American Honey

by Heidi McLaughlin

  He walked toward me, stopping at the foot of the stairs. “I hear you’re looking for some help.”

  “Not from you,” I replied.

  “Erica, please. How long are you going to be mad at me?”

  “How long are you planning on staying in town?” I cocked my eyebrow, feeling content with my obnoxious question.

  He took a step forward, and then another, until he was standing in front of me on the porch. My heart was beating so fast, almost like it was going to come straight out of my chest. He reached out and touched the side of my chin. “I’ve missed you.”

  I turned my head, pulling away from his reach. “Stop it.”

  “I think you’ve missed me too. Have you thought about us? Have you thought about how I made you feel that night; how it felt to be naked in my arms?”

  I shoved him backwards. “Don’t! You don’t get to talk to me about that, Reed, or Shawn, or whoever you are.”

  He came forward extending both of his arms out. “It’s the truth. You know it is, Erica. For the record, nobody calls me Shawn, nobody that matters anyway.”

  “I don’t even care. Look, you walked away that day, after I asked you to stay. You made the choice, and I moved on. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a reopening to plan for, and I don’t have the time or energy to stand here and argue with you about what could have been. It’s done and over with.”

  I turned to walk back inside and felt him pulling me back. By the time I could get my footing I was smacking against his chest, in his arms, with his lips on mine. I pulled away, trying to slap him, but he caught my arm. I pulled away, but remained in front of him as he spoke. “I won’t force myself on you, Erica. I just wanted to feel those lips one more time.” He looked around at the old porch. “You should look into resealing this wood, or else people will complain of getting splinters. Good luck with your re-opening. I’m sure everyone will love what you’re doing to make it what it once was.”

  Reed hopped off the porch and walked over to his bike. I walked inside and closed the door, falling down against it. Once again he was leaving, and once again I was destroyed over it.

  He’d given me an offer, and I’d refused. It was as simple as that.

  I opened my eyes and wiped away the tears when I heard his motorcycle starting up. The setting sun was shining through the front window, lighting up the rug where I’d happily made love to Reed. Chills ran down my spine in those seconds that I reminisced over it. His motor revving told me that he was on his way out. I stood up, before I even realized that I was reacting. The door was opened back up, and I bolted toward the bike that was starting to ride down the lane. I ran faster, waving my arms to try to get his attention.

  He went faster, pulling out onto the open road and riding away. My knees felt weak as I fell down on the dirt road. Reed was gone and I needed to learn how to deal with it.

  I looked up when I heard the motor appear as if it was coming back. Just as I stood up, I saw him turning back in. I walked toward the oncoming bike. When he stopped and took off his helmet, I was right in front of him waiting.

  “You came back?”

  “Yeah. I had to give it one more go. Did you run after me?” Obviously he hadn’t seen me flailing my arms around screaming.

  “I did.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued. “I made a mistake, Reed. You were right about everything. I’ve just been too stubborn to admit it.”

  He climbed off the motorcycle and walked up to break the distance between the two of us. “So what now, Erica?” He took my hair and put it over my shoulders. “What happens now?”

  I giggled and looked up into those dark eyes. “I guess you get yourself a paintbrush.”

  He held me close, leaning forward and letting our lips brush. “First we need to do this.” His kiss was just like I’d remembered, deep and passionate. The longer it lasted the more I knew how right it felt.

  After our long needed embrace, we walked back to the old bed and breakfast. Reed parked his motorcycle and got his bag out of the compartment under his seat. “I’ll get the rest of my things from my hotel room later. So which room is mine?”

  I hugged him again, leaning my head against his strong body. “The one that I’m staying in.”

  It must have been the right answer, because Reed picked me up and carried me inside, while placing those perfect kisses all over my face.

  We didn’t know what the future held, or even if the bed and breakfast would work out, but for now we’d both found what we were looking for.

  To be continued…

  Chelsea Landon

  Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyways.

  ~Author unknown

  Chapter One

  Farmer’s Daughter

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Out.” I know this dance, his game, it’s meant to make me think I can’t get away from this place.

  “And that is?” his eyes penetrate, he’s searching for my lie knowing damn well he can’t trust me. In some ways, here’s a man in complete denial that his only daughter graduated last week and she’s turning eighteen on Tuesday. Deep down, he’s scared I’m leaving and never coming back. He should be scared

  “Dad…” My eyes are on my phone, certainly not on my dad. If he sees my eyes, he knows I’m lying. I sigh and grab my bag by the door letting the screen door slam behind me.

  “Be back by midnight.” He orders from the porch, then without another glance, turns and walks inside the house. I don’t know why he cares but he acts like he does. I know he means well, he’s just overbearing and completely unreasonable.

  Midnight? He’s lucky if I make it home before the sun rises tonight. I graduated last week. You’d think there’d be some leeway there but not with Adam Rodger.

  My summer starts the moment Jessie picks me up. She’s dressed in her blue jeans and cowboy boots. She doesn’t bother with a shirt, never usually does once she leaves her house and settles on her bikini top. Other than in school, Jessie Gayle is the girl most girls stay away from in fear she’ll kick your ass. She’s tiny but tough. Sweet but sassy and cold but caring. She’s never anything anyone expects her to be.

