“So,” he inhaled. “Did your friend warn you about me?”
“Meg? No,” I lied.
He chuckled. “Good, I don’t want to scare you off, country girl.”
And I laid back next to him. Close enough to feel the heat of his body but far enough away that we didn’t touch. The next song came on, one I didn’t know, and Noah sang along, his fingertips every so often trailed over my arm in a feather-light touch.
I closed my eyes to the sound of his voice and forgot the things that worried me, remembering when I had nothing more important to do than lie back and watch the stars. Just for that night, I pretended there were no such things as goodbyes, and I fell asleep.
The loud flutter of wings and loud crowing of a rooster woke me with a start. I opened my eyes to find a mangled-looking rooster perched on the bedrail, staring down at me. He stretched out his wings before letting out another wake-up call. The sky had taken on the soft pink hue of a pending sunrise, and the muggy morning heat was already sticking to my skin.
As innocent as last night was, there was an awkward feeling that churned my stomach. I didn’t go home. What if Momma had a bad night? What if they were worried about Bo? Crap. I slowly climbed to my feet, grabbed onto the side of the truck, and hopped to the ground. That rooster crowed again when I was halfway to Noah’s Grandma’s front door. “And just where do you think you’re going, huh?”
I turned around, shoving my hands in my pockets and smiling. “Um, well…”
“First of all, your dad’s truck is still stuck.” He sat up, shooing the rooster away before he ran his fingers through his messy hair. “And then, your little brother’s still passed out in my grandma’s house.”
“Right…”
He swiped a hand over his face before stretching his arms over his head. The sun caught on his skin and, before I realized it, I was gnawing on my bottom lip. He stood up and jumped off the truck, strutting past me and smiling when he trailed his fingers over my cheek. “Don’t go and chew a hole in that pretty lip of yours.”
I let go of my lip and a wave of heat washed from my head to my toes.
“Come on, little lady,” he called over his shoulder before he yanked the screen door open and stepped inside.
I exhaled. I was in so much trouble. So much trouble…
13
Noah
Damn. She was cute as hell chewing on her lip like that. The way the rising sun shined through her hair while the fog crept behind her through the field—it looked like a picture. She may have only been a stranger passing through my life, but I wanted this to be a moment I’d remember forever, because if I could remember her just like this, I’d remember that, at one point, there was an innocent, pretty girl who looked at me like I may just give her the world. And money couldn’t buy shit like that.
“Come on, little lady.” I stepped onto the porch and opened the screen door, stopping to hold it open for her.
Her cheeks were pink when she ducked beneath my arm. It took very little to make that girl blush, and I reveled in it. My eyes were glued to her ass when she walked into the living room, I guess that’s why I didn’t see Grandma over in the recliner. Hannah stopped midstride when the creak of the footrest snapping into place sounded
“Well,” Grandma said. “Making house calls, I see?” Her lips laid flat across her face when she glanced over Hannah’s shoulder at me. I know she was probably saying a prayer for God to save the preacher’s daughter’s soul. I didn’t have the best track record.
I stepped around Hannah, trying to hide her from Grandma’s judging eyes. “Her brother ended up down at The Grounds with a bunch of teenagers, and seeing as how he’s my boss’ son, I couldn’t exactly call the cops on ‘em.” I walked over to her recliner, leaned down, and kissed her cheek.
“I hope we didn’t wake you,” Hannah said.
“Oh no, honey. I’m up with the roosters, besides”—she pointed a weathered finger down the hall—“that one sounds like he’s buzz sawing a Redwood.”
I shook my head on my way down the hall to get Bo. I heard Grandma ask Hannah if she was going to church when I ducked through the doorway. Bo was sprawled out on the bed like a damn starfish with a fresh pile of drool on the pillow. “Alright,” I said, clapping my hands. He jumped a little but didn’t wake. “Come on now, Bo.”
