We work in silence for the most part, but it’s unbearable for me, as it usually is around him. So I start asking questions.
“When did you start riding?”
He looks back at me over his shoulder as he’s hammering, surprised by the question. “I started riding sheep when I was three and haven’t looked back.” He steps back from the board once it’s secure and sets the hammer on the crate. “Same with my brothers.”
I remember the video I saw, and the countless rodeos here, but it was nothing like what I’ve seen Callan do. “How do you stay on the bull with him bucking like that?”
He takes a seat next to me on the other crate, the one he’d just set the hammer on. “It’s really all about finding the rhythm the bull has. He moves, you need to find that countermove and he’s doing the same.”
He watches my lips as I speak. “Is it scary?”
“Well yeah, it’s scary.” He laughs, the sound makes me smile because it’s so damn captivating. “Probably to a level that it shouldn’t be, but it’s also more gratifying than anything I’ve experienced in my life.” He laughs, the sound soft in the quiet of the barn. “If you conquer a one-ton beast, you’re thinkin’ pretty high of yourself.”
We’re quiet, and I think he’s going to get up and leave, there’s an uneasiness in his posture. “I’m about done for the night. I’m leaving in a few days.”
The way he says this, makes me see that it’s more of a warning than a statement. Like he’s letting me know he sees that look in my eyes. As much as I don’t want that look, I can’t help it.
It’s nearing one in the morning when Callan is loading up his tools. I don’t want the night to end. I know it’s considered morning now, but I just don’t want him to leave. I feel comfortable around him. Like even if I weren't insanely attracted to him, I would still want him around. Reminds me of someone I used to know.
As he’s packing up, I step outside into the arena and sit on the fence posts looking up at the night’s sky. Thousands of stars light the night, not a sound around me but Callan in the barn.
Just when I think I’m going to hear that throaty rumble of his truck, I don’t. He’s next to me.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my tone casual. The last thing I want is for him to leave and he’s not so I try a little harder.
“I gotta get goin’. . .but thanks for the help.”
He’s being polite and it’s cute, a nice change from the cold demeanor I’m usually met with.
Squinting at me, he bites down on the corner of his bottom lip, contemplating what he’s going to say but still, withholding so much.
I think he’s gonna turn around and leave, but he doesn’t, and instead, he looks up at the stars. I do the same, breathing in deep.
His gaze returns to mine, saying nothing—at least not with words—and takes a step towards me. My face is suddenly between his palms.
Oh God, he’s going to kiss me.
I’m inches from his face, his breath on mine as he stands between my legs. The feel of his skin on mine is electrifying and the sensations so terrifying. He doesn’t grin, his thumb moving over my lips, his eyes burning into mine. He’s studying me for a beat and then his lips touch mine, gentle, pure, hesitant to go further.
Before I have the chance to really feel them, they’re gone, his body shifting slightly. Resting his hand against my cheek and then moving it slightly, he pushes my hair from my face to cup my cheek. Leaning forward again, he gives me another gentle kiss. My lips part over his, wanting so much more than what he’s willing to give.
With a sigh, he pulls back, his mouth lingering over my ear. “Night. . .”
His breath sends a shiver through me and it’s almost too much, enough that I have to grip the fence I’m sitting on to keep from falling off.
When he’s walking away, I look back up at that starry night and smile.
I feel like there’s never enough of me. I can give myself to everyone, pieces of myself I shouldn’t give to anyone, but I do in hopes that maybe I get something back in return, a piece of happiness. But then they want just a little more of me. Sometimes I don’t have any more to give.
Callan doesn’t seem like the guy that wants more.
He’s the type of guy who gives more.
“How’s it feel?” Mom sits down on my bed and hands me an envelope filled with money.
“What?” Mom smiles brushing her hand over my sun-kissed face.
“Being eighteen.”
I’ve thought about this day for so long that I actually laid in bed for an hour trying to figure out how exactly I felt about it. August seventh. The day I can escape this place.
“It feels like freedom.”
She gives me another smile, this time a little sadder because she knows in her heart it’s only a matter of time now before I leave. I don’t have the heart to tell her I’m leaving soon. I don’t know when but I’m not staying here.
“Happy Birthday, Alanna Mae.” And then she hands me a thousand dollars in a white envelope. “I’ve been saving this for you for two years.”
I think she knows I’ve been planning to leave because why else would she hand me an envelope full of money?
When I started my senior year of high school, everyone automatically started asking me where I was going to college. I suppose in this day and age that’s what is expected of a high school graduate. Immediately go to college.
But me? I had no plans. It was one of two ways. Stay here and work, maybe take some classes at Amarillo College. And that was great, I wanted to go to school and see where my love for animals would take me but I also wanted to see the world, experience for myself what the world had to offer.
When I make my way outside that morning, Jessie’s coming down the driveway. She parks behind Callan’s truck and it gives my heart a flutter to know he’s, here again, just outside.
We grab a pitcher of sweet tea, two mason jars, and the rum from the liquor cabinet when my parents aren’t looking.
My dad believes in work. He doesn’t believe in fucking around and acting like a kid. It doesn’t matter that today is my birthday. If there’s work to be done, it comes before anything else. Always has.
