by HJ Bellus
Missing the gym and my brothers is going to be a damn struggle. I had to pull out of two fights for this trip. I probably could’ve made the second one, but I never want to lose control like I did the other night. I have no idea where my head will be after all of this goes down. Not going to risk another chance to look like an ass.
Mack continues to wiggle the fish in my face before she brushes it along my lips. I continue focusing on the road. The highway is barren. We haven’t passed a car in hours.
“C’mon, big tough guy. One little fish won’t kill you.” She taps the fish on my chin.
When she’s about to give up hope of me taking the bait, I snatch it from her fingers. Mack squeals, but before she can leap back, I tug on her finger with my teeth.
“Shit, you scared the hell out of me.”
I suck hard on her finger before letting it go. “Those little bastards are tasty.”
She unbuckles and scoots to the center seat. This isn’t the first time she’s tried it. Made her keep her sweet little ass buckled. I’ll let it slide this time considering I just turned off on a back road.
“You’ve never had Swedish Fish?” She rests her chin on my shoulder.
“Nope, never been much of a sweets guy until the first taste of your pussy.”
“Trick, gross!”
Goddamn, it’s so easy to get her ass riled up. “Ain’t nothing nasty about your fine…”
She slaps a hand over my mouth. Like a child, I lick it. We share a long laugh. The miles tick by with the woman I love at my side. She may have the power to get me through this. I can’t fucking wait to see the look in her eyes when she experiences Small Town, USA.
“Feed me another fish, woman.”
“Can’t, bad boy fighter. Remember, you’re on a diet.” Mack brushes her cheek against my shoulder.
I pull my truck over to the side of the road and slam it in park. I turn to Mack, boring my stare in her direction. She freezes, trying to figure out what in the hell is going on. I advance before she has a chance to fight back. My body covers hers. I reach down to the floorboard, snagging the bag of Swedish Fish, pulling it between us.
“Tri—”
I cut her off with a seal of my lips. Mack doesn’t protest. We find our tempo. When my cock karate kicks against my zipper, I go for the Swedish Fish, snagging one out of the bag and dragging it to Mack’s lips.
They part, and her tongue darts out swirling around the red jelly candy like she’s done to my cock a handful of times.
“Fuck,” I growl.
Mack snags the candy from my hand in a movement I never saw coming. Seems to be the theme with her. She’s knocking me off guard every turn of the corner. The fish is now pressed against my lips. I catch it between my teeth and wag my eyebrows. I dive back down to her mouth. The fish floats between our lips until it’s impossible to tell who it belongs to.
We pass it back and forth as our tongues fuck one another. Our hands go wild tugging and tearing at each other’s clothing. Mack flips open the fly of my zipper, frantically grasping to get my cock free. The moment she gets the job done, blue and red lights serenade us.
“Fuck.” I lick my bottom lip, lapping up the sweet syrup of the candy.
I pop up, tucking my raging dick back into my jeans. Mack mirrors all of my movements, righting her clothes. We do our best, but there’s no mistaking our mussed-up hair and hooded eyes.
“Any reason you’re off the side of County Road Twelve-Hundred?” The officer adjusts his badge.
It takes about five seconds for the realization to set in. I recognize him before he does me.
“Trenton?”
“P.J.!” I twist in my seat. “How the hell are you?”
He takes a step back. “Shit, can’t believe this. Saw out-of-state plates on the side of the road and figured it was nothing but trouble. Guess I was right.”
His hearty chuckle bounces off the river and echoes around the mountains framing the highway.
“No trouble.” I glance over to Mack. “Just coming home and showing my girl all the attractions.”
He glances around. Yeah, we’re in a fucking turnout for semi-trucks to pull over. There’s nothing spectacular about this site. I’m shocked when he laughs and smiles back at me. P.J. taps the side of my truck and tips his hat.
“Good to see you back here.”
“Thanks.” I shift in my seat since my balls are currently being suffocated by my zipper.
