The Way We Fell

by Mj Fields

  I jump out of bed and grab a towel from the pile of shit I haven’t taken inside yet. I toss it over the puddle of coffee then stretch. “Morning, Mom.”

  “Breakfast?” she asks awkwardly.

  “Kendall was going to take me to my truck and head out, I think.”

  “Or I could take you to your truck and come help you and your mom crochet,” she says with a hint of amusement in her voice.

  “Sorry about that,” Mom whispers then looks around me. “Three races left, and I’m going to try to get a vendor table.”

  “I’d love to help,” Kendall offers.

  Mom looks happy. “Okay then. Drop my boy off and come back.” She turns to leave, then stops. “Where did you leave your truck?”

  “Down at Hanks.”

  She nods. “All right then. See you soon, Kendall.” Then she walks out.

  “Good morning, sweets.”

  She stands up. “Morning.”

  She walks over, wraps her arms around me, and lays her head against my chest. “So, you crochet?”

  “Are you laughing at me?” I ask, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  “I heard a very elaborate speech just last night about laughing, and I could use that on you now, but the truth is yes. Yes, I am.”

  She looks up at me, and I kiss her forehead.

  “I’ve got to go see a man about a race.”

  And hour with old man Freedman, and another with Leese, and I managed to get all the information I need to make this happen. I’ve also promised to hire both old birds, if—I mean, when—this happens, as well as Cody and a few others to help me get the trails done.

  I left a detailed message with the man in charge of the race with my contact information. Tomorrow, I will take Dad for a ride around Freedman’s place to show him that we’re already better suited.

  My phone rings as I pull into the mouth of our driveway, and I answer it. “This is Ben Sawyer.”

  “Ben, Scott Cannon, you left a message about hosting the Watkins’ Hair Scramble?”

  “Yes, I sure did.”

  “We planned to release the information about the change tomorrow. Wouldn’t expect it to go over well—nobody likes change—but if it’s still in the same town—”

  “Seven miles from old man Freedman’s.”

  “You think we could come in next week to check out the trails?”

  Fuck, I think, but give him an enthusiastic, “We’ll be ready.”

  “And the insurance?”

  “I have the money.”

  “Gonna need to see proof when I get there.”

  “Not a problem,” I assure him.

  After giving him the address, he promises to call mid-week. I hang up the phone and feel like half a million bucks. I won’t feel like a full mill until after Dad chews my ass.

  I sit back and look up the hill at the paved driveway leading toward the house. It probably isn’t necessary, but it sure looks great. The landscaping that Mom does down here by the road that changes with every season is stunning, but I know, without me doing it for free and my high school buddies doing it for cheap, it had to have cost them a shit ton of money to have it done. This farmland, the barns, this house is perfect for a family, but for two people close to retirement, facing serious health issues, it’s too damn much.

  I’ve been around the world and done some pretty amazing things, but I’ve always had a place to come back to.

  Home.

  Dad’s right; it’s a turnkey opportunity, and he’s handing me the keys. It’s about time to turn them.

  I throw my truck—that they bought for me—into drive and hit the gas. Cresting the hill, I see a vehicle, a BMW, that I don’t recognize parked next to Mom’s little Audi. I park next to it and jump out.

  “We’re out here,” Mom yells from the side patio.

  When I walk around the corner, I see Marna.

  My eyes dart to Kendall, and she gives me a fake-as-fuck smile. Then I look back to see the man next to Marna, wearing a pair of jeans and a sports coat.

  He stands and extends his hand. “Ben Sawyer, I’m Jimmy James.”

  I shake his hand, completely avoiding any sort of eye contact with my parents.

  “I’m from—”

  “I know who you are.”

  “So do we now,” my dad says from under his breath.

  I look at Dad, then Mom, and then at Kendall. She bites her top lip to stop from smiling and bends down to pet Rio.

  I shake my head and walk around the big wooden table, sitting down in the chair between Mom and Kendall.

  “So, what brings you here?” I ask, and Kendall stifles a laugh. I look at her, eyes wide as if to ask really?

  Jimmy James, the fucking vice president of Lonestar record label, sits down and picks up a cup of coffee. “Marna has been trying to contact you for us for a few weeks now.”

  “Must have missed the calls.”

  “And emails,” Marna nearly snaps.

  “Nope, got those; just figured they were reminders to get the other songs to you guys. But, since I have over a month, I’ve been visiting with my family.”

  “Actually, we’ve been trying to contact you because we have a few new artists, here in the States, who we would like you to work with, like you did the Murphey Brothers,” Jimmy says, reaching down beside him and pulling out a black leather folder. “Your agent—”

  I look at Marna, who arches an eyebrow.

  “—said if anyone could get their ramblings together, tighten up their music, you could.”

  “Technically, I don’t have an agent,” I clear that up, and not just for Marna, who seems to need a reminder, but for Kendall.

  I reach over and take her hand.

  “Well, I guess that’s for the two of you to discuss.” He pushes the folder forward. “But I’d still like you to look these over and take a listen to the CD with some of their stuff on it. Your mother says you have a studio here in the barn.”

  “My dad built it for me.”

  “With you,” Dad corrects.

