by Rye Hart
Growing up, I promised myself I would find a way to help others avoid the struggles that came out of poor relationships. I told Landon I wanted to build my own YouTube empire, based solely around relationship advice, and once I could work up the courage, share tactics couples could use to spice up their life.
And all Landon did was throw his head back and laugh. He told me I was coming to New York City with him after we graduated, so I followed. He proposed to me the moment we stepped off his private jet, and suddenly, all my anger melted away. He wrapped me in his arms and told me he was sorry, that he supported me in whatever decisions I wanted to make.
But the dream was short-lived.
He didn’t want to set a date for the wedding, and he still wanted to jet away on the weekends. Then there was the complete lack of support for my dreams. Whenever I tried to get my YouTube channel up and running, he always had something planned to interrupt me. A charity ball or an event that popped up out of nowhere, diverting me from what I’d sat down to do that evening after searching for jobs.
Eventually, I asked if I could move in officially instead of simply living with him temporarily. When he told me he would think about it I was honestly disappointed.
Truthfully, I was pissed. We were apparently getting married, and he was having trouble committing to shared living quarters?
I wasn’t going to pressure him into making a decision. If it wasn’t one hundred percent his choice to commit then he could take his ring back.
And, the moment he started jetting away on the weekends without me, I decided enough was enough.
He looked down on my profession and laughed my dreams.
He dragged me to cities I didn’t want to be and postponed the wedding.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was a secret life he was living behind closed doors.
We were done.
Now, I was sitting in a classroom I had no business teaching, juggling the numerous phone calls he was sending to my phone, while the students took their pop quiz. Now, the man I called my ex-fiancé was trying to get me to talk. He thought I would come crawling back to him if he sent me gifts.
But those gifts turned into surprise appearances at my apartment. And those appearances that went unanswered turned into angry text messages. And now, those unanswered text messages were turning into angry voice messages he was leaving me every single time I ignored his phone calls.
I needed a serious time out.
The children started bringing their pop quizzes up to the desk and setting them down. I only had seven more minutes until I could release them to go home, and relief cascaded throughout my body. I was ready for Christmas break. I was ready to see my father, my friends and the place I still called home, Castle Rock, Colorado. And finally, I was ready to figure out how the hell I was going to put all of this behind me and follow the dreams I’d once had pulling at my heart strings.
Just as the bell rang to release the students, text messages began to light up on my phone. I put my hand on top of the pop quizzes that were being tossed at me, while trying to ignore the snickering of the students still teasing me.
When I looked at my phone, it wasn’t my ex trying to get ahold of me this time. The Trent brothers were blowing up my phone, wondering when in the world I was coming home. Their jokes and comments had me giggling as I sat there in the quiet of my little classroom.
The Trent brothers had been our neighbors for years. My mother called them the “gaggle of gossips,” mostly because there were six boys, and all of them were prone to running their mouths. They became my solace when my mother died. A rare blood disorder essentially caused her body to turn on itself, and those six boys were my only reprieve from the horrible experience of letting my mother go, far too early.
When she passed, my father and I had troubles bonding. I was a ten-year-old girl going through hormonal fluctuations he didn’t understand, and he was a burly mountain man who chopped wood whenever he was angry. I learned how to play and watch sports in an attempt to bond with him, and in the process, I became fondly attached to the hobby. On nights that got rough, my father and I would watch the latest game he’d recorded. It didn’t matter if it was football, basketball, or even soccer. If it was a sport and people were cheering, he was into it.
That blossomed into a love for playing sports, and that was when the ‘gaggle of gossips’ really played a memorable part of my adolescence. If I got angry, I could count on them to be home to play with me. I’d run them down in football and knock softballs over the edge of the mountain before running all the bases to home. I could outrun them, out-spit them, and out-climb them. Often times, I could throw balls farther and kick balls harder than any one of them could.
What can I say? I tarnished their egos and I was exquisite at it. Lucky for me, we built a strong bond, nevertheless.
And even still, as they sent message after message through the group chat on my phone, they never ceased to make me feel welcomed and warm during a rough time in my life.
“Knock, knock.”
I looked up at my classroom door. “Carol!” I said. “Come on in.”
“Good news,” she said. “If you gave that last quiz today, you don’t need to come in tomorrow.”
“Wait, seriously?” I asked.
“Seriously. Just asked the principal.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” I said. “Is that milkshake for me?”
“Always.”
I met Carol when I started teaching at the school last year. She was a math teacher who, ironically enough, hated math. She was brilliant at it and could run calculations in her head I probably couldn’t even enter into a calculator, but she always proclaimed that numbers never held the same satisfaction that a good fuck did.
She constantly talked about wanting to change her career, because of boredom from teaching.
“Were your students as shitty as mine today?” she asked.
“Yikes,” I said. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“Sorry, but these inner city brats don’t have a filter. And when you blow a spitball at me and then get pissed because I toss my pencil back at you, that doesn’t really make for a decent day.”
