Remember Tonight

by Chelsea Landon

  “What was it you were going to say?” He laughs, pulling away from me with a smile, his palm resting on my cheek.

  “Thanks for the ride?”

  He laughs, watching my face as he speaks. “I thought you were going to tell me you loved me.”

  I close my eyes, a thousand memories of him flood my mind and I know the exact moment that happened for me. I fell when I saw that first nod. And I fell over time after that. It wasn’t all at once. It was gradual and now, there was no way I could go back to a life without him in it. “I do. . .love you.”

  His lips press against mine once again. “I love you too, darlin’.”

  One year later

  I didn’t go to Tulsa in an act of rebelliousness.

  I went because I wanted to. I fell in love with Callan during those three weeks because it was Callan James. And whether he wants to admit it, he’s worth loving. He’s worth making memories that last forever.

  It’s worth it like dancing in the rain and making love under the gray-lit sky that blankets that love in clouds of hope.

  Hope I thought was gone forever.

  It’s been a year since that night in that hotel in Oklahoma with Callan.

  It’s also been a year since Callan rescued me from yet another mistake in my life.

  A lot has changed since then.

  The biggest?

  I’m going to college in Austin and. . .dating a boy.

  What hasn’t changed?

  Jessie’s still with me. We got an apartment together and enrolled in a community college. I just finished up summer quarter in my first year to become a veterinary assistant.

  I went back to Amarillo a few weeks after that night in Oklahoma with Callan mostly because I needed to.

  I needed to talk to my parents and finally say goodbye to Jackson. To forgive myself. I never did when he died and I needed to leave that part of my life where it belonged, with him.

  If I was going to love me, I had to let go of that girl who loved him and blamed herself for his death. Sure, we were fighting that night but he was the one driving the car. I couldn’t control that.

  I’ll be the first to admit my fear of letting go of Jackson wasn’t easy because I refused to admit I was holding on.

  The truth was, Jackson had my childhood and always would. I’m not trying to live in the past, or replace that love I will always have for him.

  I couldn’t love Callan in the ways he needed me to if I were still hung up on Jackson and the regret I felt over that. I was carrying around this notion that someone had to replace him to make me forget that pain.

  No one ever would replace Jackson.

  And finally, I was okay with that.

  After I left Amarillo, I moved to Austin with Jessie and though Callan lived three hours away, we started dating. Slowly.

  And I fell all over again for him.

  Everyone in this world has imperfections they don’t like. Imperfections, fears, doubts, lies they’ve told, lies they believe, words they desperately want to hear, words that can destroy them. . .everyone feels that way.

  The thing is, all that makes them who they are and beautiful in my mind.

  Look at Jessie. Ordinarily you’d look at her and think, there’s a girl who had a rough life.

  And you would think, she’s throwing it away by doing nothing.

  I’m sure they think the same thing about me too.

  But what they don’t see, what they refuse to see is that’s her. She’s not hiding from anyone or being someone she’s not.

  That makes her beautiful. That sets her apart from the rest of the world.

  For a while, I thought being imperfect made me damaged. Not good enough. Only that was never the case.

  What it did was allow me to see that in others. Realize that while I thought maybe I was the only one that felt that, I wasn’t.

  I used to think like this. If Callan was those sunrises that blanketed the southern sky with its peppered flecks of light, I was the darker days with clouds so low they felt like a suffocating fog. I didn’t want to feel that way. It’s just the hand I was given.

  But what I never considered was him thinking that way about me.

  Maybe I was a light for him.

  Maybe he saw me in that southern sky.

  Callan wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before. He had this passion buried down deep in his bones that made you see him in a different light.

  It is a passion that he risks his life for. Some call him crazy for it. Who would risk his life for eight seconds? He would. And down deep, I see him in a different light too.

  Because how many people do you really know that risk their lives for their passion?

  Some, I suppose.

  But not many.

  Fear holds them back.

  The unknown weighs on them.

  I’ll never regret my decision to leave Amarillo and follow Callan to Tulsa. I never would because I did the unthinkable and in those weeks that I was with him, he showed me a love I would have never thought possible had I not went.

  I remember Marilyn Monroe’s words. More importantly, this part: I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go.

  I had finally let go of the idea that I would never move on.

  In no way did I think Jackson died so I could find Callan, but what if he did? What if I wasn’t meant to be with Jackson?

  For a while, I resisted the fact that my life had changed.

  Now. . .I’m thankful that I was so determined to be with Callan in any way because what he showed me was worth it.

  When I get back from school to my apartment, it’s a rush to get my clothes together for the weekend. Jessie’s not there, she left last night for Tulsa to meet Ty. They’re hot and heavy now too and pretty much together whenever they can be. Which is about as much as Callan and I. When you’re dating a pro rodeo star, it’s hard to find time together. But it’s nice to have Jessie around because she understands the frustrations.

  I don’t get to see Callan as much as I want to but when I get outside apartment, he’s waiting outside in his truck to take me to Tulsa with him.