As we stand outside, dad gives me that look. There’s a part of the fence on the south property and he gestures to it. “That better get fixed today, Alanna.”
No happy birthday. No have a good day. Just, get to work.
I know why the fence needs to be fixed. Jessie and I knocked it down last week when we went four-wheeling out there.
I groan heading for the barn but with the sweet tea and Jessie following close behind. Just having her there with me makes it okay to be working.
Callan’s there already working in the barn, but we hadn’t seen him yet. When we get inside, he’s doing his best to ignore me, refusing to look in my direction. He’s pretty good at it too, even walks out when he knows I’m in there. But what he fails to realize is that I’m a woman and so much better at making sure he can’t ignore me. It’s easy to do too.
After we gather everything we need, Callan makes his way back into the barn and I can see him in there when we walk by, of course his shirt is off—I believe to tease me—blue jeans and that black hat. He’s swinging a hammer, every muscle in his back and arms flexing with each pass.
Jessie lets her sunglasses slide down her nose. “Does he know you’re eighteen today and finally legal?”
“Nope,” I say popping the p on the end, smiling to myself as we walk, my boots crunching on the gravel driveway.
“You gonna tell him?”
“No. Kasey’s comin’ over tomorrow. He’s gonna help me ride Hammer to impress him.” I had called Kasey this morning because while I couldn’t sleep last night, I thought if I can’t get Callan’s attention the normal way, how about I try grabbing it like he does?
By riding a bull.
It was essentially a bad idea, but it was an idea.
“Since when have you ever rode a bull?�
� Jessie adjusts her glasses and twirls the hammer in one hand almost hitting herself in the face. She walks a little slower to get a good look at Callan.
“Well, I’ve never rode a bull but it’ll get his attention. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe, if Hammer doesn’t kill you first.” She looks closer at Callan, giving a shake to her head. “Damn. . .are all bull riders that hot?”
I laugh glancing over my shoulder but trying hard to not let him see me looking. Playing hard to get just might work. “I really have no idea.”
“Ya really think it’ll impress him?”
“Hopefully, or at least maybe turn him on.”
Jessie considers this and then looks at the broken fence we’re now standing in front of and the ruts we’ve dug up out here. “I can’t believe he’s makin’ ya do this shit on your birthday.”
“It’s just like him.” I toss the bag of nails on the ground in front of us and lay the boards against the fence. “He’s an ass, always will be regardless of what the calendar says.”
We get to fixing the fence and blaring Pistol Annies but all the while we can see Callan in the barn. He’s watching us and the more we drink that sweet tea mixed with rum, the less we’re fixing the fence and the more we’re bull riding the fence posts that have fallen down.
That gets Callan’s attention. He even stops and leans against the side of the barn with his arms crossed over his chest, watching. I bet he’s imagining fucking both of us right now. He wouldn’t be the first to imagine it, I know that for sure, or the first to ask for it.
I throw my arm up over my shoulder, arch my back and move as “I Feel A Sin Comin’ On” plays. Callan’s eyes are on mine like fire, it’s burning so bright I can feel the heat sixty feet away.
“Fuck, I think I have a sliver.” Jessie grabs at her crotch.
As I’m laughing at Jessie, the barn door slams shut, we both look over to see what he’s doing.
“Maybe it was too much.” I tease getting off the post. “We better get this done.” I motion to the fence and grab the hammer at my feet.
We do, but it takes us the better part of the afternoon and Callan never opens the barn door again.
And as we’re cleaning up, Callan’s pulling out of the driveway.
“What’s he doing for your dad anyway?” Jessie asks when we put the hammer and nails back in the barn along with the broken post.
“Fixing the part of the barn that was damaged in the storm this last winter. Apparently that horse, Shep, was his dad’s horse and when he got sick, he couldn’t pay to take care of it. Dad’s been boarding him for free for almost a year so I guess Callan offered to fix the barn.”
“Noble of him,” Jessie says in an approving tone.
We both watch the dust cloud when Jessie looks at me. “Where does he go when he leaves?”
I shrug. “Don’t know.”
“You know what’s better than a party on your birthday?”
“What?”
“Stalking.” She gives a nod to the driveway.
Why I hadn’t thought of that yet was beyond me. You’d think I would have. It was exactly the sort of thing I would do over a guy. Especially one like Callan James.
“I don’t know where he lives.” I grab my flannel shirt on the porch and wrap it around my waist. Jessie does the same as we walk toward her truck, her keys in the palm of her hand.
“I do. His dad lived a mile from me. Nice guy.”
You’d think I would have known this too, but I didn’t. “How’d he die?”
“He had a stroke like a year ago and it all kind of went downhill from there.”
Jessie grabs the bottle of rum and the sweet tea off her tailgate, hiding them behind her seat.
When we get to his dad’s ranch, there’s a for sale sign in the yard with a red “SOLD” sticker over it. It’s bare, as though most everything has been moved out.
“I asked around,” Jessie says. “Apparently some investment company bought the land. They have until the end of the month to get Red’s stuff out of there.”
“What happened to his mom?”
