Whiskey Lullaby

by Keren Hughes

  “You could put it like that.”

  I don’t know what more I can say. I feel drained. I came here because I didn’t want to talk about Brent—well, that’s what I convinced myself of at first. But I guess I really did need somebody else’s opinion. An outsider looking in, someone who would be objective, someone who cares about me and wants what’s best for me.

  “You know, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

  “Honey, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Rhi says as she places a hand on my arm.

  “I know you didn’t, sweetie. I just need to be alone with my thoughts. I think I need to sleep on it and look at it with fresh eyes another day. But while I’m staying here, I’d appreciate not talking about it again. Not right now, anyway.”

  “Okay honey, if that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.”

  “Thank you, Rhi. I really mean it. Thank you for giving me something to think about. I think you’re right about some of it, but other stuff, I need to think longer about. I really appreciate my best friend having my back.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, my lovely. I’m your best friend, a friend who will never pull her punches and always give it to you straight.”

  “And that’s why I love you so much.”

  I lean down and kiss her on the cheek before saying goodnight and leaving her and Lewis to the rest of their evening.

  As I enter the guest room, I grab a towel and my pyjamas before heading for a shower. I wish I could have a long hot soak in my bath at home; it’s where I ponder things when I’m upset. But a shower will have to do for now.

  ***

  After a week with my best friend, it’s time to go home. I’m longing for my own bed, but I’ll really miss Rhiannon. It was so nice when we lived closer together. That’s another reason to think of moving out to be closer to her.

  Two hours driving has me itching with cabin fever. I need to get out and stretch my legs. As I pull up outside the house, I look at Hardin in the rear-view mirror, only to see he’s fallen asleep. He’s not one for naptime anymore, but he does tend to conk out on long trips. To be honest, I would too, given the chance.

  “Come on, baby, we’re home,” I say as I undo his seatbelt.

  He stirs and looks at me through his sleepy gaze.

  “Nanny and Grandad should be here in a bit to take you to theirs while Mummy works tonight.”

  “Do you have to, Mummy?” he whines.

  “I do. But the good thing is, Mummy got a new job, so I won’t have to work as many hours in the pub and I’ll get more time to spend with you.”

  “YAY!” he shouts, nearly perforating my eardrum.

  Truth be told, I’ll still do a few hours each week in The Lock—if Damien and I don’t fall out—because I like the social element of it. But now with my work hours being more flexible, I’ll be able to be home with Hardin more. It’s what I’ve been needing ever since I went back to work after he was born. But with little to no experience, nobody was willing to take a chance on me. So, I got the experience and now I’m qualified and that makes things so much easier all around.

  After a quick snack—his favourite, Nutella and banana on toast, of course—we pack a bag for him to stay with my mum and dad.

  They don’t know anything about Brent or what happened. They don’t even know I was seeing anyone—unless Damien has opened his mouth while I’ve been away. I don’t want to tell them now, because I don’t want to hear the questions and the advice they’d impart. I need to reconcile how I feel by myself. I know that Rhiannon loves me and gave me some advice, but I really don’t need more people piling on their opinions. I need some time alone to make a decision.

  If there’s anything to tell them later on, then I will. But for right now I’m going to go to work and try to get on with a semblance of my normal routine.

  “Hey, stranger,” Damien says as I walk in.

  “Hey. We, umm …” I stop and clear my throat. “We need to talk. Can we use the back office?”

  “Sure. What’s up?” he asks as he walks with me around the bar and down the little corridor to the little office.

  “Well, there’s something we need to clear up,” I reply as I close the door behind me.

  “Go on.” He settles into the chair behind his desk and steeples his hands on the cherry wood top.

  “Well, I heard something, and I wanted to find out from the horse’s mouth if it was true.” My throat goes dry, so I try to swallow.

  “What’s that then, Caleigh?”

  “Is it true that you made some rather crude comments about me when I left the day that Brent’s manager turned up?”

  “What?” He sounds exasperated. “What am I meant to have said?”

  The look that crosses his face is hard to read. I sit down in the chair opposite him and lean forward. I don’t want this to be overheard.

  “It seems you said something about my—and I quote—sweet little pussy, amongst other things.”

  Damien’s face falls and I know it’s true. Not that I didn’t believe Deb, after all she has no reason to lie. But to see the truth on his face hurts.

  “It was said in the heat of the moment, Caleigh. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t you think you should have told me at some point in the last, what, seven weeks?”

  “I didn’t see any reason to bring it up. You were already so hurt, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

  “Don’t give me all that. You didn’t want to admit that you fucked up and said some vile things. You weren’t protecting me; you were protecting your goddamn self.”

  “Maybe in part it was self-preservation too, but you have to believe me, Caleigh. I didn’t mean the things I said. Like I say, it was in the heat of the moment. It was meant to hurt that fucker, not you.”

  He holds his hands up in a placating manner.

  “Do you like me in that way, Damien? Be honest, don’t BS me.”

  “No, I swear.”

  “Don’t soft-soap me. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think nobody’s watching.”

