Simple

by Toler, B N

  Just before Bailor entered the barn, he turned back. “You should pull out Em’s bike. She’d probably get a kick out of seeing it again.”

  He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he disappeared inside.

  Pinky. A vision of Emalee on the old bike, circling around me, a mischievous grin on her face, flickered in my mind. Well if it isn’t Cole Kepner, she’d teased.

  There were so many memories I’d let go of over the years, many of them seemingly so simple. Much like a child releasing a balloon and watching it drift away in to the oblivion, I had let them go. Balloons aren’t supposed to come back, but my moments with Emalee always did.

  “Cole,” Bailor called my name, reappearing in the bay door of the barn. “You know I love that girl like a sister, but I have to say,” he sighed. “Please be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.”

  I let out a quiet snort of disbelief before running a hand through my hair. “Remember when I tried like hell to stay away from her, and you kept insisting I’d regret not being with her?” I gave him a sarcastic thumbs up. “Well done, wise brother.”

  Bailor looked down at the ground. “I didn’t know she’d be the one, Cole. I never knew she’d hurt you that way.”

  I didn’t reply, only nodded and gave him a wave goodnight. Bailor was a good brother. He’d always looked out for me, just like he was trying to at that moment, but I’d never told him how things ended with Em.

  I never told him I had been the one to break both of our hearts.

  The guys were due to arrive any minute. Pepper was busy arranging the table to look like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine while I was drowning in anxiety, chewing off my thumb nail.

  My father was clearly avoiding me. There was no way he hadn’t received at least one of the many messages I’d sent or left for him, which only added credence to Miles’s story. If it hadn’t been true, or had been misconstrued, my father would have brought down the gates of hell to clear his name. Instead, he was hiding. I glanced at the framed photo of my mother on the mantel. Why didn’t you tell me? I silently asked. Why would you let him get away with doing this to you? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?

  Cole is coming over.

  The thought kept flashing in my head like a neon sign, reminding me what a terrible idea it was. I was in no shape to entertain anyone, let alone Cole and his brothers.

  “Em!” Pepper snapped, startling me from my downward spiral.

  Jerking my gaze to her I sat up and pushed my hair behind my ears. “Yes. Sorry.”

  She was wearing her favorite pair of black jeans and a black tank top, donning her perfectly applied red lipstick that showcased her stellar white teeth. She held up two bottles of wine. “Chardonnay or Pinot?”

  I twisted my mouth. “The guys will probably prefer beer or whiskey.”

  “You think?” she asked as she frowned, turning her wrists so she could look at the bottles. Then perking up added, “You know what. I’ll make Sangria.” I chuckled to myself as she scurried back in the kitchen. “Get off your ass and get ready, Em,” she hollered. “They’ll be here any minute.”

  I frowned this time, glancing down my body.

  I am ready.

  I trudged upstairs and into the master bedroom that had once been my grandmother’s, then my mother’s that summer, and now mine. Pepper had hung my dresses in the closet, but when I opened the closet door my eyes went to the end of the rod where my grandmother’s dresses still hung. Pulling one out, I draped it across the bed letting my fingers drift over the fabric.

  I’ll wear this one tonight.

  “Right on time,” Pepper greeted us at the door. She was wearing all black, which paired well with her tan complexion. Though her attire, save for the pink-flamingo apron, looked uncomplicated, her high cheekbones and pinned-up hair made her appear elegant. I glanced at my brother, then down at myself. We were wearing jeans and t-shirts, which is pretty much what we wore every day, but these particular jeans and t-shirts were what Bailor liked to call our ‘church clothes’. Stepping back, she motioned for us to enter as she said, “Come on in.”

  Always quick with words, Bailor was actually speechless as he slid by her. I almost laughed but stopped myself. It wasn’t every day I got to see my brother tongue-tied.

  After a beat of silence, Pepper’s smile ebbed slightly as she cut her eyes to me. “Good to see you, boys. Emalee will be down in a few. Would you like some Sangria?”