  She tips her red trucker hat at me when the door closes, dirt kicking up as she speeds down the driveway. It’s a familiar sight down this long gravel driveway. I know every pothole just like I know every scar on my body. Behind me sits the house that I was born in. It’s seen better days, cracked paint and a barn that’s barely standing. The barn was hit hard by numerous storms this past year and never recovered. Kind of like me.

  I’m trapped in Amarillo in more ways than I can say. It’s a dusty farm that’s been my home since I was born and I want away from it, as far away as any four wheels can take me. I want freedom and a chance to be anything but a farmer’s daughter. I want out of this culturally poor town with its extreme weather. The summers are unbearable and the winters just the same.

  “Just a few more days.” I tell myself that every day.

  It’s my age holding me here and I believe that to be true. It’s this farm and these life sucking cowboys that seem to find me and make their way between my legs.

  “Think he’ll bring it up?” Jessie asks me lighting her cigarette she’s holding between two fingers.

  I’m taking my pants off and changing into my jean shorts and old flannel my dad won’t let me wear because it’s too low, too much, too anything but the modest clothing he only wishes I wear. I take the ends of my flannel and twist them up revealing the tanned skin of my stomach.

  Jessie takes a few drags from her cigarette and hands it to me.

  “I’ll kick his ass if he does.” I take a drag as well, and then again knowing this is my only time to smoke, or do anything other than be a homemaker they expect me to be.

  “Alanna,” Brown eyes so dark they appear black find mine, “you know Harrison isn’t keeping any secrets for you. If he thinks it’ll get him in good with your dad, he’d tell
him.”

  Harrison means well, he just can’t keep his mouth shut. I know this but I still hope that maybe he will for me. Just this once. He’s hung up on me and thinking we would someday be what he’s hoping for. Together. It’ll never happen. Harrison’s good hearted and nice. I’m not.

  Jessie leans forward and turns down the Pistol Annies blaring through the cab. “Have you heard from Kasey since then?”

  “Nope.” I gesture to the bruise on my inner thigh. “Haven’t seen him since Sunday but I have this reminder.”

  Jessie rolls her eyes as we pull into the driveway at Harrison’s house. “Figures. He’s an ass.”

  We pass by a section of road that turns my stomach and brings my heart a pain that’s so intense my breath is stolen from me. It’s instant and as we pass the white cross still lined with flowers his mama plants each year, the memory, much like the flowers, is fading with the light of the day and the wilted blooms that have fallen like the tears that have long since been shed.

  My hands shake when I reach for the door handle, my worn cowboy boots sliding over the caked on country dirt spread over Jessie’s floor mats. When I close my door, the sound carries through the field, rust shaking loose on the bed of her Chevy that’s as old as she is. Wind whips at my face and it smells like dirt and cow shit.

  Jessie rolls her eyes at the smell flicking her cigarette in a nearby mud puddle.

  I’ve known Jessie about two years. She moved here with her mom when her dad left to “head into town for some things” and never came home. She’s the only person who knows every secret I have and I have more than my share of a few. Probably more than most seventeen-year-olds. Jessie doesn’t judge me. She never will. She and I are kindred spirits in more ways than one and my closest confidante in this hell hole called bum fuck Egypt. I honestly don’t think I can live without Jessie. Her sharp tongue and determination, we’re inseparable in our ways.

  We make our way through the overgrown wheat fields out behind Harrison’s parent’s barn. There’s a light haze in the air but there usually is here. As I look around, everything about this place is just another indicator that this town is, in more ways than one, the town that time forgot. The ground is dry and dusty, cracked from the blazing heat of the day.

  Once near the barn, there are about ten people already standing around drinking and smoking. It’s what we do here. Sugarland is blaring through two large black speakers against the wall, shaking the wood floor of the barn and rattling the broken windows loose. The barn’s seen better days but it’s a refuge for us, a way to forget that the majority of us will still be in this town twenty, thirty, even fifty years from now probably doing the same thing then as we are doing today, drinking and smoking not accomplishing much more than what we are doing in this moment and time. But this barn allows us a sanctuary where we can just be kids. It’s a small way for us to be away from the judgmental eyes and voices that always accompany being around our parents and other adults. Just a way out…even if it’s just tonight.

  Harrison finds me, he’s drunk and wraps his arms around mine. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Just stay away from him.”

  “Don’t worry.” I roll my eyes taking the beer he hands me. “It was nothing.”

  He’s telling me to stay away from Kasey because Kasey’s taken by the preacher’s daughter. He’s forever off limits. It’s not like I care though. Ashley can have his lying, cheating ass. Maybe being with a preacher’s daughter affords some sort of forgiveness and salvation that I can’t offer. Fuck ‘em all is my motto.

  Harrison gives a beer to Jessie who snatches it out of his hand and looks the direction of her fuck buddy standing near an old worn down tractor that hasn’t ran in years.

  I don’t know his name. I doubt she does either. It’s just a thing with them. Something to pass the time in this sleepy town. Jessie falls for the boys from the south every time. She’s got a thing for their boots and spurs.

