See, girly girl.
The glowing city lights of Midland shimmered in the distance, easing a bit of tension from my shoulders. It’d been home for over a few years now, but it still felt foreign turning toward it instead of heading the forty minutes west to my childhood home.
After graduating from Texas A&M, I took the first large animal vet job offered, and it just happened to be here. I didn't mind, because I loved West Texas. The sunsets on a clear day could still take my breath away, and the rough hands of a rancher or sunspots on an older woman's face were worn with pride instead of shame.
It was crazy that I ended up here, so close to home, considering I went seven hours away to College Station to put as much distance between me and the memories as possible. Away from the looks and stares of every person who thought they knew me and the real story. Even all these years later, if you listened to the gossips in town, you'd learn of the young, naïve country girl who foolishly fell for a man she'd never have a shot at keeping. They were correct about one piece. I did fall for him. Fell hard. Fifteen-year-old girls only fall one way—desperately, all-consuming, devastatingly in love.
Unfortunately for me, it was Brenton Graves who I fell for, the older bad boy who everyone assumed was a lost cause. But they didn't see the real him or know our full story. They weren't a part of the buildup to who we were together—friends to confidants to lovers to…. Everyone assumed they knew the details of our final night together, but they didn't; they only believed the lies they had heard. Only Ryder knew the play-by-play of that awful night, and I guess Brenton. Not that I'd know for sure, considering the last time I saw or spoke to him, I was screaming in pain while he lay unconscious in the driver seat.
Holding the wheel with my knee, I swiped both sweaty palms down my already damp jeans and cursed at the windshield.
Am I really considering going to the funeral for a shot at closure?
Haven't I moved on? I’m thirty years old, dammit.
Okay, a sad thirty-year-old who couldn't move on and maybe still thought about her first love, her first relationship, first lover nearly every other day.
“You're pathetic, Beka. Seriously pathetic. Grow a set and move on,” I said to myself through the roaring, dust-filled wind pouring through the open windows as I sped down the smooth highway.
After a lengthy, well-deserved shower, I fell face-first onto the bed with an exhausted groan. Like the rest of my body, the throbbing soles of my feet seemed to sigh. Being a veterinarian wasn't at all what I expected. Long hours, late nights, and very—and I mean very—little pay. The small practice that hired me after graduation decided to haze me into the group by giving me the unwanted cases and clients, which seemed to be most of them.
The chirp of an incoming message had me fake sobbing into the comforter. Damn me for leaving the stupid phone in the other room. The soles of my feet revolted, sending bolts of pain up my legs with each timid step. A new pair of boots were necessary, but those would have to go on the “want” list, not the “need” list. Both of which were growing.
Even though undergrad had been paid for by the asshat I was dreading to face in three days, graduate school was fucking expensive, leaving me with a healthy bill at the end. Add student loans to my other daily expenses, and I fell deeper into the red with each passing month. I could get by if I moved back home, but there was no way in hell that would happen.
And that wasn't an empty threat. I'd rather live on the streets than back with Daddy.
I fell onto a stool, catching myself before toppling over backward, and swiped the phone open.
Ryder: I think you should go. So does Kyle.
Ryder: You need closure, and this might be your last shot to get it.
My heart dropped to my stomach. Last shot?
Me: Why do you say that?
Me: And you talked to Kyle about what I should do?
Ryder: He is my fiancé and your other best friend, so yeah. Plus things are boring around here. This little development of Brenton coming back to town has everyone talking.
Ryder: And by everyone, I mean every eligible woman eager to get a glimpse of him.
Ryder: You know that ranch will go to Old Man Graves’s bastard son. As soon as his name is on that deed, that place will be up for sale, which means no more Graves family ranch. No more chances of you running into him when visiting your dad.
Ryder: Think about it. It's been ten years. Get your last word in before it’s too late.
Me: Thirteen years. But who's counting?
Ryder: You're killing me. Closure. It does wonders.
Ryder: And you need it, love.
Shit, she was right. Of course she was. It was only the topic of every late-night, drunken conversation since we were teens. Since the day she’d climbed into my hospital bed and held me while I sobbed on her shoulder.
Me: Enough about him. How are things?
Ryder: Things are good. Wedding plans are going well. Now back to him.
Me: What would I even say to him?
Ryder: What we've practiced every day since you left the hospital. Every night since we were kids. You got this. Kyle and I will be there too. You'll have backup.
Ryder: You can do it. But you have to be there to get the last word.
The phone fell to the cheap laminate counter with a thunk. I buried my face in my hands and groaned.
Fine. I'd go. I'd go looking smoking hot, give Brenton Graves a piece of my mind for what he did, and then walk away with closure and a sliver of my self-respect back.
Closure.
I stared at the kitchen cabinets and mentally flipped through my wardrobe. Now came the difficult decision. What in the hell did one wear to a funeral where they were attempting to make the ex-boyfriend jealous?
Hmm. Decisions, decisions.
