Country Nights

by Winter Renshaw

  “Everybody deals with grief in their own way. He just needs more time.”

  Molly huffs, cracking a humored smile. “You don’t know River. He’s as stubborn as they come. If we let him, he’d go the rest of his life treading the same old water, wallowing in this guilt he’s inflicted on himself.”

  “Guilt?”

  “He was supposed to run into town. He got behind in the field and she offered,” Molly says. “Not a day goes by that River doesn’t blame himself.”

  “Surely he’ll snap out of it someday, right? He can’t go on like this forever … never smiling … refusing to move on …”

  Molly’s dark eyes settle on mine. “I don’t think he has any intention of moving on. I think he’s going to stay in that farmhouse all by himself for the rest of his life.” Molly exhales. “That was Allison’s dream home, by the way. I thought you should know that. She loved that house, and I mean loved it. She took such good care of it too. You’d have been proud.”

  Warmth washes over me, and my mouth pulls into a tight-lipped smile. “That makes me really happy to hear.”

  “Little Emma used to run around the yard barefoot all the time.” Molly stares into the distance, laughing. “Chasing the dog. Getting into trouble. She was always talking too, always asking questions. We always said she had an old soul. She was just wise beyond her short little years.”

  “I can’t imagine how hard it would be, as a parent, knowing you weren’t there to protect your little girl.”

  “It destroyed him,” she said, shuddering. “I’d never seen a man so shattered, Leighton. For a while there, we were all convinced he was going to die of a broken heart, and that’s not an overstatement. The man wasn’t eating. Wasn’t taking care of himself. Wouldn’t leave his house.”

  I sink back in my seat. Everything’s starting to make sense now.

  “God, I feel like a jerk,” I say.

  “Why?” Her brow arches.

  “I was giving him crap for being so temperamental and closed off,” I said. “I should’ve left him alone about it. I had no idea …”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. You couldn’t have known.” Molly rises, drawing in a cleansing breath as she fans her face. “Sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked about that. Allison was a good friend of mine too and Emma was actually my goddaughter. It all still feels like yesterday, I guess.”

  I reach for a napkin from the center of the table, handing it to her.

  “Thank you.” She accepts it with a self-conscious smile. “Anyway, I know this is silly, but I really do think it’s good for River to have someone else around. He’s been alone over there in that great big house for the last five years. You showing up out of the blue? It’s almost like it was meant to be. It’s like … I don’t know … like someone sent you.”

  I’m quiet, unsure of what to say.

  Molly laughs, dabbing her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, and I agree. It sounds insane. But I’ve always felt like everything happens for a reason. And I’ve got to believe things are going to turn around for River.”

  “I don’t think he feels that way.”

  “Of course he doesn’t,” Molly chuckles. “But he will eventually. If you stick around a little while longer, things are going to change for him. I just know it.”

  “You’re putting a lot of pressure on me here,” I half-tease.

  “Please just stay a little bit longer?” Molly clasps her hands together. “I’m a grown woman, but I’m not above getting on my knees and begging until you say yes.”

  I wave my hand. “Stop, stop. Even if I wanted to stay, I don’t think he’d want me to. I already feel like I’m imposing.”

  “He’s not going to say no,” Molly says. “He may be cold as ice on the outside, but the man’s got a heart bigger than the state of South Dakota.”

  “I don’t know …”

  “Just think about it,” Molly says, walking me to the door. When I go to protest, she shushes me. “See you Wednesday.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  River

  “Heading into town for a few things. Thought I’d grab lunch,” I say when Leighton returns from Molly’s.

  “Are you inviting me to tag along or just giving me a head’s up?” She closes the car door and tilts her head, squinting at the midday sun. Her hands slide into the back pockets of her jeans.

  “I suppose it’s an invitation,” I say. “Of sorts.”

  “A girl’s got to eat.” She makes her way to my truck, climbing into the passenger seat and flipping the visor down like she owns the damn thing. In the strangest way, I find it somewhat endearing how comfortable she is around me. I know, as of recent years, I’m not the kind of guy who makes anyone too comfortable. Messing with her hair, she stops to look my way. “Are you just going to stand there or are you coming?”

  Saying nothing, I climb in and start it up, heading toward town.

  “Did you get much done this morning?” she asks.

  “Yep.”

  “What’s on the docket for this afternoon?”

  “Stuff.”

  She reaches across the cab, smacking my arm. “Smartass.”

  I don’t flinch or smile or play along. I don’t have time for cutesy games, and if she’s trying to flirt, she’s barking up the wrong tree.

  “Can I tell you something?” she asks.

  “Sure.” It’s not like I can say no. I’m basically confined.