“You threw your pencil at a student?” I asked. “What did the principal say?”
She should’ve said ‘way to fucking go’.”
“But?”
“But she actually said I couldn’t do that, and that the school could’ve been sued had the kid gotten hurt.”
“What did you say?”
“That if that kid’s spit gives me herpes, I’m suing the school, too.”
I giggled as I shook my head. Carol never ceased to amaze me with the insane stories she always seemed to have at the end of her weeks. Sometimes, I even questioned if they were true, but they kept me laughing, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Any plans for the holidays?” I asked.
“Alcohol, meaningless familial conversations, then hitting up some clubs and finding a nice bad boy to keep me warm for the night.”
Before I could give a witty response, my phone rang again and I silenced it without even looking down.
“Landon still bugging you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, sighing. “I just don’t wanna talk to him.”
“You told him the engagement was off, right?”
“I finally broke things off. I couldn’t drag it out any longer.”
“Then he needs to piss off.”
“You’re telling me,” I said.
My phone rang again, and I grunted before I turned it over and took out the battery.
“That’s one way to do it,” Carol said. “I take it a chat with Landon isn’t in the books for your holidays?”
“Nope. I’m going home. Seeing my dad. Decorating for Christmas and opening presents and watching the sun rise above the trees.”
“Sounds absolutely boring,” she said. “Will there be booze?”
“There’s always booze when my father’s concer
ned,” I said.
“I like him already.”
I put the battery back into my phone and watched it start up. Another voicemail rushed to my phone, but so did two other messages. I opened the group chat and saw the picture the Trent brothers sent me before I threw my head back with laughter.
The six of them had painted their stomachs with the phrase “Come Home” written out in Christmas colors.
“Holy fuck, I can’t believe they’re your neighbors,” Carol said, leaning over my shoulder to see what I was laughing at. “I’d be their ‘ho ho ho’ anytime. It wouldn’t even have to be Christmas!”
“Well, they aren’t there all the time. Their childhood home sort of turned into a vacation home for when their family gets together. I don’t think any of them live there permanently, but they’ve never been the city type either. They’ve all stayed close by.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t keep those luscious beards, massive arms, and chiseled abs in the city. The mountains are a fitting back-drop for those sweet cheeks.”
“Yeah, I suppose they did sort of turn into a bunch of mountain men, huh?” I asked.
“Sort of? Kyra, Zeus himself couldn’t chisel better bodies with his lightning fists.”
“You’re nuts.”
“I’m nuts for their nuts,” she said.
“Carol!”
“Kyra, just promise me one thing. If you go home and those sexy men hit on you, do something about it. We both know you’re not experienced enough to teach a class like this. Get yourself some experience.”
“I’m not sleeping with my neighbors,” I said. “And I’m not doing this teaching gig forever. Relationship Coach, remember?”
“Isn’t it you who’s always saying that sex is an important facet of a relationship? How can you give advice on it if you don’t fucking do it?”
I sat there in silence while her words knocked the breath from me.
“I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way,” I said breathlessly.
“Good. You’re open to the idea, so when you get yourself some, I want all the nasty details.”
“Wait a minute there sister, I never said I’d was going to-”
Just as I was going to object, I received another phone call from my ex, and shut my phone off again. I wasn’t going to let his negativity and abuse get to me.
***
It felt so good to be back in Colorado. The cold crisp air in this mountain town brought back a wave of warm memories from my childhood.
“Kyra!”
I looked up and saw my father, with his broad chest and his long beard. I rushed toward him, throwing my arms out and wrapping myself around his body. I didn’t get home as much as I had while I was in college, and the smell of firewood and forest permeated his clothing as I clung tightly to him.
His grip instantly tightened on me, sensing that something was wrong as he set me down onto my feet.
His eyes fell to my left hand, now bare compared to the last time he saw it. He flicked his gaze up to my face, his dark brown eyes studying me closely. That was the thing about my father. He never had to say a word in order to make you feel both loved and petrified at the same time.
I pitied Landon if my father ever saw him again.
“Good riddance,” my father said before he took my bag, and we made our way towards his truck.
The car ride brought back so many blissful memories. The mountains rose to their precipices in the distance. Their snow-capped tops blended into the crisp, white clouds that hunkered down over their tops. The winding roads became steeper and heftier, and I could hear my father’s truck working just to get up and down the inclines.
The trees were lined with snow and ice, twinkling with radiance in their new outfits, while winter blues and Christmas whites permeated my vision. My small hometown was draped in its winter wonderland costume, and all I could think about was cozying up next to a warm fire by the window and watching the snow fall along the tree line on the horizon.
“You remember that time your mother tried to surprise you, that year she had to travel?” my father asked.
“The year she left for that convention or whatever she was doing?”
“Yeah. Remember how she tried to climb through your window and ended up breaking her leg?”
