by Magan Vernon
No one sitting around me had a dry eye as everyone stared up at Eddie, his voice carrying through the cemetery as he stood next to Noah.
Every single emotion ran through me, and I didn’t know which one to feel. I was supposed to be mourning my father, not thinking about how good my former best friend looked or how mad I was that he left me and never looked back.
As the funeral ended and I walked with my mom to the car, my heel caught in an armadillo hole, and I went tumbling face first toward the grass.
I thought I was going to die. Well, die or eat a ton of grass.
Instead, arms wrapped around my waist and stopped my face mere inches from the ground. I stumbled to a standing position with my cheap heel broken off in the grass.
“Are you okay?” a sweet Southern twang bellowed.
I turned slowly to Eddie, who still had his arm around my waist.
I didn’t know what he wanted me to say to him. Did he want me to hug him? To say how much I’d missed him, and that I hadn’t been able to fully commit to another guy because I’d been in love with him forever?
Nope, I didn’t do any of those. Instead, I pulled my heel out of the ground and scowled. “You ruined my shoe.”
Then before he could get another word in edgewise, I turned and hobbled on my uneven feet to my mom’s car.
Chapter 2
After the cemetery, I didn’t hear from Eddie. My phone number hadn’t changed since high school, but if he hadn’t called it in ten years, then there was no way he was going to call after I yelled at him about my shoe.
Mom was already back at school teaching, and Clay started working at the Q Ranch.
I could have sat alone in my parents’ large house and tried to work, but something was utterly creepy about it. Plus, I wasn’t a suspense writer, so I packed up my laptop and headed for downtown.
Okay, so really, I wasn’t much of a writer at all. I had a few romance books that I self-published, but truth be told, they all kind of sucked.
I’d started writing my own screenplays when the only parts I landed in college were ones that didn’t have lines. I thought maybe I could write my own stuff and actually get a leading role, but I wasn’t much of a screenwriter either, and abandoned everything I started. After four years at Baylor and a degree in theater, I couldn’t get a job, so I went to cosmetology school and moved in with Drake. We’d been together almost four years, so it seemed like that was the next step. That, and I didn’t have money to move anywhere else unless I wanted to live with my parents and their new baby.
After a year of trying to do hair, I quit that as well when Drake got a job offer in Austin. I ended up bouncing from job to job for the next few years while he worked long hours and I entertained myself with cheap books. After about the fiftieth stepbrother book I read, I decided to dust off my old screenwriting and self-publish my own books.
I made back the money back spent on a cover, editing, and promo for my first book within the first month. The second through fifth books still had yet to make enough to cover their covers. Reviewers said my plots were “overdone” and “unrealistic.” I thought they were just a bunch of trolls who made me drink. But deep down in my writer’s gut, I knew they were right.
I needed to make money if I wanted to stay in Friendship or really stay anywhere. I had no idea of anything else I would do with my life. I genuinely enjoyed writing; I just kind of hated the whole publishing and having the book tank thing. Most authors I followed on social media had some local coffee shop where they hung out and wrote with their fancy coffee. Friendship didn’t have a fancy coffee shop, so I thought a trip to the Forever Sweet Bakery, sitting all day in the corner with my coffee and cupcakes, would maybe bring some better inspiration for my books or at least a good picture.
“Is there a Wi-Fi password?” I asked the Arabic princess behind the counter. I’d never seen her before in Friendship, and if I had, she’d probably been under one of the local cowboys. She was the most beautiful woman in the world and now had me thinking that maybe I couldn’t commit to Drake because I wasn’t interested. Maybe I was more into staring at hot girls like her.
“Um, B, what’s the Wi-Fi password?” she asked, looking over her shoulder as a tall, bearded guy walking through the back door.
Okay. I definitely wasn’t gay because this guy made my panties turn into a puddle. Maybe I could use them as inspiration for a book. I could write about a sexy couple who owned a bakery. Maybe they’re actually in witness protection and only in a small town to hide from the mafia. I shook that thought out of my head. That was the stupidest idea I’d ever had.
The guy walked to the counter and gave me a panty-dropping smile. “Yeah, it’s Forever Sweet as the password and network.”
“Thank you. I’ll just be in the corner over there working. Kick me out if you need the space,” I said.
“What are you working on?” the girl asked.
“Oh. Writing. I’m an author. Well, sort of.”
“Like Fifty Shades?” the guy asked.
I rolled my eyes. Every time I told someone I was an author, that was the first thing they asked. “Um, not exactly.”
“Brad, you can’t just ask someone if they write that just because they’re a woman,” the girl hissed.
“What? It was a legitimate question. Maybe she wants to use me as her muse.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“On that note … I’m going to take my coffee,” I said, grabbing the steaming mug and walking toward the corner table.
The couple continued their bickering, which made me feel like I was in the middle of some sort of foreplay. Seriously, they oozed sex, and I thought they were going to rip their clothes off and start banging on the counter at any moment.