  Again.

  He drove hours out of the way to come pick me up and take me with him.

  When I open the door, I’m met with that same black hat and those diamond eyes that don’t just give me hope these days. They give me forever in the gentlest way. The kind of way you wouldn’t expect from someone who spends his days defeating the odds of the most dangerous eight seconds on dirt. But that’s Callan James.

  “You really didn’t have to drive this far out of your way,” I tell him, getting in the truck.

  “You could move in with me and I wouldn’t have to.” He says, reaching for me and scooting me across the seat to press me to his side.

  He’s been asking me to move in with him since he finished his house three months ago. Still, I’m holding out on him. There’s nothing like seeing Callan James beg.

  So I hold out.

  I smile rolling my eyes. “I still have another year of school.”

  “You know I hate that you’re three hours away and not in my bed every night.”

  This time I laugh. “You’re not in your bed every night.”

  “Still. . .it’d be easier to imagine you, if you were in mine.” He points out.

  “And why’s that?”

  He winks. “I’ve got some vivid memories of you in my bed. But my problem is I got a new bed. . .and a new house. I need you there.” And then he shrugs his words delivered purposely slow just like he always does. “We gotta make new memories.”

  I smile. “When I finish school. I’m sticking with this school thing.”

  Callan shakes his head, amused. “I bet I can convince you otherwise.”

  “I bet you can. But you won’t because you know it’s important to me.”

  “There’s that, isn’t there?” He kisses my temple.

  There was that because Callan k
nows how important finishing school is for me. A year ago, it wouldn’t have been but this was for me and he understood that.

  We’re just outside of San Antonio when the rain picks up and Callan hears a song that makes my heart pound. That same song he was singing in the barn. That same song playing in the kitchen the night he broke my heart. Randy Travis “Are We In Trouble Now.”

  He turns it up and pulls over—off the highway—and reaches for my hand. “Dance with me?”

  “In the rain?”

  He nods. “In the rain.”

  I let him help me into the back of his truck and take his hand. It’s a slow touch he gives, pulling me near him and I sigh. Pathetic maybe, but this boy holds me in his hand now and always will.

  I thought falling in love again would never happen for me. I thought it was impossible. And then it did. In days and it was one hell of a ride.

  “What’s the meaning behind this song?” I ask, watching his face react to my question.

  “It was one of my pops’ favorite songs.” The corners of his mouth tug but there is vulnerability in his stare. “But do you remember the night at the party where I saw you with Kasey?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I never went to bed that night.” He shakes his head at the memory. “I sat in my truck in the field behind my pops’ place and drank. Drank until I couldn’t even see straight. That song was on my iPod. I had it on shuffle and it kept coming on now matter how many times I skipped it. I ended up punching my fuckin’ stereo and tossing my iPod out the window to get it to stop.”

  I laugh knowing that’s why his knuckles were bloody that night. “But you woke up singing it anyways?”

  “Yep. Stuck in my head I guess. And then that night in the kitchen, it came on.”

  “Fate maybe?” I tease, still moving with him as he sings a few lyrics in my ear.

  His left hand reaches around his neck and takes my hand in his, holding it to his heart as he dance. “Are we in trouble now?”

  “I think we are.”

  We both laugh, and then the rain creates a silence around us. The occasional gust of wind rocks the truck lightly as I listen to a song that fits us so perfectly.

  That’s when Callan’s eyes meet mine, our boots scraping over the metal bed of his truck. He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. “Will you remember tonight?”

  “I will, eight seconds.”

  He presses his lips to my forehead again, this time I pull back and look at him.

  “I love you, Callan James.”

  He gives a nod, of course, and smiles, raindrops dripping from his black hat that he removes and places on my head. “I love you, too,” he leans down to capture my lips, “Alanna Mae.”

  And I'm done denying

  Yeah, I guess by now you know

  I'm through with trying

  Can't bring myself to let you go

  And all these feelings

  Said we never would allow

  Darling, are we in trouble now?

  A novel by Chelsea Landon

  Available now on Kindle, Nook, Kobo and iTunes

  1500 hours. Aid response channel five. Ladder 1, Engine 10, Battalion 2 . . . structural fire at the cross of Western and University. 800 block. Smoke in the area.

  * * *

  Thursday, November 15, 2012

  Aubrey

  WHY IS it that after you have kids, your sex life goes to shit?

  Why? Tell me. I want to know the truth.

  Is it lack of time, or just the tiny little humans in your way?

  Maybe that’s it.

  No. It can’t be that, because if that’s the case, those tiny humans do sleep. Eventually.

  If you were to tell me it’s because the passion is gone, I just might punch you in the throat. No lie. I never wanted to think that way.

  These thoughts brought me to the one lying beside me, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t the same in many ways, and I blamed his job, and the way it demanded so much of him. Things were different now in a lot of ways. Which was why I said he wasn’t the same.

  We weren’t the same.

  I’m sure I’m different too.

