by Piper Frost
"Yes?" I answer.
"Jolene, this is Garrison." His heavy accent comes over the phone but I don't cringe like I would have in the past, it actually makes me smile. "Before you hang up, hear me out, sweetheart. I said some things I didn't mean. It's been forty six days and it's time you come on home."
"Garrison, I am home," I huff. "Like I told Donna, I never wanted to ruin your lives. It wasn't my intention to fall for Brandt, but it's caused a big problem, so me being out of the equation is the only way to fix it."
"Only problem it's caused is he's nothin' but miserable since you've been gone. He's dealin' with a lot, Jo, and you not being here makes it harder on him. I didn't think about what I said to you before I said it. I was so worried about Brandt's future that I didn't realize he don’t want a future if you ain't here." He sighs and I roll my eyes 'cause the guy's still obviously not over it like he's trying to sell right now. "None of us do actually," he then says and my brows raise. I thought his sigh was annoyance. "Hell, Jo, you were like a ghost 'round here, but even I miss you." He chuckles. "Come on home."
I want to blurt, 'Can you pick me up?' But I don't. I close my eyes and think about the way every one of his friends and family was staring at Brandt and me the day of the fire. It was like the guy was caught kissing his actual sister or something. The only care I have about what they think is Brandt losing friends or family over me. That's the part I can't stand.
"I am home, Garrison. Thanks for the call, I gotta get ready for the bakery," I lie because I told Donna I was working at a bakery, so that's what Garrison probably believes.
It's the busiest night of the week and that means tips, but it only means tips for me if I dress worse than usual. Tonight is bra night. Surprisingly, my small tits don't deflect the assholes.
With a padded bra and hot pants that look like underwear, I put Brandt's hat on my head and frown in the mirror.
"Saving money," I mutter my reminder why I work here, then head to the bar to grab my pad.
The tips are better if you let the men grope you, but I can't take it anymore, and I keep dodging hands. The strippers don't do it for free, I sure as hell won't. It's pathetic the only time in my life I've felt together was when I was with Brandt.
It's twelve o'clock happy hour and I've got guys coming from everywhere trying to get my attention.
"Hey, what can I get you two?" I ask two newcomers that are sitting at a table closest to the door while I try to organize the money falling out of the band of my shorts.
"A shirt, for fuckin' starters." The voice makes my head snap up and when my eyes collide with his beautiful face my knees almost go out from under me.
"Maybe a beer, too. Whatever's on tap," Bo says from next to him. "I don't mind the shirt thing—oof," he groans, curling into himself when Brandt punches him.
"What the hell are you doing, Brandt?" I bark with accusation and his eyes go wide as he gets to his feet.
"What the hell you doin', Jo?" he accuses right back. "I'm just here takin' back my life." He shrugs. "You need a fuckin' shirt." He unbuttons his and wraps it around me before I can protest.
"You idiots are going to get me fired," I quietly snarl and glance around for my manager.
"That'd make it real easy for you to come back with us." Brandt stares at me and Bo glances around him.
"I could really use that beer. You don't know how long that plane ride was with this cowboy." He shakes his head and lets out a laugh.
My eyes go to Brandt and he's glaring at me like he's pissed. I spin on my heel and walk up to the bar.
"Jo, what the fuck is that? You aren't gonna make tips wearing that," the bartender says.
"I need two Guinness," I blurt and continuously glance back toward Brandt and Bo, who seem to be arguing. I slip his flannel off and smell it, receiving a cocked eyebrow from the bartender. "Beers?" I bark and he fills my tray. I rush over to Brandt and set the beers on the table. "You two need to get out of here." I drop his shirt in his lap. "I don't even know how you got in here."
"Two cowboys in a cowboy bar? Seems pretty easy to walk in here," Bo says, taking a long drink. Brandt stares at his beer then moves his gaze up to me.
"Put the fuckin' shirt on, Jo." He holds the shirt out and glares at me.
"Brandt, I need this fucking job. Please just leave," I whine.
"You don't need this fuckin' job!" he barks, standing from his chair and tipping the stool. "You're not a slut, Jo!"
My eyes go wide and I look around, seeing he's drawn the attention of the people surrounding us.