“My gosh, I do remember that. She broke her leg and got pneumonia from falling face-first in the snow.”
“That woman was wild,” he said.
“Remember the year Mom tried to make all of our Christmas treats instead of buying them like she always did?”
“That was the year she charred half the kitchen. We had to remodel that year. I told her it was her Christmas gift. You wanna know what my favorite Christmas memory of her is, though?”
“What’s that, Dad?”
“Remember that year you introduced us to your first boyfriend? What was his name… Dan?”
“Jacob?” I asked.
“Whatever. I didn’t have to say one damn word to that boy. Your mother ended up reading him his rights on how we expected him to treat you, and he shivered in his boots whenever she came around. And if she was still here, that Larry fella would be doing the same.”
“You mean Landon?” I asked.
“Whatever.”
“It doesn’t really matter now. I think it’s over for good between the two of us.”
“How so?” he asked.
“I got tired of him laughing at my ambitions, and he wouldn’t open up to me about certain things that made me uncomfortable.”
“I say that’s about as done as it gets.”
Just as we pulled up into the driveway of my home, my father took my hand. My father wasn’t one for physical gestures with other people, so when I felt the warmth of his calloused hand against mine, I whipped my gaze over to him. He was studying me closely, like I could always remember him doing to Mom, and in an instant, I knew what he was going to say.
“You deserve someone who believes in you, and that person isn’t Logan.”
“Landon.”
“Whatever,” he said.
I smiled and giggled before I leaned over and kissed his cheek. The two of us stepped out of the truck, my eyes sweeping over the vast view of the mountains from our porch. The Trents and my family were the only people settled on this mountain. I drew in a deep breath as I panned my gaze over to their house. I knew they were here. I could tell by all the pictures they had been sending me over the course of my plane ride.
But something inside me was disappointed they weren’t out here to truly welcome me home.
I had missed all of them when I moved to the city. We were very close growing up. Partially because we were neighbors, partially because of the death of my mother and the toll that took on all of us, and partially because we were thirty minutes outside of town and no one ever wanted to trek up the mountain to visit us. The heavenly peaks reached for the skies, displaying their light gray cascades and their dripping white snow havens, but these picturesque hills were no match for the beauty that was the Trent’s home.
If only because I knew who was already there.
In high school, I had a crush on all of them. Not one of them, and not some of them, but all of them. They were gorgeous, but I had to admit that Carol was right about that picture they sent me. Their muscles had bloomed, and their strength had grown. The beards on their faces accented their eyes and lips in ways I didn’t really know were possible. I missed their closeness and their unique personalities. Each one of them always had a way of making me smile and laugh in the best ways possible. It’s what made all of them so important to me.
It was the bond I realized I was missing with Landon.
“You coming?” my father asked.
I let out a sigh, watching the steam rise from my lips before dissipating into the cold, winter dusk that was settling over the mountains.
“Yeah. I’m coming.”
I knew my old bedroom was waiting for me to unpack my things, and as my eyes lin
gered on their house outside my window, I couldn’t help the tears that rose to my eyes as a thought crossed my mind.
I don’t want to go back.
CHAPTER TWO - OWEN
I’d been watching the windows for the last fucking hour. The moment I heard Mark’s battered fucking truck echoing down the crevices of the mountain, I’d settled onto the couch and silently waited for them to pull up.
All I could think about was Kyra coming home.
I’d had a crush on that fucking woman for years, ever since puberty did her body some good. She was petite in areas that were delicate, and filled out in areas that called to my fingertips, and there were nights where all I could do was have wet dreams of the things I wanted to do to her.
When I figured out she was getting married, I was depressed for days. I automatically didn’t like the guy. Not one fucking bit. He was tall and lanky. A typical city boy with no strength or smarts about him. His worth to a woman was dependent upon how much money he could make in an hour, which didn’t mean shit when it came to a woman like Kyra.
She didn’t care about money or gifts or expensive shit. What she needed was someone who gave a shit and supported her. Someone who could take care of things around the house when she broke them and kept apologizing. She needed a man who wasn’t afraid to slide his hand along her ass in the middle of a store just to make her feel beautiful, and she sure as hell needed someone who had no issues running his lips along every other crevice of her body when they weren’t in public.
I watched Mark pull up into the driveway, and the moment Kyra got out, my heart started to race.
“Guys! Tinkerbell’s home!”
I went running through the house, knocking on the doors as the guys slowly rolled out of bed. We all told ourselves we would take a nap so we could stay up and chat with Kyra into the early morning hours. That was the thing she loved to do the most. The window of her bedroom faced our home, and it was easy to climb up onto the second-story wrap-around porch that led into her bedroom. As kids, all of us would use a ladder to get up there, throwing ourselves over the balcony before knocking on her door to wake her up. We’d all gather around and sit down, talking for hours until the morning sun started piercing through the trees.