  Neither of us were crazy about fruity wine, but we would never be rude enough to decline. Our mother had raised us better than that.

  “Sure,” I said. “We brought the meat as promised.” I bumped Bailor’s shoulder with mine a little harder than I meant to, causing him to lurch forward a bit.

  “Oh yeah,” he sputtered nervously before cutting me a quick WTF look. He held up the tray. “We weren’t sure if you had a grill, but if not, we can just use the broiler.”

  “We definitely do not have a grill.” Pepper twisted her mouth in thought as she tapped her chin with her index finger. “Where would I find a broiler?”

  Bailor fought hard not to smile. “It’s part of the oven.”

  “Oh!” she perked up. “We do have one of those.”

  Bailor grinned, amused by her excitement and lack of cooking abilities. “Lead the way.” The two ventured off into the kitchen, and I was set to follow them when something caught my eye from the living room.

  A guitar.

  It was shiny and the light somehow made it seem like it had different variations of red. My heart squeezed as a memory of Emalee, sitting on my bed and wearing my shirt that swallowed her, drifted through my mind. She’d sat cross-legged, my mother’s guitar in her lap as she strummed it and sang. I’d nearly strangled Joe when he’d told us he’d sold the guitar online. We might have needed every dime we could get our hands on, but there were some things you just didn’t sell, no matter what, and the guitar had been one of them.

  “You can pick it up if you want to.” I jerked at the sound of Emalee’s voice. I hadn’t realized I’d walked into the living room and stopped right in front of the instrument. She was standing at the end of the couch, one arm resting across the back. Her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail and she was wearing what looked like a vintage dress.

  “She’s a beauty,” I complimented, turning back to the guitar, attempting to appear casual.

  “Yeah. My mother got it for me for Christmas a few years back.” She paused and cleared her throat, pressing on a smile.

  I dropped my gaze in understanding. Just mentioning her mother was making her emotional. I knew better than anyone how hard it was to let go of a parent.

  “I’m really sorry about Betty. She’s a good woman.”

  Emalee tilted her head. “She is. I guess we were both lucky in the mother department.”

  An uneasy silence loomed as our eyes met again. There was so much I wanted to say to her; to ask her, but I didn’t know where to start, or if it was even appropriate. Maybe this was all just politeness, and Emalee didn’t really want to reminisce or catch up.

  “Oh, are we having a staring contest?” Bailor asked as he entered the room holding two glasses of Sangria. “My money is on Em.” He quirked his mouth to the side, leaning slightly toward Emalee and added, “This guy lacks stamina.”

  As I fought the urge to roll my eyes at my brother’s wise crack, Emalee’s expression danced between laughing and crying as she walked to him and hugged him. “It’s so good to see you, Bailor.”

  Confusion ran across his features as he froze awkwardly for a moment, surprised by her sudden embrace, but he did his best to return the hug without spilling the drinks still in his hands. “It’s good to see you too, Em,” he told her sincerely. She held him tight for a long moment and when she finally pulled away he said, “Looks like everyone in here needs a drink. I brought you a glass of this potpourri water your friend made.”

  We took our glasses from him as
we chuckled, though Emalee’s eyes glinted with tears. I felt my brow furrow at her uncharacteristic show of emotions, thinking there had to be more to them than her mother’s illness.

  “Let me go see if Pepper needs any help,” she rasped before clearing her throat. Then, in the snap of a finger, she smiled brightly. “You guys kick back and relax.”

  When she disappeared into the kitchen, Bailor darted his gaze to me. “She okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly as I swirled the liquid around in my glass, trying to build up the courage to chug the sugar water. Maybe alcohol would help tamper the feeling in my gut that Emalee was in some sort of trouble.

  Dinner proceeded pleasantly, mostly because Bailor and Pepper navigated the conversation, steering clear of any and all uncomfortable topics. When Pepper and Emalee began clearing the plates, Bailor quickly jumped up and took the stack of dishes from Emalee’s hands.