  “When I was fifteen, my dad was killed.” She pauses, like she’s gathering her thoughts. “I don’t talk about this often. I don’t talk about it ever, really. But he was killed unexpectedly. My mom was devastated. She was destroyed. She started drinking. She stopped taking care of herself … of the farm … of us kids. That’s why we left. We all moved in with my grandma. Mom was there, but she was never really the same after that. It was almost like we didn’t just lose our dad—we lost our mom too.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” she says, the top of her head pressed against the glass of the passenger window. “Anyway, growing up and watching my mom fall apart made me realize that I couldn’t allow a tragedy to define my life. My father wouldn’t have wanted that for her, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted that for me. So I decided that I could miss him. I could miss the hell out of him. But I had to keep on going, even when it felt like it was impossible—especially when it felt like it was impossible.”

  My hand grips the steering wheel.

  “I was with Grant for seven years,” she continues. “And we literally went to bed one night, engaged to be married, and by the next morning it had all gone up in flames.” Leighton shakes her head, turning to me. “I refuse to let what Grant did define me in any way. I refuse to let him steal my hope for the future or make me question my trust in every man who comes into my life from here on out.”

  I’m not sure where she’s going with this. Glancing at the clock, I see we’ve still got a good ten minutes before we’re in town.

  “My point is, River,” she says. “We can’t allow tragedy to rob us of our God-given right to live a happy, fulfilled life.”

  “Are you done?” I ask, eyes on the road. Her little lecture is random. And completely unnecessary.

  Leighton sinks back in her seat, quiet for a moment. “Yeah.”

  “Good.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Leighton

  “We should go to the drive-in theater before I leave.” I drag a French fry through a blob of ketchup, sitting across from River at the Old Home Diner. “When was the last time you went? You know those things are relics now.”

  “Haven’t gone in years. Wouldn’t even know what’s playing.”

  Whipping out my phone, I perform a lightning fast Google search and rattle off the double feature: a superhero flick paired with a romantic comedy. Must be a his-and-hers special.

  “Never heard of either one,” he says, his hands wrapped around a half-pound burger that
’s apparently more interesting to him than this conversation.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” I say. “But we should go. You want to go?”

  “No.”

  I stop eating, giving him a hard stare across the table. “No? Just … no?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Is this where you’re going to nag and nag and nag and then five minutes later apologize for pushing too far?” he asks.

  Sighing, I rest my chin in my hands. Yes, I’m nagging. Yes, I’m pushing. But after talking to Molly this morning, I kind of think he needs that. He needs someone to get him to open up again, to live life again. Even if I’m only going to be here five more days, maybe I can be that someone who makes him think twice about wallowing in guilt for the rest of his life.

  “I don’t mean to be annoying, I’d just really love it if you’d join me,” I say. “I think it would be fun. I haven’t gone since I was in junior high.”

  He glances up from his burger, our eyes locking long enough that I think he might be considering it.

  “I’ll even let you put your arm around me.” I wink. I don’t know where that came from, and I’m teasing, but I swear his mouth turned up at one corner for a fraction of a millisecond. Pointing, I say, “You smiled. I totally got you to smile.”

  “Did not.”

  “I saw it with my own eyes, River.” I bring a fry to my mouth, biting off the end. “You can’t deny it. It happened.”

  He shakes his head, pretending to be annoyed with me.

  At least I think he’s pretending.

  I want to believe he’s warming up to me. If he truly couldn’t stand me, I don’t think he’d have allowed me to tag along into town with him.

  Watching him, I try to picture his life five years ago, and I imagine him bringing his daughter here for pancakes on Saturday mornings. I imagine him rubbing Allison’s swollen feet after dinner each night as they watch the evening news together. I imagine them cruising the countryside in his pickup, laughing and singing along to vintage country songs with the windows down.

  I bet he was a good man with a great life before he was blindsided by tragedy.

  But he still deserves a happy ending.

  “I want to be your friend,” I blurt out. If I can show him how easy it is to make new friends and let people in, maybe he’ll be able to find love again someday.

  “Beg your pardon?” He glances up, confused.

  “Let’s be friends.”

  “That’s a weird thing to say.” He wipes his hands on a paper napkin.

  “You’re right. It is.” I shrug. “But I mean it. I want to be your friend.”

  “I don’t think it works that way.”

  “I agree. It doesn’t work that way. Most people let friendship happen organically, but since you’re a little walled-off and we’re a little short on time, I figured we needed to jump start this friendship thing.”

  He snickers, shaking his head.

  “So … drive-in tonight then?” I lift one brow.

  He’s quiet and contemplative, staring out the window toward the parking lot for a minute before leaning back in the booth.

  “Yeah, I guess.” He reaches for his wallet, grabbing a couple bills and placing them on the table beneath a salt shaker. Taking his Stetson off the seat beside him, he places it back on his head. “But I’m not putting my arm around you.”

  My hands lift in protest. “I’ll take what I can get. Friend.”

  I swear I spot a flicker of a smirk once more, but it’s gone before I can be absolutely certain.

  “Come on now. We’ve got a couple of stops to make before I put you back to work, employee.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  River

  Allison was never into movies. She couldn’t stand the idea of sitting still for two straight hours, and that mentality was evident in every facet of her life. I’d never met anyone as busy as her, and looking back, it was almost as if she knew her time here would be cut short and she was trying to cram as much in as she possibly could.

