One Good Thing

by Millikin, Jennifer

  “Okay,” Addison agrees loudly.

  “Did you say something?” the woman asks as she hands me back my credit card.

  “Oh, um, nothing,” Addison tells her, grinning.

  “Thank you kindly, ma’am.” I tip my hat to the lady.

  She breaks into a smile. “And they say cowboys are only born, not created.” She waves her hand as if the saying, which of course I’ve never heard, means little to her.

  We spend the rest of the day watching bull riding, barrel races, and mutton roping. Women, children, and men show off skills and talents I could never imagine possessing.

  Addison is captivated by the bedazzled chaps some of the women wear, and she claps for the kids as they rope the sheep.

  “I love this,” she says, leaning over and giving me a happy kiss. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  I wind an arm around her shoulder and she tucks into me, a move so practiced an onlooker might think we’ve been doing it for years.

  As the rodeo winds down, we leave the arena and go in search of a restaurant. It’s a two-hour drive back and we need to eat before we get on the road to Lonesome.

  There’s a kitschy place nearby, and tonight we fit right in.

  I order a beer, Addison gets a glass of wine. She’s talking animatedly about what she’s chosen to make for the baking competition, which is only a week away, when she stops abruptly and pulls her phone from her purse. She frowns at the phone, then puts it back in her bag.

  She doesn’t say who it was, and I don’t ask, but I’m curious.

  My curiosity is heightened by the fact that now Addison can hardly remember what it was she was talking about. Gently I remind her of the desserts, but even with my reminder she can hardly string together two real sentences.

  “Right… yeah. So I’ll make… that topping… yeah.” She fidgets with the gold necklace she’s wearing. Her eyes are unfocused.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, grabbing her hand and urging her to look at me.

  “Um hmm,” she says quickly, looking at me but not really. Her gaze might be on me, but her thoughts are somewhere else. She pulls back her hand from my grasp and grabs her wine, taking two big sips. “That was Warren’s sister, Shannon.”

  “Did she leave a message?”

  Addison looks at her phone, then shakes her head no.

  “Are you going to call her back?”

  “I don’t want to. I prefer to keep that door firmly closed.” Addison replaces her palm in mine. She attempts a smile, but it’s forced.

  I get up from my side of the booth and slide into hers. Pulling her into me, I kiss her temple and slide two fingers under her chin, tipping her gaze to mine. “You came here to get away from the pain that held you captive in Chicago. Don’t let it follow you here.”

  She smiles a tiny smile, but at least it’s real. “You’re right.” She reaches for my beer and slides it to me, then clinks her wine against my glass. “To good things.”

  “To good things,” I echo, taking a drink before lowering my lips to hers.

  21

  Addison

  The image of Shannon’s name on my phone has been running through my mind since last night when I let it go to voicemail. What does she want?

  I woke up to a text from her this morning, but it was cryptic. Are you available? That’s all it had said. It’s been an hour and I haven’t responded.

  Brady stayed the night with me, waking at first light and going for a run. I stayed behind to help my grandma with breakfast. And, I suppose, to respond to Shannon.

  I grab my phone off my nightstand and navigate to my messages, clicking on Shannon’s name.

  I begin typing.

  Me: Hey, Shannon. How are you?

  As if she were right beside her phone, the little dots appear instantly.

  Shannon: Hi, Addison. Sorry to contact you so out of the blue. I’m having a blanket made from Warren’s old concert shirts and wondered if you had any? My mom can’t find them.

  Oh. My heart thumps. Warren’s prized concert shirts. It had taken me months to convince him to let me sleep in them.

  Me: There are some in a box in storage. The operator keeps a master key. I’ll email him and tell him to expect you.

  Shannon: I appreciate it, Addison. Really.

  Me: How is Warren?

  Shannon: How do you think?

  My chest tightens. She always was on the sarcastic side, but for two seconds can’t she just be some semblance of cordial? My phone buzzes again.

  Shannon: Are you still at your grandma’s?

  Me: Yes. It’s going well.

  Shannon: Are you planning on coming back here?

  Me: Maybe at some point.

  I’m vague on purpose. I’ll have to go back some time, if only to deal with the things I have in storage.

  Shannon: Are you making a life for yourself there?

  I blink, unsure of how to respond.

  Me: I’m trying to. I have to move on.

  Shannon: Is there someone you’re moving on with?

  There’s no way I’m telling her about Brady.

  Me: Life is still very confusing and I’m making the best of a horrible situation. Let me know if the storage operator gives you any trouble. I’ll send you his contact info.

  Shannon: Thanks.

  I pull up the operator’s information and send it to Shannon, then turn my phone face down on the nightstand and bury my head in the pillow. I feel sick inside.

  The night it all happened comes back to me, only this time I’m seeing it differently. I’m going to bed with Warren, choosing to lie beside him and read a book. I’m there when it happens, this stroke the doctors say he had. I call for help, and they get to him in time. I save him.

  I cry into my pillow, knowing this alternate reality can never exist.

  The really horrible part of this is how much I want Brady to comfort me right now. I want him to hold me while I cry for someone else. How can that be?