  “I’ll help Pepper clean up,” he said, cutting his eyes to me. “Why don’t you take Emalee out and show her what you brought her.”

  Her brows lifted with curiosity. “A surprise? For me?”

  I shrugged, hoping Bailor hadn’t made it sound like a bigger deal than it was. Pinky was her bike after all. It wasn’t like we were giving her a gift; we were simply returning something that belonged to her.

  I motioned toward the front door. “After you.”

  I followed her outside, unable to stop myself from watching the way her hips swayed as she walked, and how the fabric of her dress drifted across the back of her legs. She moved like a woman now; not like the young girl I’d known that had practically bounced with every step she took. It made me sad for a moment that I’d missed seeing her transition. She was like a book missing the middle of the story. I knew the gist of it, but I’d missed the magic in the pages that had brought her here.

  Outside, she halted at the top porch step, her brows knitted. “Is that your truck?”

  “Yeah, my old truck kicked the bucket about six years ago. It would’ve cost a fortune to fix. It’s a yard ornament now,” I joked.

  Her eyes still on the truck, one corner of her mouth lifted into a fond smile. “I always loved that old truck of yours.”

  “Well, that’s why I liked you,” I quipped. “You obviously have excellent taste. You liked me…the truck…”

  A soft blush whispered across her cheeks, and it hit me like a hard punch in the chest. There she is. That’s my Emalee. “I see Bailor’s modesty has rubbed off on you, Cole Kepner.”

  I mock winced as I chuckled, holding my hands up. “Don’t say that. Anything but that.”

  As our laughter ebbed, she looked back out at my truck in the driveway. “This truck looks nice, too,” she commented, though I could tell she was just being polite.

  “Well maybe you’ll be more excited about what’s in the back of the truck,” I suggested as I descended the stairs. Emalee followed after me and when she peeked over the edge of the bed, her features lit up all over again.

  “Pinky!” she exclaimed. “You kept her.”

  “Of course we did.”

  We were quiet for a moment as dusk set in, creating a purple and orange back drop to her perfect silhouette. Her smile faded as she cut her eyes to me. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to. There was no way you could’ve known I would ever come back, especially after…”

  I knew how that sentence was going to end.

  Especially after you…

  Broke my heart.

  Made me leave in tears.

  Told me to never come back.

  I wanted to tell her I’d always hoped she would come back, despite what I’d said, but it wasn’t the time for that kind of confession, and I wasn’t sure there ever would be a time. Our reunion was still fresh, and there was still much to learn about each other.

  Walking around the back of the truck, I dropped the tailgate and pulled Pinky out, placing her on the ground. “We cleaned her up as best we could.”

  “She’s perfect,” she said quietly as she gazed at Pinky.

  “Well, what do you think? Wanna take her for a spin?” I asked as I wheeled it toward her. “We put air in the tires and oiled her chain.”

  “I’m pretty sure I haven’t been on a bike since the last time I rode Pinky,” she admitted, apprehension in her voice. “I might be a little rusty.” Taking the handlebar from me, she swung one leg over. She was a little wobbly at first, but then she found her stride and started laughing as she took a few long circles around the truck.

  A feeling of déjà vu hit me as images of my summer girl circling and teasing me filled my mind. I’d tried so hard to fight her, but she’d had me all along.

  “Emalee!” Pepper’s panicked voice called, causing me to whip my head toward her where she stood on the porch. “Paparazzi!” Emalee hit the brakes and frantically looked around. “Behind the barn,” Pepper pointed. As soon as she’d said barn, a male figure bolted down the driveway. I moved to chase after him, but Emalee lurched at me, just managing to grab my arm.

  “No, Cole. Don’t.” Her expression was hard, her eyes wide.

  “That asshole is trespassing,” I argued.

