Stupid Girl

by Cindy Miles

  A mixture of heat and numbness sifted through my skin. I couldn’t feel my lips. Nausea pitted my stomach. I looked at him; at his battered face. “You don’t mean that.” My voice sounded weak, and I hated it.

  “I mean every fuckin’ word of it.”

  A myriad of emotions clamped around my throat and squeezed. I felt tears, somewhere deep inside my ducts, but they wouldn’t flow. My eyes stayed dry as a bone. I didn’t know what was going on; what had happened. Something epic had happened, but Brax wasn’t telling me. Whatever it was, it’d won. Had beaten him.

  I stepped closer to him, and he didn’t move. I looked up, into those ghostly eyes, watched the rain drip down his soakened curls and trail down his face, and saw nothing but bitter cold as he stared back. Yet anger—raw and primal—rolled off of him in waves, a contradiction to his hurtful words. Either way, he’d made a decision. And I wasn’t about to beg. For anything or anyone. I steadied my breath, tried to keep from showing him how my heart had just been torn in half. I managed to hold my composure, and forced my eyes to remain locked onto his. I studied him for a moment, making sure he saw me, too. Something flashed in his eyes. Regret? I guess I’d never know.

  “I’ll leave your bag outside.” With one, long final stare, I turned and started across the lawn. I didn’t look back to see if he followed; I couldn’t. I’d shown weakness once in my life. To hell with that. I’d never show it again.

  By the time I made it back to Oliver Hall, I jogged up to the entrance, slid my key card and hurried inside. I took the steps two at a time, making my lungs burn just a little more, before I reached my room. Inside, I grabbed his duffle bag, ran back downstairs, and to the curious eyes of two girls seated on the sofa, I opened the main door and set Brax’s bag on the walkway. I didn’t look to see if he was waiting. Instead I turned and jogged back to my room. Inside, I peeled out of my wet clothes, stepped into the shower, and beneath the searing water I let the suffocating pain come. I bent over at the waist and sobbed until my throat was hoarse and the water ran cold, and I forced my emotions to run just as icy. It didn’t work, really. The moment I stepped out, wrapped up in a towel, and faced my dorm room alone, grief swamped me. Shame. More humiliation. And the ultimate sting of rejection. It hurt. It just goddamned hurt. I’d cried so much in the shower, I had nothing left. Only a hollow pain in my stomach that wouldn’t ease up.

  My phone rang then, and I hurried to it. My heart sank as I answered it. “Hey, Mom.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  The hole in my stomach felt jagged, ripped. I wanted to cry, just at the sound of her voice. But I had no tears. I inhaled. I wanted the comfort of my family, but I couldn’t talk about it over the phone. “Can I come home?”

  “Baby, what’s the matter?” she asked, her voice panicked. Then, she sighed. Almost as if she’d guessed. “Never ask such a silly question. Of course come home. I’ll be waiting on you.”

  I wasn’t usually a runner; not the kind that hid from problems. But this … unexpected whirlwind of emotions with Brax? Just thinking his name made me hurt. But staying clammed up in the room we’d just made perfect love in hours before? I couldn’t do it. Quickly, I dressed in my old favorite jeans, tank and a button up. I pulled on my boots, plopped my hat on my head, stuffed a few things to wear in my pack, grabbed my scope bag and headed out. At the door I stopped, scrawled a note to Tessa and left it on her bed. I knew my roommate was going to react badly to news of me and Brax and I’d rather her hear it from me in person.

  When I stepped out of the entrance, I noticed Brax’s bag was gone, and the pain bit a little deeper. I made it to my truck, tossed my stuff inside, and thanked God my tires were still intact.

  My thoughts scrambled as I sat in the parking lot, gripping the wheel as if my life depended on it. Home would ease this pain, wouldn’t it? Jesus, it hurt. After so long I’d finally let someone in. Gave Brax not only my trust, but my heart. Whether he knew it or not, I was in love with him. Was I truly nothing more than a glorified chase and fuck? Really? Had Brax the capability to say such endearing things to me, to look at me with such wonderment, and to react to my touch with such ferocity then turn so cold, callous, with no regards to my feelings? After the secrets we’d shared; after he’d called me his? How could he have changed his mind so fast? I turned the engine over, threw the gear into drive, and left Winston behind.

