Roughneck: A Payne Brothers Romance

by Frost, Sosie

  “Because guys like us see things other people don’t. We know the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. And you know how we learned that lesson.”

  Spencer sunk his head onto his knees. “We did it to ourselves.”

  “Yeah. And now we gotta deal with the consequences. People won’t trust us. They’ll never believe us. And they won’t see the good we do. They will always remember the bad.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do?”

  What I’d been unable to do. I nudged him. “You live with it. You own it. But you never, ever let it destroy you. You are Spencer Townsend. Let the world think what it wants—but don’t ever let them define you.”

  “How?”

  “By being strong. By doing what’s right. No matter how much we try to change, the world’s gonna expect us to fail. At life. School. Staying out of trouble. Even worse—some people want us to fail, just to feel better about themselves.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re weak. They think that as long as we’re bad, then they’re good. If we’re in the gutter, they’re the ones succeeding. They’ll do everything they can to keep us there.” I wrapped an arm around him. “So, here’s what you gotta do. You let them think whatever the hell they want about you—but don’t let anyone take your pride. You work hard every day of your life to prove them wrong…even if they never acknowledge it.”

  I avoided Honey’s gaze and pulled Spencer in tighter. The boy didn’t refuse the hug.

  “Is that what you did, Uncle Tidus?” he asked. “Did you prove them wrong?”

  I heaved a breath. “No. I proved them right. I thought they were right about me, about what a screw-up I was, how bad of a man I’d become. I didn’t fight it. Didn’t even try to change. I had to learn the truth about myself first.” I swallowed, hard. “And now I’m telling you this so you don’t end up like me twenty years from now. So, you don’t ruin your future living a life that should have ended in the morgue long ago.” I lowered my voice. “Now, tell me what happened again.”

  “I didn’t set off the flares.”

  Good enough for me. “I believe you.”

  He bit his lip. “Why? No one else does.”

  Because in my head, all I heard was my own eleven-year-old voice, asking the same question.

  “No one believed me when I was your age,” I said. “But, if just one person had tried to help, maybe I wouldn’t have done all that bad shit. Maybe I would have turned out better. More people might’ve liked me.”

  He shrugged. “I like you. And Honey likes you.”

  Honey flashed a killer smile. “That’s right.”

  I didn’t return it. Looked away as soon as it dared to warm me. “That doesn’t mean you should turn out like me, got it?”

  “Why?”

  Because no matter what the kid thought, and no matter what Honey hoped, I wasn’t yet the man they thought I could be.

  Didn’t matter what future Honey offered, I couldn’t forget my past just because it’d been five months since my last drink.

  It’d only get worse from here. She wanted to date. To force me out into a world filled with sin, vice, booze, and dangerous opportunities. Honey thought she could show me what I was missing.

  But I wasn’t lost. I hadn’t abandoned the world out of shame or remorse.

  I did it to hide.

  From addictions. From bad decisions.

  From that moment when my willpower shattered and the weight of the world’s expectations crippled me once more.

  Five months sober wasn’t long enough to rebuild my strength. And two months with Honey had nearly torn me apart.

  The drugs hadn’t poisoned me. The whiskey hadn’t drowned me. The bad decisions hadn’t killed me. I’d tried to heal in isolation, but everything about Honey was sunshine. She fought to bring me into the light. Demanded more from me than I had healed.

  She believed I was a man strong enough to deny my past and ignore my addictions.

  But Honey Hudson was worse than any drug. More powerful, more potent, more dangerous to my shattered soul and patchwork sobriety.

  I swore I’d never again hurt another person, but breaking her heart wasn’t vengeful or cruel.

  I wasn’t ready to rejoin the world yet. And the only way I’d ever survive the withdrawals, the cravings, and cold, painful sobriety was if I did it alone.

  Falling in love with Honey had destroyed me.

  But staying with her would ruin us both.

  16

  Honey

  Tidus said he wasn’t a romantic man.

  But he knew how to buy flowers, pick out the best chocolates, and sweep a girl off her feet.

  Tidus also said he wasn’t a charming man.

  But it only took a couple words whispered in a darkened movie theater to have me squirming on the edge of my seat, eager for the movie to be over.

  Tidus said he wasn’t boyfriend material.

  But he led me to a beautiful, secret spot on his family’s farm for a picnic dinner—with foods he’d prepared himself. Or at least…smooshed together with peanut butter and jelly.

  The gnarled oak tree in the Payne’s far field made a perfect hideaway for a man and woman to cuddle under the sunset. I curled against his chest, plucking at the leather of his jacket as we looked over fields that needed to be tended, equipment desperate for repair, and the livelihood of a family eager for another pair of hands to help on the farm.

  “I can’t imagine you growing up here.” I forced myself to stare at the brilliant sunset instead of his devilish green eyes. “Seems a little too idyllic for a man like you.”

  “To be fair…I wasn’t here much when I was growing up.”

  “What were you off doing?”

  “Any girl I could find.”

  I pinched his side. He snorted.

  “Don’t believe me?” he asked.

  “Oh, I believe you. But something tells me you weren’t as successful as you let on.”