Opening my laptop, I decided maybe that was a way to start a book that wouldn’t make people hate it.
You have some frosting on your tits, Miranda. Here, let me lick it off.
I found myself blushing, even though nobody was reading what I wrote. I’d never actually written a sex scene in public.
The door dinged overhead, and I didn’t look up. If I was going to write this book, I had to forget about everything else around me. The more books I could get out there, the more money I could make. The more money I made, the sooner I’d be out of Friendship again and on my own.
I was deep in a scene with the billionaire cupcake franchise owner going down on the bakery clerk behind the front counter, when a fresh cup of coffee was placed next to my computer.
Glancing up, I met the dark brown eyes of the one who got away: Eddie.
“Looked like you might need a second cup the way you were working. The gal at the counter told me you were Friendship’s resident author,” he said, taking the seat across from me.
I tried to keep my eyes on the Word document instead of staring at Eddie with that damn dimpled smile. “Yup. You’re not the only famous person in Friendship anymore. I even got nominated for an award once. Okay, it was a blog that nominated me for Biggest Cliffhanger, but it still counts!”
Dammit, I had to stop babbling. It was what I did when I was nervous, but this was Eddie. My best friend, Eddie. Or at least he was that best friend. Was someone even still your best friend if you hadn’t talked to him in ten years?
“It’s good to see you’re doing well. I didn’t even know you were into writing, but I guess I should have figured that out from all those years working on the school plays.”
I raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at him. “You mean when I was stuck in roles as a dead woman in Our Town or maybe as a townsperson in Baylor’s production of The Crucible? That was one I added to my resume.”
Eddie shook his head. “Same old sarcastic Brooke, I see.”
“Yeah, I guess I haven’t changed much in ten years but you … I mean … look at you.” I gestured my hand, waving it in the air between us.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, a haircut and a few days in the gym can do wonders for a guy. M
aybe if I would have known that sooner, I wouldn’t have gotten my ass kicked so much in high school.”
“Hold still,” I hissed, placing the cotton swab on Eddie’s bloody eyebrow.
“Ow. Do you even know what the hell you’re doing?” He winced.
“I saw it on TV. This is what they did before stitching people up. You know you should probably go to the hospital and have this looked at,” I said, wiping the blood off the side of his face.
Eddie had a thing for hopeless causes, and volunteering to help Queen Bee Harper Ervin with her vocals for the spring musical didn’t sit well with her meathead boyfriend, Eric Conway.
“You know I’m not going to do that. If my dad or Gramps found out I got my ass handed to me, I’d never hear the end of it,” Eddie said through gritted teeth.
I had just started waitressing at Conti’s, the local and only Italian restaurant in Friendship, when Eddie stumbled up to the back door. I had no choice but to bring him to the one-stall bathroom and clean up Eric’s handiwork.
“Well, once it’s all cleaned up, it won’t look too bad, but you’ll probably have one hell of a bruise. How are you going to explain that and the blood on your clothes?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Eddie shrugged. “Tell them I fell off the four-wheeler when you and I were riding. You’ll back me up, right?”
I sighed. Eddie could ask me to do anything, and most likely, I’d say yes. He was my best friend, at least that was what I always thought my feelings were for him. When he started talking to Harper in homeroom, I’d gotten my first taste of jealousy.
“Of course, I will, Ed.”
The old wooden door banged against the hinges. “Ey, Brooke, you and Eddie aren’t in there screwing, are ya? There’s only so long I can cover for you before my pops starts asking questions,” Nicky Conti’s voice boomed.
“I’ll be right out!” I yelled.
Eddie stood up, dusting off his jeans. “Thanks, Brooke. You’re always here for me.”
I knocked myself out of my daydream and shut my laptop. I couldn’t sit and go down memory lane with Eddie. I thought I was in love with the boy next door, and when he left for Nashville, I always thought he’d come back for me. Ten years later and it was more than too late.
“I’ve gotta go. I told Clay I’d be home for dinner and I have to call my boyfriend,” I muttered, stuffing my computer in my bag. Both facts were a lie, but it was the only excuse I could come up with on short notice. I didn’t even know if Drake was considered my boyfriend anymore after the way I left, and with the way my heart skipped a beat just from looking at Eddie, I knew that my feelings weren’t the same for Drake anymore.
“A boyfriend?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, kind of. I mean, I left him in Austin, and he kind of proposed and I didn’t answer, then ran to my parents, but why the hell am I telling you all of this? I need to go. I’m late for whatever I said I was doing.”
“Brooke.” Eddie grabbed my arm, his words soft with his warm fingers sliding across my bare skin.
I looked up to meet his dark brown eyes and couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, so I just stared.
“I hope you aren’t just using that as an excuse to avoid me. The boyfriend, or Clay, or whatever. I’m going to be around for a while, and I’d like to see you, even if it’s just meeting here for coffee while you write. I’ve missed my best friend.”