  By the time I hit the city limits, my tear duct system had replenished.

  I cried all the way to Jasper.

  When my headlights fell on the familiar graveled driveway of our small ranch, my gut twisted inside, and a homesickness I hadn’t been aware of made my heart even heavier. It hadn’t been two full months away from home, yet it felt like years. The yard lamp cast a faded yellow arc over the porch swing, where Mom sat, swaying gently back and forth. She rose and started down the steps as I climbed out of the cab, where she met and enveloped me in a tight embrace. She smelled of her favorite honeysuckle shampoo and leather, and the familiarity of it washed over me. I squeezed her tightly, and my tears fell on her shoulder.

  “Oh, baby,” she said into my hair. Grasping my face in her hands, she studied me with concern edging her soft brown eyes. “What in the world’s happened?”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s a long story.”

  A wise smile touched her mouth. “I’ve already got a pot of coffee on and ready, darlin’.”

  Shouldering my scope bag, Mom picked up my pack and we set them inside the front door. Grabbing two cups, she made our coffee, blond and sweet, she’d always called it, and we sat together on the porch swing. At two thirty in the morning, only the creak of the chain, the wind rustling through the cottonwood trees and the chirping of crickets broke the air as I told her all about Brax Jenkins. Sadie Beaumont listened quietly, with no interruptions; a solid presence, a strong shoulder. God, how I needed all of it, and it released a flood of emotions I’d been fighting so hard to keep penned up.

  “I opened up to him,” I said, so quiet that it barely rose above a whisper. With the toe of my boot I gave the swing a push. “He was so fiercely protective, so furious toward Kelsy.” I shook my head and looked at my mother. “His eyes hold everything, Mom. When he looks at me, it’s like he sees way deeper than just the surface. It’s like he sees what I’m really thinking, really feeling. It doesn’t make sense inside of my head, or my heart, for him to break it off like this.” I stared between my feet, at the worn wooden planks of the porch. “Especially after last night. I told him everything about what happened that summer with Kelsy. And then we,” I stopped my words, and tears filled my eyes again. I pushed my hands against my heart. Briefly, I remembered the ring that no longer sat on my finger. “You know it actually hurts here, Mom. Like real pain.” I squeezed my eyes tight, pushing out the tears. “I tried not to like him. I tried so hard.” With the back of my hand I dried my eyes. “I fell in love with him, Mom.” I shook my head, picking at the hole tearing through the knee of my jeans. “Can you believe I was such a stupid girl? I can’t believe I left for college and immediately became so involved with a guy.” I met Mom’s gaze and gave another half-hearted laugh, then exhaled. “Sure wasn’t planned.”

  My mom pulled me to her shoulder, kissed the top of my head. “Well honey, it never is.” She looked at me, wiped a tear with her forefinger. “But I will say this. For Brax to break things off, and especially after all of that,” she said. “Either the boy’s got a frigid heart and such deep-seeded problems you never want to get involved with—trust me. Or, there’s something going on here that you’re not seeing. Boys do stupid things, I know that.” She turned my face to hers. “And right now I’d like nothing more than to punch him right in the eye.” She let out a long, tired sigh and gave the swing another push. “But one thing we Beaumonts have always known. Only the good Lord looks out for us. Him,” she patted my knee. “And each other. I know it hurts, sweetie. I’ve known that hurt before and it’s nothing but a sonofabitch.” She
turned sideways in the swing. “But you worked hard to get where you are right now. You’re the strongest person I know.” Her eyes grew glassy in the sallow light of the yard lamp. “You can’t let Brax or Kelsy or anyone else ever take it away from you, Olivia Grace. And I’m not talking about just your scholarship.” She pressed her hand against my chest. “I’m talking about what’s in here, baby. Your ferocious lion.” She cupped my face. “You go ahead and grab its tail, give it a hard yank.” She smiled. “Piss it off. Then you kick a path through all the crap, hold your pretty head high and proud, and shove your way through the muck. That’s how you survive this. Trust me, darlin’. I know.”

  I studied my mom’s features; each fine line that fanned out from her soft brown eyes, the high cheek bones, her strong, determined jaw, and the arched brows that made her face so expressive. She’d suffered plenty in her life; our dad had left her high and dry with three kids and a barely-surviving horse ranch. He’d broken her heart; not her spirit. And knowing all that, seeing the kind of strong woman she’d turned out to be? It lifted me. Lifted my spirits. Gave me strength.