  I get out of bed and change my clothes, then brush my hair and teeth. I’ll catch Brady at breakfast, and then maybe we can take a walk and I can tell him about my text exchange with Shannon.

  * * *

  Brady didn’t come to breakfast at the main house.

  I played my role, chatting with the new guests and fetching more food as it was needed, but I kept one eye on the door the entire time.

  After the last guest left, I helped clean up, then packed a bag with items from breakfast and walked it to Brady’s cabin. I knocked once and he didn’t answer, so now I’m knocking a second time.

  Still no answer.

  “Brady?” I call, looking at my watch. He should be back from his run by now.

  Walking around the back of the small structure, I peer in through the small, covered back porch. Either he’s sitting still as a statue, or there’s nobody inside.

  Trudging up to the main house, I put away the food and pour myself another cup of coffee. When my cup is empty and I’m done paging through a magazine, I get up and rinse my cup. Really it’s just an excuse to stand at the sink and stare out the window.

  No sign of Brady.

  I go upstairs, check my phone, and when I don’t see any calls or texts from him, I take a long, hot shower. The water works on my nerves, soothing them.

  Everything is okay. There’s no need to be worried about him.

  I dry my hair. I curl my hair. I even put on makeup. Still, nothing from him.

  Downstairs, I run into my grandma in the kitchen. “Do you need anything from town?” I ask her. “I have to go do all the shopping for ingredients.”

  “I always need something,” she says, opening the fridge and looking through its contents.

  She rattles off a few things and I write them down. While she busies herself doing various things, I write out my list of what I will need to make butterscotch blondies, blueberry muffins with streusel topping, and lemon cupcakes with vanilla buttercream frosting. Brady inspired my third ch
oice. I’m switching it up by adding lemon curd filling.

  I do my shopping slowly, trying hard not to check my watch every few minutes and totally failing. It’s almost lunchtime and I’m getting worried.

  While I’m in town, I kill some time with Charlie, who is blessedly available when I call her.

  “I’m so happy you were free,” I tell her, sliding into a seat across from her at the coffee and tea shop.

  “Me too,” she winds her hands around a warm cup of herbal tea. “Here I thought I was getting my summer buddy back, then Brady went and snatched you up.” She grins to let me know she doesn’t mind that much.

  Despite my concern about Brady’s whereabouts, and my guilt stemming from Shannon’s messages, I smile. “He’s amazing, Charlie. Truly. He makes it hard to think about anything beyond being with him.”

  “I hope he doesn’t make it hard for you to practice for the competition. I’ve met the latest entrant and she is a real bitch.”

  I choke on a laugh, surprised at the word that just came from Charlie’s sweet mouth.

  “What?” Charlie says, crossing her arms stubbornly. “She is.”

  “I know. I’ve met her. Twice.” My lip curls at the memory. “She’s going to be one of those dark horses. She doesn’t look or act like a baker, and then bam! Her treats make everyone orgasm at first bite.”

  “Hah!” Charlie laughs, then coughs on her mouthful of tea. “You sound like Amanda.”

  “I think everyone has a bit of Amanda in them now and again.” I sip my tea, a calming vanilla Rooibos. No more caffeine for me. I’m hyped enough as it is. “How are you feeling?” I look down at Charlie’s belly as I ask the question.

  “I can’t see my feet anymore,” she says cheerfully.

  I laugh, glancing under the table. I don’t have the heart to tell her one flip-flop is black and the other is hot pink. “I can’t wait to snuggle your baby.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Is that right? Are you and Brady going to start working on that?”

  “It’s a little soon for that,” I murmur, distracted as I peer out the window we’re seated beside, hoping that perhaps Brady will just appear on the sidewalk and my worries will be assuaged.

  No such luck.

  Charlie and I chat for a little longer, then she announces she needs to take a nap. It reminds me of Lennon.

  We say goodbye and I head home. Presumably to sit around and wait for Brady to show up.

  My mind wanders as I drive, and I hate where it goes.

  What if something bad happened to him? What if he’s trapped somewhere, with nobody to help him? He doesn’t know the area very well. He could be lost.

  There are a million ways he could be hurt or in danger. He could be taken from me in an instant. It’s a cold, harsh truth with which I’m too well-acquainted.

  A sliver of hope flashes through me as I round the bend for Sweet Escape. Maybe his truck will be parked in the guest parking. It wasn’t there when I left, but hopefully he’s returned from wherever he went.

  My hope deflates as I pull into the driveway. He’s not here. I park the Jeep in the garage and lift all the grocery bags from the back. I trudge across the yard and to the stairs, my arms shaking because I utterly refuse to make an additional trip. When I hear an engine behind me, I swing my gaze around. Brady’s truck turns into the driveway. All the bags I was holding fall to the ground and I run for the truck.

  I didn’t know I was this upset. It’s the relief. The amount of relief I feel belies the fear I hid even from myself.

  “Brady,” I say his name through tears.

  He grinds to a stop and hops out, his eyebrows drawn. He takes me into his arms and strokes my hair. “What happened?” he asks.

  “You… you were gone,” I wail. “I was so scared.”

