Rumor Has It (Friendship, Texas Book 2)

by Magan Vernon

  I could have responded by saying something about the girl back home, but instead, I just smiled and answered the other questions with the Eddie Justice charm I’d perfected over the years. The ones that made me feel like even more of a tool bag than I already did. Now that the tour was out in the open and I’d gone through my first interview post-Mary, it was time to get back to Friendship and pack up my life again. Hopefully, this time, I’d be able to pack it up with Brooke.

  Brooke and I always celebrated the last day of school by jumping in the back pond, and the last day of eighth grade, before going to high school, was no exception.

  As soon as I got off the bus, I threw my backpack down, hopped on the four-wheeler, and headed over to Brooke’s, getting there just as she got to her front door.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  “For what?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t tell me now that you’re a high school girl you’re going to turn me down for swimming in the pond.”

  A small smile crossed Brooke’s lips before she slowly pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing a bright pink bikini top. “Been wearing this all day and waiting for the chance to jump in!”

  I’d seen Brooke in a bathing suit millions of times in the fourteen years we’d known each other, but now, something was different about how well her breasts filled out that top. I tried not to think about them bouncing against my back as she sat on the four-wheeler and put her arms around my waist.

  “Come on, don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out now.” She laughed, squeezing my side, which caused a whole new stirring in my jeans.

  “Yeah, yeah. Hold on to that bikini top,” I said, revving the engine and heading out toward the fields.

  I tried not to think about the way Brooke’s hands gripped my sides or the way her chest felt pressed against my back. But of course, my dick had other thoughts on that one.

  In fourteen years, I’d never thought of Brooke as anything more than a friend, but something changed in that instant. Something that sparked a whole new feeling inside me.

  When we got to the pond, Brooke was already hopping off the four-wheeler and shimmying out of her shorts. I watched her shake her butt before doing a cannonball into the pond.

  She came up out of the water and pushed her hair out of her face, the water dripping down onto her lips, and I suddenly had the urge to kiss every droplet off. “Are you coming in or are you just going to stare at me all day?”

  Jesus, how was I supposed to strip down when I had a raging hard-on? I decided to keep my jeans on and take off my boots, socks, and then strip off my shirt before diving in. Luckily, the cold water instantly softened me again.

  When I surfaced, Brooke was laughing. “Your mom is going to be so pissed that you jumped in with your jeans on.”

  “Better than you seeing me in my boxers.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes and splashed me. “Like I haven’t seen you half-naked. I don’t think you wore clothes the first three years of your life.”

  I splashed her back. “Yeah, but I’m a man now. It might be too much for you to handle.”

  “Too much of a man?” She laughed then lunged forward, sitting in my lap before dunking my head under, and forcing me to come face-to-chest with that tiny pink bikini top. And my boner was instantly back.

  I shoved her back, hoping it wasn’t too harsh, and came up for air, turning away from her and running my hand over my face. This could not be happening with Brooke. Not now. Not ever.

  “Not cool, Brooke. You could have drowned me,” I grumbled, trying to adjust my raging hard-on.

  “Oh, come on, don’t be a baby!” she cooed, putting her hand on my shoulder.

  All the heat went from her nimble fingers on my shoulder and straight to my dick.

  “I gotta go. You were right; these jeans are weighing me down, and I should dry them before my mom gets home,” I said, climbing on the small dock and out of the pond, keeping my back to Brooke.

  “Okay, um, sorry, I guess,” she muttered. I heard the water slosh as she got out next to me, but I didn’t dare look over at her for fear of my hormones taking over and me doing something to ruin our friendship.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I said, getting on the four-wheeler.

  I didn’t wait for her response as I took off back home.

  That night, I had a dream that involved Brooke in the bikini she never wore again. She probably thought I hated her or something after that. I felt like that was better than the truth. I’d rather have my best friend than try to make something out of it and have her not feel the same.

  Chapter 21

  I didn’t get to back to Friendship until the following day. As soon as I was off my plane and in the truck Dad let me use, I made my way to the Forever Sweet Bakery.

  I figured there was a good chance Brooke would be there writing, and if she wasn’t, then I could at least get her something chocolate and find out where she was.

  My silent prayers answered, I didn’t see a soul in the little bakery except for the tall teenager behind the counter and Brooke at her usual corner table behind her laptop.

  “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” I said, sliding into the seat across from Brooke.

  She didn’t even answer or look up from her computer. She just kept typing away.

  “Okay, how about a refill on your coffee? Maybe a scone to go with it?” I asked, staring at her empty mug.

  She still didn’t answer and started typing faster like she was killing the keyboard.

  “Right. I’ll make it a double,” I said, nodding, even though she wasn’t even looking at me.

  I got up slowly and went to the counter. I didn’t think I was that tall for a guy, but I was eye-to-eye with the lanky girl standing there with her pink apron and big doe eyes. “Hey, ma’am, can I get two large coffees and a chocolate cupcake?” I asked, smiling for good measure.

  The girl nodded. “Yeah, but …” She leaned in, glancing over my shoulder before looking back at me and lowering her voice. “If you’re trying to impress Brooke, I’d go for the double chocolate chip cupcake and a large caramel macchiato. They’re both her favorites.”