A steady stream of local ranchers and their wives weaved in and out of the main house, offering their condolences more to the staff than Old Man Graves’ actual family. I scanned each person who passed with a held breath, and each time it wasn't Brenton, disappointment tripped my thundering heart.
He was there somewhere. During the funeral, I caught a quick glimpse of the back of his head, and a side profile when he hugged someone after the service, but that was it. Now standing in the kitchen with the ranch staff, there wasn't a clear line of sight into the formal living room where Brenton and his dad received the mourners.
“Was his dad smiling during the service?” I whispered to Kyle over my shoulder, my eyes glued to the swinging door in case Brenton magically appeared. “He's such an asswipe.”
“I heard he's already reached out to potential buyers about the place. Old Man Graves isn't officially buried yet and that shitty excuse for a human is looking for the next paycheck.”
“I don't get how Brenton would let that happen.” I shifted back to let a caterer pass with a tray full of finger foods. “This place has been in their family for generations. Surely he'll do something to stop it.”
“Why in the hell do you give that bastard more credit than he deserves?” At the anger in Kyle’s harsh tone, I turned to face him. “Do you not remember what happened? How he deserted you? I sure fucking do.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to watch the door once again. “I remember. Kind of hard to forget something like that.”
“You look smoking hot,” Ryder said and wedged between Kyle and me. “Love that dress on you.”
Looking down, I shoved my hands into the side pockets of the black A-line dress and smiled. “Thanks. It has pockets.”
“But seriously, cowboy boots?”
Bumping her hip with mine, I smiled down at my tiny friend, who was shaking her head at my boots. “I like this look. And my other shoes weren't funeral appropriate.”
“There’s appropriate funeral footwear?” Kyle chimed in behind us.
“Yes,” Ryder and I said in unison.
“Have you seen him yet?” Ryder asked, rising to her tiptoes to look over a group of t
all cowboys gathering in front of us. “I only got a glimpse at the gravesite,” she whispered as she leaned close. “But I heard two girls talking in the bathroom, and they both said he's still freakishly hot.”
I cut my narrowed eyes down to hers.
“Sorry,” she grumbled. “It's now or never. Let's go find him.”
Gripping my hand in hers, she yanked me toward the door, but instead of going willingly, I dug my heels into the tile floor. A large hand smacked between my shoulder blades, propelling me forward with so much force that I almost stumbled into an older man. I glared back, ready to flick Kyle the bird, but found him smirking at his boots.
Damn those two.
But I loved them.
Fine. It was time to get this done. I'd have my say, let Brenton see what he left behind, and get my ass back to Midland where a half gallon of chocolate chip Blue Bell waited for me. And three bottles of wine. And a bag of Hershey Kisses.
In the expansive formal living area, a few neighbors mingled while sipping their coffee and munching on the provided food, which wasn't half bad. Ryder guided us through the crowd, weaving and shoving toward the target.
All too soon we were there, right in front of the man who starred in my dreams of murder as well as my lusty fantasies.
I couldn't move. Brenton's bright green eyes locked me in a trance just like they always had. By my side, Ryder spoke words I should’ve understood but didn't. All I could do was stare at the gorgeous man who stared right back.
A thick line formed between his pinched brows as he scanned my features, almost considering me. During that brief second, I took a chance to familiarize myself with this grown version of someone I used to know. His strong, chiseled jaw had filled out over the years, making him look more like a man than a boy. There was still a knot across the bridge of his nose where he broke it in a fight one summer with a ranch hand. The dark, silky, floppy hair I'd always loved running my fingers through was gone now, cut short in a trendy style.
My gaze fell to his full lips, which were moving. I cocked my head to the right and stared in an attempt to understand what he was saying.
The chatter of the people around us filtered back in, reminding me we weren't alone. “Huh?” I mumbled, finding my voice.
“It's you. I remember you,” Brenton said in a low, deep tone, almost like he was uncertain of his words. “What are you doing here?”
“The hell?” Ryder snarled, drawing our attention. “Her dad, the ranch foreman? Ring any bells?” Her grip tightened, cutting off the circulation to my fingers. “Beka, don't you have something to say to this bastard?”
“Beka,” he whispered, sounding like he was testing the name. Those green eyes found mine once again and widened in recognition. “No, not Beka. Beks.”
My old nickname pouring from his lips, in his voice, snapped the trance. “Remember me?” Chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, I pursed my lips and drew in a deep breath through my nose. “You asshole! Good to know you remember the girl you screwed over, the girl you almost….” Building tears threatened to expose the devastation his words caused. “You know what? Fuck this, and fuck you.”
Tears blurred my vision halfway through the room as I weaved toward the door. Behind me, he called my name, and Ryder yelled something in return. All eyes landed on me and followed the rest of the way out.
Great. Just want I needed, more attention to our drama. This was not the plan.
I didn't get my say, but at least this time I was the one doing the leaving.