Groaning, he flopped over on the bed. “Ugh.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I flipped the light on. “We all have these nights. It’s a rite of passage or some shit.”
He opened one eye, his brow wrinkling. “What the…”
“Ah, blackout drunk.” I held a finger up. “That’s when you know you had a good time.”
“God, I feel like I’m dying.”
“Ah, hell, one bottle of Jack ain’t a death sentence.” I grinned. “Trust me.”
He swatted his hand over his face and attempted to sit up, but immediately sank back to the rickety bed.
“Yep, suck it up, buddy.” I patted his knee. “Your sister’s waiting on you.”
“Hannah?”
“Yep.”
“Jesus, does she want to kill me?”
“Nah, man. You’re actually lucky as shit ‘cause that girl loves you. Don’t even know what you’ve got, do you?” I shook my head. “Come on. Let’s get a move on.”
When I walked back to the living room, Grandma had the photo album open on her lap. “What are you doing?”
Grandma slowly looked up from the old picture album and arched that damn brow. “Showin’ your baby pictures since you don’t ever bring a girl home for me to show, I thought I’d show the preacher’s daughter.” Her brow quirked before she went back to the album. “This is the first time I knew he’d be a smartass, caught him pretending to smoke one of my Marlboros in his Pull-up.” She snickered. “He was a cute stinker, whatn’t he?”
Hannah glanced at me with a grin spread across her face, her eyes twinkling. “You were pretty cute.”
I rolled my eyes and snagged the album from Grandma. “Alright now.”
“Noah Benjamin Greyson,” she scolded.
Hannah laughed. “Benjamin? Aw, that’s adorable.”
“Itn’t it?” Grandma nodded. “Give me that photo album back, boy.”
I shook it at her. “No, ma’am, I know what’s on that next page.”
She pushed up from the chair, grumbling as she tossed her hand into the air, her house slippers shuffling over the floor on her way to the kitchen. I tucked the album back in its place on the built-in bookshelf by the fireplace.
“What was next, huh?” Hannah pried.
“A picture of me in a full body cast.”
“What?”
“I fell out of the neighbor’s window when I was four.”
“Aw, that’s terrible.”
“Yep.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Terrible, alright.”
The worst part of it wasn’t the body cast—that is sad—it was the fact that they didn’t make kid’s clothes that fit over that shit, so in the picture, I’m standing there in my body cast with a scowl on my face and my pecker just hanging out. I mean, sure I was a kid, but I don’t want this girl seeing that, and my grandma sure as shit would have shown her.
A low, Frankenstein’s monster-like moan came from the end of the hallway. Hannah craned her neck around the corner, glancing down the hall as her brother came stumbling out of the bedroom with his hand clutched to his head. “Never again…”
“Dear Lord,” she sighed. “Daddy’s gonna know you’ve been drinking.” The second she got within three feet of him, she waved her hand in front of her face, her nose wrinkling. “You smell like a Tennessee distillery.”
Bo slumped against the wall and glared at her. “Not helping.”
“Give him some gum and he’ll be fine,” I said.
“I don’t think gum is gonna help”—she circled her hand over his face—“this.”
Shrugging a shoulder, I nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get your tr
uck out.”
_______
I leaned through the open window of the truck and glanced back at Hannah sitting behind the wheel of mine. She looked so tiny and out of place. “Back it up.”
She pulled the gear down so hard her hair bounced, then she floored it. I pressed my foot on the gas, but the wheels only spun. Dirt and mud slung everywhere. I put it back in park and leaned through the window again. “Hang on a sec, Hannah.” I turned the wheel. “Alright. Floor it.”
The engine revved. I watched in the rearview as the truck fishtailed. “It’s fine,” I shouted as loud as I could, pressing the accelerator. The tires squealed. The Bible on John’s dashboard flew into the floorboard when the tires jumped over the rut the truck was stuck in. I slammed on the brakes, put it in park, and opened the door, leaving the truck running.