"Jo?" My manager's voice comes from behind me. "These two giving you a hard time?" She waves over Billy the bouncer and I quickly put myself between him and Brandt.
"No! They were just leaving anyway," I say and look back at Brandt.
"I'm not leaving unless she does," he growls, fists tight at his side.
"Brandt," I say, but Billy reaches around me and grabs his arm. "Please don't!" I shout.
"Jo, you don't need these assholes," Brandt says as Billy tries to pull him out. He gives him a look and laughs. "I could snap your arm in two right now. Let me the fuck go. I'm just here for my girl." The menace in his voice isn't something I've heard before. Not even when dealing with his brother.
"Billy, I'll get them out of here. I'll leave and they'll leave." I turn to my manager and frown. "I'm sorry."
"If you walk out on your shift, Jo, you're done here," she threatens.
I look at Brandt who's wearing a look like he fully expects me to and then I turn back to my manager who means nothing to me. This job means nothing to me when Brandt's standing right here.
"I quit." I yank the money from the waist of my shorts and drop it to the table, because I don't know what's my tip and what's the drinks I haven't paid for yet. Looking up at Brandt, I frown. I'd much rather be happy in this situation, but I wish it didn't happen like this. I wish he hadn't found me here.
We're escorted out by Billy and the door slams when I look back. I huff, turning to face the boys. Brandt wraps his shirt around me again. My fucking clothes and keys are in there. I roll my eyes because I know I'm not getting back in. Even for my shit. Without a word, I start marching down the street, headed to my apartment. The boys aren't saying much either, but when they do talk, I don't listen.
Even with six-foot-two Brandt, and six-foot-four Bo at my back, it doesn't stop the catcalls and men trying to get me to stop and talk to them. At one point, I have to grab Brandt's arm and pull him away from a man that's insulting my cowboy, just hoping for a fight. When I get him moving again, he grabs my hand and I don't pull away, because this is the safest I've felt since I've been back in New York.
I knock on my neighbor's door and it takes her a few minutes to open up. "Hi, I'm locked out. Do you have my spare?" I ask the old woman.
"Jolene, Jolene," she reprimands with a shake of her head and I follow her inside for my key.
"Thanks." I say, taking it and heading for my door to unlock it. When the boys walk through I slam it, locking it behind us. "Thanks a fucking lot!" I shout and throw my hands in the air, ripping Brandt's flannel off before throwing it at his face.
He sets it on the couch, raising an eyebrow at me. "You walk those streets. Alone. After work." He nods and glances back at Bo. "She walks those streets alone after work."
"Big city's nothin' like our peaceful back roads," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Jo, what the hell're you still doing here? This isn't you." Brandt's pissed. "You don't belong here! Shit!" He starts pacing. "I told myself I'd come here, I'd win you back, and everything would be fine. But none of this is working out," he grumbles, taking a seat on the couch.
"Win me back?" I snicker and look at Bo, who's standing in a corner. "If you're hungry, there's food." Hint, hint, leave the fucking room. I glare at him until he picks up on it and when he does I walk to my bedroom, looking back at Brandt and waiting for him to follow.
He sighs and gets up,
shaking his head as he follows me.
I go through my drawers for clothes. "Brandt, I'm not going back south." I turn my back and take off my bra before putting his old flannel on, only realizing what I've done after doing it. Usually every day after work I put his shirt on, but I didn't mean to do it tonight.
His eyes stare at his shirt. "You kept it," he whispers, his eyebrows pulling together. "Jo, we belong together. You gotta come home. Please. This place? This isn't your home."
I frown at him because he's right. It's not anymore, and I've realized that since coming back, but I can't go back to that fucking town.
"No, Brandt, it's not your home. This is where I grew up. This is my home. Yeah, we belong together, in a different life. Not this one when our parents are married." When I notice his eyes on my underwear, I turn back to my drawers.
"This is the only life we get to live, Jo. After this, there's nothing. I don't want to live my only life without the girl I love. Period. If you're not coming home..." He huffs. "Hell, maybe me moving here ain't such a bad idea. No one here knows our parents are married." He tries to smile but it isn't as bright as the ones I remember.