3
Rebeka
The moment I shoved open the heavy wooden front door, the midafternoon heat smacked my face and stole the breath from my lungs. The stomp of my boot heels vibrated down the stone porch steps as I continued my hasty retreat. At the bottom, I swiped away the traitorous tears rolling down my cheeks.
Remembered me? He couldn't be serious. Did that mean he'd forgotten me at some point?
Wish I'd been lucky enough to forget him these past few years.
I was almost to the makeshift parking lot the event company had sectioned off when someone yelled my name from the direction of the house. I paused to look back, only to turn and pick up the pace.
Hell.
Another glance over my shoulder showed Brenton gaining ground quickly, with Ryder hot on his heels and Kyle steps behind her.
The tips of my fingers grasped the truck door handle, but a set of large hands gripped my shoulders and swiveled me, pushing my back against the scorching metal. The brisk walk and proximity to him had my heart thundering against my ribs and my chest heaving with each labored breath.
“Where in the hell are you going? I told you to stop,” he said, not even breathing hard after his chase.
“Home.” I shifted to turn, but his grip only tightened. “Let go, B. You did it once before. I'm sure it'll be even easier the second time around.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he gritted out. “What did I do? Who did I leave?”
Mouth gaping, I relaxed a fraction, only to tense again when Kyle shoved Brenton so hard that the tight grip on my shoulders released.
“Get the fuck off her,” Kyle yelled, taking a step toward Brenton with his fists raised.
“Listen, I'm just trying to—”
“What do you mean, 'What did I do'?” I asked, taking a step toward the two fuming men.
Brenton's green eyes cut to mine. “I—fuck! Get the hell off me.” He shoved Kyle, sending him stumbling back several steps.
Attention back on me, Brenton moved closer, eyes searching mine. “It means I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. I don't understand why you're so pissed. Hell, I don't even know why I'm out here right now. All I know is—” He shot an annoyed look at Ryder and Kyle. “Can we have two seconds here?”
The two turned their scowling faces from Brenton to me.
Eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, I scanned Brenton's face, searching for… who the hell knew what I was looking for.
With a resigned sigh, I turned to my best friends. “It's fine. Give us a minute.”
Ryder opened her mouth, but I stopped her with a raised hand. “You pushed me to find closure. I'll get it and come say bye before I leave.” Still neither moved. “I'm serious, guys. I'm fine with him. But if you hear someone scream”—I glanced back to the stone-faced Brenton with a smirk before looking back to Ryder—“then you two have to promise you'll help hide the body.”
Their features relaxed a fraction, and Kyle even huffed a small laugh. Hand in hand, they strolled back toward the main house. Ryder glanced back once to mouth something about shooting him.
“Friends of yours?” His even tone was saturated with sarcasm. He slid his dark blue suit jacket off and tossed it on top of the truck hood. “Damn this heat.”
Well, at least we agreed on one thing.
“Come on.” With a wave, I turned toward Daddy and Bradley's house. As the ranch foreman, Daddy had the largest house of all the live-in help, and it happened to be a short walk from where we stood. It might be awkward, but at least we’d be in the air conditioning while we caught up.
Hell. Caught up. With Brenton fucking Graves.
I'd dreamed of this moment. Fantasized about it. And now that it was here, I had zero ideas on what to say or do.
Neither of us spoke during the short walk, but I watched him take in the expansive property from the corner of my eye. “It’s been a while,” I said as we climbed the rickety wooden steps to the porch. “Does it look the same?”
The screen door screeched and the wooden door jarred open from the shoulder I shoved against it. Once inside, I toed off my boots, leaving them beside the door. The entire time, I felt his eyes on me, even as I tiptoed in socks to the worn leather armchair and relaxed into it.
“You grew up here?” he said, a mix between a question and a statement as he looked around the small, rustic room. After Mom died, Daddy didn't put much effort into decorating. Who was I kidding—he didn
't put effort into anything except seeing how fast he could reach the bottom of a bottle. “I remember this place. Well, pieces of it. Why?”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip to keep a smile at bay. “Well, we didn't spend a lot of time in here. You don't remember?”
“No.”
“You're not shitting me?”
“Shitting you? Why in the hell would I do that?” he said with a grimace. “Fuck, what did I do? Tell me. Now.”
“I've been your game before, so why not now too, B?” I monitored his reaction, but only more remorse softened his twitching jaw and fiery gaze.
“Tell me.” He fell to the worn couch opposite of me and leaned his head back, sealing his eyes shut. “You have to understand something. There are years of my life, whole years, that I don't remember. Maybe a few hazy memories here and there, like the ones with you that popped up, but nothing solid. When I saw you in the house, snapshots filtered through. Not real memories, if that makes sense.”
“It doesn't. Listen, it was thirteen years go—”
“Please tell me. I fucked something up, but I don't know what. What did I do to you?”
Turning from his intense, imploring gaze, I stared over his shoulder out the window. “It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago. Wish I could forget as easily as you did.” I looked back to him and shrugged. “Consider yourself closed.” My palms slapped the leather armrests with a smack as I pushed to stand.
“What?”
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 223