  I threw my arms around my mom’s neck and hugged her so tight. Almost as if her strength could seep through her skin and sink into mine. I pressed my face against her neck. “Thanks, Mom,” I said softly. “That’s so what I needed.”

  “What in the damn hell is goin’ on out here?” Jilly pushed the screen door open and it creaked as he stepped onto the porch. The Texas Rangers tee shirt was rumpled and faded; he had on his favorite plaid sleep pants tucked into his crusty old cowboy boots. When he focused on me, then Mom, he frowned. “Lil’ Bit, what the—I don’t like the looks of this. Why didn’t you two wake me up?” He nodded to our discarded coffee cups. “You got any more of that?”

  Mom got up and gently pushed Jilly into a rocking chair close to the swing. “Sit. I’ll bring you a cup. And she arrived in the middle of the night, that’s why.” She grabbed ours and headed into the house.

  Jilly’s aged stare measured and weighed me silently. Then after a few moments, he shook his head. “The middle of the night, eh? It’s a goddamned boy, ain’t it? Well, you gonna just sit there or get up and hug your grandpa?”

  Even though I still hurt, Jilly’s gruff yet correct assumption made my mouth tug into a half grin. I got up and wrapped my arms around his neck, and sat back down. “Sort of.”

  He grunted, rubbed his big, gnarled hands over his knees. “Sort of my ass. Who is it, what’d he do, and do you want me to make some calls?”

  I shook my head as I looked at my fierce grandfather. Making a call meant phoning friends within the Texas Rangers. “No, Jilly. No calls necessary.”

  “I swear you people are lunatics.” My baby brother Seth joined us on the porch, and he walked straight over to me and plopped down next to me on the swing. He draped an arm around my shoulders. “Does this have anything to do with your truck being vandalized? Or that guy you’re dating?”

  “What’d you say, boy?” Jilly asked, then looked at me. “Lil’ Bit?”

  I looked at my brother. “Big mouth.” I sighed and gave my grandfather an assuring smile. “Just a college prank, Jilly. Someone jacked my wheels and tires and put my truck on concrete blocks. Threw the tires in my bed and videoed the whole thing. Posted it on YouTube. Totally separate incident.”

  Jilly swore under his breath. “Well, I don’t like how this college horseshit is going at all, Lil’ Bit.” He started to rise. “I’m gonna make some calls.”

  “Sit down, Dad,” my mom ordered as she stepped out onto the porch carrying a tray of coffee mugs. “There’ll be no calls, you hear me?” Her eyes softened in that knowing, mom way. “Olivia will be just fine. The last thing she needs is a pack of ornery old Rangers showing up on campus.”

  “Well I ain’t budgin’ off this porch until somebody tells me what the hell’s goin’ on,” Jilly said. “And I mean it.”

  The hard lines and weathered face of my grandfather’s profound stare as he waited for my story made me know for a certainty I wouldn’t get off the porch any time soon. At least until I told him and my brother what had caused me to drive from Winston in the middle of the night. So I began, feeling a little stronger after talking to my mom, and of course leaving out some of the more delicate details that a man of any age need not hear. Especially a protective little brother and a really protective ex-Texas Ranger of a grandpa.

  Jilly and Seth listened quietly—a miracle in itself—and by the time I finished, and they’d given their two cents worth a line of gold pushed at the treetops as the sun began to rise. Seth pulled me to his side in the swing.

  “Nothin’ like some good ole hard labor to kick that heartache’s ass,” he said with a crooked grin. He lifted my hand, turned my palm over, and ran his thumb over it. “Man, Jilly, you should see how soft these things are.” He lifted his face, and I noticed for the first time a slight shadow of stubble patching his chin. “You can help me de-poop the stalls this morning.”

  “We were all going to work on a few new colts later,” Mom added. “It’ll do you some good to ride them in the round pen. And spend time with your brothers.”

  She was right.

  After we all had a short nap, Seth and I hit in the stalls, and he eyed me over the back of one of the new colts. A pretty little paint, his ears were pricked forward listening to every word Seth said. My brother’s eyes met mine, and it struck me how good-looking and mature he seemed to have grown in the couple of months I’d been away.

