Tennessee Truths: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers- Romance

by Ashley Munoz

  Once it was up, I looked around and laughed. “No sleeping bags?”

  A devilish smile broke out on Jace’s face. “Not a chance, Pip.”

  I hated blushing at that. We’d been having sex since the previous summer, but he still had a way of making me feel like a virgin whenever he talked about sleeping with me. We laid down four blankets inside the tent, Jace strung up a few battery-operated lights, and then the cooler went in with us lastly. Thankfully the storm seemed to be moving in the other direction.

  After our dinner, Jace kept nervously clearing his throat, which was odd. I knew he had something planned, which I’d assumed was this little overnight trip, seeing as we never had any time alone. Now, though, I was wondering if there was something else going on.

  “Everythin’ okay?” I asked, not realizing my accent was peeking through. I didn’t love my accent. Don’t ask me why, but any time a northerner heard it, they acted like I was the gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe, which left me with lackluster motivation to let it show.

  “Yeah, of course,” Jace stammered, his tone nervous. I knew this boy, so I knew when he was on edge about something. I was about to address it, but he turned until he was on his knees in front of me. “It’s just that…you know how we talked about going to college with each other and how we’re factoring each other into our decisions?”

  I nodded, grabbing his hand to help calm him. He lifted mine to his lips and kissed it.

  “I don’t want to freak you out with this,” he whispered before letting out a big sigh. “Corvin gave me something because he’s heard me talking about you and all our plans…I mentioned how I couldn’t afford a ring, and how that would probably scare you right now anyway, so…” He trailed off.

  I swallowed a lump of giddy anticipation. I couldn’t tell him I desperately wanted a ring because I was ready to marry him, so instead, I just sat there and waited. He reached behind him for something and came back with a black velvet box. I stifled a gasp as he opened it, revealing a silver locket.

  “Corvin gave this to his girl back when he was shipping out with the Navy, as a way to promise himself to her and vice versa. It wasn’t an engagement ring, but it was a vow just the same. So, anyway…I was wondering if you’d accept it?” His blue eyes were so deep and so full of emotion, reminding me of how hard I’d fallen for him years before and how since then, we’d only sunk deeper.

  I carefully picked up the necklace and inspected it. It was a simple oval shape with an anchor on the front, and on the back was inscribed: Vaster than the sea, more violent than the wind, your love is the only thing on this earth that could ruin me.

  My heart wanted out of my chest, tears begged to run down my face, and confessions of undying love wanted to be released, but I kept it all back and simply leaned up, matching his height, and threw my arms around him.

  “I love you and a million times yes.” I pressed a gentle kiss to his neck then lowered my hands so I could tug his shirt over his head. Jace carefully set the box aside and lowered me to the blanket, smiling against my lips.

  “This is me saying I want you. I plan to marry you. You’re mine, Faith Morgan. Mine alone,” Jace rasped into my ear while sliding his hand up my skirt.

  I nodded against his chin and swore, “I’ll never take it off, not until you replace it with a ring.”

  His kiss nearly ended me as we came together, hot and desperate. Full of possibilities, like filling a time capsule, a memorial of someplace you never want to forget. We stripped each other bare, lay down, and made love under what I hoped was a starry sky.

  Jace

  Age 19

  The sun reflected off Faith’s necklace as she smiled and animatedly talked to her parents about our plans for the following fall. Normally it would have sent me into a panic, just thinking about the responsibilities I would be leaving behind, but this time, for once, it only brought me joy. I took a bite of melon and listened to her tell them about the apartment we planned to live in, and I didn’t need to see the look on her father’s face to know he didn’t approve.

  Clark Morgan rarely approved of much where I was concerned, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from making plans, and I was glad as fuck that Faith wasn’t going to let it stop her either. She’d long since shaken off the opinion of her parents, which was a survival technique because they were judgmental as hell.

  “So, when are y’all leavin’?” Julia, Faith’s mother, asked with a tight smile.