  For the first time since walking into this shitshow, I look at him.

  He looks away from me and at Jimmy. “I raised my boy and sent him to school. He knows better than to make rash decisions. He’d like to take some time to think it over.”

  “I know he has a lot to do what with the songs for the Murphey’s coming due soon. If it’s too much, we could get him out of the contract and—”

  “What?” Marna snaps at Jimmy.

  “They’re signed and doing just fine.”

  “And they need to keep doing just fine. They’re not one-hit wonders like some of your—”

  “I signed a contract, I’ll honor it,” I cut her off before she fucks things up for her and her brothers.

  “I’ll be in town until tomorrow at around noon. Please contact me by then.” He stands up.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with—”

  “Marna,” Jimmy cuts her off, “get up, and let’s go.”

  “She’s welcome to stay here,” Mom offers.

  I know she’s thinking Marna is being bullied, but that’s because Mom doesn’t know Marna. I do, and I can already tell she’s fucking him. Funny thing? He’s fucking her, too … figuratively.

  She stands. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  Mom kicks me and gives me the where’s-your-manners-boy look.

  “We’ll walk you out.” I stand and hold my hand out for Kendall, who rolls her eyes as she takes it and stands.

  I lean in and kiss her cheek, whispering, “Sorry about this.”

  We follow them out to the car, where Marna looks back at us, shakes her head, and then turns back around. Over her shoulder, she tells Jimmy to give her a minute.

  “You gonna fuck me?” she whisper-hisses.

  “This isn’t about you, Marna. It’s about the band. And did I not just say I’ll honor my contract?”

  “As your agent.”
>
  “You were never my—”

  “This is because of what I said to her, isn’t it?”

  I look at Kendall, who shakes her head.

  “You mean when you led the woman I’m hoping to spend the rest of my life with to believe that I was fucking you?” I huff. Then I give it a bit more thought. “Yeah, actually, it is.”

  “Don’t make this about me,” Kendall says firmly.

  “Pretty much everything from here on out will be about you. Those that aren’t, will include you.”

  “Pathetic,” Marna huffs.

  Kendall steps forward. “You’re pathetic, mean, and spiteful. And you know, Marna, at one point, he may have liked the idea of you yet, obviously, the idea isn’t enough.”

  Marna spins on her heels.

  Kendall calls after her, “If he wants to work with you, he has my blessing. I trust him implicitly. But you, you’re officially put on warning.”

  When Marna slams the door shut to the BMW, Kendall turns to me. “Sorry, I just—”

  “I’m hard.”

  “What?” She laughs.

  “You’re so fucking hot.” I wrap my arms around her and kiss her as I spin her in a circle.

  30

  Have I Told You Lately

  Kendall

  Once my feet touch the ground, I look up at him. He’s beaming. It’s the first time he’s looked like … himself since Dublin.

  His dimples are deeper, his eyes are sparkling … He looks like he’s had the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders.

  “I don’t want to fight with you ever again,” I say as I put my hands on his shoulders.

  “I’m glad. But you being a little badass is seriously sexy … when not directed at me.”

  I tug at the waves that hang a little farther down his neck than before. “I’ll fight for you if need be. Just …” I sigh and bend my head down, resting my forehead on his chest. “I don’t want to be the jealous, crazy girlfriend who doesn’t trust the guy she’s falling in love with.”

  He lifts my chin and searches between my eyes. “You realize this is, like, the first time you’ve used the L-word and not just the term falling.”

  I nod slightly.

  “Tell me you love me.”

  “I love you.”

  As he’s leaning in to kiss me, his dad clears his throat from behind him.

  He pops a quick kiss to my cheek. “See? It’s not just your family that has less-than-stellar timing; it’s mine, too. Someday, it’ll be normal.”

  Smiling, I ask him, “Isn’t this normal?”

  He laughs as he takes my hand and turns around. “Hey, Dad. Hey, Mom. I need to tell you something pretty cool.”

  Both of them look at Ben the way I always remember them looking at him like he’s not only set the sun and the moon, but he set the stars, too.

  Rio sits at my feet, and I give her a scratch behind the ears.

  “Us first.” Frank nods toward the house.

  We follow them inside and sit around the large, wood-planked table. Becky has coffee already set out for us. The thought of being that kind of woman, the take-care-of-your-man type never seemed appealing before, but with Ben, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be an expectation, and I’m also sure he would be the take-care-of-your-woman kind of man. So, right now, it’s looking pretty okay to me.

  Frank starts, “First, Mom and I are really proud of you.”

  Ben smiles as he looks down.

  “We’re curious as to why you never told us.”

  “Just happened a little bit ago. Had intentions of telling you face-to-face, and then all this”—he shakes his head back and forth—“stuff.”

  Frank and Becky both look at me, obviously trying to figure out just how much I know.

  I look at Ben, not wanting to give away that I know everything.

  Becky reaches over and puts her hand over his. “Dad and I are sorry, Benjamin. We just wanted to give you a leg up.”

  Frank clears his throat. “That being said, we’re calling a realtor tomorrow morning and putting Sawyer Hill on the market.”

  Ben’s head snaps up. “What?”