“You know your hometown cheers your ugly ass on every time you’re on ESPN.”
I nod, having no words to respond. It’s a dagger straight to my ego and soul. He may not know it, but he just Robin Hooded it.
“Your momma always has her famous rhubarb pie at every fight down at Dino’s dinner. The whole damn town looks forward to it.”
Fuck, it’s more like a machete to my beating heart. I continue to nod, and it’s not lost on me Mack hears all of this.
“That’s great to hear. Anyway, we are about to get back on the road. See you around, man.”
I form it as a statement and not a question in hopes of avoiding a ticket. P.J. Simpson and I go all the way back to kindergarten. He was the kid who cried for his momma and pissed his pants on a daily basis.
“Catch a pint at the Rusty Raccoon before I leave?”
“Hell yes,” P.J. responds.
“Sounds good, man.”
He taps the side of my truck one more time for good measure before retreating to his truck.
“Trick,” Mack hisses. “That was the Sheriff.”
Her face has gone pale as a stark white sheet.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“You seriously know the Sheriff?”
I reach over, grabbing her leg and tugging her toward me. “Baby, I don’t only know the Sheriff, but the mayor, county coroner, all the elementary teachers, county clerks, commissioners, and bartenders in town. It’s how it all works.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re so full of shit.”
“In time, in time, baby. You’ll see.” Mack cuddles up to my side as I pull out onto the county road. “You can’t shit around here without your neighbors smelling it.”
By the time our ranch brand comes in sight, Mack is snoring on my shoulder. She passed out as soon as we hit the bumpy dirt road. It lulled her right to sleep. The headlights bounce and reflect off the A-framed, blood-red barn, then the white farmhouse comes into view. My blood pressure spikes to a high.
Mack stirs at my side. I grip the steering wheel with my sweaty palms. A sight lies before me that I was sure I’d never view again. Childhood memories flashback on a video reel. So many amazing memories up until the point I told my dad I wanted something more than the ranch and farm. After that day everything went downhill. I was lost and forgotten.
“Are we here?” A drowsy Mack sits up, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
“Yeah, baby.” I put the truck in park. Mom steps out of the covered porch, shielding her eyes with Dingo at her side. The sight of the dingo-blue heeler cross puts a shit-eating grin on my face.
Mom doesn’t wait at the steps. She races down to the truck. I don’t have time to open the door before it’s ripped open and she’s bounding in. She lands in my lap, hugging the hell out of me. Her tears tumble to my chest.
“My baby boy.” She leans back, the cab light illuminating the inside of my truck. “Your face. My, Trenton, get your ass in the house. I have some frozen peas.”
Before I can protest, Mom has Mack out of the truck and is leading her inside. I shake my head. Some things never change. I was always a momma’s boy. I lean on the bed of my truck before grabbing the bags out of the back. I scan the faint outlines of the mountains that border our property. The barn, the silhouettes of the herd, and the damn corrals. I take it all in before heading into the house.
Mom has a hot cup of tea placed in front of Mack. I clutch Mack’s shoulder, knowing she has to be in shock at the brazenness of Momma Jameson. Friends always use the
front door. And in country terms, that means the back door. It so happens our back door leads right into the kitchen. Mack had no idea she was led right into Momma’s temple. Nobody leaves Mrs. Jameson’s table in less than ten minutes.
Knowing this, I nudge Mack up to a standing position and plop back down. Doesn’t feel too great considering my ass has been sitting for hours on end. It’s when I tug Mack back onto my lap that it all disappears.
“I can’t believe it.” Mom lurches over to me, squeezing my cheeks, ignoring the fact Mack is on my lap. “I’ve missed you, son.”
When my momma kisses my forehead, I know everything somehow will be okay at the end of it. Doesn’t mean it won’t be painful, or at the least, miserable as hell. Her reaction to me returning home makes the trip worth it.
“ALICE!”
The roar startles Mack.
“Get in here.”