  Pulling into the Valley View Drive-In, I find a spot in the last row and back into it. As soon as I kill the engine, Leighton climbs out and starts setting up the chairs in the truck bed.

  She also brought blankets—one for each of us—and a six pack of Coronas on ice.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a date and that Molly put her up to it.

  “You excited for Galaxy Defenders Part Two?” she asks, taking a seat in the left chair and pulling a woolen blanket into her lap.

  “I guess.” I take the spot beside her. “Never been big into superheroes.”

  “Why, because they’re not realistic?” she asks.

  “Something like that.” I’ve never been one to enjoy the idea of waiting around for someone else to come save me. I’d rather save myself, and if I can’t? Then I suppose those are the cards I’m dealt.

  “That’s the whole point though.” She turns to me. “If superheroes had realistic superpowers, they wouldn’t be nearly as interesting or exciting. Who would want to see a movie about Captain Moneybags or Intelligence Man? Beauty, brains, and bank accounts are about as close to real superpowers as we’re ever going to get, and those are boring as hell.”

  “I guess.”

  The second the sun dips below the horizon, the previews begin to flash across the giant screen.

  “We need popcorn.” Leighton eyes the growing line at the concession stand, but before I can offer to make the food run, she’s already jumping off the tailgate.

  I suffer through far too many previews by the time she returns with a giant pail of golden kernels and an armful of candy.

  “I could never eat like this in front of Grant,” she says, taking her chair. “He said it wasn’t ladylike. Don’t mind me while I shove my face full of peanut M&Ms and greasy popcorn.” Leighton passes the tub to me. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told them extra butter.”

  Just the way I like it.

  The opening credits begin to play, and immediately there’s some villain doing something horrible to some poor defenseless creature until some superhero swoops in.

  God, this is cheesy.

  Glancing at Leighton from the corner of my vision, I watch her. She’s into it. Smiling. Eyes glued to the screen.

  “Watch.” She elbows me, lips fighting a teasing grin. “You’re not watching. I’m going to quiz you after this. You need to know all their superpowers.”

  I fight a smile. This girl has a smart mouth on her, and while I find her irritating ninety-seven percent of the time, the other three percent of the time, I kind of secretly enjoy her company.

  And it’s been five long years since I’ve felt that way about anyone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leighton

  “Nice setup.” I place my bag on a cognac leather sofa in Seth’s living-room-turned-man cave and take another look around. A pool table centers the space and an abundance of seating options are strategically placed around it. Neon bar lights hang on the walls beside vintage gas station signs and a dart board. “This is a bachelor pad if I ever saw one.”

  My mind chooses this moment to begin comparing and contrasting Seth and River despite the fact that I’m not dating or even so much as thinking about dating either one of them. I suppose I find it interesting how different they are, and I find myself wondering if I were to stick around … if I were to want to date one of them … which one would I choose?

  I don’t know.

  Spending time with River last night at the movies was nice. He didn’t act like he was being tortured the entire time, and he let me tease him a bit without getting all huffy. He’s as guarded as Area 51, and yet I’m incredibly attracted to him. He intrigues me in a way that no one else ever has.

  “I can’t tell if you actually like it or if you’re being facetious.” Seth winks and my heart does a little jump.

  “No, no. I’m impressed. You put a lot of time and effor
t into this.” I take a seat at a high top that would normally look better in a bar setting but somehow works well in this space.

  “When you live around here, you tend to have all the time in the world,” he says, shrugging.

  “Everything just seems so curated and personal—in a good way.” I take another look around. “I’m starting to think that bar owner is the absolute most perfect profession for you.”

  “I’d hope so.” Seth slides onto the seat next to me. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I got here. “I’m a people person. I like to be social. I guess it shows, huh?”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” Our eyes lock for a second.

  “You want a drink?” His brows lift, and he slides off the seat, placing his hand on my back and letting it linger.

  “What do you have?”

  He heads toward the kitchen, stopping in front of a glass front fridge. “Anything and everything.”

  “White wine?” I ask.

  “You got it.”

  Seth returns a moment later with a crisp glass of Riesling and places it before me atop a cardboard pub coaster.

  “You play pool?” he asks, grabbing himself a beer.

  “I play a little pool.” I wink.

  “Best out of three?” He takes a drink from his can before grabbing a couple of pool sticks, making his way around the pool table with unrushed confidence, and I can’t help but wonder if he moves that way between the sheets …

  “You have no idea what you’re going up against,” I tease, promptly removing my mind from the gutter. Daydreaming can get a girl in trouble, and I’m not looking for any trouble—not yet anyway.

  “Oh, yeah? You a regular pool shark?” He racks the balls and rolls the cue ball my way.

  Bending at the waist, I slide my pool stick awkwardly between my fingers and completely miss the cue ball.

  Seth chuckles. “I knew you were bluffing.”

  “You still want to play?”