  Frank looks at Ben. “It’s hard to look at your child and wonder if maybe you’re biased about how talented he is. Clearly, we weren’t biased. We never doubted you, Ben; we doubted ourselves.”

  “You love this place.” Ben shakes his head back and forth. “I love this place.” He looks at me. “Could you love this place?”

  “What’s not to love?”

  “I mean when you’re done with school. When we get—”

  I put my finger over his mouth, stopping him. “I want you to chase your dreams and have everything you ever wanted. If this is part of it, then do it.”

  He grabs my hand and kisses my finger. “Will. You. Be. Happy. Here?”

  I nod. “As. Long. As. You. Are.”

  He laughs as he leans in and kisses me hard … in front of his parents.

  I pull back and nod toward them.

  He laughs. “They’re gonna have to get used to it, because I’m gonna kiss you like you’re mine forever. Because you’re going to be, little Ross.”

  I feel my face flush.

  He leans in and whispers, “I’m gonna buy us a farm.”

  I whisper back, “Farm girls like farms, but this girl loves to travel, too.”

  “This guy is gonna always give you what you love.”

  “Then, this girl will do the same.”

  “You two are adorable.” Becky giggles.

  Ben looks at his mom and winks. Then he looks at his dad. “I want my roots here, but I need to have wings.”

  Frank narrows his eyes but nods.

  I squeeze Ben’s hand.

  “I want you and Mom to live here. We won’t be here much. I’m not gonna run the farm like you do either, but I will always love the land. Is that gonna be a problem for you?”

  “Might be,” Frank says with complete honesty.

  “Frank,” Becky scolds, and I can’t help chuckling inwardly.

  “I don’t have all the money yet, but I have enough to get us through. We sell the full barn of hay and have John haul it. It needs to go, profit be damned. We host the race, and we’ll be—”

  “The what?” Frank leans in.

  Oh shit.

  “Talked to some people today; have all the help we need to clear tracks. And the money for the insurance. Dad, we can profit over twenty grand on that alone.”

  “Debt free,” Becky whispers.

  “You realize that insurance policy is going to cost more money than all the hay in the barn’s worth?”

  Ben grins. “Yeah, but I have it, so we’re good.”

  “I don’t know about this.”

  Ben stands up and starts walking around. “We grow pumpkins and apples in the summer, have a corn maze and mums. We do hayrides for Halloween and eventually grow Christmas trees and do all the Christmas stuff.” He walks over behind Becky and puts his hands on her shoulders. “Mom can craft till her heart’s content.”

  I laugh. “And Ben can crochet.”

  He points at me and mock-scowls. “You, shut it.”

  Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Frank run his hand up and down his face, trying to hide a smile.

  “In the spring and summer, we host a couple of weddings; and the rest of the time, we spread our wings and fly. We live, Dad because tomorrow’s not a guarantee.”

  Frank sits back, slowly turning his cup in circles. “Mom and I need to talk about this.”

  I see Becky roll her eyes slightly.

  “Good. I’m gonna take my girl for a ride and show her the land.”

  Rio is in the back of the Mule, and I’m riding shotgun while Ben drives around the property a little too fast for my liking.

  “See that pond?” he says loud enough for me to hear him over the engine.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Can’t wait to …” He pauses and laughs. “Where’s that date ja
r at?”

  Shit, I think.

  “Little Ross? Where’s the date jar?”

  “Is it in your truck?”

  “You know it’s not.” He slows down and almost comes to a complete stop.

  I close my eyes. “I peeked.”

  “Sweets, that’s not—”

  “We went to a fair.” I smile.

  He laughs and points toward the pond. “And what did I put down about swimming?”

  “Not gonna happen for a while.”

  “Just because you’re naked, doesn’t mean I’m gonna try to poke you with it.”

  Laughing, I cover my face. “Just show me the land, Sawyer.”

  We drive around for at least two hours, walk around the woods for another hour, mapping out his idea for the race that’s at the end of the summer, and he pushes me on his old tire swing, which made me think of kids. I was sure I never wanted them, but the idea of having a couple with him … well, it felt right.

  So right.

  We ate dinner with his parents, and I was all ready to go home when he looked at me with tired eyes and asked me to stay.

  The more I’m with him, the more I want things to progress, and it scares me. Regardless, I sent my parents a text, telling them I was staying, and then we fell asleep under the stars on his hammock.

  Ben is still asleep, and I don’t want to wake him, but laying here, watching him sleep, as amazing as it is and as beautiful as he looks, nature has been calling for far too long.

  I tiptoe into the house and to the bathroom. When I walk out, Frank is on the floor, picking up a spilled bottle of pills. I hurry over to help him.

  As I’m picking them up, I recognize the pills as an antiandrogen. Holding one up, I study it closer so that I can be sure.

  When I hand it to him, he stares at me impassively.

  “He has your eyes.” I smile.

  “This doesn’t get talked about, okay, kid?”

  “Do you have prostate cancer?”

  He stands up, bottle in hand, and turns his back.

  “You know how great the survival rate is if—”

  “I’m not talking about this with you or anyone else.”

  I walk over and stand beside him. “Frank—”