by Ginger Scott
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” I say, taking the reigns of the smaller horse from Mason. I pet my horse along his nose, and he dips his head down to sniff me. I’ve been around horses a lot. I’m not a great rider, but I’m comfortable with them.
When I look back to Mason, he’s already swinging his leg over and getting ready. I don’t know why I’m surprised to see him so relaxed on a horse, but I can’t hide my shock. “You are full of surprises, Mason Street,” I smile, lifting myself up and climbing onto my horse.
“Her name’s Dixie. This is Red. I had to sell them when the contract fell through,” he says, running his hand down his horse’s neck and back up again. When he looks at me, his smile is forced and flat, and I feel heartbroken for him.
“I had no idea. I’m sorry, Mason,” I say, my brain entertaining silly thoughts like running away with him and his horses right now.
“It’s okay. It was just one of those things; I always wanted horses. You know, like some people always want a racecar or…whatever. I didn’t get to see them much, and it didn’t really make sense to own them anyhow. It was the first thing I did with the money we got, and it was probably a stupid financial decision. Jeff works for the ranch I sold them to. They let people ride. I haven’t been up since I’ve been home, but it felt like a good time to come…with you,” he says, and the way he’s looking at me feels like he’s been looking at me for forever.
We ride Dixie and Red for about an hour, winding through a trail along a riverbed and through a few small hills deeper into the desert. By the time we reach a small group of people, the sun is starting to set.
“Here,” Mason says, dismounting and reaching to hold Dixie for me while I climb down myself. We never rode fast or hard, but my thighs still hurt anyhow. I know I’ll pay for this tomorrow, but I’d ride for hours in pain just to end up here with Mason.
There’s a large campfire going, and a few older men sitting with guitars and playing. I notice three or four other couples walking over to a small table to pick up food, and I smile up at Mason.
“Are we having a cookout?” I ask, watching him pull a rolled up blanket from the back part of the saddle.
“I figured I could take you to a fancy restaurant anytime,” he says, reaching for me. I fold right against his body, his arm tucking me in tightly.
The fall weather is starting to settle in and the desert air is chilly at night, so Mason lays out our blanket close to the fire, and makes me comfortable while he goes to make our plates. The three men playing and singing on the other side of the fire are singing old country tunes, and they remind me of my mother. She loved Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings.
Mason comes back with two plates piled high with more food than I could ever eat, and we both sit close together on our blanket, devouring barbecued chicken legs, cornbread, and beans. I’m barely though half of my plate and I have to stop.
“Are you giving up?” Mason asks, his mouth busy working a bite while he talks.
“Uhhhhg, I’m so full,” I say, lying back on the blanket and pushing my plate toward him. He just looks at me and grins, then grabs my cornbread muffin and eats it whole. “You are like a bottomless pit!”
He stands up and brushes the crumbs from his shirt, then picks up our plates. “Bottomless pit of lovin’,” he says in his most ridiculous fake sexy voice. I roll my eyes at him, and slap at the back of his leg as he steps over me. “You know you love me.”
I can’t help but smirk when he walks away because he’s right—I know I do.
After dinner, we snuggle close, and Mason pulls the bottom edge of the blanket up over my legs to keep me warm. The old men tell a few stories, but we’re not really listening. We’re whispering to one another, like young campers up late at night.
“When did you know you wanted to play music?” I ask him, situating myself along his arm so I can watch his eyes animate while he talks.
“I used to watch your dad play with some of his friends, and I liked the way everyone looked at him. So one day I asked him to show me how to do a chord, and he did. The next day, I asked him to show me another. And we just sort of kept on going like that for months until he finally just gave me a guitar of my own,” Mason says. I love the way he loves my dad.
“I’m glad he taught you. You’re better than him, though, you know?” I say, leaning my weight into him, just needing to be closer.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, his face serious at first but quickly falling into a grin.
“How about you. Why are you studying English?” he asks.
I have to think about it for a few seconds, because my answer has changed since I took my first classes years ago. “I’ve always loved reading,” I start, but then I pause. “It’s more than that, though. It’s like I really understand books, and the story underneath the story. And, I had this fantasy of getting my PhD. I wanted to teach at some fancy college back East. But now…I think I just want to finish something.”
Mason’s stare at me seems thoughtful, and he leans forward to brush a hair away from my face and kiss my forehead lightly. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he says, still looking at me with the same intensity.
“I guess,” I say, looking down at my lap, uncomfortable with his compliment. There’s nothing very amazing about me at all.
“No, you are. Look at what you’ve done, on your own. If you want to teach at a college, Avery, you should,” he says, lifting my chin to look at him. “You should.”