  “End of August,” I replied, wiping at my mouth, grabbing for Faith’s hand under the table. Whenever we were at her parents’ house, I invariably got nervous and frequently needed to touch her—although, currently, touching her just had me thinking of the previous night.

  I’d climbed up the lattice outside her window and snuck into her bedroom, crowding onto Faith’s twin bed, nestling under her covers. I loved those moments because I could touch her, kiss her, say anything I wanted. I had dragged my hands up her back, slinking under her thin tank top, relishing how warm her smooth skin was. I’d surrendered to my addiction like I always did and pulled her closer. A small gasp had left her mouth as I deepened the kiss and moved my hand farther down her spine until I was pushing down her sweats and…

  “Jace!” Faith shouted, moving my arm, bringing me back to the moment.

  “Sorry, what?” I blinked. Her parents were eyeing me as though they’d just seen that entire thing on replay. Fuck, that would be embarrassing, although there was no way they hadn’t heard at least something the night before. They weren’t that blind to how often Faith and I touched or kissed each other; it didn’t take a genius to assume we were sexually active.

  “Do you know what time your mama was wanting us all over for brunch next weekend?” Julia asked.

  I glanced toward Faith, who had that pinched worry stamped across her face. It was pity for my sick mother, who couldn’t host a brunch even if she wanted to. It would be Faith over at my house putting it all together, my little sister helping her, and me standing there being told what to do.

  But Julia would give me another one of those tight-lipped, fuck-you-and-your-poor-life smiles if I told her any of that. No thank you.

  “I’m not sure.” I cleared my throat. “But I can get you the details later this week.” I ducked my head, snagging another piece of cantaloupe. I looked back up in time to see her deliver another tight smile, which spoke louder than any insult she could have given me. I sometimes wondered what it would be like to hear all the things Julia and Clark Morgan thought about me, unfiltered, with zero pleasantries. I’d have bet it would be ugly.

  I used to worry if they liked me. They played the part for a while, hosting dinners and brunches between our families, but now that Faith and I were older, they weren’t afraid to show their malice for me. I used to care. I didn’t anymore.

  We were getting out of Collierville. Two more months and we would be living in an apartment of our own, near campus, going to college, starting our lives.

  So, as I left that day, I gave them a salute, because whether they wanted me or not, I was there to stay. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  It came with the realization that breaking a heart

  is often

  not

  an act of malice;

  for hearts are heavy things that cannot be given back lightly, and have an unfortunate habit

  of slipping through unpracticed fingers and ungentled hands.

  And they fall even faster and harder than we do.- Chloe Frayne (Into Oblivion)

  One

  Five years later

  The soft chime of the doorbell echoed up through the house, drifting to where I sat perched in my closet. I stared down at the soft chaise lounge and dug my nails into the creamy fabric, releasing my hold a second later, drawn by the glint of gold on the tips of my French manicure. I was still hesitant to ruin something that cost as much as these did and looked as beautiful.

  I lifted and rotated my nails, inspecting each one, s
topping on the fourth finger to the left. My eyes drifted to the large, sparkling diamond nestled in the platinum band around my finger. The rock glittered under the low lights, as though soundlessly reminding me of the vow I was about to break.

  The chime went off again, cascading up through the vast, empty house, pulling me from my thoughts. In a normal life, I could rush to the door and answer it, pull the thing open, and smile at whoever was on the other side. In this life, I had people to do that for me. I had an array of employees who worked for my husband, who’d taken over every ordinary thing there was about my life.

  I was merely a puppet, my strings pulled taut by the man who’d vowed to love and protect me. For years I had moved and swayed, attached to those punishing cords, nearly strangled by their presence—but not anymore.

  Not after last night.

  Commotion from the hall and someone chiding our butler, Andrew, had me standing and watching the entryway. Harsh, shallow breaths assailed my lungs as I watched for who was about to enter my bedroom.