"You'd stay here for me?" I question skeptically.
"I'd do anything for you, city girl."
"Brandt, why the fuck didn't you tell me you were coming?" I huff and slide a pair of shorts on. "We could have avoided me just getting fired. I need a fuckin' job, ya know? No one wants to hire me with a record except a sleazy bar like that." I cross my arms over my chest.
"Like you said. I'm not stupid. I knew me telling you would cause you to run. Apparently you like leaving." He raises an eyebrow at me and crosses his arms over his chest.
"I didn't fucking run! I was told it would be better for your life if I got out of town, so I fucking did. Because I fucking love you. I left so you wouldn't go through hell after everything I caused. All that shit that happened before I left was my fucking fault. Everything with your brother...my fucking fault." I clamp down on my lip thinking about how I left him right when he had to deal with the death of his brother.
Even if he didn't like the guy, I know that had to hurt him. I know what kind of man Brandt is.
He clenches his jaw a few times then sits on my bed. "Garrison told us what happened, eventually, once I figured out you weren't in your room. I just kinda figured you were sleeping it off, but when I walked in and you weren't there… Jo, my world shattered." He takes a breath. "I can't live without you any more. And I'm sorry I acted that way at your work, but come on. You can do way better than that place." He glances up at me. "I know of a place hiring. You'd have to move home for it. I hear hours are pretty good. And your co-workers are pretty awesome."
When I start to smirk, I quickly wipe it away. "Stop. Go home, Brandt," I huff.
"My home is wherever you are." He kicks off his boots and relaxes back on the bed. "We'll need to get a new mattress, however. This one's kinda lumpy."
My mouth drops open. "Brandt, we are not together anymore!" I bark.
He lets out a chuckle and sits up. "Here I thought you were just runnin' because of the whole our-parents-are-married thing." He stares at me for a moment, his eyes searching my face, then shakes his head. "Okay then." He grabs his boots and slides them back on, standing from the bed. With one long glance, he opens the door and walks out of my bedroom. "Bo. Food down, we're leaving."
"Stop!" I blurt and follow him. "Stop. Bo, eat your fuckin' food," I say and watch as he stares at both of us mid-bite. "Stop saying I ran," I snap at Brandt and yank him back into my bedroom, slamming the door. "I didn't fucking run. In fact, I've never walked as slow as I did when I was getting on that fucking bus." I smile meekly, unable to stop staring at him. "You two can't leave in the middle of the night."
"I've been through hell these past two months! I'm the reason my brother's dead, I'm the reason my dad's ranch has to fuckin' start over, and I'm the reason your mom isn't speaking to my dad. You got to scurry back to the city and live with none of that shit hanging over your head, making tips on your fuckin' tits hanging out of your bra. And now, I get to go home and try to nurse a mother fuckin' broken heart, Jo!" He swings the door open. "I never considered us broken up, city girl. I never lost faith that you'd come to your senses and come back to me and we'd work it out together. But there's no way in hell I'm staying here tonight if you're as done as you say you are." He storms out and yells at Bo, "Food down. We're fuckin' leaving!"
"You're not fucking going anywhere! Eat your food!" I scream at Bo and he turns his back to both of us with a shake of his head and continues to eat while looking at his phone. "Stay with me, Brandt. Here. Stay here and...live with me here in the city."
Brandt takes a deep breath and spins, glaring at me. "You just told me you're over me. We're not together anymore. Remember that?" He raises his eyebrows. "I don't play these games, Jo."
"I never fucking said I was over you," I bark. "I'm not fucking over you. I’m setting you free!" I shove my hands out like I'm releasing something. "Be free! Free from shitty looks, and comments, and people thinking you’re fucking weird for dating your step sister. Free!" I make the movement with my hands a few more times while he stares at me.
"I don't want to be fucking free! Fuck them, Jo! This is our goddamned life!" He runs his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself. With a shake of his head he whispers, "I never want to be free from you, city girl."
"Well here I am. In the city." I gesture to my closed curtain. "This is where I'm going to stay, Brandt."
He walks over to me, cupping my face in his hands. It feels so good for him to touch me again. I need this.