  He didn’t deny it. “You’re the only woman crazy enough for a second taste.”

  “Third, fourth, fifth…” I couldn’t resist and stole another soft kiss. “What were you really doing when you weren’t on the farm?”

  “Everything I could do to stay away.”

  I frowned. “What’s it like when you come back?”

  He tensed, but he didn’t shrug me away. “I never left Butterpond. Everyone else did—Jules, Marius. Quint’s been in and out, always makes his way home though. I never wanted to leave town.”

  “Why?”

  His arm pulled me tight against him. “Cause I’m waiting to belong.”

  “Do you like the farm?”

  “Loaded question.”

  It wasn’t. Not really. “Would you want to stay here?”

  “Like…forever?”

  I plucked one of the millions of weeds plaguing the land and showed Tidus. “No. To help out. Looks like Julian could use you.”

  He knocked the weed from my fingers. “Julian doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.”

  “Do you know how to run a farm?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “Maybe…you two could figure it out together?”

  He frowned. “Doubt Jules would want me back.”

  “Never know until you ask.”

  “No…” Tidus knocked his head back against the tree with a sigh. “I know exactly how it’d go. Jules is just like Dad. Lost his patience with me a long time ago.”

  “You’re a changed man.”

  Tidus sipped from his can of La Croix and smirked. “Remind me to tell you the story about the time we let the deaf pig loose in his room, and Jules found it asleep under his covers.”

  “You really were a bad kid.”

  “Kid?” He laughed. “Hell, that was only six months ago.”

  “Tidus!”

  He winked. “You don’t know how nice I’ve been to you, Honey.”

  “I do not want to wake up with a pig in my bed.”
<
br />   “You already do.”

  I tickled him. To my delight, he squirmed away, jerking from my hands with a bright grin that disappeared almost as quickly as he flashed it.

  “You once told me you were a dog.” I gave him one final poke.

  “Woof.”

  “Don’t make me get a leash.”

  “Only if you’re wearing the collar.”

  “You’ve gotta pin it on me first…” I sat up on my knees. “Think you can take me?”

  I bit my lip, hoping he’d prove how very foolish I was to dare him. Instead, he waved a hand, dismissing the thought.

  “You wanted this to be a date, remember?” He settled back against the tree. “Gentlemen don’t fuck on the first date.”

  “You never said you were a gentleman.”

  “You never said you put out on the first date.”

  “Fine. I’ll just enjoy this fabulous picnic lunch you’ve cobbled together.” I nudged the picnic basket. The bag of chips spilled onto the blanket. “Even if the main course was cold and the hors d’oeuvres came from a can.”

  “My cooking is a hell of a lot better than what it used to be.”

  The man didn’t need Jesus…he needed Julia Child. “And what is your specialty?”

  “It might not be eighteen hour smoked brisket smothered in a chocolate, espresso barbeque sauce…but I made a life surviving off of a fifth of Jack and every peanut in the bar.”

  “Truly, I am in the presence of a culinary genius.”

  “Never said the life was glamorous.”

  I folded my hand into his. “Say the word, and you’ll never be that hungry again. I can do more than barbeque, you know.”

  “Honey, I could eat you all night long and still be hungry.”

  I giggled. “I can grill. Bake. Sauté. Fry. Boil. There’s more to me than smoke and fire.”

  “Used to think that about myself too.”

  Used to?

  The sun burned a reddish gold, and the early spring evening plucked a few stars into the darkness just for us. Our day had been beautiful, fun, and a promise of everything sexy to come.

  And yet…Tidus still sounded so sad.

  “You know…” I nestled closer to him. “The Brawl-B-Que is this weekend. Spencer’s agreed to go—I think it’ll be good for him. Get him out of Butterpond, away from all the problems and the Barlows. They’re on the warpath, and it’s really hurting him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m just wondering if you’ve cleared that busy schedule of yours to go with us.”

  Tidus shifted, his eyes focusing only on the horizon. “Been meaning to talk to you about that.”

  “Don’t worry—you won’t have to cook or serve any customers. It’s just…I’ve entered every competition, and I’m way frazzled. Between the brisket and the ribs and the pulled pork contests, there’s so much to do in so little time. Having an extra pair of hands would be a Godsend.”

  Tidus said nothing, reaching into his pocket. He handed me a piece of paper.

  “A present?” I asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  “That’s a shame. I love presents.” I unfolded the paper and smiled at him. “Though I think I loved the trip around the city, the movie, and the picnic more. Play your cards right, bad boy, and we’ll have an even better night.”

  I leaned forward to kiss him. He shook his head and tapped the paper.

  “Read it,” he said.

  The crinkled page was just a carbon copy of an original document. The ink stained my fingertips.

  I stared at an itemized bill for the repairs to my truck.

  A red, stamped PAID christened the bill.

  Tidus didn’t look at me. “I waived the cost of the repairs.”

  It was as if he’d hauled away the imaginary fifty-pound bag of charcoal that smothered me to sleep every night. I held the paper to my chest.

  “You…you don’t have to do this,” I said.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Tidus, this is too much money. Plus, all that time you spent working on the truck.”