  “Okay, look.” He sighs as he adjusts himself to sit back in his chair. “I did have a thing for you. But I started seeing someone a few weeks back. It’s all been hush-hush, because you know what small town gossip is like.”

  “That’s all well and good, and I’m happy for you. But that’s not what I asked. Let me make this a bit clearer. When you argued with Brent, when you said what you did, did you feel something for me at that time?”

  “Yes,” he says with a long sigh. “When you came back to live here and started working for me, I liked you then. I didn’t act on it because I knew you were devastated by the loss of Angelo. Truth be told, I was jealous when I saw you with Brent. That time I saw you outside American Honey—”

  “I think the less said about that, the better,” I butt in as I feel myself flush at the memory of Brent being so brazen as to touch me in the diner car park.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t going to … look, umm … what I mean is that when I saw the way you two looked at each other, the love evident in your eyes … I was jealous that you’d never looked at me that way. I always secretly hoped that I would be the man you looked at with an adoring gaze. I hoped to be the one by your side as you fell in love again. But I could always see that was never going to happen, because you never saw me that way.”

  He pauses and pulls a bottle of whiskey out of his bottom drawer. Pouring a small amount into two glasses, he hands me one before he continues.

  “I know now that what I thought I felt about you was infatuation. And I know that, at least in part, because when I started seeing Ellie, all the feelings that I had bubbling up inside me were stronger than what I felt for you.”

  “Ellie?” I ask in shock. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming. I thought she hated you.”

  “Hate’s a strong word. She admits to pretending to dislike me for a while, but more to keep me at arm’s length than anything. Look, Caleigh, I’
m truly disgusted at myself for the crude way in which I said things about you to Brent. But I wanted to hurt him because he hurt you. I don’t like to see my friends getting hurt, and I just wanted to hit him where it hurt.”

  “I get that. I’m grateful for you sticking up for me. But I really wish you hadn’t said the things you said.”

  “I truly wish I hadn’t too. I should have just sucker-punched the asshole instead.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t do that, Damien.”

  “You are?” he asks, his face registering shock. “Why would you be glad about that? For him, or because he could have got me arrested?”

  “A bit of both,” I reply as I sip the last of my whiskey. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to put this behind us and get to work.”

  “I’d like nothing more.”

  I get up and place my glass on the desk before grabbing my apron and getting behind the bar.

  Ellie is sitting by Damien’s usual stool. Funny, I didn’t see her when I came in. Deb smiles at me from her place at the end of the bar.

  “Did you …” She trails off in a whisper as she comes over to me.

  “Yeah, we talked. It’s sorted.”

  “Okay, tell me later when, you know, Ellie can’t hear.”

  “Yeah, he just told me about that. I thought she hated him.”

  “Me too. They make a cute couple though, I have to admit.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “Only a few days. I was waiting until you got back to say anything. How have you been?”

  “Good, thanks. It was nice to spend time with my bestie and my goddaughter. Lewis was mostly at work.”

  “Glad to hear it. How’s Hardin?”

  “He’s good. He went to my mum’s after a quick snack.”

  “Don’t tell me. Nutella and banana on toast?” she says with a giggle.

  “Yeah, as per. He got Luna eating it this week too. Needless to say, Rhi was unimpressed.”

  “I can imagine. At least it’s not something weirder than that. Like, say, cheese on toast with apple slices.”

  “Oh my god,” I laugh, bringing my hand to my mouth. “I can’t believe you remember that. That was so long ago.”

  “Ah, but luckily for me, I have the memory of an elephant,” she says with a wink.

  “At least I have better eating habits now.”

  “Thank the Lord for small mercies,” she quips and pokes her tongue out at me.

  “Bitch.”

  I whip her ass with a bar towel before turning and serving a customer. Josh has a smile on his face, so he probably heard the tail end of the conversation.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brent

  I’ve finally finished working on the song. The title pretty much wrote itself: “The One That Got Away”. It was the most obvious part of the song really.

  I can’t stand this pain another day,

  Without the one that got away.

  She held my heart within her hands,

  If only I was a better man.

  She doesn’t deserve the lies I told,

  But will she still love me when we’re grey and old?

  I wonder, does she think of me at all?

  I miss her love; I miss it all.

  I haven’t played it for anyone, not on purpose anyway. Ash walked in the other day and heard the tail end of it. He told me it belongs on the album, but it’s something private, something I’m not sure I can share with the world at large.

  We’ve pretty much wrapped the album anyway, but Ash tells me we have time to record it, even if it’s a bonus song only available on iTunes or something.

  Yesterday, I finally plucked up the courage to look at houses for sale. I’ve found one in a small town a couple of hours away from River’s Edge.

  It’s far enough away that Caleigh need never know where I am—depending on if I can actually pluck up the courage needed to contact her—yet close enough to torment myself everyday over what I lost—if I can’t bring myself to pick up the phone and call her. Or rather what I destroyed. Maybe eviscerated is a better word.

  I’ve got a viewing set up for the day after we finish in the studio. I’m getting straight onto the plane; my bag is already packed. I’ll stay in a B&B and meet the estate agent the next morning. This time I’m not making the mistake of flying commercial. I’ve asked the boys if they mind me taking the private jet. We all part own it, but I wouldn’t just take off without warning, not this time.

