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

by Ashley Munoz

  “Are you going to erase it?” I whispered, terrified.

  “Should I?” he whispered back.

  The pain slicing through the space between us made my eyes burn.

  “Doesn’t seem right…all this stuff,” he whispered, moving to another book.

  I grabbed one, eager to read what our younger selves had written.

  His not-so-manly giggle had me leaning over and trying to see what he was reading.

  “It’s about that one time after we got to second base in sophomore year and you started freaking out.” He turned those laughing eyes on me. I smiled, remembering, but gently grabbed the book so I could see what we’d written.

  Pip, why are you sitting so far away from me?

  I’m kinda freaking out I guess.

  I couldn’t tell…

  Make fun of me all you want, but I’m not used to having a boy’s hand up my shirt and on my…you know whats.

  Do tell. On your whats, Pip?

  Fool, stop.

  Why are you freaking out about it though?

  I don’t know…guess I just feel a little awkward now that you’ve seen them and felt them.

  And their perfect…actually, I can’t wait to do it again. Want to meet me behind the back wall?

  You misspelled they’re…and no. Are you crazy? The library is full of people.

  All the more fun. No one will even see us.

  But once they read these notes, they’ll know. God, this is so embarrassing.

  You’re Pip and I’m Fool—no one knows who we are.

  Gloria is walking over—if she catches us, we’re in so much trouble. Fool, seriously, stop looking at me like that!

  Like what? Like your beautiful and perfect and I want to kiss you?

  You misspelled you’re. And yes, stop looking at me like you’ve seen my you know whats.

  I may become the world’s worst speller if it makes you blush like that…

  I’m blushing for other reasons and you know it.

  “We were so reckless,” I murmured, feeling my face flush.

  Jace let out a heavy sigh as he shut the book and moved it away. “No, we were in love.”

  “Same thing.” I met his stare and watched as his eyes lowered to my lips. My heart pounded so hard in my chest I wondered if it’d break through altogether.

  I hated how desperate I felt for his touch, how deep my hunger went. There was a void in my soul where Jace Walker had once been, and now that he was so close, it was as though my entire being beckoned for him to fill it.

  “I couldn’t come after you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

  He was so close, I could feel his hot minty breath on my face. A lump was stuck in my throat at what he was about to admit.

  “I would have if I could have…but I was in…” He hesitated, carefully capturing a stray piece of my hair between his fingers.

  I closed my eyes as he brought his forehead to mine. His scent surrounded me, tugging me deeper into the emptiness he’d left me with.

  “I would have started a fucking war for you, Faith. I would have burned down the church, given my soul to the devil just to break in and stop your wedding, but I was put in jail a few months before.” He let out a weighty sigh, and my heart felt the heaviness in his unstable timbre. Tears stung my eyes, battering them for what I owed him. “You were mine, Faith. I was yours and you just walked away. You married someone else.” His eyes closed tight, like those words had accidently escaped the locked confession box he’d buried in his heart.

  I wanted to speak, to say something, but he didn’t give me a chance.

  “Burn ’em for all I care. I’m done.” He shoved his chair back and sauntered off toward the back door, leaving me alone with our past. Just like last time, he’d discarded it like it was nothing.

  Seventeen

  “So, what’s going on with you two anyway?” Seth asked while he thumbed through a comic book. Based on how careful he was with the edges, it must have been a rare one. Seth kept all his comics in plastic covers, only taking them out every so often.

  I continued cleaning the grease off the motor I was working on. It wasn’t really needed, but the thing was so old, it would be a nice gift for Mr. Stein, who was getting too old to see under the hood well anymore.

  “I don’t know. I keep trying to be nice, but every time I’m around her, I just…” I tried to shut out how I’d left things the previous night in the library. She had been right there, our history laid in front of us, and it was getting all too easy to forget why I hated her.