  He didn’t agree. “Yeah, but between Spence fucking up the church picnic then ruining your catering gig…hell, it’s cost you more money to stay in Butterpond. Now the truck is in good condition. You can drive it and be safe.”

  “I…I can’t accept this.”

  Tidus anticipated my reluctance. He took my hand, but he didn’t face me.

  “You gotta take it…because it comes with a condition,” he said.

  I giggled. “Something tells me a good girl should never make a bargain with a bad boy. God only knows how many terrible, devious things I’ll have to do in your bed.”

  He shook his head. “Honey, listen to me. I fixed your truck. You owe me nothing for it.”

  “Then what—”

  “Now I want you to get in that truck…” He set his jaw. “And I want you to get out of here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know you don’t want to do the Brawl-B-Que, but it won’t be bad. You’ll have fun with me. I promise.”

  He didn’t share my smile. “I’m not going. You are.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Honey, I want you to go.”

  “…Go?”

  “I want you to leave.”

  My heart thudded, but I refused to let it get out of control. I dug my fingers into the blanket, forcing myself to stay upright.

  “You can’t mean that,” I said.

  “I do.”

  “I know what we have together is scary, but you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not.”

  Bullshit. “We had a nice day together. We went to Ironfield, walked around, had a great time. No one knew who you were. Nobody cared about your past, the man you used to be.”

  “There is no old me.” His words hardened. Resolute. “Took me a couple months to realize it. There’s no old me, just as there’s no new me. It’s just…me.”

  I fought the sickness rising in my stomach. “And I like that man. Why don’t you?”

  “You know the answer.”

  “No. I know who you can be. I know who you want to be. But you’re too afraid to try. Tidus, you’re strong enough to do this. All you need is a little help—and I want to be there for you.”

  His gaze lowered. “That’s not it. I can do this on my own.”

  “But why would you want to be on your own?”

  “Because I need to stay alone.” He refused to look at me as he broke my heart. “Honey, I can’t get better with you here.”

  His words pummeled me without a touch.

  “Do…you think I’m hurting you?”

  He turned away. “You don’t know. You don’t realize it. Everything tempts me. I’m not strong enough to resist it all—not yet. Every goddamned day is a struggle. I have to focus on staying clean. And I can’t just relax or depend on someone else. It’s a hard, frustrating torture when my every fucking thought is either fearing I’ll slip again or wishing I had.”

  “Tidus…”

  “Every day is painful, Honey. Going through withdrawal nearly killed me. I can’t tell you how many nights I vomited myself to sleep just to wake with cold chills. When my head pounded until I thought I’d bleed out my ears and the only relief seemed to come from a bottle I could either chug or smash over my fucking temples.” He sounded hollow—worn out. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t survive that again.”

  He finally looked at me, as if for the first time. His tough exterior cracked just enough for me to see the man inside.

  The exhausted man. The frightened man.

  The unbelievably determined man.

  “I know you want to help me, Honey,” he whispered. “But the truth is…you can’t. And you’re not.”

  This pain was something new. Crushing and unbearable.

  I could handle any rejection, weather any breakup, and survive losing my heart.

  But the thought of causing him more harm? Of me
being the reason for his misery?

  I pushed away from Tidus as my throat closed.

  “I never meant to complicate anything…” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I didn’t want to make anything worse.”

  Tidus groaned. He stood, kicking away the picnic basket only to pace around the tree. Wasn’t sure if he meant to lean against the trunk or punch the bark until his knuckles broke and bled.

  He did neither.

  Like he didn’t know what to do.

  How to escape.

  “It isn’t worse with you…” He rubbed his face. “Just harder. Before I met you…if I had failed, I would have simply failed. It wouldn’t have mattered. If I’d relapsed, it was on me, and that was punishment enough. But with you here…”

  His frustration overwhelmed him. He swore, pointing across the fields, to the old farm house bathed in golden light.

  “I can’t fail you…and I can’t fail them,” he said. “I’ve got a house full of family over there, and each one of them is more tired of my shit than the last. You get me? I’m so fucking close—I can’t relapse now. I’d lose so much more than just my life. I’d lose them. I’d lose you.”

  I swallowed the tears. “You know I respect you, Tidus. And I know it’s hard. That’s why I’m here. You can lean on me.”

  “And what can I offer you in return? I’m giving up one addiction for the other. I want you so much I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking live. I’m already imagining waking up without you…” His voice broke. “Christ, it’s harder than pouring out that last bottle of whiskey.”

  “If you don’t want this to be over—”

  “It never should’ve started.”

  “But it did.”

  “And it was a mistake.” Tidus spat the word. “It was a mistake getting this close to you. Fucking you. Bringing you here…”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not strong enough for you yet.”

  It wasn’t true. “Don’t say that.”

  “Jesus, Honey. Why do you think I hide in that fucking apartment above the garage?” His hands balled into fists. “Why do you think I live in fucking squalor, hiding in the fucking dark every night? It’s because I can’t be around other people. I can’t watch them drink. Can’t enjoy myself. Can’t let my guard down for a goddamned second. Not yet.”