He chuckles. “Then you know that I’m not sick, I was born this way, I can’t help myself,” he grins.
“You disgust me,” I hiss.
I watch as he shifts his body, walking toward his truck, stopping, he looks back at me. He smiles, he’s like a snake, an evil snake.
“Baby girl, I’ll have you again. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll make you remember.”
My entire body trembles. I turn from him and hurry up my MawMaw’s steps. Rushing inside, I call out her name, only to find her in the kitchen, a glass of sweet tea in front of her. She’s sitting at the small table, and she lifts her eyes to me, wetness shimmering in them.
“Your father was here,” she needlessly explains.
“I know.”
She grimaces. I wait for her to say something else, anything else, to explain what she’s so upset about, but she doesn’t speak. She just sits there, staring into her sweet tea as tears stream down her cheeks.
“What is going on?” I softly demand.
She shakes her head. “I-I…”
WYATT
The smile on Rylan’s face is ridiculous, and I’m so fucking happy for him that I find myself equally fucking ridiculous. He climbs into the pickup and looks over at me with a stupid smile.
“You look contemplative. You were happy last week, what’s up?” he asks.
I clear my throat, starting the engine of my truck, as I shift it into drive and head out of the yard. “Me and Exeter moved in together this weekend, temporarily,” I murmur.
“Wyatt, you could have stayed in your house until your new one was ready,” he says, the look of almost panic crossing his features.
I shake my head. “I didn’t want to. I want her to move into my new place with me, this way I thought she could get used to the idea,” I shrug.
“You hardly know one another,” he points out.
I snort. “Kind of like you and Channing?”
“Touché.”
Clearing my throat, I grip my steering wheel tightly. “She’s the one, but she’s so closed off, we don’t even talk. I don’t know anything about her.”
“What do you do together then?” he asks, but I can hear the laugh in the back of his throat.
“Shut up. In bed, we’re one hundred percent compatible. She’s sweet and kind, soft and warm. But she’s hiding shit from me, and I can’t figure it out.”
Rylan chuckles. “Give her a minute. Channing didn’t tell me half of her shit right away. It took time and honestly, you’re going to have to tell her some of your shit too, cousin. If you want it from her, you’re going to have to give some of yourself over as well.”
“I hate how much sense you make now that you’re sober,” I grunt, pulling up against the curb of my old house.
It’s funny how I’ve only been moved out, officially, for one full day, and yet it doesn’t even feel like mine anymore. Technically, I still own it, but it’s theirs. It’s Rylan and Channing’s, it’s their home. Rylan slides out of the truck, his eyes finding mine.
“Tell her your past. Tell her about Sammi. Exeter’s strong as fuck, I saw it in her when she stupidly braved that hellhole to save Channing. She can take all that bad shit.”
“She is,” I admit with a gulp.
Rylan closes the door and I watch as he rushes toward the front of the house. Channing opens the door before he gets there and throws her arms around his neck. I stay in my spot, my eyes taking in their intimate moment before I shift the truck into drive and drive down the street.
I don’t head home, or back to Exeter’s, rather. I know that she isn’t there. She won’t be until tomorrow sometime, hopefully before I have to leave for work. Taking my phone from my center dash, I quickly find Ford’s number.
“What’s up, cocksucker?” he greets.
I snort. “You at the ranch?” I ask.
“Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know, you redneck fucker, maybe out diddling your cousin somewhere,” I chuckle.
He barks out a laugh. “Nah, man, I fucked your mama earlier, so I’m sated.”
“Your mama jokes, really? What are you, ten?”
“They’re still classics, I don’t care what anyone says. You comin’ by?”
“Be there in twenty.”
I end the call and turn down one dirt road, it’s not Ford’s, but it’ll eventually lead me to his ranch. Rolling down the windows, I crank the stereo up.
I let the eighties country music pour out of my speakers, the sun beats down, and the wind blows through the cab of my truck. This is what I’ve been missing, these back dirt roads, this quiet drive home, this sense of freedom.
Ford’s ranch entrance comes into view and I grin. He’s got two wood poles coming up on each side, poles that I brought him, and another across the top with a small piece of metal that hangs down with his initials on it—FBM.
Ford Buchannan Matthews.
Fucking ridiculously long ass name.
The cattle gate is already open, so I turn and head down the drive. He keeps saying he’s going to pave it, but I fucking doubt that he ever will. His daddy never did. The dips and holes could throw your whole fuckin’ truck out of alignment if you aren’t careful, but I think he keeps it that way so that nobody will drive down here and bother him. Nobody but me, Louis, and Beaumont that is.
Ford is standing on the front porch of his all white farmhouse when I pull up. I take a second to admire the home. It was built by his granddaddy, they raised his father here, then later his parents moved in and raised him here. They’ve recently retired and left the whole ranch to him. A family tradition.
Climbing out of my truck, I watch as the dirt swirls around my feet when they hit the ground. Turning toward the house, I make my way toward Ford. He holds out his hand and I grin at the silver can, one that I know is ice cold.
“Long day?” he asks, walking over to one of the two rocking chairs.
He sits down in one and I sit in the other. “Yeah, you?” I ask. He grunts.
“Heard you been spending an awful lot of time with that pretty little Exeter,” he grins.
I shake my head, wondering if there will ever be a time in this town where shit can stay private. Though I have to admit, when something is depraved or dirty, everyone oddly keeps quiet and only whispers the things, they don’t loudly boast them like they do good gossip.
“Moved in with her until I close escrow,” I shrug.
He whistles, sounding so much like my dad it’s eerie. “A bit soon?”
Leaning back in the chair, I look up at the recently installed porch ceiling fan. “Probably, but I think she’s it,” I admit.
Saying it to my dad, to Rylan, and even to Ford, doesn’t scare me. I feel nothing but peace and excitement at admitting that this girl, this woman isn’t just mine for now, but I want her to be mine forever.
“I hope she is. You deserve happiness,” he murmurs.
“You do too.”
We sit in silence for a moment, then he sits up straighter and asks me if I want to see his new tractor. I spend the rest of the early evening with my friend, admiring his new tractor, then look at the changes he’s made around the ranch. We climb on his Gator and check on the cattle, the chickens, then ride on over to the pond.