Remember Tonight

by Chelsea Landon

  “Probably not. . .” I take a drink of my beer. “Why is he back now?”

  “Our dad died three months ago so Callan came back to take care of selling the ranch. Apparently Red owed your dad some work so Callan’s working it off for him. He leaves Thursday and you better not get in his way.” She gives me a warning glance, judging me. “I know the way you are. Hell, everyone knows the way you are.” And then Dani gets up and leaves, never looking back at me as she heads inside the house.

  Look at her thinking she knows anything about me. I know be mad, but sadly, she is right.

  She does know how I am.

  I’m not the one taken to Sunday dinner and doubt I ever will be but that’s not going to stop me from pursuing Callan.

  A week. That’s all I have with him and I know this bull rider will be gone forever. I’m not even sure why I’m so captivated by him. Just that I am and it’s controlling me.

  My eyes burn from the fire so I stand and make my way to the water where the thick county clay meets the shore. Over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Callan refilling his beer at the keg. I’m drawn to him in ways I shouldn’t be.

  Maybe it’s because he’s not expecting anything from me. He might have been the first boy to have turned me down, but he was also the first one that wasn’t pressuring me.

  There’s something about the sunsets here in Texas, much like the sunrises. The sky’s painted purple and pink, pretty colors that soften my heart and soul. Colors that make me sigh and stare up at the sky and wonder what could be.

  As the night begins to take over and the moon lights the night, the party’s in full swing, red plastic cups, tailgates, smoked ribs and 6-packs. The lake is alive and savoring the last sliver of light that it can. Night is hanging there, ready to take over and it’s my favorite time of the day. It’s me. Stuck in between the lightness and darkness, not knowing if it’s the night relieving the day, or the day relinquishing its hold to the night.

  There’s no telling.

  There’s anticipation in it too, wondering what it will bring.

  My heart aches, beats faster and slower, as smoke rises around me, a steady pop and flicker is heard around the bonfire. I know what tonight’s bringing, or I should say what tonight is wanting. It’s beside me, whiskey breath and a rough touch brought on by liquid courage and pushing me to go upstairs with him.

  “Come on, Alanna. You know you want it.” Kasey’s hand presses mine into him, groaning at my touch.

  I don’t want Kasey. I never have. And now more than ever. The reason I don’t now is the light and warmth I feel standing twenty feet away. Callan’s watching me and this interaction with Kasey and him watching me almost makes me feel dirty like I shouldn’t be here. I most definitely shouldn’t be letting Kasey touch me with Callan standing so close. It’s sending him a message I don’t want him seeing.

  My stomach knots when Kasey touches me, again, his hands going higher because I know what he wants and I don’t want that tonight with him. Maybe never again.

  His hands move to my upper thighs as we sit on an old rusty metal tailgate, cracked and straining under the pressure of this world just like my soul. I hate this feeling that overwhelms me, tells me to run. He doesn’t love me, hell, he doesn’t appreciate me either.

  I’ve seen my heartbreak, it’s breaking every day. I’ve seen a love so strong that’s it’s nothing that sharp bend in the road can’t shatter. I don’t have that anymore and I don’t think I could even tell you the meaning of love. What I do have is moments that make me believe that it’s not worth it. In my mind, there is no love that can survive.

  I feel the burn of the wind in my eyes as I blink my tears away, holding onto the fact that maybe this won’t hurt forever. Of course, if anyone asks what’s wrong I’ll simply blame the watering eyes on the bonfire smoke blowing toward me. But, deep down, I know that my heart’s still in such a state of flux. A state that causes me to go after the wrong sort of attention. It’s my defense mechanism that’s keeping me going. It’s all I know how to do.

  Because. . .you see. . .I’m never anything more than I am right now, in the arms of liars, doing things I shouldn’t and being someone I’m not. Liars who will tell me how beautiful I am, how amazing I am, how perfect I am just to satisfy their own needs. They need me for that. I’m a scratch to their itch and then forgotten until the next need arises.