A loud crash echoes throughout the house. Mom startles for the briefest of seconds and then darts away. I bolt up, righting Mack on her feet before following her.
Chapter 24
Trick
That voice. The harshness rounding the edges and the hatred lacing each syllable make a chilled sweat form on the base of my neck.
“Jesus,” I whisper.
A shell of a man lies on the floor. Dad tries to push himself up only to fall right back down. I remain at the door, taking in his state. Death is knocking on the door; there’s no doubt about that.
“Here, honey.” Mom leans down, trying to help Dad back up into bed.
I can’t stand to watch it any longer. I stride in.
“Watch out, Mom.” I scoot her to the side.
Everything about my dad may have changed. I don’t recognize the man lying before me. He’s skin and bones. Black half-moons frame both of his sunken eyes. The one familiar thing is the hatred he holds for me in his heart. It’s evident in his glare.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” he hisses out.
I ignore him, bending over and scooping him up in my arms. My muscles don’t strain. I’d bet he’s not even ninety pounds soaking wet. I walk around the bottom of the bed. I’m not sure how he rolled off the opposite side. I can’t look at him.
“Put me the fuck down, Trenton.” He does his best to ball up his fist and punch my chest.
I snap. This stubborn, bullheaded son of a bitch won’t even take help on his deathbed. Can’t even acknowledge the fact his only child is home. It becomes crystal clear he’ll never forgive. Bridges will never be mended. Doesn’t matter at all to me anymore. Boss was right. My mom needs me.
I catch the sight of Mack out of the corner of my eye as I place my dad on the bed. Ignoring his groans and grunts, I pull up his blankets.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me again, Trenton.” A serenade of coughing attacks him.
I wait until the room falls silent. I straighten my spine and jerk my chin, steadying myself to do something I’ve never done, and that’s to stick up for myself to this man. It’s been years in the making.
“Seems you don’t have a choice, Dad.” I drag out the last word for emphasis. “Mom needs help, and that’s why I’m here. Followed your footsteps for a bit by turning my back on the ones I love. Took my family back at Diablo’s Throne to make me realize real men don’t do that shit. Spit all your hatred my way if it makes you feel better, Dad. It’s not going to make me leave.”
“I don’t have a son,” he responds, rolling over on his side, giving me his back.
I round the bed, getting right in his face. “You do, and he’s standing right here in front of you, stronger than you. Swallow that pill and your pride while you’re at it, Dad. I’m a world champion MMA fighter and damn proud of it, no matter how hard you want to knock it. Give me all you got, old man. You’re not running me off.”
I rise to my feet. When I turn, the looks on Mom’s and Mack’s faces aren’t ones I want to remember. That needed to happen; it was long overdue. Wasn’t pretty, but sure in the hell made me feel lighter.
I keep my back to my dad. “Mom, don’t try to lift him again. That’s my job from now on. I don’t give two shits if he can’t handle it.”
I’m halfway down the hall when Mom calls out my name. I turn around, tense, knowing she’s about to lay into me. It’s always been her job to keep the peace. It’s worn on her. She looks years beyond her age.
“What, Mom?” I wince at the harshness of the question. “Sorry, I’m exhausted.”
She doesn’t say a word when she crashes into my chest, wrapping her arms around my middle. Her tiny frame trembles. I lean down and kiss the top of her head. Sobs wrack her body. All I can do is hold her while she gets it out.
“Thank you, Trenton,” she finally manages to get out. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.” I rock her side to side. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I need to go check the barn. Got two cows in there ready to calve.”
I lean back staring down at her. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, it’s just two tonight.” She shrugs.
“Get your ass ready for bed. I’ll take care of it.”
She points a finger straight at my face. “You may be a grown man now, Trenton William Jameson, but that language needs cleaning up.”
The corner of my lips turns up in a crooked smile. “Good luck with that. Now go get ready for bed and show Mack where we’re sleeping.”