Bo stumbled into the tree line to vomit. Hannah was already climbing out of my truck. “Thanks,” she said, shutting the door.
“No problem.”
She tossed my keys at me when she passed by, and I grabbed onto her arm, stopping her. “It was nice hanging out with you last night, you know, just talking.” I looked her in the eyes, hard. I wanted her to know that wasn’t some bullshit line. I meant it.
A soft smile slowly inched over her lips. “It was…”
Bo staggered out from the tree line, wiping his mouth before he yanked open the door to their truck and crawled inside.
“Seriously, give him some whiskey.”
“What? Are you crazy, he’ll vomit everywhere. He needs fluids.”
Half rolling my eyes, I patted her back. “Yeah, yeah, nursey, I know, but I’m telling you, give him some whiskey, some water, and a Tylenol. He’ll be fucking golden.”
She glared at me with curiosity, and I liked it. I liked the way she looked at me like I was something she shouldn’t touch but wanted to, because that was exactly how I felt about her. “Trust me,” I said.
“Okay, Noah Greyson, I’ll trust you this once.” She smiled before pulling herself into the cab of the truck. Without another word, she shut the door and spun the truck around.
I took a step back, watching the taillights disappear down the overgrown path.
That girl… God, I knew I could hurt her and I didn’t want to do that, so as much as it felt like the planets lined up just to throw us into each other’s orbits, I swore to myself I would ignore it and walk away.
Some things in life, you just don’t want to taint.
14
Hannah
The long country road stretched out in front of me for what seemed like forever. Blue skies hung overhead with only a few, puffy clouds.
I kept replaying the way Noah sang to me the night before. The way he didn’t try anything—The truck bounced over a pothole and Bo grunted. “What are you over there grinnin’ about?” Bo asked.
“What?”
“You’ve got this dumb grin on your face.” He rested his head against the window.
I glanced in the rearview. Sure enough, I had the stupidest looking smile plastered on my face.
“I hope you didn’t sleep with him.”
“What!” I glared at him, and I could just feel that the scowl on my face probably looked like Momma: one brow arched, my nostrils slightly flared.
“He’s nice, but come on, Hannah. You’re too good for him.”
I faced the road with both hands gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles washed white, my entire body tensed.
“Don’t believe me, huh?”
I didn’t say anything, just flicked the blinker a little too hard.
“He’s been in jail. Rumor has it he screwed Darlene at some party around New Year’s.”
“She’s seventeen.”
“Exactly.” He shrugged. “I mean, I like him and all, but do you think Dad would be okay with you dating him?”
“I don’t want to date him, Bo,” I huffed. “And I’m twenty years old, it doesn’t matter what Daddy thinks.”
“Okay,” he laughed. “I mean, I may be younger than you, but I’m not stupid.”
I turned to shoot another mother-glare at him and he had his eyes crossed with his tongue stuck halfway out of his mouth, like a half-drugged dog. “That’s what you looked like this morning.”
I grabbed one of Daddy’s leather work gloves from the drink holder and whacked him with it. “I oughtta…”
“But you won’t, because you’re my Nanner, and you’re just too nice.” He chuckled, more than pleased with himself as I turn into the drive.
“I want to kill you.”
“I love you too, sis.”
______
It had been a week since I’d fallen asleep in Noah’s truck. A week since I’d seen him because he was always gone by the time I got home from work. But more importantly, during that past week, Momma had been feeling better. I wanted to be hopeful, but I knew it was par for the course. A few weeks after chemo, patients feel better, and then as soon as they go back for treatment, they’re down for the count.
Momma took a seat at her dressing table and I stood behind her running the brush through her hair, horrified when a large clump came out in the brush. It’s something that you can’t truly appreciate until you see it happen. It’s just hair, after all, but it’s such a cruel reminder that something terrible is wrong. I tried to subtly drop the brush to my side when I pulled the hair from it. I wadded it up and tossed it into the small trashcan beside the dressing table.
