Big Sky Eyes

by Sawyer Belle

  Her head was pounding. She needed a distraction. She signed onto the Internet to browse the headlines. Her breath caught. He was there. For a year, her eyes had gone reflexively to his name in her chat box, but always with an empty circle beside it, signaling that he was not signed on. Now, of all nights to appear, that tiny circle filled with green. He was a few clicks away.

  She stared long at his name, her heartbeat dancing in her ears. In her fingers, the cold metal of the engagement ring burned until she raised it to the level of her eyes. The diamond was small and glinting like the ice that forms over new fallen snow. For several minutes she looked between it and the highlighted name on her computer.

  He double-clicked on her name, opening a fresh chat box and from there his fingers froze. Anything he might say seemed trite and meaningless. He could tell her that he was happy for her, but it was a lie. He was heartsick bordering on rage. He determined that he would not interfere, but he’d be damned if he’d give his blessing. No, the best thing he could do for Mackenna was ignore her and let her live her happy life. He moved the mouse to the X of the window, and after a long breath he clicked on it, signing off and closing the box.

  Mackenna watched the light go out and sighed. This was the way things were with Brent. One minute he was there and close enough to reach out to. The next minute, he was gone altogether. Even as the familiar ache thrummed once again in her chest, she signed off of the computer and slid the ring onto her finger.

  Chapter 31

  Two weeks passed since Mackenna had made up her mind, and the pace of life quickened to a beat that made her breathless. In two days, she was moved from her apartment back into her parents' home. Rick busily haunted every apartment complex on the south side of town, searching for a new place just to be as near to her as possible. Urgency was the prevailing mood in their lives, though she didn’t know exactly what they were all rushing for.

  Champagne fizzled just as urgently in her glass as she held it aloft during her father’s speech. Her parents had gathered a small engagement party to celebrate her ascension into domesticity. The way her father spoke, Makckenna felt like she had foregone her own career aspirations permanently. His lofty pride and praise was dispensed wholly on Rick and his soon-to-be epithet of “Doctor.”

  She sipped a little, but ultimately ended up leaving her glass on an empty tray, and as the party was erupting within, she slipped out into the perfect Washoe Valley summer evening. Stars sprinkled overhead. The evening air was balmy and refreshing. Familiar scents beckoned her to walk along the pasture fence and the horses whinnied at her presence. Even they wouldn’t waste such a glorious night indoors.

  She made her way to Tip’s stall. The horse was anxious for attention and nuzzled her caretaker happily. Mackenna rested her head against the horse’s and thought back on the conversation she’d had with Leslie on her wedding day. All she had cared about was marrying Ty. Mackenna willed herself to feel the same toward Rick.

  Suddenly, he was there. His eyes were alight with drink, his body poised and purposeful and she swallowed. She knew what he had followed her for, what he was after. She also knew that if she were committed to living a life with this man, she could not withhold her body any longer.

  He strode up to her, his hand unsteadily seeking to caress her face but hampered by the amount of champagne roiling in his blood. She helped his hindered state and stepped closer, pressing her face into his floating hand. His fingers traced the outline of her jaw and then made their way down her throat. Mackenna waited as he hesitantly brushed his palm over her breasts.

  No fire started. No excitement burst forth.

  He closed the gap between them and began fervently thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She tried to match his desperate pace but could not and so rested her tongue as his assaulted it. His hands moved up her sides, wanting to touch her flesh, but too afraid to dive beneath her shirt. She took a step back and removed the garment to ease his torture.

  His eyes were burning embers as he slowly eased her down onto a bed of straw. He removed his own shirt, revealing a trim and thin chest she’d seen before. He wasted no time lying atop her. As she struggled for breath, he struggled to free his erection from his jeans. One forearm rested above her head, pinning her hair tightly enough that she tried to shift her weight to release it.

  Once his own body was free, he struggled with the buttons of her jeans. With shaky fingers, she reached down and loosened her pants. Shimmying out of them, she ignored the voice in the back of her head that said that it didn’t feel right. She scolded herself, asking what the hell “right” was anyway.

