by Lilly Wilde
I hesitantly look up at Branch and then relax when I see his blue gaze soft with sympathy. “That’s pretty fucked. Do you know where she is now?”
I shrug. “Who gives a shit? Last I heard, she was in jail.”
His heavy brows furrow in question to my statement.
“Shoplifting. Prostitution. Drugs. Those are her usual three.”
“What about her side of the family? I would guess she stays in contact with them.”
“I wouldn’t know. Dad doesn’t talk about them anymore and I don’t use my real last name on social media because I don’t want them to know shit about me. The only reason I know about her bouts with the law is because when I was younger I tried to find her and saw details of her arrests in the online newspaper.”
“And now you’re no longer curious?”
“Not really. They knew what my life was like and never tried to help so to hell with them.”
He nods. “I get that, I guess.”
“And the one relative I did manage to find on Facebook basically blew me off, so I decided I was on my own.”
His eyes roam over my face. “So your dad raised you?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
“What would you say?”
“I pretty much raised myself.”
“So…there’s more to your story?”
I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should tell him the rest. “Yeah. A lot more. A year or so after Mom left, Dad married Cassidy Merritt, the woman who gave evil stepmother a new face.”
“That doesn’t sound too good.”
“It was fucking horrible. She had two kids of her own and since we had the larger home, they all moved in with us. And that’s when her true colors started to show.” I take a deep breath and push down the emotion that rises in my chest. “For a while she was nice, but then she was only nice in front of Dad and eventually she didn’t bother trying at all.”
“So she was one of those classic mean-just-for-the-hell-of-it stepmothers?”
“Mean? I would have taken mean any day. She beat the shit out of us for everything except breathing…and Dad let her.”
As the shock registers on his face, I offer him a smile. Even though I know he sees the pain behind it.
“Ragan…”
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
His eyes skate over my face and he gives me that look, the same woeful expression I saw on Hayley’s face when I finally told her. I turn away and bring the bottle of beer to my lips, then I apply the mask that covers it all—the one I’ve hidden behind for most of my life. After a long exhale, I tell him the rest.
“Two months before graduation, shit hit the fan. I finally stood up to her and she kicked me out with the clothes on my back and a small grocery bag of stuff I’d managed to grab before the door locked behind me.”
“And your dad let all this shit happen?”
“Yup.”
“Now it all makes sense, the awkwardness I saw when I was at your place.” He shakes his head.
Another reaction that mimics Hayley’s.
“So after I left, I knew I had to find some way to check on Noah, make sure he was okay. They wouldn’t let me in the house, so I went to the school. I don’t know how, but Cassidy found out. And the next time I dropped by his class, Noah told me I had to stay away because he’d get a beating if I didn’t. So that’s what I did…I stayed away, thinking it would keep him safe. Then one day out of the blue, he messages me on Facebook saying he was running away. And he literally disappeared. I never heard anything from him until a couple of weeks ago.”
His bemused expression meets the long-suffering of mine.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” I murmur. “This story would leave anyone speechless.”
No words are spoken for several long minutes, then he finally asks, “How’s your brother? It must have been a relief to finally reconnect.”
I’m suddenly smiling, thinking fondly of Noah. “Yes, it was. He’s great. Living in Washington. Engaged, successful, adopted by an amazing family.”
“That’s pretty cool. Any plans to move closer to him?”
“I’d love that. He actually suggested it, but my ex, he’ll make it next to impossible.”
“That guy is a fucking prick,” Branch spits out, his lips curling into a grimace.
“Yeah. He is.” I think about CeeCee and the torture her asshole of a father inflicted upon us. My eyes water at the memory of those frantic days without my precious baby girl. I go on to tell Branch about the hell Ethan put me through when he’d taken my daughter. I see the anger flash in Branch’s eyes and recall his fight with Ethan. Then I think about how CeeCee and Branch had instantly hit it off. He genuinely has a soft spot for my little angel.
And that’s it. We don’t say anything more about it. We prop against opposite sides of the steps and stare out across the lawn. I guess we’re both thinking about the stories we shared. And I sense neither of us plans to say anything further about our shattered beginnings.
“Can I ask you a question and get an honest answer?” Branch asks sometime later as we head to the car.
I can already sense his question is one I don’t want to answer, but I nod anyway. “Sure.”
“When I was last in town, Chad told me something really odd about you.”
Oh shit. He did recognize me.
“He says he ran into you at a Greek restaurant in Mountain Park.”
“Well, he lied,” I reply, almost too abruptly.
“Why would he do that?”
“Am I supposed to be a mind reader? Who knows why people do anything?”
“Okay, so maybe he didn’t run into you, but he said he saw you hanging out with some dude and it looked like a date.”
“And? People go on dates all the time.” Oh, God. Please let him drop this.
We reach the SUV, Branch stands near the driver’s side as he holds my gaze. “He said the lighting was kinda low but he was pretty sure it was you. And you were sitting at a table with some bald guy who looked old enough to be your dad.”
Chad was the guy I’d caught staring at me that night. I should have known that evening would come back to haunt me.