  I flashed a genuine smile, not the usual one for the cameras. “Thanks …” I glanced down at the pink nametag pinned on her apron. “Abbey.”

  “No problem. I’m a sucker for romance, and nothing says romance like southern sweets.”

  I laughed, watching her plate the big cupcake then move to the espresso machine. “You sound like my mama.”

  As the girl started to pour the milk, I noticed the tiniest smearing of freckles at the corners of her eyes and the streak of blond in her otherwise brown hair. The only other person I knew who had that was Mrs. Dillinger. She was our only other neighbor, and her house faced the pond. If I remembered correctly, she also had a daughter that was a little younger than Clay named Abbey.

  “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be Abbey Dillinger, would you?” I asked.

  She gasped, almost spilling the milk out of the steam pot. “How did you know? Did I leave my ID out again? Dammit, if I get my debit card stolen again, my mom’s going to have a shit fit.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “No, Abbey. I’m Eddie. Eddie Jahid. My parents’ ranch backs up to the pond and your parents’ place.”

  Abbey removed the steam pot and poured the milk and espresso in a foam cup. “Ohhhh, you’re the guy everyone’s been talking about. I guess I should have recognized you, but sorry, I’m not much of a country fan.”

  I smirked. “Well, I didn’t recognize you at first, either. Last time I saw you, you were chasing Clay around the back fields.”

  She placed the two cups on the counter. “Yeah. That was a long time ago. Been a while since you’ve been around. Not much has changed here, yet everything has changed.”

  She had a far-off look in her eye before she shook it off then gave me the total, and I handed her my credit card.

  After handing m
e the receipt, she leaned in. “Well, if you’re anything like the Eddie I remembered, you shouldn’t have any problem getting Brooke’s heart. I’m rooting for you.”

  I smiled before heading back over to the table and taking the seat across from Brooke, sliding the cupcake and macchiato toward her. “Take it as my peace offering.”

  “Despite what you think, chocolate is not a cure all. Regardless of how good it looks, it doesn’t erase what you said,” she chirped, not even looking up from her computer.

  “I know I messed up, and this chocolate might not fix it, but it’s at least a start.”

  She rolled her eyes, finally looking away from the keys. “So you think a good start to an apology is a two-dollar piece of cake and some coffee to wash down the bitter taste I have in my mouth? Before you go on tour as a single guy?”

  “Hey! That cupcake was three fifty!” I said with a smile, hoping that would break her tough exterior.

  “Oh well, at least you went for the most expensive one. That says a whole lot.”

  I winced. “Take it you saw the segment on the morning show? I tried calling you a million times to tell you, and you didn’t answer, but I guess it’s now or never. I’ll be on tour March through April, a break in May, then again this summer. I want you to come with me, Brooke. You can write from the tour bus, we can see the South, and maybe you’ll even get some writing inspiration.”

  She closed her computer wearing a scowl on her face. “And what are you going to tell people when they ask about me? That I’m ... what? Your friend who’s a writer and just along for the ride, while I happily skip beside you, laptop in tow? Better make sure my hands are full so I can’t accidentally reach for your hand.”

  “Brooke …” I pleaded, reaching for her hand. “That’s not what I meant, okay? It’s just what you have to say sometimes in front of the camera. I mean we’re not kids anymore. We didn’t exactly put a label on our relationship.”

  Instead of letting me take her hand, she grabbed her macchiato, swirling the cup. “After our argument in the limo and then watching you on the morning show, I’ve realized that both of us have changed. You’re this sexpot of a country music star, and that’s not going to change. And I’m the girl who sits at a bakery and writes smut, and that’s not going to change. This is where I’ve made my life, Eddie. I came back to this town because my dad died and I needed to be here for my family. You just happened to be here. I wasn’t looking for you.”

  “But I’m here now, and I want to be here with you and have you be wherever I am,” I said, trying to meet her eyes.

  She sighed. “I think it’s too little, too late, Eddie.” She slid the cake toward me. “I think you’re going to need this more than I am.”

  “Brooke, come on, it doesn’t need to be like this.”

  She stood up, putting her laptop in her book bag, her hair shielding her face. “By the way, I never submitted that book. I thought about it and realized it was a bad idea.”

  I nodded. “Thanks for that. I should have been more understanding and maybe talked with you about it instead of getting pissed off.”

  She finally looked up, her eyes meeting mine. So much pain and sadness were evident behind those brown eyes that I just wanted to take her in my arms and never let go. “This is how it’s always been between us, Eddie. As friends, we used to fight then you’d bring me a cake and we’d make up. But that was before. You left me ten years ago. You didn’t call me or try to keep in touch, and I had to live watching you through social media and television. I grew up in that time and became my own person instead of just the girl pining over the neighbor boy. You can’t just walk back in my life with your smile and some chocolate and expect things to be okay between us. They aren’t and no amount of chocolate or ‘I’m sorry’ can fix that. Goodbye, Eddie. Maybe I’ll see you in another ten years.”

  Before I could reply, she was out the door and in her car, leaving me sitting there wondering what the hell I was going to do now that the girl next door was out of my life, again.