  Rick needed no further prompting. He was braced on his elbows, clumsily trying to guide his member inside of her body. Once he gained entry, he took a few solid thrusts to penetrate the symbol of her virginity and Mackenna winced against the intrusion. His body stiffened as much as hers, but where she stilled, he pressed. Over and over again he ground against her newly torn and sensitive flesh, grunting like a saw against a wooden beam.

  Mackenna gritted her teeth against the raw invasion chafing and searing her, willing a passionate response, desperate to feel a fraction of what she knew she could feel. It never came. When Rick had spent himself on the stiff straws of hay beneath them, he collapsed atop her, panting and sweating. All Mackenna wanted was to roll him off of her and run away.

  She felt no closer to him than she had before. She felt no connection of their souls or hearts. Her body felt sore and tender, her emotions cocked and held back. Rick had allowed himself to expire afterwards, and without regard to her comfort fell into an easy sleep on top of her. Once she noticed the heavy rhythm of his breathing, she sucked in a deep breath. Before she could control or stop them, a flood of tears poured quietly from her eyes and down her cheeks.

  The ice cubes in his empty glass were a glossy golden color as he held the tumbler aloft and tilted it back and forth in the low-lighting of the bar. Actually, “bar” was a bit too modern word for this place. It was a relic from the nineteenth century that could be described as nothing more than wooden. Wooden and weathered, just like the men who drank there. In fact, the running joke was that if the regulars of The Shed were not such pricks themselves, they might actually feel the splinters they sat on. Such was the company in this cold, Montana town.

  The bartender took his cue from the raised glass and promptly refilled it with the dark amber rot gut that so many switch to once their taste buds numb enough to be able to distinguish between top shelf and well. For Brent, whiskey was whiskey, and it only served one purpose: to wipe out any emotion and replace it with a warm and brilliant blur. To Brent, whiskey was not for sipping, for savoring or any other pretentious use. There was a reason it burned you through.

  That is why when Ty found him so deep into his cups at a bar he never went to, drinking a drink he never drank in celebration, he sidled noiselessly onto the stool beside him and ordered the same. There they sat, drinking in quiet solidarity until Brent ground his teeth together in frustration.

  “You know, I hate when you do that, Ty,” he said before raising his glass to his lips.

  “What’s that, Brent?” unaffected.

  “Sit there all smug, sure that if you just keep your mouth shut long enough, I’ll bare my soul to you or something.”

  In answer, Ty took a sip and lightly smacked his lips together. He kept his gaze fixed forward and said nothing. Brent stared hard at his friend’s profile for a long moment before he snorted and shook his head.

  “Suit yourself, Ty,” he said with mild disgust. “I didn’t come here wanting to talk to anybody and I didn’t ask you to join me. If you think I’m going to make some big confession or something just because you’re here now, you’re wrong pal. “

  He received no reply, fueling his drunken anger.

  “What the hell are you good for anyway?” Brent continued. “You are the worst conversationalist. You know, if you want to talk with someone, you actually have to talk.”
r />   Ty took another silent sip.

  “You’re a son of a bitch, you know?” Brent sputtered, knowing full-well that his rebellion was crumbling. “Fine! You want to sit quietly? I’ll keep my mouth shut, but just do me a favor and finish your drink and get the hell out of here, will ya?”

  Ty tipped the glass and emptied it into the back of his throat.

  “Finally,” Brent muttered. “Now go.”

  Ty lifted his glass and caught the attention of the bartender. “Another if you please, Keep.”

  Brent huffed and once both of their glasses were full, he lowered his forehead to his balled fist where it rested on the counter. He pinched his eyes shut and heaved a defeated sigh. He couldn’t see it, but he knew that Ty’s straight mouth had now tilted into a triumphant and lopsided grin. This was their way. They had been friends since childhood. They were similar in the ways that mattered and exact opposites in the ways that best suited. Brent knew he’d never find a finer friend, and Ty felt the same.