Branch looks unsure if he should finish. But he does. And I feel as if I want to disappear. “He said right there at the table—where anyone could have seen—you pulled off your panties and passed them to that guy. But when you looked up and saw Chad watching, you grabbed the underwear and ran out of the restaurant.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Does that even sound like something anyone in their right mind would do?”
“Well…no. But you don’t really fit into that category.”
“Why? Because I’m not crawling all over you?”
“Well, that is one reason.” He smirks and then turns all serious. “Did that really happen?”
As suspected, it’s a question I don’t want to answer. But I do, in a roundabout way. “Haven’t you ever fallen on hard times and done things you knew you wouldn’t otherwise?”
He nods, realizing that what his friend told him was the truth.
“I have a kid and I needed money to pay for childcare. Found that guy’s ad on Craigslist about buying used panties for three hundred dollars a pair, so I decided to do it. But when I saw Chad watching me, I realized how far I’d fallen so I snatched my underwear from that freak and ran off. The next day, I moved out of Hayley’s parents’ place.”
“And back to your dad’s?”
I frown and roll my eyes. “Yeah, but it’s temporary. I hate walking into that house. Being there buries me in every memory I ran away from. The endless abuse. The lack of protection. I can never forgive Dad for not being a real father to me, so living with him brings up a lot of negative feelings and even more nightmares. Neither of which I want around my daughter. But hey, for now that’s the best I can do.”
Branch nods again. And I know he understands. He went through hard times growing up h
imself but he’s in a better place now. I let out a sigh and look past him, staring into the distance and envisioning myself in a better place, too. “Unless I get that used panty business going. There’s always that.”
We break out in laughter and slide into the SUV.
I buckle in and look over at Branch. He’s still smiling. Hmm. Branch McGuire is actually pretty cool to hang out with. Who knew?
“THANKS, RAGAN.”
“For what?”
“Being the friend I don’t deserve,” he says. And this time there’s no trace of humor in his expression. Branch McGuire is being sincere.
“If there’s anything I can do, promise you’ll ask.”
He nods, then pulls his phone from his pocket to check the incoming text. “Looks like Loretta’s home from the hospital. I’m going to head over to Jim—head over to check on her. I’ve put it off long enough.”
“Aunt Sophie has CeeCee, so how about I tag along with you?” I ask, sensing he needs me there but knowing he won’t admit that he does. “I’d like to pay my respects. And I’m sure Loretta can use all the help she can get with the girls right now.”
An older lady with an apron at her waist and her hair pulled up and away from her face greets us at the door. After observing her interaction with Branch, I realize she’s Loretta’s Aunt Isabella. She tells us that Loretta is on a call with the minister who’ll be officiating the funeral.
I immediately feel the heartache that saturates the air around us, the weight of the sadness heavy as we move further into the house.
The girls run to Branch when we enter the living room. He lifts Tess in one arm and wraps the other around Isadora.
A smile whispers at the edges of Loretta’s mouth as she looks at the five of them. She then smooths a palm over her belly and gestures for me to take a seat beside her on the sofa. I give her a hug and offer my condolences. I also offer my help with her daughters. To my surprise, she accepts, saying the girls need their school assignments and possibly help with their homework. She also mentions her aunt can use some assistance with grocery shopping. I use that as my excuse to give Loretta some time alone with Branch, asking the girls to help me check the pantry and the fridge so I can make a list of what I’ll need to pick up.
With a couple of well-timed jokes, I manage to draw the girls into a few smiles, even if they are short-lived. After the list—which looks to primarily consist of items I’m sure they don’t normally purchase—is complete, we file into the living room to find Branch and Loretta thumbing through some papers from an accordion style file box. The girls assemble on the floor around Loretta, not one of them saying a word.
I scan the grief-stricken face of each of them and my heart bleeds. The Perez household is absent of the vivacious energy it once held. That exuberance is now silence, red eyes and tearstains. I never had a father like Jimmy so when I left my dad so many years ago, I only felt relief. I can’t begin to imagine what these young girls are going through having lost someone as nurturing and loving as Jimmy.
Branch and Loretta finish the business of whatever they were looking over, then Branch lifts his eyes to mine. His expression suggests he’s been slapped with even more unexpected news. I wonder what was in those papers.
Branch and I sit and listen to Loretta and her daughters recite stories about Jimmy. Loretta tells us how she and Jimmy met, how he relentlessly pursued her and swore that she would one day have his babies. The girls talk about the family dinners, the days on the lake, and the game nights that Jimmy loved so much. Branch chimes in but only in brief. He primarily gazes at the five people Jimmy has left behind, an unsettling expression written over his face.
Loretta is holding up better than I expected. Had I been in her shoes—the love of my life gone, four kids and one on the way—it’s safe to say I’d be an absolute wreck. When she grows tired, Loretta tells Branch she’ll see him in the morning, and after the girls give us hugs, they follow her to the bedroom. Branch gives Isabella his number and tells her to call if Loretta or the girls need anything.
The drive from the Perez’s house is sprinkled with music and off-topic conversation. There’s no mention of Jimmy, Loretta, or the funeral. When Branch pulls to a stop in my driveway, he turns off the ignition.
