens before becoming muffled again as the doors swing closed.
“I knew you lied.”
The gruff voice makes me jump and I drop the keys. I whirl around and see the guy from the bar taking fast and unsteady steps toward me.
“You don’t have a boyfriend. Why you gotta be like that?”
“I’m not being like anything. Leave me alone.”
“That guy with the tattoos isn’t your boyfriend.”
“It doesn’t matter what he is to me.” I push my shoulders back, trying to stand my ground. If I look him in the eye and don’t show my fear, he’ll back off, right? Or does that only work with bears? Shit. “I’m not interested, so go away.”
“You like bad boys? I can do you one better and be a real bad man.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Does that line ever work?” I swallow, take a deep breath, and mentally debate kicking him in the balls or the stomach.
He advances, taking another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in my face. “What do you say, little lady? Want to get out of here?”
“Hey!” A loud, male voice reverberates off the parked cars surrounding me.
The drunk guy quickly turns, wobbles, and falls on his ass. I look past him and see Chase rushing out.
“Are you okay?” he asks me, gravel crunching under his feet.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” My heart is in my throat, but I really am fine.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, just annoyed me.”
The drunk guy gets to his feet and looks at Chase, sizing him up. Realizing he’d lose that fight, he shakes his head and says he’s getting out of here. Chase takes his arm and guides him to his truck, pushes him in the driver’s seat and closes the door.
“He really shouldn’t be driving,” I say slowly, not taking my eyes off the truck.
Chase holds up a set of keys. “He won’t be.”
One Call Away Page 4