  Brent raised himself and propped his elbows on the bar so he could rub the alcohol from his eyes with drunken fingers. He grunted and felt instantly remorseful for his tone and words. The man was the only friend he’d ever had. Well, not the only one.

  “Ah, hell, Ty,” he said. “It’s about Mackenna.”

  “I know,” Ty said solidly.

  “What do you know?” Brent snapped.

  “What you’re about to tell me.”

  “How could you know?” He would be truly surprised if they were talking about the same thing.

  “Oh, come on, Brent,” he drawled, almost impatiently. “Everybody knows that you two love each other. Everyone’s known it since your first summer together. What we all can’t wrap our heads around is how you two are the only ones blind to it. I never met such a stubborn pair, I swear.”

  Brent sat back as though he’d been slapped.

  “Well, you sure picked a hell of time to let me in on it,” he said finally. “If you had said something earlier, you could have saved both of us a bunch of heartache.”

  “Oh, so it’s my fault that you’re in this shithole, knocking back whiskies and feeling sorry for yourself? It’s not my place to make your choices for you. Besides, if I had said something before would you have realized it was the truth?”

  Brent stared silently at him. Ty was right. He wouldn’t have listened to him. Hell, he had spent the last three years trying to convince himself that he didn’t love her. Once he realized that he did, and actually allowed himself to feel it, it flooded him completely and irrevocably, bringing with it a broken heart and regret so potent that it was physically painful.

  Brent finished his glass and waved away the bartender when he made to refill it. He rubbed his eyes while he spoke.

  “What would you have done, Ty, if Leslie had fallen for someone else when she went away to college, like you feared?”

  “I would have gone and gotten her back,” he said without pause.

  “But what if she were truly happy with the guy?”

  “To be honest, I wouldn’t have even thought that far ahead. All I would have thought was that she was mine and no one else’s.”

  “Yeah, that’s easy to say since she didn’t fall for someone else,” Brent returned wearily.

  Ty pressed a comforting hand to the back of Brent’s neck.

  “I think it’d be even easier to say if she had.”

  Chapter 32

  Mackenna rushed through the front entrance of the restaurant and flagged down the hostess. She was fifteen minutes late to meet Rick for dinner and was already dreading the interrogation she was sure to get. In the three months since they’d become sexually-active, Rick had changed. There was no playfulness, but possession. He spent more time glaring at every male around them than smiling at her like he used to, and he became tiringly suspicious.

  As she approached the booth where he waited, she turned on her brightest smile, hoping to curtail whatever scolding he had worked up for her. As he frowned at her in response, she braced herself for the worst, sliding onto the bench across from him. The waitress was right on her heels with a menu and asked Mackenna what she wanted to drink. Before she could answer, Rick spoke.

  “Let me see your phone,” he ordered.

  Mackenna tensed at his tone and turned a smile onto the waitress.

  “I’ll take an iced tea, please,” she said pleasantly and the waitress left with a nod. Then, she turned blue daggers onto Rick. “Don’t speak to me that way. If you want something from me, ask. You don’t order me around.”

  He studied her for a long moment, his face unreadable. “May I see your phone, please?” he ground through his teeth.

  She retrieved the phone from her bag and handed it to him. He instantly began scrolling through her text messages, incoming and outgoing, before checking recent calls. When he was satisfied with what he found he gave the phone back to her and allowed his body to relax.

  “Sorry,” he said tightly.

  “You should be,” she said. “You’re becoming ridiculous. What were you looking for on my phone? If I was going to cheat on you, I’d just break up with you.”

  His head snapped up and worry creased around his eyes and mouth. “Is that what you’re doing?” he asked.

  She stopped in the middle of removing her coat and sent him a reproachful glare. “No, Rick,” she snapped. “I’m having dinner with you.”

  He relaxed and she shook her head wearily. How was she supposed to deal with this side of him? It was becoming almost unbearable. They couldn’t go out anywhere and have a nice, relaxing time. He was too wound up in public. Only when they were in the comfort of her parents’ home was he the same Rick he’d been before: funny, charming, and energetic.