  “You’re a dick?” Seth peeked up from his spot on the counter, across the garage. He was the only one allowed in here with me while I worked. So far, I hadn’t had to hire another mechanic or anyone who could help with custom work because regular oil changes and towing services kept us plenty busy, but one day…

  “Yeah,” I muttered, spraying the Simple Green along the caked-on grease around the gas cap and battery.

  “Well man, I’m tellin’ you all you have to do is kiss her. You aren’t really mad, you’re just pissed that…” He trailed off. “Well shit me and fuck you very much.”

  I looked at him from around the hood, trying to gauge what had caused him to use his ridiculous phrase.

  He had his comic pinned to his chest, his other hand on his cell phone, his eyes narrowed as he read something. I waited, the soft sound of the band Chevelle playing in the background, grounding me until my friend explained what was going on. My gut churned on instinct, already assuming it had to do with Faith. What if something happened?

  Suddenly I was reaching for an oil rag so I could grab my cell.

  “You were wondering what her situation is?” Seth yelled, clearing the music.

  I stalled, my hand on the rag. “Yeah…”

  “An interview with her just popped up on the internet. Gemma sent me the link.” His green eyes jumped up, boring into me, waiting for my reaction.

  I wouldn’t give him one. In fact, on pride and principle, I waited until I had finished the truck, washed up, and gotten home before I finally tugged out my cell and clicked on the link Seth had forwarded to me.

  Patting Trevor’s head, I watched as the interview started. Faith sat in a red chair across from some talk show host, her yellow skirt like melted butter over her knees. A black fitted shirt went up to her neck, the sleeves short, and there on her lips was that red stain.

  “I can’t thank you enough for coming in and talking with us today,” the host said, shaking Faith’s hand.

  Faith smiled in response and crossed one leg over the other, her long skirt covering her legs. She looked poised, ready, and completely comfortable being on television.

  “Thank you for having me.” She smiled.

  I got up, snagged a few chips, and began preparing Trevor’s dinner as they talked through a few more pleasantries. When I heard, “…your impending divorce from Bryan Vanderson,” my eyes darted back to the screen.

  “Yes, people have been speculating for a while now, but I’m here to put the rumors to rest. Bryan and I are currently going through a divorce.”

  The host winced, nodding her head. “I know this is such a private matter and a sensitive subject, but would you be willing to open up about the details surrounding the split? Our viewers are all so curious.”

  I shook my head in irritation. These guys were all out to make an easy buck.

  Faith gave her a tight smile. “Nothing to tell. Sometimes people just don’t click. We’re going our separate ways, an amicable separation.” She blinked twice in succession, causing her long lashes to flutter. She’s lying.

  Faith had an easy tell. It made playing any kind of game, especially poker, with her hilarious as hell. She couldn’t lie to save her life.

  So why was she lying about the divorce?

  I lowered the phone, knowing Faith wouldn’t give any more details, but suddenly I was filled with a surge of confusing emotions—elation that she was free, frustration that
she was still married at all, and curiosity about what on earth she wasn’t saying. Either way, I finally had an answer to what in the hell Faith was doing here. She was getting divorced, and soon she’d be a single woman—and I’d been nothing but a dick to her.

  Fuck.

  Eighteen

  I knew my time with my parents was running out. My father’s disgruntled throat-clearing and heavy shaking of his newspaper while eyeing me with pity had been a regular routine every morning since I arrived. My plans for my apartment were nearly in place; I just needed two more nights and the space I had gone to see would be mine. Two more nights of tolerating my father’s glare and passive aggressive comments about not needing to air my dirty laundry on live television.

  He didn’t like that interview at all, regardless of the fact that I’d lied through my teeth about the divorce, taking the higher road—much higher.

  “So, you plan on getting a job?” He stared me down with those horn-rimmed glasses.

  I smiled sweetly at him over a glass of orange juice. “Yes, eventually I do. I need to get settled into my apartment before I look for work.”