  This hasn’t seemed to bother me until last night, until Callan James. Maybe I can’t, or don’t, want to be that girl anymore. As I said, he gives me hope in those diamond eyes that burn so bright.

  That’s when I see that I’m not these sunsets and bonfires that light a Texas night. I’m nothing like the sticky day with no relief by the night.

  Pouring clear liquid into mason jars, I kick back to Tim McGraw singing through a Chevy radio because that’s what I am. I’m that country beat blaring in your ears and that sin you wish for down deep in your bones. I’m that skip in your beat and the torture you can’t seem to tame. That’s me.

  Kasey is cocky sometimes and it’s more of the high school football jock attitude than him being confident. He’s hot, and he knows it. I’ll admit that I’ve always had a thing for Kasey, wanted more, until I saw who he was on the inside. And for that, he doesn’t even compare to someone like Callan James.

  He knows this and reacts accordingly.

  He knows this because while he’s begging me to go to his room, my eyes are watching Callan.

  Callan’s glare shifts to Kasey, the chaos in his head so very clear. It’s easy to see Callan’s pissed by his tensed body and the tightening of his jaw. There’s a condescending smirk that appears on Callan’s face, as threatening as it is promising. When he meets my eyes, I do and say nothing.

  When I turn back to Kasey, his eyes fall on Callan and I smile. It’s a jealous stare.

  How’s it feel?

  I’m not looking for revenge. I’m looking for me and I’m never going to find that with Kasey. I may not with Callan either. But I’m feeling something for the first time. This is new to me, a re-awakening of something that’s long left me and it feels, I don’t know, it almost feels invigorating. Sitting here with Kasey wanting me, Callan staring at me, unsure of what exactly he wants but knows he can’t have, it’s got my fires going. Fires fueled by embers that were long forgotten. To go from holding the tears in a little while ago, to now this, has my brain and my heart in a tug-of-war of emotions. At one end of the rope is Kasey, and the other end holds Callan, and I’m getting yanked and pulled around at their reactions tonight to each other. There is a part of me that sort of likes this feeling because it’s so unlike everything else I feel.

  Kasey taps my leg. “Let’s go upstairs. Or should I fuck you against the truck? Let everyone around here see who you really belong to.”

  My eyes squint and then peer across the fire. “I don’t belong to you Kasey. You’re with Ashley. She belongs to you.”

  He snorts as if that doesn’t mean a damn thing to him and then Kasey notices the way Callan’s looking at me, and the way I’m looking at him. Callan lifts his cup to his lips, just about to take a drink of his beer when he sees the hold Kasey has on me.

  Something changes in both their demeanors right then, like the shifting of the wind sparked a fire in the both of them.

  Kasey loves to taunt people. He’s always looking for a fight to prove something. It’s like he has to prove himself when challenged.

  Kasey’s hand goes higher, between my legs and cups my crotch over my jean shorts. “Come on, you know you want to. That’s why you show up.”

  Callan tosses his cup into the fire and then walks towards us, his eyes low and on the ground until he’s in front of me and then they’re on mine.

  “Alanna, get up,” Callan says, reaching for my hand, bloodshot eyes drifting. The look on his face gets me, it’s as if he wants to rescue me from myself. I want to take his hand and beg him to run away with me. Save me from this life I can’t seem to escape
. Take me far away from Amarillo.

  “She’s busy,” Kasey says, ignoring him. His hand moves and squeezes my thigh a little tighter.

  I don’t though. I stand from Kasey’s lap and reach for Callan.

  “What’s the matter there, James. . .couldn’t stay on for more than eight seconds?” Kasey asks, tipping his head toward Callan in a cocky manner as he stands.

  That didn’t get Callan to even look in his direction. It’s the next remark that yanks me to his side in that tug-of-war.

  “Lookin’ for a re-ride or somethin’?”

  Callan’s jaw tightens immediately and he doesn’t make a move for a minute, an internal debate maybe. He gives me a gentle push back and then takes a step towards Kasey, who doesn’t even register the threat.

  With a surprising speed, Callan grabs a hold of Kasey and shoves him backward. “Nothin’ to say now, huh?”