“Do you work tomorrow?” he asks.
“No. Why?”
“I want to take you someplace.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see when we get there. Be ready at noon.”
I frown.
“What is it?”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“And I’m not accustomed to people saying no to me.”
“Well, maybe you should get accustomed to it because it will feel especially gratifying when they finally say yes.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh.
Regardless of what he’s accustomed to, I’d still say no if I didn’t think I was in some way helping him cope with his grief. And although he hasn’t come right out and said it, I know that I am. It’s etched on his beautiful face. It’s reflected in the muted blue of his eyes. It’s something he can’t hide—that vulnerability slipping from beneath his picture-perfect façade.
Earlier, I wondered “why me”. But now it’s fairly obvious—he needs someone who can look past it all, someone seemingly immune to the gorgeous face, the arrogant smile and the celeb status. He needs exactly what he thanked me for being earlier—a friend.
“Fine. I’ll see you at noon.”
“Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty. And what size shoe do you wear?”
“The more I hear about this, the more likely I am to change my mind.”
“But you won’t. What size?”
“Six.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
I step outside into the cool Georgia afternoon as Branch pulls up in the driveway. He said I should wear something I don’t mind getting dirty, so I’m dressed in distressed jeans and a blue-and-white flannel shirt. Since the weather in Georgia is known to change every two to three hours, layers are the way to go, so I’m wearing a blue T-shirt underneath.
Falling asleep ended up being quite the task last night. I may have gotten in about four hours so I’m sure I look a little worse for wear. I’d sworn against seeing this guy ever again but I can’t in good conscious turn away from him when he’s hurting over the loss of someone as significant in his life as Jimmy had been. Will I pay for it later? Probably so. But I’ll deal with that as it comes.
When Branch hops out of the SUV with a bag in his hand, his lips curve into a smile that stirs the butterflies in my belly. He’s happy to see me. And that knowledge emits feelings of both awkwardness and elation at the same time.
“Hey, sugar.”
“Hey, sugar,” I mimic. “What’s in the bag?”
He grasps my hand and tugs me behind him. “Your boots.”
Boots? Why would I need those?
He reaches over into the SUV and presses a button, then the hatch at the rear of the vehicle slowly lifts. We walk around back and he tells me to have a seat. When I do, he goes down on one knee, lifts my right foot, untying my laces and slipping off my shoe. He repeats the same with my other foot, then goes for the box in the bag. He removes the lid, slides a boot onto each socked foot, then laces and ties each. I notice he’s wearing boots too and they also look brand new. When he’s done, he grasps my hand again and urges me to stand.
“Feel okay?” he asks.
“Yeah but—”
“You’ll see,” he replies before I can finish my question. “Let’s go.”
With his hand at my back, he guides me to the passenger side and opens my door. I hop in and buckle up as he rounds the hood to the driver’s side.
Although I’m not a fan of the unexpected, I have to admit I’m excited to see what he’s planned. A nearly two-hour drive leads us to the small town of Tallulah Falls. Branch announces we’re hiking to the water falls for a picnic. It’s my first time visiti
ng this part of Georgia and I’ve heard the falls rival those of Niagara. I don’t tell him, but this sounds like the perfect outing.
We follow the signs for the Shortline Trail and endeavor a three-mile hike on the paved line that follows the Old Tallulah Falls Railroad Bed. As we move along the trail, Branch tells me about his visit with Loretta this morning. Her sister had arrived and will be staying on well after the baby is born. He also tells me about the content of the papers he’d reviewed with Loretta. It was a copy of Jimmy’s will, and he’d left the garage and the Corvette to Branch.
For years, he’d hounded Jimmy to sell the car, but he never considered any of Branch’s offers—even the one that was triple the car’s value. After all his attempts to purchase it, Branch never imagined he’d actually own it, especially not this way. And the garage…it holds memories that he could never place a price on. The car and the garage…they both owned a piece of Jimmy’s soul.
That explains the look I’d seen in Branch’s eyes the evening before. Two things that meant the world to Jimmy now belong to Branch.
When my stomach angrily announces its need for food, he laughs as I follow him to a spot near the falls. He slides the backpack from my shoulders, pulls out a blanket and spreads it over the grass. Then I watch as he assembles lunch from the backpack he was carrying.
“I could help, you know.”
“Yeah, but you always serve others so I figure it’s okay to give you a break today. Sit,” he says gesturing at the spot across from him.
I shrug and do what he says, quickly finding myself deep in conversation about Cecelia and Noah as Branch passes out small details about Jace and his parents. In response to a heart-to-heart the previous night with his dad Curtis, Branch admits that he agreed to extend more of an effort to make peace with his newly reconciled family. Curtis also requested Branch’s blessing to ask Mary to renew their vows.
I easily infer that his change of heart is a direct correlation to losing Jimmy. What else would explain his softening view for the man he’d told me just yesterday he resents?
For lunch, we have chicken salad on whole wheat, some green drink that Branch insists is good for me, and an apple. I figured he picked up the chicken salad but was surprised when he explains how he made it fresh this morning.