  “We’ll take care of it. Confronting them is what they want,” she explained, her expression heavy. “If you chase after him, it’ll only make it worse. If you touch him, he’ll try to sue, and I’ll end up settling in court just to be done with it.” Climbing off the bike, her chest rose as she inhaled deeply and stared off in the direction the reporter had fled. When she shifted her gaze back to me, my summer girl was gone, replaced with the gaunt features and dulled eyes of a world-weary woman. “This was amazing,” she said. “Thank you for bringing it.”

  “I can put it in the barn if you want,” I offered.

  Her eyes skirted around the property, looking for other potential trespassers. “I’d appreciate that. We should hurry and get back inside, though.”

  She went in the house while I wheeled Pinky into the barn, the understanding of Emalee’s reality dawning on me as I went. Her life was completely foreign to me. I could never fully understand the scrutiny she lived under with people constantly trying to capture every moment, every move she made, but tonight I’d caught a glimpse. The girl I knew was so outgoing and vivacious, but now…that girl was hiding.

  Before I made it back inside, Pepper had already shifted into action, tapping away on her phone as she rattled off the list of what needed to be done. “We need no trespassing signs posted at the end of the driveway, and I’ll make a press release stating you are here handling personal affairs.” She walked around the house, checking the locks on the windows and closing the curtains. “And we should get Vegas here, pronto.”

  “Vegas?” Bailor asked with a quirked brow from where he’d been standing by the fireplace watching Pepper zip around like a crazy person.

  “Bodyguard,” she clipped.

  “We’re not calling Vegas,” I said with a raised a hand as I moved into her path, forcing her to stop. “I don’t want a bunch of strangers in the house when Mama gets here.”

  Pepper stepped around me to test a window. “As soon as they release your location, you know your stalkers will pop up.”

  “Stalkers?” Cole asked with a hint of protectiveness in his tone.

  I cut a please-stop-talking look to Pepper before attempting a reassuring smile as I explained to Cole, “It was one guy. She’s exaggerating.”

  Pepper gaped as she popped a hand on her hip, her features awash in disbelief. “He broke into your hotel room and stole your underwear.”

  Bailor laughed, “Are you serious?”

  “It’s not funny, Bailor,” Cole snapped, silencing him.

  I gave Pepper a wide-eyed look, pleading for her to stop talking.

  “The guy got caught after trying to sell them on eBay,” Pepper added quickly in an attempt to calm everyone down.

  Heat crawled up my neck and blanketed my face. Why was she being so stubborn? “Exactly,” I reiterate
d. “He was caught.”

  Pepper and I locked eyes in a silent battle of wills with me insisting she shut her mouth and Pepper flatly refusing.

  “What can we do to help?” Cole asked interrupting our silent battle. My heart squeezed when I read the genuine concern in his eyes.

  “So how much did he get for your panties, Em?” Bailor asked before I could answer Cole, apparently having missed the last few minutes of conversation. “I mean, I’m just curious what something like that goes for.” Cole twisted his face in disgust at his brother’s question and we fell quiet as Bailor darted his clueless gaze between us. When he finally realized no one was going to answer, he bobbed his head a few times. “Got it. Now’s not a good time.”

  “No time is a good time,” Cole bit out, clearly unamused by his brother or the situation.

  Pepper pulled one of the curtains open a bit and peeked out before closing it again. “You guys should be prepared for reporters to confront you,” she warned. “They’ll show up at your house and they’ll do their damnedest to provoke you.”

  “I’m not worried about us,” Cole declared as he shook his head. “I just want to make sure you ladies are safe.”

  Pepper’s phone dinged and she rushed to it, picking it up and reading the screen before handing it to me. It was a picture of me on the bike circling Cole while I laughed. The photographer must’ve posted it immediately.

  Alyssa Myers found with her new hunk.

  I should’ve known better than to have Cole and Bailor over. After our bar outing last night, it was only a matter of time until word got out about where I was and the bloodhounds came for their feeding. Now, Cole was plastered all over the internet and caught up in the crossfire. I handed Pepper back her phone as an overwhelming weight settled on my shoulders.