Would we still be friends? Could I trust her?
I can’t imagine Bellamy pulling a stunt like Willa. There’s no way I can see her making me wonder about her loyalty like I do with Meadow.
Granted, I’m not exactly friends with Willa and Meadow, but I’m not sure I’m really friends with Bells anymore either.
And that realization stings.
“I want you to know that I hate you.”
I glance at the gate that separates our side yard from theirs. I’m tempted to walk over to it.
“Do you hate me, Bells? Or are you just fucking with me like you usually do?” I ask quietly.
She has to be messing with me. There’s no reason for her to loathe me.
If there’s one thing I’ve never done in my historic career of messing things up, it’s wronging Bellamy. I’d never do it. I’d never hurt her.
Not even when I break a guy’s nose for fucking around on her because she “won’t put out.”
Bellamy still thinks that was some screwed-up form of jealousy. She’ll never learn from me that I broke the guy’s nose for hurting her and that I didn’t tell her what he said to save her from hearing what he said.
He was twenty. Bellamy was seventeen.
He’s lucky my friends pulled me off him before I swung a second time.
A light switches on in her dad’s bedroom, and my stomach drops.
I hate that Joe is sick. He was always so full of life and a little piss and vinegar—just like his daughter. We always had some weird connection, especially when it came to Bellamy. He’d tell me to keep my eye on her, and I always did. I probably would have anyway, but it felt different knowing that her dad counted on me. It made me feel … trusted. And I always appreciated that.
I went to see him the last time I was home, but he wasn’t there. The woman who opened the door said he was undergoing a hospital procedure and would be gone for a few days. When I saw Bellamy the next day, she shot me a dirty look. She then refused to answer the doorbell that afternoon.
So I stayed away. I had other shit to worry about anyway.
But maybe that was a mistake too.
With a final glance at the gate, I tear myself away and go back inside. I’m just starting to replay my conversation with Meadow when my dad walks into the kitchen.
He’s a big man—bigger than any of us boys. He’s like my eldest brother, Holt, with his sandy-colored hair and way of staying composed no matter what. No matter what we did growing up, Dad didn’t lose his cool. Not even when Boone lit a kid’s hair on fire at school his junior year.
Mom? Panic. Dad? Cool as a cucumber.
“Were you taking out the trash?” he asks with a laugh.
“Yeah, well, laugh away, but I’m not about to piss Mom off.”
“Excellent plan,” he says as he passes me. “Want to play poker with me tonight? We were supposed to play Tuesday, but one of the guys is getting audited.”
I make a face. “None of that sounds fun.”
“You’re welcome to join us.”
“Thanks. I think I’m gonna hang out at Boone’s.”
He nods. “I’ll send your mother a text so she doesn’t hurry home to an empty house. I bet she forgot my poker night got moved.”
I sit at the table and watch him rummage through the pantry for a snack.
“What does Mom do while you play poker?” I ask.
“I don’t know. She works or sometimes has dinner with her friends.”
“Oh.”
I pick up a piece of paper on the table and fold it in half. And then in half again.
“Why?” Dad asks, looking at me over her shoulder. “Do you think she just sits here alone? Because I can assure you that she doesn’t. She has a life outside of me.”
I believe that. She always told us that you were responsible for your happiness, so I imagine that Mom does ensure her life is full independently of my father.
Something about that makes me smile.
“Pick a woman like your mother, Coy Boy,” Dad says. “If you ever pick one.”
“Eh, I don’t think I’ll be settling down soon.” I look up to see my dad smiling. “Or ever.”
He laughs. “I always thought that too. But there will come a day when you just know. And then it’s over.”
I hum. And then it’s over. Well, shit. That doesn’t sound like much fun at all.
“You’ll see,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. “I’ll be back late. If you and Boone want to come play a few hands, we’ll be at Roger Petticoat’s.”
“Cool.”
“All right. See ya,” Dad says and walks out of the kitchen.
I look at the space my father just occupied and think about what he said.
“Pick a woman like your mother, Coy Boy.”
I fiddle with the folded-up paper.
If I ever would pick a woman to settle down with, I would prefer someone like my mom. Someone feisty and determined. Someone sweet and kind. A woman who doesn’t need you at their beck and call all the time. One you don’t have to make too many compromises in your life to make them happy. A woman who was all of those things and would have your back no matter what.
I blow out a heavy breath.
I’ve only ever met one woman who comes anything close to all of those things.
And she says she hates me.
I grin.
“I guess I’ll just be alone forever,” I say and get up from the table. “That doesn’t sound like a bad plan at all.”
Six
Bellamy
Me: I can’t sleep.
I stare at my phone to see if Larissa will answer. After ten minutes, I call it quits. But because I’m not a total quitter, I change recipients. And tactics.
The only light in my bedroom is the glow from my phone. I scroll through my Favorites List until I find Boone’s name.
Me: Are you up?
It doesn’t take long for him to text me back.
Boone: You better be dying or in another state of emergency to text me this early.
Me: That’s mean.
Boone: So is waking me up at six in the morning for nothing.
Me: You don’t know that it’s for nothing.
Boone: So, are you having a real emergency and just not one of your famous existential crises?
Me: I wanted to wish you good morning. <happy face>
Boone: My point remains.
Me: Don’t you have a job that you have to go to anyway? I’m probably doing you a favor by waking you up before your alarm. I mean, who wouldn’t want me to wake them up instead of a buzzing sound.
Boone: Me.
Me: You don’t mean that. This is the sleep talking.
Boone: I mean that. I really do. See? Now you’ve already projected your meanness on me. Good work. <eye roll emoji>
With a laugh, I sit up in bed. I get situated against the headboard as my fingers fly across the phone again.
Me: I went to bed hateful. It has a long-lasting effect.
Boone: Noted. Can I go back to sleep now that you’ve cast your lousy juju on me?