  Then, before Kasey can respond, Callan punches him square on the jaw and then again, but Kasey turns his head and the punch lands on his eye. It all happens so fast even I don’t see the punch before Kasey is struggling around trying to get an angle.

  Callan only gets another few swings in when the crowd pulls them apart.

  Kasey is spitting blood, trying to get back at Callan, but he walks away reaching for a bottle of whiskey.

  I’m not sure what just happened and I’m not sure anyone else does either. All I know is that what I just witnessed was something that no guy has ever done for me before.

  A boy stood up for me.

  Callan, I’m sure not wanting to, but the good ol’ Southern charm of this champion bull rider, defended my honor, or what little I have left of it. I had no idea how to react, much like him denying me.

  I looked over at Kasey still spitting blood and wiping his eye that’s bleeding too. Unsure of what just happened, I shake my head a little watching Callan walk away towards his truck.

  “What the fuck was that about, Alanna?” And then he snorts, amused maybe, but a little accusing too. “Oh, I get it, you fucked him too?”

  The words sting because of the truth and the fact that he’s saying it too. Like it’s something I do all the time. They sting because it’s the truth and I don’t like it. For once, I feel dirty.

  “As if that’s any of your business, asshole. Why don’t you go back to your Virgin Mary preacher’s daughter and see if she can get you off.”

  I don’t wait to see his reaction, intent on finding Callan. Only when I get to the driveway where the cars are parked, I notice that he’s gone.

  Jessie had a great plan when I called her this morning and told her what happened at the party last night. We lost track of each other and Harrison ended up giving me a ride home. I never did find Callan, but I think that was for the better. It gave me time to put a plan together.

  If I had found him, I have no idea what I would have said.

  Thank you?

  That just didn’t seem good enough.

  Jessie said that a way to a man’s heart is food. That I was good at. Only daughter living on a farm, I knew how to cook and could throw down a meal when needed.

  My specialty? Macaroni and cheese.

  Mom helped me out that morning because she loves to cook as well. She’s taught me all her favorites and every recipe handed down through generations of her family. It’s what we’ve bonded over throughout the years and what I will miss when I leave. My mother is a good-hearted woman making this place a home for us. I’ve never heard her raise her voice, but she also doesn’t have to. She’s the ruler of this roost regardless of how much of an asshole my dad is.

  “Are you making enough for Callan?” Mom asks when she notices how much cheese I’m grating.

  I stop mid-grate. “Yeah,” I’m afraid to look at her. “Is that okay?”

  She smiles. “I was hoping you would. He’s had a rough few months. He needs a good home cooked meal.”

  It takes me another fifteen minutes only because I don’t want to appear too eager to know, and I ask, “Mom, do you remember why the James brothers left town?”

  She frowns and wipes her wet hands on the front of her apron. “I do. And I never believed those rumors. I can’t believe that Thomas girl lied about it to protect Jud’s son.”

  “Jud? The Sheriff?”

  Mom nods.

  “So the Sheriff’s son rapes the Mayor’s daughter and blames it on the troubled James’ boys?”

  Mom nods again, her eyes sad. “To think about how she ruined their lives makes me sick. All over protecting someone else.”

  “You never believed her?”

  “No. I’ve seen those boys around since they were in diapers. Yeah, they’re wild and love to cause trouble but they’re boys. They’d never do something like that, they were raised better than that.”

  Mom was right. You can be bad and you can be evil. There is a difference in the two. If you ask me, from what I’ve seen, Callan is neither. He’s good and pure. I see it in his eyes.

  When mom and I finish the macaroni and cheese, we make some creamed spinach, garlic bread, and peach cobbler for dessert. We sit down to eat around four when I begin to wonder if Callan is going to show up at all, especially after last night and the fight with Kasey.

  Part of me wouldn’t be surprised if he left town after last night. Sad, yes, but not surprised.

  I’m in my room that night and I’m contemplating going to bed when see his headlights come around the bend and the dust cloud that kicks up. It’s late, probably too late for him to be working out there, but dad more than likely doesn’t care. He just wants the work done.