I don’t give her time to protest, striding right past her and out into the barn. It’s been years since I’ve made this walk in the dark. The divot right before the gate is still there, the ditch next to the old oak tree also there. I manage to maneuver my way around it all without eating shit. When I fling open the door to the barn, I’m stunned. I wince at the wreckage. How long has my mom been trying to keep the operation going and tending to my dad?
“That selfish bastard,” I growl, startling a calico barn cat.
He has more money than he’ll ever spend, yet he’s so damn stubborn he’s putting my mother through this. Selfish pride has not only ruined our family but is taking down my mother. He’s killing her right with him as he dies. Wouldn’t surprise me if that was his end goal.
I grab the pitchfork and begin mucking out stalls. The silver lining lies in the fact I’m getting my cardio done. A few of the momma cows rustle around in their stalls. One of them shows signs of afterbirth with her tail hitched up in the air. It’ll be anytime soon. I’m a bit rusty with this shit, so I hope like hell she has the calf on her own. The majority of them do. However, it seems the ones that need help always do in the middle of the night.
After all the empty stalls are mucked out and the fresh straw bed has been laid, I begin stacking hay. How in the hell my mom was getting hay down from the loft is lost on me. Hell, it takes all my strength to get it done. I create a high stack so it will be easily accessible from the ground level.
I find Mack and Mom with their heads in a photo album. Mack has her mouth covered with giggles escaping behind it.
“He was so proud of his wiener,” Mom adds.
This whole scene makes me smile. I could act put off and give Mom hell for embarrassing the hell out of me, but I won’t because goddamn it feels good to walk in on this. Didn’t realize how much I missed ranch work until my hands got dirty. I lean on the wall, crossing my arms, watching the two of them. It’s so easy to imagine Mack and I growing old in this house, raising our children the right way, and making memories along the way.
“You’re back.” Mom stands up.
“The barn was a mess, Mom. Why haven’t you hired help?”
She stares me down as if I’m an idiot. We both know the answer. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Really?” I cock up an eyebrow.
She slumps her shoulders, and that’s when I see the bruise that wraps around her wrist peek out from her sweater. I take a step forward and grab her hand, tugging back her sleeve.
“What’s this?”
She tugs back,
but I don’t let her go. I push on staring her down. “Mom.”
“I fell.”
“Where?”
“Dammit, Trenton, the hayloft. It was once and a simple sprain.”
I grit my teeth. “Jesus, Mom, so you’re telling me I could squeeze your wrist, and you wouldn’t wince?”
She shakes her head.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
This time she manages to jerk back. “No, I have to stay here with your dad. I’m fine. It will heal.”
I open my mouth to tear into her. My protectiveness over her begins to rage.
Mack flanks my side, wincing herself when she sees Mom’s wrist. And to think she tried to pick up my dad earlier. Guilt floods in, washing over this sensitive situation.
“Take her to town. I’ll sit with your dad,” Mack says with confidence in her voice.
Mom protests the whole way. Somehow Mack and I manage to get her out and in the truck. Mack waves from the porch as I back out.
“I like her,” Mom offers.
“I love her.”
“She’s the one.”
I glance over to my mom with a questioning stare. “How would you know?”
I bang the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. “Shit, didn’t mean it like that. It came out wrong.”
“Quit being so damn sensitive, Trenton. After all, you are Trick the Country Boy Brawler.”
“So how do you know she’s the one for me?”
She braces her wrist in her lap and twists to face me. “Because she looks at you like I do your dad and you the same to her. It’s faded a bit over the years, but we were that in love at one point as well.”
***
Mack’s curled up in a chair in the corner of Mom and Dad’s room with her nose in a book and Great-Grandma Jones’ quilt over her lap. Must be a damn good book considering she hasn’t glanced up or even got up out of the chair. Mom and I could’ve woke up the dead from the clatter we made getting back into the house.
I clear my throat, and she still doesn’t look up. I make my way over to her, dropping to my knees and clearing my throat one more time. This does the trick.