  Inside, I knew it wasn’t him. But still, fear rattled me, making me absently run my finger over my wedding ring and turn it over until the large diamond was underneath and could be used as a weapon.

  “Faith?” My best friend’s worried voice carried in from the hallway. I let out a relieved breath, wiping the fresh tears from my face.

  “In here,” I croaked, my voice straining against the pain blooming in my chest.

  “There you are.” Gemma’s tall frame seemed to relax as her shoulders sagged. She walked in, all confidence and strength, until I emerged fully from the closet. Her steps faltered as a gasp filled her lungs. “Oh shit.” She brought her hand to her mouth in shock, her blue eyes going wide.

  I tried to ignore it all, focusing instead on her familiar face, her flawless ebony skin, and her tight curls that were currently being tamed by a pair of sunglasses balanced on her head.

  “Thank you for coming,” I muttered, feeling rooted to the floor.

  Gemma moved forward, her black pencil skirt looking out of place against the white running shoes on her feet.

  “What are you wearing?” I scrunched my nose in confusion. She normally had better fashion sense than I did; even on a modest budget, she always outshone nearly everyone in the room.

  “You called me in the middle of my lunch break, and you know I walk the treadmill…I grabbed the first Uber I could find and came straight here,” she huffed, stepping closer. She carefully took my face into her hands and let out a heavy sigh. “He’s dead. I’m going to kill him. How long…” She trailed off, tracing my bruised eye carefully.

  I flinched away, feeling my jaw go tight and my lip begin to tremble. I hated how my growing bruise made me look—like I was weak, a pathetic example of loyalty, someone who wasn’t loved or cherished by the man who’d promised to protect her.

  “A little while, but last night was…” I faltered, not able to form the words. I couldn’t put into a sentence the terror I’d felt when my husband’s usual slaps to my face and forceful grabs had turned into a full-on attack. He had punched me, and once I was down, the man I’d vowed to love my whole life had kicked me in the ribs, twice sending me down the stairs.

  Gemma stepped back, knowing I needed space, and looked around the room. She eyed the queen-sized bed, the plain furnishings and generic drapes. Her nose wrinkled like mine had moments earlier as she asked, “Why are you in this room and not the master?”

  I moved toward the closet. We had exactly two hours before Bryan was back.

  “I moved out of our room a few months ago…came in here when he started coming home smelling of whiskey and women.”

  Gemma followed after me, bringing her hands to her slim hips. “He’s been cheating?”

  I shook my head, grabbing for a suitcase. “No…says they’re just eye candy for the men at the meetings. They hang on the investors, making them feel special…he insists I have nothing to worry about, but…I went to lunch with Trey, my yoga instructor, and I got slapped and called a cheating whore. I wasn’t loving the hypocrisy or the cheap perfume smell, so I moved in here.”

  Gemma nodded her head in agreement and began reaching for my clothes. “Yeah, that’s bullshit. How much of this do you want to take?” She eyed the large walk-in closet that was probably bigger than her entire apartment.

  “Just enough to fill these two suitcases. I want to leave the rest.” I turned toward my built-in shelves with gliding drawers and the full shoe rack, the rows and rows of different pairs from all the top designers. The soft recessed lighting in the closet cast a dreamy glow over the precious high-heeled boots and strappy heels.

  I went back in time for a second to who I’d been before Bryan, to my life as the poor girl who’d married a billionaire, digging in the Sunday paper for coupons, searching for any kind of discount code that could get me a new pair of shoes so I wouldn’t have to keep using super glue and permanent marker on my Faded Glory finds from the local Walmart.

  “Actually, let’s do a separate suitcase for some of the shoes. See any you like?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at my best friend.

  Her shoulders shook with laughter. “Girl, even if I could fit into your small-ass shoes, you know I’d never wear anything that came from that man.”