  “Hey, hey,” Brady croons, his hand rubbing circles on my back. “I’m fine. I’m right here. I didn’t want to run so I went for a hike instead, and my phone died.”

  He holds me until my tears subside.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling silly now.

  He looks into my eyes. “Never be sorry about something that affects you this strongly, okay?”

  I nod and take a breath.

  “Why were you so upset?” he asks, guiding me toward the house with his arm around my shoulder.

  “I thought something bad had happened to you. I took breakfast down to your cabin today, but you weren’t there. I went to town for groceries and noticed your car was gone. And I… I didn’t know.”

  Taking a deep breath, I decide to be brave and tell him how I really feel. “I had no way to save Warren. I wasn’t there for him at all. If something like that happened a second time, I don’t know what I would do.”

  Brady groans. “Addison, that’s an awful way to feel. You can’t run around saving everyone all the time. It wasn’t your responsibility to keep anything bad from happening to Warren. That’s too much responsibility for any one person to ever take on.”

  I know his words are right, but that’s completely different from believing them.

  “Come on, let’s get this stuff inside.” Brady bends down and gathers my groceries in his hands. We walk in the house together and he helps me put them away.

  “You bought a lot of stuff,” he comments, eyeing the tremendous amount of butter.

  “It’s everything I need for two rounds. I’m going to do a trial run before I bake everything for real.”

  Brady, sitting on a chair at the island, pulls me to him so that I’m standing between his legs. “Can we have a little fun this afternoon before you embark on a baking frenzy?”

  I think I know what he’s asking, so I press my breasts against him and whisper, “Yes.”

  I feel his chuckle on my skin. “We’ll definitely leave time for that, too. But I was thinking of a waterfall I found about thirty minutes away.”

  “That sounds perfect.” I need a change of scenery and some alone time with Brady. I kiss him swiftly, and even though I’m longing to let it turn into more, I control myself. “I need to change into my suit.”

  I start to step back, but Brady stops me, gripping my face between his hands. “I’m not going anywhere, Addison. Understand?” He kisses me, crushing his lips to mine. He takes from me every last ounce of fear, erasing all my concerns, swallowing my guilt.

  He leaves to grab his bathing suit, and I run my fingers along my lips. Nobody has ever made my body, my soul, my heart come alive the way Brady does. Not even the man I was prepared to marry.

  22

  Brady

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so petrified.

  After a long walk up to the top of the waterfall, Addison has decided she can’t jump off. It doesn’t matter that a line of people have already gone before her, including a twelve-year-old. She’s refusing.

  “No worries,” I tell her, as she bites her lip and peers over the edge. “Are you okay walking down by yourself? I want to jump, and then I’ll meet you along the trail.”

  She looks at me in alarm. “I don’t want you to do it either,” she squeaks.

  I laugh, and then when I see the look on her face, my laughter stops. “Addison, it’s going to be okay. I promise. See all those people down there?”

  She looks over the edge at the people milling around.

  “Yes.” Her voice is tiny.

  “They all jumped already. And they’re fine.”

  The sounds of another splash float up to us. We both watch as the jumper surfaces, laughing and hollering, and swims to the shallow part of the water.

  “See?”

  Addison nods. “Can we go together?” Her tone is hopeful.

  Oh, man. This is going to make her say no. “It’s safest for one person at a time,” I admit, carefully leaving out why it’s safest for one person to jump at a time. There’s a window of space where it’s deep enough to jump, and that window might be big enough for two people. But it also might not. Body size, force, distance,
and probably other things factor in. Bottom line: no.

  “Let’s just get in line. I’ll go first, and then you can decide. If you don’t want to, it’s not a big deal. I’ll meet you on the trail, okay?”

  I grab her hand and pull her into line behind someone who’s probably thirty years older than us. He’s shirtless and ultra-tan, the kind that can only come from a bottle or a booth, with a coating of back hair.

  Addison wraps her arms around me and buries her face into my chest. She makes an incoherent sound, like a little yell, into my skin.

  She hides her face and I move us forward in line as a unit. When it’s my turn, I tap her on the shoulder. She looks up at me.

  “I’m up, Addison. Unless you want to go first?”

  She shakes her head back and forth quickly. I brush my lips across hers and turn around, locating the spot in the water where people have been jumping.

  I let out a yell, maybe I’d even call it a holler, because it’s loud and full of vowels. For a brief time I’m suspended in the air, and then my body slips into the water. It’s colder than I anticipated, and I break the surface as quickly as possible to show Addison I’m okay.

  I look up and see her face, tiny from this distance, peering over the edge at me. I wave a thumbs up in the air and turn sideways, treading water and watching Addison.

  She’s going for it! She yells too, more of a terrified cry than a delighted whoop, and sails through the air. Changing directions, I swim back and watch her hit the surface and then pop back up. She draws in a loud breath and says, “It’s so cold.” She swims to me, and I pull her into my chest. We’re both kicking to stay afloat, so we can’t stay attached for long.

  She swims first, probably to generate warmth, and I follow.

  We get out and sit in the sun, letting the rays permeate our skin.

  “Fun?” I ask, running my fingers up her arm.

  “So fun,” she agrees, her body bouncing excitedly. “Can we do it again?”