"I want to be with you, Jo. I want us together."
"Stay with me," I whisper, pushing my face against his hand and grabbing his wrist. "In the city."
"I love you, Jo," he whispers.
"I love you too, farm boy. I didn't stop, I just didn't want to wreck your life."
"I'm gonna look awfully funny in the city." The light in his eyes back.
"Wait, you're not coming home? I gotta fly back by myself?" Bo speaks up, food on his fork and eyes wide. "I can't walk back into that town without you! Your daddy's gonna kill me!"
"It's Garrison's fault this happened. He'll have to live with it," Brandt says.
"Brandt, don't lose your family over me. God, this is why I left, so this wouldn't happen." I say it, but I don't let go of his arm.
"You're my family, Jo. My father's blood, but he made this mess. I'm not losing anyone. Don't you worry."
I do worry, but I want to be with him.
I've been in New York a few weeks now. I'm miserably missing home, but I'm trying my hardest not to let it show and to learn to make this foreign place comfortable. Everywhere I go people think I’m a tourist so I’m treated like a nuisance. Either that or the people here are just a hell of a lot meaner than people at home.
It's the people. There's so fuckin' many of them and they're so goddamned rude.
"Think if I go to this interview in these boots they'll kick me out?" I smirk at Jo from across the room and she rolls her eyes. "That's a yes?"
"I think they'd be lucky to have you." That’s all I get out of her. Lately she hasn't been up for much conversation. She got a job at a factory and works more than I'd like her to.
"What's goin' on with you lately?" I walk over to her and try to get her to look at me, but it's no use when she huffs and walks away. "Jo. What's wrong with you?"
She turns to face me when I follow her into the bathroom. "I have to pee."
"You want me to lift the lid for ya?" I lean on the doorframe.
She cracks a smile and shakes her head. After a minute of staring at me, she pops a squat and huffs because I'm not getting out. "I love this toilet paper," she says, glancing at me.
"You do?" I laugh. "How can you love toilet paper?"
"It's soft." She wipes. "I hate this sink though." She glances at me and yanks up her pants.
"Gets th
e job done." I glare at it, hating it too, but I'd rather not start bitching about everything here that I hate or she'll just be more miserable than she's been lately.
"I love this soap though." She squirts some in her hand, and yet again, glances at me.
I nod. "Same shit I use at home... The ranch..." I pause and look at her. "You feeling okay?"
"Yes, I just hate Tuesdays." Turning, she faces me and folds her arms over her chest.
"They're your long days," I whisper. "I hate them too." Where's she going with all this and why's she just not talking to me like a sane person?
"I hate my job. And my boss...and the location...and the walk...and the pay." With a stressed huff she swipes her hands over her face then pushes her hair back. "But I love you," she says and wraps her arms around my neck.
"I love you too, city girl." I push my lips to hers. The taste of toothpaste still on her breath. "I'm slowly becoming your city boy. I bought my first frappa-frozen-shitty-choco-coffee thing the other day." She lets out a light laugh and I pull her tight to me. "It was horrible."
"I hate that. I don't want a city boy," she says into my chest. "And...I don't want to be a city girl in the city anymore, Brandt." She looks up at me with worry on her face.
I stare at her for what feels like forever, letting her words sink in. Slowly, a smile turns up the corners of my lips and my heart feels lighter, strangely.
"You don't want to live in the city anymore?" I bite my lip and grin, cupping her face in my hands, trying not to act too excited.
"I want to go home, Brandt, but I want us to be accepted."
"Hell, Jo," I whisper. "Everyone's ready for you to come home. They were ready the minute you walked away from me."
"Yeah." She pulls away and continues to get ready for work. "They say that, but I know how nasty people are. People are people anywhere you go. Say one thing so they're the good guy and you like them, but the minute you turn your back they’re throwing a knife in it. I don't know why the fuck I care!" she shouts and I take a step back as she starts to break down. "I shouldn't fucking care. You're all I care about and need, but I fucking hate the thought of someone thinking something bad about you, because you're perfect." Her eyes are holding tears and her bottom lip is quivering while she stares at me, loosely holding her work shirt.