  When I see Callan go inside the barn, I scurry down to the kitchen, careful not to wake my parents and heat up a plate for him. I put the peach cobbler in a bowl with two scoops of ice cream and then place all that on a tray to take with me, praying he hasn’t eaten already.

  When I step outside, I notice it’s raining, the fresh smell of summer cut grass, lilacs, and wet dirt overwhelm me. I breathe in deep as the rain is pelting my face and I hear the distant thud of a hammer in the barn as I approach.

  I’m wearing my nightshirt, all part of my plan and holding a tray of food with dessert and hoping he has me for dessert instead. One can hope.

  I look around when I open the barn door and then close it behind me, locking it. There’s music playing from a small stereo on the floor, hay and feed bags scattered amongst tools along the roughed up wood floor.

  The loud thud of metal hitting metal brings my attention to Callan to my left. His shirt is gone, he’s got his cowboy hat on singing Randy Travis and stumbling around. “In the darkness, we found each other anyhow,” He swung the hammer once more and then belted out, “Darlin’ are we in trouble now. . .”

  I know the song he’s singing. I’ve heard it a lot as it’s one of my dad’s favorites. Leaning against the wall, I hold the tray close and try to be as quiet as I can, but Shep notices me and shuffles forward thinking I have food for him.

  When Callan notices me standing in the barn barefoot, in my nightshirt, his whiskey induced smile catches mine and he drops the hammer on the ground with a thud.

  His eyes rake over my body, wanting like they did that first night, and then he sees the food. His left hand raises and scratches the side of his scruffy jaw, his knuckles cracked and bloody. “What’s that?”

  “Food. For you.” I say giving a shrug of my shoulders.

  “Smells good.” He’s looking at my body again and I’m hoping that statement has more meaning than it intends. His hat shadows his eyes slightly, but I can see the flushness in his cheeks, pink as the morning sky from the liquor he’s consumed today.

  Taking two steps toward him, he’s sitting on a crate now as I hand him the tray. “You made this for me?” He looks up at me through long lashes, tipping up his hat to get a better look.

  Oh God, those eyes, that smile, his face, he’s absolutely beautiful.

  “Yes. There’s more than one thing I’m good at, ya kno
w.”

  He smirks in a drunken sort of way, I’m not sure if he knows what I’m referencing, but I think he does. He doesn’t comment as he stares at the food in front of him. It appears he hasn’t eaten much if at all today as he stares at the food. It’s clear he’s hungry.

  “Go ahead, eat.”

  I watch him eat in fascination that he’s letting me be here with him and debating on whether or not to thank him for last night. Instead, I settle on music. “So you like Randy Travis?”

  He laughs around the bite of macaroni and cheese and nods. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  He makes even eating look sexy.

  He eats it all in about two minutes and then finishes his beer. With a grin, he sets the beer down on the floor and then stands coming toward me as I lean against the side of the barn.

  My heart starts to pound as he nears wondering if he’s going to tell me off again or thank me for the food.

  “Girl, what’s up?” his sweet southern drawl is way more apparent when he’s drunk. And it’s sexy. So freaking sexy that I can’t help but stare at him and his bare chest. Boys round here don’t look like this. Sure they’re muscular, but it’s clear Callan honed his body to perfection and perfection is exactly what it is. “You here to torture me some more?”

  Girl what’s up? Is he drunk? Well, yeah, look at him. He’s really drunk.

  “Are you drunk, Callan?” I watch him come closer, taking the two steps to press his sweaty bare chest against me. I notice a scar on his shoulder then, it’s a deep one, still purple as if it’s fairly new.

  As soon as he touches me, I’m done. My hands are trembling at the thought of being with him. And when he touches me, it’s all electricity and needles, the tingling sensation that you get deep in your bones knowing this is the touch you’ve been waiting for your entire life. I ache for this feeling, his heated touches, like the bright burning wood of a bonfire, lit, and longing for a breeze to ignite me.

  “So?” He tips his hat up and then takes my face in his palms, sharing my breath and making me taste his words. “Why do you care if I’m drunk. . . farmer’s daughter?”