  He answered me with a firm clearing of his throat, which generally meant he was ready to give a lecture. Folding his newspaper in half, he said, “I’m sure I could find a place for you at the office.” Dad was working at the bank as a loan officer now, giving him just the smallest bit of seniority over the tellers.

  I stood, pushed my chair back, and smiled at my father’s sweet attempts. When I was a teenager, he had wanted me to try to get a scholarship to college, seeing as they couldn’t afford it. My grades were fine, but not stellar. I’d joined cheerleading but had missed two out of the four years of high school because of fees, and because I didn’t exactly get along with the girls on the squad. I had planned on going once I married Jace, which was never a fun conversation topic with my father. Now, as a twenty-five-year-old with no college education and no job prospects, I felt ashamed of his offered handout.

  “It’s okay, Dad. I’ve got some ideas.”

  “Just don’t keep hiding out,” he pleaded, sitting up tall.

  I stopped mid-step, confused. “What do you mean?”

  He let out a sigh. “I see you checking the curtains for the press and news folk…I don’t want you hiding out because of them, especially now that your interview has aired.”

  This part of my life wasn’t something my family was exactly familiar with. Being tucked away in Nashville had kept the press away from my small-town upbringing, but now that I was back, it was like a big spotlight hanging over us all the time. My throat was dry as I tried to clear it, wanting to convince my father I wasn’t hiding out, but the truth was, a part of me was hiding, too afraid of being chased or watched. Now that the interview had gone live, the talk shows and news outlets were going crazy.

  There would be more photographers than ever, no doubt, but I was banking on them focusing more on Bryan since I’d painted him as the jilted husband. I had seen a few gossip tabloids already printing that I had cheated, leaving him in the dust. A few others were commenting that he was licking his wounds and cradling his broken heart in the Cayman Islands.

  “I promise I won’t.” I bent low to kiss my dad’s cheek.

  I jogged upstairs and pulled on a pair of dark skinny jeans, paired them with a white t-shirt, and tugged on my thrift-shop-find cowboy boots. It felt good to get back to myself. As much as I adored all the expensive shoes, there was nothing like sliding on a pair of cowboy boots.

  My day was mostly spent with Gemma in the office, prepping, planning, and getting divorce papers ready to serve Bryan with. He’d mostly been quiet, giving me the space I’d asked for except for a few texts here and there. At night, it was usually the worst. He’d text me pictures of us, telling me he missed me. I never replied. After the interview aired, I assumed he’d call me or something, but it was as if he hadn’t seen it.

  I kept busy with Gemma for the most part, minus the few times she took calls and had to meet with a few other clients. I’d procure myself a notepad and begin doodling. For some reason, I found myself drawing the inside of a garage lobby.

  “You haven’t sketched like that in forever!” Gemma gasped, pulling the notebook from my fingers, tracing the shaded lines I’d created. “Faith, this is gorgeous…” Her blue eyes widened as they flitted from the straight lines and shaded shapes. I blushed and looked away. “Why his auto shop?” Gemma asked accusingly, pointing her manicured nail at the sketch.

  I drew in a sharp breath, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to try to lie to my best friend. She saw places in me I didn’t even see, so she’d definitely see this.

  “Because that was always the dream. Whatever it was we were going to do, we were supposed to do it together. I’d help him draw and inspire ideas, then we’d manage and create it together. I’m so proud of him for his shop…guess for a second I just wanted to know what it felt like to dream with him.”

  “Even if he never knows you’re dreaming?” Her eyes narrowed while her hold on the paper slackened.

  I shrugged. “Even then.”

  She shook her head like she didn’t understand it. I didn’t either, but some small part of me wanted to stay tied to that girl I used to be, the dreamer who chased goals and larger-than-life plans with the boy she loved.

  Gemma cleared her throat and shuffled a few papers in front of her. “We’re all set. They’re all filed. He’ll get served by Friday, but because of your segment, he could—”

  “I know.” I cut her off as nerves snaked their way under my skin.