  They don’t know where I’m going, just that I’ll be back without hesitation this time. How long for, I haven’t made them aware. I’m still working up the nerve to tell them what I’ve decided to do. Lord knows how they’ll react.

  I don’t want them to hate me, but I have to do this. I have to do it for me. Nobody else, just me. I guess I’ve known in my heart for a while, but it took some time for my head and my heart to be in agreement.

  Today has been one of quiet contemplation. I’ve made some mistakes recently and I want to rectify them. I don’t know quite how, but I want to at the very least try. I think. God, I don’t really know. Do I ring her? Do I let her get on with her life? Is she better off in my arms or better off without me? I know what I want, but what I want in all this is not what’s important—it’s all about Caleigh. Will she even answer the phone? If she doesn’t, do I just turn up unannounced?

  I’m plagued with questions that I can’t find the answers to, no matter how hard I wrack my brain.

  “Yo, bro, you home?” Jude calls as he shuts my front door.

  “In the kitchen.”

  I turn and put the coffee on. If he’s here disturbing my one day of relative peace, it can’t be without caffeine.

  “Sorry to interrupt your solitude, man,” he says as he walks in.

  Him standing in my space makes the kitchen feel like it was made for a dwarf. The guy’s muscles have muscles, although he’s not quite as built as Dwayne Johnson. Even thinking that makes my heart feel twisted up in knots. I can just remember Hardin telling me that Caleigh loved The Rock.

  “You look like someone kicked your puppy, what’s up, man?”

  “Nothing, bud, I’m fine. What brings you here?” I ask, eager to divert the conversation away from me.

  “Just wanted to swing by for a chat.”

  “About?”

  “You.”

  Great! So much for diverting his attention.

  “And what in particular would you like to discuss?”

  “The one that got away…” He trails off as he looks at me.

  I feel small under his scrutiny. It’s disconcerting.

  “I don’t want to talk about her, bro.”

  I can’t even bring myself to say her name, it hurts that much. Turning back to the worktop, I pour us both a coffee.

  “I don’t mean Caleigh, I mean the song.”

  “What?” I ask, so shocked I almost spill the coffee I’m about to hand him, “How do you know…? Ash.”

  Damnit, he’s a good friend, but I could swing for him if he was here.

  “Yeah, Ash. Dude, he’s only looking out for you,” he rushes out as he registers the dark look that crosses my face.

  I would probably piss my pants if he gave me the look that I hope I’m pulling off, but he just laughs.

  “He just wants me to hear you play it. Will you do that for me?”

  “I can’t man, I just … I’m sorry but I can’t.”

  “Don’t make me beg. A man my size begging would look fucking ridiculous.”

  “Too damn right you would. But I still can’t, Jude. It hurts too goddamn much.”

  “Okay, let’s try this another way. Will you let me look at it?”

  “I don’t have it written down.”

  “What?” Now it’s his turn to look shocked.

  I always write my songs down, but this one hurt too much to put pen to paper.

  “It’s all in my head, man. I couldn’t write it down. It felt like I was slicing open
a vein and bleeding out.”

  “I’m sorry, Brent. I truly am. I’ll admit, I’ve never been in love. Maybe that’s weird for a dude my age, but I guess being away from home a lot means I’ve never formed attachments, never even wanted to. But even though I lack in experience, I still know it must really be breaking your heart to be away from Caleigh. I know you fell in love with her and I know you fucked up, but you could still win her back, man.”

  “I don’t think I can,” I reply softly, my tone full of melancholy, and probably a touch of feeling sorry for myself.

  “You never know, bro. I know Ash said something about a big, romantic, Hallmark-style grand gesture. Maybe your song is it.”

  I sip my coffee as I wonder for a moment if he’s right.

  “It’s going to take more than that, Jude. I broke her heart. I let her fall in love with me when I was lying about who I am all along. I lost her trust.”

  “Okay, dude, two things. Number one.” He counts on his fingers. “You didn’t let her fall in love with you, like you couldn’t have stopped her if you’d tried. And number two, the thing about trust is it is meant to be earned, not just given. Oh, and number three, sorry, you have the rest of your lives to make it up to her. Show her, don’t tell her. Prove you love her. It’s more than just words. For example, if somehow someone took your words away, what would you do, how would you show her how you feel?”

  “That’s deep for you, dude,” I respond, reverting to my fallback of joking to deflect.

  “Yeah, I might look as deep as a puddle, but that’s what you get for judging a book by its cover. Now answer the fucking question. What would you do?”

  “I don’t know, man. Like, I honestly do not know. I’ve been trying to think of something, and yet I’ve had weeks for inspiration to hit and it hasn’t.”

  “Are you sitting back waiting for it to come to you? That’s where you’re going wrong. You have to go out there in search of answers. Stop sitting at home and moping around. Go out there and win the love of the woman you want to spend your life with.”

  “Jeez, when you got here, I was hoping for some other topic of conversation. I didn’t expect to be made to feel like a stupid fucktard.”