  It was meant to be funny, but I hated the honest vehemence in her comment. The memory of her begging me not to marry Bryan surfaced, making me feel sick. She’d been right, of course, and I hated that Bryan had treated her so horribly. He’d made a big point to ensure it had nothing to do with her being black, mentioning names of many of his partners and friends who were also of color.

  It was her lack of social status. Her small-town roots that bloomed into her being a lawyer for the less than reputable, a lawyer working pro bono was a joke to him. I never rebutted his statements with the fact that she and I were from the same social class, the same schools, the same hometown. I always just let him say whatever he wanted because it was easier than icing my face in the middle of the night.

  “Gem…” I started, tears welling in my eyes at how horrible of a friend I’d been to even agree to marry such a monster.

  She walked over and pulled me into her arms. “We both know he didn’t start showing his true colors until well after you married him. Don’t blame yourself. I love you and I’m proud that you’re leaving him. Let’s get you back home.” She nodded at me, firm and resolute. She wasn’t just a skilled lawyer; if Bryan cared to do his homework at all, he’d know Gemma was one of the best attorneys in the state.

  A fact that would soon bite him in the ass.

  “Yes, home sounds good,” I wistfully muttered, tugging a few shoes free and stuffing them into my Louis Vuitton luggage.

  We packed everything as tightly as we could. Gemma called Andrew up and asked that he carry my bags down to my car.

  I blinked back fresh tears that wanted to fall and slowly pulled my wedding ring free. The loss felt awkward and wrong, like I’d just removed a part of myself, but at the same time, it felt like breaking free by plucking the strings, breaking them one at a time.

  I placed the ring on the dresser with a note, something as insignificant and thoughtless as our marriage had been.

  I want a divorce.

  Two

  I wasn’t running.

  I needed to be sure I believed that, wholeheartedly. I was many things, had room to grow and mature, but I didn’t like being thought of as a coward.

  I was simply going back home, returning to the only place on earth where I felt safe. Sure, the temptation to take millions in cash from my husband sat on the edge of my consciousness, but that was only because I wanted to hurt him. However, on principle, I wouldn’t. Bryan had never asked for a prenup, saying it wasn’t love if you needed one.

  At the time, I had swooned, but now I shook my head thinking how stupid he’d been. By all rights, I should screw him over, clean him out—but I wouldn’t. I planned on cutting all ties with Bryan, didn�
�t want a penny from him.

  I took out the money I’d brought with me into my marriage and that was that. I wouldn’t be spending my husband’s money, because I didn’t want anything but a divorce from the man. So, I organized my thoughts to start thinking of job ideas as I pulled into the small town I grew up in.

  Collierville, Tennessee, was a humble little lot full of character, history, and a mixture of the new and old coming together like a preschooler mixing paint—vibrant, messy, and a little chaotic.

  There were things about this town that needed to be fixed, like many towns in the south, but slowly they were advancing forward—at least that was what Gemma said when she talked about living there. I had dropped Gemma at her office after promising I’d follow up with her the next day, vowing to her that I was going to be okay.

  I traveled down Main Street, passing old brick buildings, some with new flare, some with old signs…all with memories of my life bundled inside.

  I gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter as I passed clusters of people laughing and smiling near the entrance of city park. As happy as I was to be making my way back home, it did come with one caveat.

  My first love and harshest lesson.

  Jace Walker.

  I had no idea if he was still around, but seeing the town we’d both grown up in, the place where we’d fallen in love had my stomach souring.

  I pulled away from the main artery of the city and veered south, past a few sets of railroad tracks until I kept going toward the outskirts of town. Rich green pastureland greeted me with firmly rooted trees, lush and vibrant.

  Dogwood trees shadowed the road almost completely as I pulled into my parents’ driveway. My heart raced as I put my car in park and hunched over to take in the full view of my childhood home.

  It was exactly the same.

  Long green vines trailed down the red brick from the second-story windows, twisting and knotting along the side of the house. The varnished oak door with its bronzed knocker stood out between the two white columns on the porch.