  They get me too but I’m a little more into the rebels. I can’t seem to pick any who aren’t going to break my heart.

  Kasey, who’s in the corner of the barn with his girl who’s never seen a dick before, wraps her in his arms heading for the field where a bonfire lights the night’s sky. Some think the guys go for the sluts. They do. But only for a night. It’s these girls like the one in Kasey’s arms tonight that he’ll never push too far. He’ll respect her, give her what she needs and eventually marry her.

  Look at her. She’s beautiful. And in a simple pure heavenly way. I keep looking for her fucking halo or angel wings to peep out at me she’s so pure. I bet she’d stay with him if she found out about me, and all the other girls he’s been with. She’d probably smile and take it to heart, give him another chance knowing damn well all she’s ever gonna give a guy like Kasey Peterson is a chance.

  It’s girls like me who are never appreciated. It’s me who gives them their pleasure, their wild fantasy they’re never gonna get with that too good, too pretty, too innocent one in their arms ready to meet their mama. I’m never gonna meet his mom. I’m the girl he fucks on Sunday morning when his girl’s in church. I’m not the “keeper” that he’ll tell his friends about, I’m the one he will tell his friends to fuck next.

  My attention draws from Kasey to a man standing to my left leaning against his truck. There’s a lot of commotion in the field but my attention is on him. He’s that train wreck I can’t seem to look away from, I’m not sure why other than his stunning good looks that keep my eyes riveted; however, I know it’s more, so much more.

  The bonfire lights his eyes. He’s sexy, but he’s humble. I see that just in the way he smiles at me. His body is leaned more to one side with a beer in his hand. At first glance, he’s not overly tall but enough that he would hover over me, if I were standing next to him or, better yet, if he was hovering over me say in a bed, or in a field.

  When he feels my eyes on him, he tips his hat, winking, but there’s sadness there. An overwhelming sadness that has me wanting to touch him in a show of comfort but I can’t, I’m not “that girl” who comforts men in that way. He’s not here for the girls. He’s here to forget and that’s what he’s doing bringing a half empty bottle to his lips every few minutes. He never flinches at the burn as it gives him the pleasure he’s looking for. I watch his eyes as they scan the field and stray on the pasture. There’s a memory there, one that keeps his stare on that field.

  More have shown up but there’s about ten of us standing around the fire, some talking while others keep their eyes and voices silent, captured by a crackling fire and a feeling of isolation from the rest of this world that only being around this place with these people can offer. The man shifts his stance, his worn boots scrape against the dirt and gravel. My eyes are drawn to him. He’s straight up country and fits the bill for these parts. I know who he is. He’s Callan James, the troubled middle James brother who left town four years ago.

  When I glance up from my beer, his eyes are on mine. His smile draws me in first and the way he’s keeping it at bay under the fire light has me mesmerized. Then I see his eyes, once just a shadow, they’re alive and bright, blue stones like diamonds under that black cowboy hat. His nose is a tad crooked, probably broken a few times. He seems distant, no doubt a product of returning home. I don’t know the story behind the James’ brothers. Some in this sleepy town do. I was too young at the time to know. They’re mysterious, I know that much. And I think that’s how they want everyone to see them. I may say I know this town, the people in it, but there’s still some mystery.

  When he feels I’m staring, because I am, his eyes travel the length of my body with no amount of discretion.

  He’s leaning against the black truck in a relaxed manner. He’s still trouble. I know this when I see his eyes make another pass over my body. He’s confident, I see that much. He doesn’t care that I see him checking me out.

  The crowd wanders and his eyes shift around the fire, landing on mine. Then, with a smile, he gives
me a nod to his truck, his hand on the door.

  Chapter Two

  My Sinning Soul

  There’s nothing to do in Amarillo on a Friday night besides drink and fuck. I’m about to do both. There’s no sugar coating what’s about to happen. I like sex and more importantly, I’m liking the man standing in front of me staring at me as if he knows what I want.

  The fire lights the cab of his truck giving me little guidance but it’s enough to see he wants this. His chest is rising and falling a little faster, one hand on the steering wheel, the other around the back of the seat. When his eyes find mine, they’re fire lit with anticipation.

  I’m sitting on my knees on the bench seat, my hands move up muscular legs to his buckle. He has to be stupid if he didn’t know what I was doing getting in here with him. When I look up at him, his eyes tell me that he knows more than I’m giving him credit for. I think he knew when he saw me by the fire I’d be on my knees but he’s probably too much of a gentleman to say so.

  My hands work on his buckle, the clanging brings his eyes to mine sending a spark straight to the one spot where I know he will be shortly.

  It looks as though he might stop me, he wants to but he doesn’t. Instead his left hand wraps in my hair, gentle but firm. He’s not going to stop. I see it. He’s bringing me along for this ride. “You done this before?”

  Turning my head just slightly, I nod, it’s better that he knows. His expression offers me nothing right then so I continue. I know what I’m doing.

  His buckle catches my eye. It’s gold and has a bull rider on it with words I can’t make out given my blurry stare.