  “So this guy,” Seth said as he shoveled manure into a big pile in the center aisle. He stopped, balanced his weight with his elbow on the handle. “This inked baseball player tough guy from Boston. You’re in love with him, huh?”

  The words were a sock to the gut; it hurt to hear, but I breathed through it. “Yeah,” I shoveled, tossed, shoveled again. “I suppose so.”

  “I don’t buy it.”

  I stopped mucking and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  Seth shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know, sis. From what you say he seemed completely into you. And from what you say about his background?” He shrugged. “Then an abrupt kiss-my-ass-I’m-not-into-relationships?” He laughed, spit on the ground, and shook his head. “Sorry, sis. Sounds sketchy to me. I ain’t buyin’ it.”

  “Well,” I continued my chore. “It is what it is and I don’t have the heart or energy to pursue it.” I met his gaze. “It hurts too much. It hurts like crazy, Seth.”

  The muscles in Seth’s jaws clenched as he turned a surprisingly mature sixteen year-old stare on me. His deepening voice softened. “I can see that.”

  We finished the stalls and brushed the horses down before Kyle and Jace showed up. Both were mad as hell about the vandalism on my truck—both times—and even madder that I hadn’t told them about it. It was nice to have their support, honestly. But I no longer wanted to linger on the subject of my broken heart, my vandalized truck, or any of the above. And working hard seemed to help start the healing process. After Mom’s breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, biscuits and homemade strawberry jam, we hit the pens and started on the four colts. When it was my turn, my brothers except Jace, my mom and Jilly all found perches on the fence while I eased into the saddle. The colt immediately nutted up at the pressure from my backside, and ripped around the round pen. I held on, coaxing and squeezing my thighs around him, trying to calm him, but he wasn’t having any of it. Not this day. Just when I thought I’d bail, he threw me—hard. My face plowed into one of the posts, and my brother Jace skidded on his knees in the dirt beside me.

  “Lil’ Bit, you okay?” he asked. He moved my braid and helped me to sit, then grasped my jaw, inspecting my injury.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. I welcomed the pain in my face. It drew away from the ache in my heart.

  Kyle hopped down and bent over at the knees. “You’re gonna have a nice shiner there, darlin’.”

  I didn’t even care.

  By late a
fternoon, all four colts had been ridden, put up, brushed. Mom made pot roast and potatoes, and it felt good to sit around my familiar dinner table with my family beside me. So good that I knew leaving in the morning would be more difficult than it had been the first time. I knew I had to study, too, and I hated to see my two older brothers leave so early. Both lived within a fifteen minute ride from the ranch, but Mom must’ve known I wouldn’t be able to study with them around and told them to skedaddle. One of her favorite words. Ever.

  On the porch, with my textbook and notes spread out on the swing, I read and studied until the fading light made it too difficult to see. I stretched, yawned. Thought about Brax, winced at the pain it caused. At the hurt I knew would still be there once I got back to campus. Then the screen door creaked open, and Jilly walked out.

  “You stare at those books long enough yet?” he asked, but took the rocking chair anyway.

  I grinned and closed the text. “Yes sir, I have. Just finished up.”

  “Hmm.” Jilly wore his long white hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and almost always wore a hat. It perched now on his head, and he pulled it down, closer to his brow. Jilly had kind eyes; soft brown and always with a twinkle. Which belied his extreme toughness. To his family, though, his heart was wide open. “Sky’s supposed to be clear tonight. Only God’s thumbnail to get in the way.”

  My mouth twitched at my grandfather’s none-too-subtle hint. “Sounds perfect to me.”

  Jilly looked at me, square in the eye as he always did. “Let me tell you somethin’, Lil’ Bit. And I want you to push aside the pain in your heart long enough to hear me.” He rocked back. “I know you’re feeling about as low as you can feel right now. Heartaches hurt like hell. There’s no way around that.” He pushed his hat back, and I could see his expression clearly; sincere, angry, and full of wisdom. “The only boy good enough for you darlin’ is one who’d sacrifice everything to have you. I’m talkin’ everything important to him, just to keep you. No matter the cost. Otherwise,” he rubbed his jaw, “he ain’t worth his weight, pound for pound, in pure solid horseshit. He just ain’t, Olivia Grace. You remember that.”