  She decided to change the subject by asking about his day. He groaned and launched into a series of anecdotes describing his current courses and their trials. When she laughed at a funny story he told about one of his classmates, a table of four men nearby turned to look toward them. Rick’s smile fell instantly and his features tightened.

  “What are you looking at?!” he shot at the table and they all turned away innocently. Mackenna dropped her face into her hands, embarrassed. “What?” Rick asked.

  She just shook her head. When their food arrived, she’d only had three bites before Rick was yelling at the table of men again.

  “Keep your eyes on your plate there, buddy, and not on my girl,” he said.

  “Look, man,” the guy answered back. “Nobody’s looking at you guys, okay? Just chill out.”

  Rick started to stand, but Mackenna beat him to it. He looked questioningly at her as she grabbed her coat and thrust her arms into the sleeves, shaking her head all the while.

  “I’m leaving,” she said.

  “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

  “You’re embarrassing me and acting like a child,” she scolded. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  She stomped off and pushed through the doors angrily. Rick stood there, watching her leave. The sounds of male laughter brought him back to the present and he turned his glare on the man he’d been speaking to.

  “Have a nice dinner, man,” the guy said to the subdued chuckles of his friends.

  Rick lunged at him and planted a fist into the side of his face. He fell out of his chair and onto the ground while his friends jumped up and blocked Rick’s path to do further damage. The manager of the restaurant came running over and threatened to call the police if Rick didn’t leave immediately. After a long minute of contemplation, he left the restaurant.

  Brent had some logistics to figure out before moving to Nevada. He had been floored to learn from Ty that Mackenna had not continued her education, but was taking a year off to await her fiancé's graduation. He knew what a sacrifice that was for her, and her doing it made him believe that she was deeply in love. More than once, he had talked himself out of going after her, only to talk himself back into it. Doubt and fear swept through his confidenc
e and allowed him to postpone his plans for two months.

  Enough research had been done that he had a good grasp of the expenses he would incur for help caring for his mother. The job market presented a few challenges, but he was willing to do whatever kind of work he needed to make ends meet. It’s what he’d always done. Of course, there was always the possibility that Mackenna would want to move away from Reno for vet school. If that were the case, then he’d have to begin researching all over again.

  He sighed at the possibility of moving multiple times. Alora needed to know his plans. Although he didn’t have all of the answers to the questions she’d surely have, it was her life, too, and she had a right to speak her mind on the matter. Once she was on board with the idea, he would fly out to Reno and, in the words of Ty, take back what belonged to him. He would take Mackenna in his arms and never let her go. He smiled at the thought. Christmas was a few days away. What a present it would be to have the woman he loved back in his life!

  He crunched through the snowy parking lot and embraced the warm apartment as he entered. Shedding his winter gear, he reached for a few light switches to illuminate the dark. Alora must be napping. She usually had the Christmas tree lights on at least by the time he came home every evening. He set to work making dinner.

  He boiled water for a pasta and busied himself chopping bits of chicken and some vegetables and herbs. Once he had the mixture simmering on the stovetop he cleaned up the few dishes in the sink and wiped down the countertops. The table was set. The food was ready and filling the air with a rich aroma. He made his way down the hall and found her still lying peacefully in her bed. He switched on the light and sat on the side of the bed, gently nudging her shoulder. She didn’t stir.

  “Mom,” he whispered softly, “dinner’s ready. You hungry?”

  Still no answer.

  He nudged a little harder and her head rolled heavily to the side, her eyes still closed. Brent felt a rush of tiny bumps travel over his skin. His limbs felt tingly and cold all at once. A heavy weight lodged in his belly, burning with each breath he took. He pinched his lips together and breathed heavily through his nose, the sound bouncing off of the walls in the still room. He slowly reached out a hand toward her throat. He knew by the coldness of her skin before he even felt for the pulse. She was gone.