The way he’s looking at me forms a lump in my throat. I’m not used to anyone challenging my decision to give up. My father supports me, and I know he’d cheer me on in whatever I do. But Mason—he’s doing more than that. He seems to actually believe in me.
“Why don’t you talk to your mom much?” I ask, wanting to divert the focus away from me for a while.
Mason lies back when I ask this, taking in a deep breath and folding his arms under his neck. His shirt lifts up just enough to show off his bare skin, and I want to touch it, so I lie back against him and run my hand under his shirt just to feel his warmth. I feel his body react when I do, so I don’t linger there long.
“My mom did the best she could,” he starts, but then chews at his cheek for a few seconds, his brow bunched, until he turns his body to face me. “No, that’s not true. She probably could have done better. She was always pawning me off on people, your dad more than most, so she could go on long weekends with guys she’d meet at the bar. She was always looking for that quick fix in life—marry rich and live easy. When I got old enough to realize what she was doing, I’d confront her about it. We had some serious fights when I was a teenager.”
“That’s when you stayed at our house a lot,” I whisper, connecting Mason’s story, which I already knew, but for some reason hearing it from him made me feel differently about it all. I felt sad, for him and for Barb.
“Yeah, Ray said it was better for me and my mom to have space, rather than ending up hating each other,” he says, his eyes coming to mine while he talks, and his lips tighten into a soft smile. “He was right. And I don’t hate her. I thought I did for a while, but I realize that she and I aren’t very different. We’re both selfish in our own way. And I know my mom loves me…she loves me the best she can.”
For some reason his words make me want to hold him tightly, so I cling to his side and squeeze his entire body to mine. When I do, he pulls me up to his face and kisses my lips softly. Then, he just stares at my eyes for minutes, the sounds of everything else behind us fading away. The longer he looks at me, the faster my heart races, but I can’t tear my eyes away. I won’t.
“I love you, Avery Abbot,” he says, and my stomach leaps up into my chest, my ribs constricting with every second that passes since he said it. I can’t help the tear that forms in my left eye, and I don’t dare stop it from sliding from my cheek onto his arm. It’s the happiest tear I’ve ever shed, and I’ll never forget it, or this moment.
“I loved you first,” I
say, my lips actually shaking with my nerves as I speak.
Mason chuckles lightly at me, smoothing my hair from my face and turning completely on his side so we’re both lying under the stars staring at one another—alone among a dozen strangers. “Okay, but I get to love you more,” he says, cupping my face in both of his hands and pulling my lips to his, his eyes intent on our barely touching lips before flicking back up to look into mine. Then he closes them completely, and kisses me for the rest of the night.
Chapter 18: Right At Home
Mason
“Ben, you can drink until you vomit after the show. But for now, for the love of god, man…can you just stick with beer?” I plead. I’m tuning my guitar on the side of the stage, playing through a few riffs on some of the songs we’re going to do.
“Come on, loosen up, princess. It’s just one shot,” he says, carrying a tray over to me and the guys. I know Ben; one shot turns into twelve out of nowhere. But it’s our first gig together since we all split and headed different directions a couple of months ago, and I’m actually excited about some of the songs we’re playing tonight. We’re even playing the one I’ve been working on. It’s going to be a little rough, but I don’t care.
I give in to Ben’s pressure and tip my glass back fast, the tequila burning on its way down. “Wooooooo!” Ben yells, smacking his hand hard on the table. “Okay, just one more…”
I look at him instantly, and he slaps my back. “Just kidding!” he laughs, his breath foul as fuck in my face.
Avery is next to me seconds later, and I can’t help but smile at the sneer she gives Ben. “You want some, Birdie?” he says, breathing out in her face.
“Knock that shit off,” I say, shoving him away from her. I don’t care if it ruins our show for the night; I’m not letting Ben treat her like that.
“Damn, lighten up, Mace. I was just messin’ with her,” Ben says, his balance a little wobbly when he walks over to the stage steps. He’s had more than just one shot, and if I had my guess, he tipped a bottle of Vodka right before we downed that tequila.
“It’s okay. I’m used to Ben. He’s an asshole,” Avery says, her breath against my neck, lulling me back to a happier place.
“It’s not okay, and I’m sorry you’re used to it. He won’t do that again, I promise,” I say, kissing her lightly, and squeezing her hand.
“I’m covering the back, so I can sit with Max for a while. My dad’s going to hang back there with him, too. But I’ll come up front sometimes so I can get a good look at that sexy lead singer,” she winks and actually reaches around to grab my ass.
“That’s all I am to you, just some piece of meat, huh?” I tease. Honestly, I don’t care what Avery wants me for, as long as she wants me.