“I have to go,” I repeated, because I wasn’t sure what the hell else I was supposed to say.
The guy who said he was always going to be there for me wasn’t there for the last ten years, yet I still couldn’t stop thinking about him. If I gave in and let him come back into my life, what the hell would I do when he left again?
Chapter 3
Clay plopped down on the chair across from mine and scooped a big helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Christy Quinn may be the biggest bitch I’ve ever met. That girl tried to tell me how to do my job. Me. The guy who’s been around horses and cattle all his life living next to the TL ranch. That girl comes home from college, and suddenly, she’s the goddamn princess of the ranch.”
“Clay, language!” Mom chided.
“Like Violet hasn’t heard worse at school,” Clay said, rolling his eyes.
“He’s right,” Violet said between big bites of her roll.
The church ladies loaded us up with enough food to last a month. That was what Southern women did after a death in the family, I guess. We were going to be eating potatoes, bread, and casseroles forever.
Mom sighed, rubbing the space between her eyes. I always thought she was Wonder Woman, but over the last few days, I really started to see her age. Her circles were darker, her hair was unkempt, and she was just sluggish all around.
You know Dad would have probably just smacked you,” I said, looking at Clay as I twisted some tuna noodle casserole around on my fork.
Clay nodded, a small smile crossing his face. “Yeah, Dad wasn’t one to take my shit.”
Mom’s fork clanked against her plate, and she tilted her head, giving Clay a look that said ‘seriously’?
“I miss Dad,” Violet said in a voice barely above a whisper.
We all stayed silent for a moment, the only sound being our forks clanking against the plates. Finally, I folded my napkin on my lap and looked at my little sister. When I was away at college, my parents informed me that Mom was pregnant. I thought life was difficult when Clay came into my life when I was six, so a new kid at twenty was even worse. People constantly thought the little doe-eyed brunette was my daughter, and she really could have been. I only really ever saw Violet on holidays or during FaceTime calls, and I always felt like I owed her a big sister role but never really fulfilled it.
“We all do, Vi, but you know he still lives in our memories. Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean we’re going to stop talking about him or remembering him. We may sometimes cry when we do, but other times, we’ll laugh, and we’ll smile. That’s what you do when you miss someone you love,” I said, smiling at my little sister.
“Like you and Eddie?” Violet asked, looking at me with a serious face.
Mom choked on her water and coughed, clasping her hand to her chest to clear her throat. Clay smiled broadly, shaking his head.
“Eddie and I were best friends, so yes, I missed him when he was gone,” I said, grasping for the right thing to say.
“Mom and Lydia always said you two were destined to be together, and you were sad when he left. Then you found that boyfriend who smelled like oregano, so I thought you stopped missing Eddie.”
Clay couldn’t hold back his laughter as he literally tossed his head back, laughing so hard he was snorting.
I glared at Clay then looked back at Violet. “Just because you meet someone new doesn’t mean that other person ever leaves your heart.”
“Or your pants? Clay said you have your panties in a bunch because of him,” Violet added.
Before I could respond, or beat my brother, Mom put her glass down. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Violet, how was school today?”
With that, the conversation veered away from Eddie and me, though I knew this wouldn’t be the last time I’d hear about him.
***
The thought of sleeping in my old bedroom was weird at first, but after sinking into the mattress of the old four-post bed, it was like I never left home.
In ten years, I would have thought my parents would have changed the décor of lime green walls and framed black and white old movie posters, but it was exactly as I’d left it. Right down to the old white bed and aqua comforter.
“Mom says we have to keep the door open when you’re in my room now,” I said, sitting down on the pink beanbag across from Eddie.
“Why?” he asked, not looking up from where he had our chess game set up on the hardwood floor between the two bean bags.
I shrugged. “I don’t know; something about us getting older and hormonal or someth
ing.”
Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “Like if we close the door then we’re going to have sex? Ew!”
Both of our parents had just had the birds and the bees talk with us, and at eight years old, I was pretty mortified. I couldn’t think about doing THAT ever. Let alone with Eddie.
I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not that bad. Just because your parents let you wear deodorant now doesn’t mean you don’t still smell like cow shit.”
“Sit!” Clay’s toddler voice echoed from the doorway.
I turned around to see my two-year-old brother clad in nothing but rain boots and a diaper.
“Mom! Clay’s bothering me!” I whined. Why did my parents need another kid, anyway? This was why I needed to have the door shut.
Clay toddled into the room and put his hands on the chess pieces, picking up one of the rooks. “Oh, pretty.”
“Mom!”
Mom walked into the room with her hands on her hips. “Clay? You were just behind me. Come on, your sister and Eddie are playing. Maybe when you’re older, they’ll teach you how to play chess.”
She picked up the pouting Clay and walked out of the room, pushing the door open an extra inch.
I looked over at Eddie, who was smiling broadly.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
Punching his shoulder, I asked again. “What? Tell me!”
“Your little brother actually made a better move than you did.”