“Baby,” she said, reaching up and grabbing the hand I was using to brush her hair. “It’s okay.”
I took a steadying breath. She smiled before glancing in the mirror. “We should just shave it.” She nodded. “Sinead O’Connor—I always thought she was beautiful. You think I could pull that look off?”
I leaned down beside her and looked at her in the mirror. “You could pull off any look with an abundance of grace.”
Sighing, she wrapped her arm around me and pulled my cheek against hers. “You make all this easier.”
I choked back the tears and moved away, patting her arm. “Want me to get Daddy’s electric razor?” I should have said thank you, maybe told her I loved her, but all I wanted to do was pretend it was all okay. I wanted peace.
Twenty minutes later, there was a circle of hair on the floor, and she was rubbing her hand over a smooth head. “Well”—she inhaled before grabbing a tube of mascara from the dressing table—“all I need is mascara.”
Even without hair, she was still beautiful.
She swept a coat of mascara on before standing and holding out her arms. “What do you think your father will say?”
“I’m certain he’ll love it.”
“Think he’ll call me a rebel?” She arched a thinning brow.
“I’m sure he will.”
Momma stared straight ahead at her reflection, and after a few seconds, her expression fell, and the smile slowly faded. Swallowing, she dropped her chin to her chest, but before I could say a word, she was making her way to her walk-in closet and shutting the door.
“Momma?” I stepped to the closet door and tapped over the painted wood. “You okay?”
The knob twisted. The door swung open and Momma walked out, wearing one of her white, floral dresses. She moved past me to the doorway, stopping and grabbing the doorframe to catch her breath.
“Momma…” I stepped behind her and placed my hand on her back.
Her shoulders rose and fell on a hard breath. “I may be dying, but I refuse to do it without grace.” And she went into the hallway, slowly making her way down the stairs.
______
Much to my surprise, Noah’s truck was parked by the shop when I got home from work. When I opened my car door, Bo’s distinct laughter came floating around the back of the house.
Instead of walking through the front door, I followed the stepping stones around to the backyard. Noah was leaned over Daddy’s tractor working on the engine.
“Need a wrench?” Bo asked.
/> “Yeah.”
Noah stopped and grabbed the bottom of his grease-stained undershirt, lifting it to wipe the sweat from his face. My eyes went straight to the exposed skin on his stomach, then to those deep lines that disappeared under the waist of the jeans hanging dangerously low on his hips. When he dropped his shirt, my gaze lifted to the ridiculous grin on his face.
“Hey, you,” he said.
“Hey, baby girl,” Daddy chimed in.
I immediately spun around, praying no one saw me staring at Noah. Mommy and Daddy were sitting on the old aluminum glider by the azalea bushes. “Hey.” I glanced over to Momma, taking note of the pink scarf wrapped around her head. “You look pretty.”
“Your daddy thought it would be good for me to get some fresh air.” Placing a palm on his chest, she rested her head against his shoulder and Daddy stretched out his legs, rocking the glider.
The tractor engine cranked, and Sampson sat up from his spot on the backporch. “Yeah,” Noah shouted before shutting it off. “Looks like you just needed some spark plugs, John.”
“Thank you, Noah.”
Bo wiped sweat from his brow as he started toward the backdoor. “Bo,” Daddy shouted. “Grab those burgers when you come back out, would you?”
“Sure, Dad.”
I turned around just as Noah dusted the dirt from his hands onto his jeans. His gaze stopped on me for a brief moment. “Alright, John, well, I think that’s got me done for the day.”
“Guess it does.” Daddy stood, hitching his pants up before he walked to the grill and fiddled with the burners. “You sure you don’t wanna stay for dinner? I grill a good burger.”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Appreciate it, but I already have plans.” He took a slow step back, his gaze stopping on me for a beat too long before he turned around. “I’m playing tonight at Tipsy’s…eight o’clock,” he said as he rounded the side of the house.
Whiskey Lullaby Page 8