  Life had a way of doing that to you. What you once enjoyed, maybe you didn’t anymore. What you once trusted in, maybe was slipping away from you faster than you cared to admit.

  “How long has it been?” I asked, looking over at the clock to see it was nearly eight in the morning. I needed to get to work before ten. With the Christmas rush starting this coming weekend, my presence at the shop were critical.

  Right then we didn’t have much time, and I still had to get the kids dressed and ready to go to my sister’s house.

  “I don’t know.” Jace, my boyfriend and baby daddy of the last four years, groaned, the sound slightly muffled from the pillow over his face. “I know it’s been too fucking long.”

  Forget about how long it had been. I know what you’re thinking now. We’re not married? Shocker, huh?

  Actually, not so much in this day and age. It’s actually fairly common. And it wasn’t by my choice. I assure you of that. It was complicated. That was what I was supposed to say, right?

  “It’s been three weeks, buddy.” I reached over and slapped my hand against his bare stomach. He made an oomph sound and then chuckled softly. “Three weeks.”

  Though he’d made the attempt to remove his shirt when he got home ten minutes ago, he was still wearing jeans. This let me know he was interested in removing the rest, just maybe too tired to do so after working the last twenty-four hours.

  “You’re lying.” As he removed the pillow from his face, his brow scrunched as he tried to add up the days mentally. He gave up quickly and frowned. Math was never his strong suit. “What about that time in the shower? Remember, Tuesday?”

  “That was three weeks ago.”

  Look at us. Two people, kind of naked, in bed, arguing about the last time we had sex, but neither of us making the attempt to actually have sex.

  Pathetic.

  It was like the time I pulled a muscle vacuuming and told him I couldn’t give him a blow job because my ass hurt. Seemed like a viable excuse to me. We were good at this. Excuses, that is.

  With his eyes on mine, his head dipped, snuggling into the space between my shoulder and my own pillow as he rolled to the side. His left hand went to my hip, squeezing lightly, his fingers dancing around the edge of my panties.

  There was something about his eyes that got me. Bright blue outlined by dark shards that spun into their depths as if they were sapphire. They had a gritty set to them that made you want to be more. They made you strive to be half as determined as he was at anything.

  Despite being determined, he wasn’t making a move to have sex with me. When I looked over at him again, his eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sleeping.

  No way. I needed this.

  Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I made him look at me.

  He groaned again, his hesitation gone as he opened his eyes and saw my lustful ones. I hated that I had to instigate this.

  Whatever happened to the days when I couldn’t keep him off me?

  “Jesus.” As he crawled between my legs, his knees created an opening for him. Hovering above me, his lips went to mine, and I went to work on his belt buckle as his hands swept over my body, worshipping my every curve.

  Immediately, I was breathing heavily, my cheeks and neck flushed at the thought that we were finally alone, and in bed.

  The need was so great, so overwhelming, that it was one of those times when we found ourselves fumbling around, and the only sounds were grunts and groans because we weren’t getting our clothes off fast enough. My T-shirt was gone, and all that remained on him was his jeans, unbuckled, but still on. It was pretty clear by our movements that we were desperate to get the deed done before we were interrupted.

  “Fuck . . . ” Jace whispered, a gasping breath against my cheek as his mouth moved along my jaw and to my neck. “Hurry up, b
aby.” His hips pressed forward, his patience gone. “They’ll be up soon.”

  “They?”

  Shit. Forgot about the little monsters for a moment.

  I didn’t know how I could forget about them, but I had. I blamed that on the lack of sex. It fucks with the rationality and memory.

  Let me tell you, it’s easy to forget reality when you’re deprived of something that’s vital. And I do mean vital. For me it was like trying to quit coffee when you’re addicted. By the end of the day, you understand what a ridiculous goal that was and grab that mocha on the way home from work.

  Jace knew this, too, when he huffed and started to remove his jeans before I could. Evidently I wasn’t doing a good job. To be fair, I was struggling with that. Damn belt buckles got me every time.

  As I sprawled out before him, his blue eyes took in my body, the one he’d claimed so many times as his. I smiled when he brought his left hand to my cheek and pressed forward. He knew me so well. His touch, familiar yet welcoming.

  This image of us right now, the one you have of two people frantically trying to get in the few moments of privacy they are allowed as parents, is one you’ll see in most bedrooms where children are raised and both parents work. Alone time is something that is never scheduled but stolen when the crazy little bundles of energy were asleep.

  “Stop thinking,” he whispered, sensing my distraction. He came to rest against my chest as he entered me, both of us groaning as he filled me. “That’s it. No more . . . thinking.”

  It was right then that I tried to stop and be there in the moment, but it was hard when our overly curious and insane black lab started scratching and barking at the bathroom door where Jace had barricaded him so we could have sex. If he wasn’t locked in another room, he stared at us the entire time. It was unnerving.

  Gripping Jace’s shoulders, I looked over his right one at the door to the bathroom to make sure that asshole of a dog stayed put. Just when I thought maybe we might make it before he started in with the barking, he began to howl, and then bark.