  Gemma sat forward, her tight curls framing her face. “He could still spin this, delaying the divorce—”

  “He can’t.” I cut her off again with my nose flaring.

  Gemma set her papers down and leveled me with a stare. “Honey, he can, and he will. He has to protect his image. You know this.”

  I watched her grey-blue eyes move over me, watching…assessing. “I didn’t say anything bad about him. I think he’ll see it as an olive branch.”

  “Don’t get me started on that shitshow you put on. I can’t believe you did that.” She shook her head, perching on the edge of her desk.

  My face exploded with heat. I hated explaining my choices to her when, in my gut, I knew she was always right. Gemma was my role model. She didn’t know it, but I looked up to her in everything.

  “I know, but I just want to be done with it. I just want a divorce, and maybe now he’ll give me one.” I shrugged.

  Her eyes were furious, frozen orbs. “You’re my best friend and I love you. You know that.”

  I nodded, readying myself for whatever she was about to say.

  She waited a second, thinning her lips.

  “Just say it!” I yelled.

  “Grow the fuck up already!” she yelled back.

  I inhaled a sharp breath. “What?”

  She stood, towering over me. “I begged you not to marry him. I told you that you were still in love with Jace, that you hadn’t healed. I told you it was a mistake—but you ignored me!” She raised her voice, pacing like she was in the courtroom.

  I held my breath, feeling my chest shudder.

  “Bryan beats you and puts you in the hospital, you come back and are treated like shit by your ex, and you just keep lying down and taking it. Stand up for yourself. Stand up to Bryan. Don’t settle for a divorce. Sue him. Take everything from him. Make sure he knows he can’t mess with you!” She glared at me.

  I knew she loved me. I knew if our roles were reversed, I would be yelling this at her, but it didn’t soothe the sting.

  A sob worked its way out of my throat. “I can’t.”

  “Why?” Gemma begged.

  “Because I’m scared! Okay? I’m scared he never actually loved me. I’m scared he’ll win and I’ll be stuck with him while he hurts me. I’m weak, Gem. I don’t know how to be strong.”

  Silence echoed loudly between us as tears cascaded down my face. She c
rouched in front of me, carefully cradling my jaw. “Once upon a time, you were the strongest girl I ever knew. She’s in there still. He’s just been pouring dirt on your spirit, hoping to bury you for the last five years. We’ll get you back. I promise.”

  I launched forward into her arms and let her hug me. I let honest tears of regret and shame fall to her shoulder, let something inside me break open without any hope of being put back together again.

  Fat raindrops fell from the darkening sky. I winced as my wiper blades screeched and groaned, reminding me they were old. I was traveling back to my parents’ house, calling the day to a close when the sky opened up and dumped itself out onto the highway. The only good thing about this weather was that it kept the paparazzi at bay.

  “Shit.” I put my hazards on, slowly pulled to the shoulder, and turned my car off to sit and wait the storm out. Every so often there was an intense storm system that would sweep through the area, and the safe thing to do was to pull over. After about five minutes of solid downpour, it started to taper off.

  “Finally.” I breathed out and turned the key over to start the engine. Nothing happened. Panic swept through me as my face pinched in worry. “Come on.” I pushed the key over again and waited. The clicking sound of a dead battery met me and seemed to echo in the emptiness of the car. Groaning, I leaned forward and rested my forehead against the steering wheel. I had no idea what was wrong with my car, seeing as Jace had looked everything over when he fixed the clutch.

  Pulling my cell free, I searched for the number to a tow company, avoiding Jace’s auto shop. I was in Collierville city limits and his shop would be the closest one, but I didn’t want to see him, not after the night in the library.

  Placing the call and getting an estimated wait time of about thirty minutes, I decided to read over the paperwork Gemma had given me for the divorce. My heart still beat rapidly every time I considered what I was about to do, when I considered how Bryan would react. Fear snuck inside and threatened to crack me open when I imagined his impending outburst. A sharp knock on my window caused me to drop the papers and jump.