  ***

  With nowhere else to go, I figured it was time to go back to the ranch and pack up the rest of my stuff.

  Mom was volunteering at the school, and Dad was out with the horses so I wouldn’t have to go through the tears of having to say goodbye for who knows how long.

  Walking into the quiet house was like taking a step back in time. Everything looked exactly the same as I’d left it ten years ago and being in the house the past few months had truly been like coming home—more than my place in Nashville, my LA condo, or every other house or hotel I’d ever stayed in. Friendship was my home.

  No matter how many times I complained about the bullying I endured as the scrawny kid who thought he was George Strait and wanted to get away, something about coming back was so familiar that it made me long for that sense of home even more.

  I walked through the living room and toward the stairwell, but before I could reach it, a glint of silver caught my eye, and I stopped before even reaching the bottom step.

  Slowly, I turned and walked toward the patio door, opening it to let in the cool February air.

  I could have just turned around and gone back inside, but instead, I sat down on the rocker opposite Gramps and watched him whittle an old oak piece.

  “Can’t whittle at your own place, Gramps?” I asked, rocking my feet back and forth.

  Gramps didn’t even look up from his piece as he shook his head. “Nope. Then I get shavings all over my porch.”

  Gramps had a smaller house on the property that he and Gram built when Mom and Dad got married and took over the ranch. When Gram died, not long after I was born, Gramps stayed in the house but spent more time at our house than he ever did at his.

  “Makes sense.” I nodded, looking over the railing at the miles of field. There were a few longhorns grazing close to the barn, but most stayed inside when it got a little colder.

  “Why ain’t you out with that Carrington girl? Figure you’d slum it with your gramps for a while, or did she finally come to her senses and leave you for a real cowboy?”

  I shook my head. “I’m just getting packed up. Heading out on another tour, so it’s better to leave things in the past. You know, put the old cattle out to pasture and all that.” I didn’t even know what the hell I was saying, but it sounded good in my head.

  I always watched what I said around Gramps. He was an old-school rancher who believed men did men’s work with their hands. He never fully understood my desire to play music and constantly gave me shit about it. He’d never seen one of my shows, and I doubted he ever would.

  Gramps set his knife down on the table and rubbed a few chips out of the wood. “You know, sometimes I look at these old pieces of wood and wonder why in the hell I picked that piece. I ain’t gonna be able to turn that into nothing. Then I whittle it a little and get a feel of it. I get to know all of the little grooves and nuances. And it becomes part of something. A something I can’t just leave behind for another project.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about that piece of wood in your hand that looks like you’re carving a dead squirrel?”

  Gramps spit off the side of the porch then turned to fully face me. Gramps had always looked the same to me with his white handlebar mustache and full head of gray hair that he parted to the side. But now, it seemed he’d aged even more these last ten years with more wrinkles on his forehead and at the creases of his eyes. “Eddie, you and I both know that I ain’t talking about the wood.”

  I sighed. “Gramps, I really don’t want to have whatever conversation you’re thinking of having. Can’t I just sit and watch you whittle for a while before I pack?”

  Gramps pointed his ring finger at me, the one with his giant Texas Exes ring prominently displayed. “You know what I’m talking about, young man, and you know someone needs to have this conversation with you before you fuck up and break everyone’s heart again.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea
what you’re talking about, Gramps.”

  “Son, you’ve been in love with Brooke Carrington since the first time you laid eyes on her. Everybody knows that. When you left this town in a blaze, you didn’t come back because of your fame, or whatever you want to use as an excuse. You didn’t come back because you were afraid to see her again. Then you finally came back after that whore you were never supposed to be with, left ya. Now, you got the chance to right your wrongs, and instead of doing that with her, you’re gonna run. You’re gonna leave your problems and leave your Mama and Daddy with them.”

  I licked my lips, shaking my head. “It’s not like that, Gramps.”

  Gramps leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he rocked slowly. “Then tell me. What is it like? I’m all ears.”

  I leaned back in my own chair, staring at the field. “It’s complicated.”

  “No, it ain’t, Eddie. You and I both know that. Hell, when I was courting your gram, she would give me so much shit for spending all that time working on my daddy’s farm. All I wanted was to build up the ranch, get some money in my pocket, and impress her.”

  Gramps stopped my chair with a rough hand, and I looked up at his serious face. “Eddie, your gram finally sat down and told me she didn’t need the ranch. She didn’t need all of that. She just wanted my time. Now that she’s been gone almost thirty years, I wish every day that I would have given her more of my time. Don’t make my mistakes, Eddie. Give her your time. That’s all she wants.”

  I thought of saying so many things back to him; instead, I just nodded. Then he picked up his knife and wood piece and went back to whittling.

  We stayed like that for a few more minutes, or maybe hours. Doing nothing but sitting in silence. I hadn’t done that in years, and it was one of the many things I knew I’d miss when I was gone.

  I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, Mom and I would be on a plane to Nashville to start my new journey. We’d meet with producers and an agent, and hopefully, they wouldn’t think they made a mistake in picking a kid from Friendship, Texas.