Jessie looks at me as we get out of the truck. “You’ve lived here longer than me. How do you not know this?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.” I never really paid any attention to them, but I don’t even remember them. Given it was four years ago and at that time in my life I probably couldn’t have even told you what day it was let alone what was going on in this town.
“Their mom died giving birth to Dani. I had English with her. She told me their whole life story. She’s a nice girl too. Little mean at times but she did grow up with three rowdy brothers.” And then Jessie smiles. “She’s feisty. Like you.”
“That sucks about their mom.” The idea of their mom dying when they were so young makes me sad. I could never imagine being without my mom. She has always been the soft to the harsh demeanor of my father. It’s then that I wonder about Callan’s mom and if he remembers her at all.
“Yeah,” Jessie agrees. “They’ve had tough lives.”
Jessie and I end up parking down the street and then walk the half mile back up the long dirt road that leads to the ranch. It feels like we’re intruding being on the property, yet it feel like I know Callan a little better seeing this. I’ve driven past this house a million times and never noticed it. Until now.
As we walk up the dirt road, the massive land dwarfs the modest white home. A covered porch wraps around the house, sagging in sections. It’s clear there’s been no one tending to the home in a long time. It’s like time has stopped here, given up and let the land take over.
My mind wanders to Callan and what he probably feels when he comes here. He must have thousands of memories trapped here in the hazy air that settles around us. The setting sun shines through the back windows of the home and I wonder how many times Callan sat on that porch and watched the sunset like I do from my bedroom window. The thought of him doing that makes me feel closer to him immediately.
We’re not out there but five minutes when we hear the low rumble coming up the road.
“Oh shit!” We both say, scrambling for the bushes along the side of the house.
“Fuck.” I start to panic, my eyes wide and pulling my hair up into a messy bun. In case I had to run. I’ve had to run from the sheriff more times than I care to admit. It’s always good to be prepared and I couldn’t have my mess of hair in my face. “What if he sees us? We’re trespassing.”
Jessie gives me a scrunched face, her freckled nose wrinkling. “Since when have you ever given a fuck about rules? And you’re eighteen. Walk in there and surprise him.” A grin tugs at her lips. “I’ll wait here.”
“I bet you would.” I laugh, looking at the driveway debating on what to do. Jessie shoves my shoulder, but I don’t move contemplating the consequences. “He’d have me arrested for sure.”
We watch through the branches as Callan gets out of his truck with a 6-pack and two boxes. He looks as sexy as he always does but for once I have a good view of his face when he leaves his hat in the truck. It’s strange seeing his wavy golden brown hair in the sunlight.
He keeps his head down as he walks toward the house but looks around when Jessie sneezes. My hand flies to her face, my eyes once again wide with panic. He definitely heard that.
Callan pays no mind to the sound and walks inside the house. It takes us twenty minutes of arguing before we’re spying in the kitchen window, unable to stop ourselves.
It feels wrong to spy on him but like Jessie argued, what if he had his shirt off again. Or more. The thought has us both risking jail just to see it.
“You make a good argument, friend.”
She sighs brushing dirt and leaves off her bare knees. “Finally, you’re being reasonable.”
Trying to be as quiet as we can, we head for the house. When we get to the window, sadly Callan’s shirt is on and he’s sitting with his back against the wall on the floor surrounded by boxes and holding what
looks to be a photograph. It’s difficult to identify who’s in the photograph, but it appears to be a dad at a rodeo holding up a buckle with three little boys at his feet.
I look around the house, Callan’s surrounded by five empty cans, the remaining one hanging in his left hand and about a dozen photographs.
Jessie steps away and sits on the ground. “I can’t watch this. I thought his shirt would be off and it’s not. I’m disappointed.”
Turning to look at her, I laugh lightly but when I turn back to the window, Callan’s forearm brushes over his eyes and it does feel wrong. This moment feels like I’m violating his privacy, but it’s like I can’t turn away, I feel like he needs someone to be there for him, anyone, maybe me.
There is no way I could go in there. What would I say?
“Hey, I know you hate me but should I hold you?”
No, that wouldn’t go over well.
With a sigh, I step back from the window. “Let’s go.”
Jessie sighs, standing. “How depressing.”
As we drive back to my house, I don’t feel like partying on my birthday so Jessie stays in my room with me because as she puts it, no one should be alone on their birthday. She’s right and it’s nice to have her there. Someone who never judges me. It doesn’t matter if I just want to lay around, she’s there with me. Sometimes I feel like if anyone gets me, it’s Jessie. Sometimes I even think if I grow old with just one person, I’d want it to be her. She is my other half in so many ways.
“You know,” she says dumping rum in a glass. She’s given up on the tea and drinking it straight now. “We could leave tonight. Who would say anything?”
“Probably no one.” Jessie and I’ve talked about leaving for two years now. We frequently look at maps and point to cities we believe can offer a better life than Amarillo. But neither of us have said, “Let’s go.” It’s true what they say, that first step is the hardest and Jessie and I are both thinking we are just waiting for the other one to make the first move.
But neither do. I imagine that one day we’ll just leave and it’ll be like we’ve been ready all along.
Remember Tonight Page 6