She smiles while she backs away, and when she spins on her heels to go back to Cole and turn in her orders, I watch every step her long, sexy legs take. “I gotta hand it to you, man. If I knew Birdie was going to grow up and turn into that, I would have made a play for that piece a long time ago,” Ben says over my shoulder, the words coming out a little rough.
“Yes, I’m sure she would have found you completely irresistible,” I poke back at him. He’s trying to get under my skin; it’s his new thing. But tonight is about starting over, so I’m not going to let Ben push my buttons.
“You ready, kid?” Ray asks, his hand flat on my back. For some reason, every nerve in my body is firing, and for a brief moment, I fear my fingers are so jittery that I won’t be able to pick out a note on my guitar. I shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and look at Ray.
“Ready,” I say, turning around to get with the guys while Ray announces us to the crowd. Dusty’s is full beyond capacity tonight. It’s not just me, but the whole band. And as much as I’ve felt like a failure the last few years, it seems that the people around here think just the opposite. There are people waiting out in the parking lot, just hoping to be able to hear enough or find a way in.
“Okay, guys. Look, I’m not gonna lie. The last few times we’ve played, we sucked. We hit bottom, and we fucking wallowed in it. We’re better than that. Let’s find it again, right now. You ready?” I say, looking into their eager faces, Ben probably more eager than he should be.
“Fuck yeah, man!” Ben shouts. I just laugh and shake my head, shouting along with him. Matt and Josh grab their guitars and climb the steps to take their spots; Ben gets comfortable behind the drums, tapping out a few rhythms that make the crowd go absolutely nuts. As soon as Ray is done introducing us, I take the mic, and I look out at hundreds of faces, a few of them familiar.
“So I brought my band this time,” I smile, and the girls eat it up. I’ll never get used to this reaction, and it makes me blush. I rub my hand over my mouth and chin, hiding my red face until I finally spot Avery in the back. I wink at her, and the group of college girls hanging at the front of the stage goes crazy, screaming my name and telling me exactly what they want to do to me. A month ago, that would have had me ready to fly through the show just to get them up to a hotel room or the trailer after. But I’m so far from interested now, and I actually find them comical.
“We thought we’d play some oldies, cuz…y’all know Ray, right?” I say, drawing everyone’s attention to Avery’s dad, sitting in his usual spot at the edge of the stage. He stands up and gives a cursory wave; he hates it when I do this.
“Well, Ray…he’s reeeeeallllly old,” I joke, and Ray’s wave turns into him giving me the finger in a flash of a second, which only makes me laugh even harder. “But I love this man. He gave me my break, taught me everything I know. So tonight, Ray? This is for you.”
We launch into three Johnny Cash songs with a little bit of a modern rock twist, and everyone in Dusty’s is on their feet, moving and yelling for more. I look at Ben and nod during the last Cash song, “Folsom Prison.” He nods and smiles back. These songs were his idea, and he was dead right—we’ve never sounded better.
We play five more covers straight, ending with my version of “Wild Horses,” this time the band coming in to join me for the last half, and people are actually dancing in the middle of Dusty’s, finding space in the crowd. Avery makes her way up front for this one, and I sing the entire thing to her, my eyes not leaving her face once.
I know I’ll lose her back to the crowd soon, so I lean over and whisper to Matt that I want to play my tune next, a little out of order. He steps back and tells Ben, who just shrugs and mouths “Whatever.” Once we’re all on the same page, I take the mic again and get Avery’s attention before she can step away.
“So, we’ve been working on some new stuff. If you guys are up for it, we’d like to play a few for you tonight. What do ya say?” I ask, holding the mic up over the crowd in front of us, amplifying the screams. Tonight is good for our ego, I just hope it doesn’t go to Ben’s head.
“All right, well…this first one… I’ve been working on it for, fuck man…oh, shit, sorry Ray,” I wince, and everyone laughs. I always give Ray a hard time about his beef with my swearing. It’s funny to watch him get angry, at least it is when he’s not really angry. “Anyhow, I’ve been working on this one for months. I couldn’t seem to quite get it right. Then this girl…well, she sort of helped me see where all the pieces fit. It’s called “Perfect,” and it’s about her.”
The hush in the audience is palpable, and every girl up front is turning her head, looking around, trying to figure out exactly who she is—every girl but the one I’m staring at. Avery crosses her legs nervously, perched atop one of the stools at the end of the bar. I see Claire come over behind her and poke her arm, teasing her a little, and I see a few of the girls up front notice and cover their mouths to giggle.
The song starts with the melody I played for Max—just me playing soft and slow, and I close my eyes to really take it in, make sure I get every note right. When I look back at Avery, she’s chewing on her fingernails again, but her smile spreads the entire span of her face. God that smile—I’d do anything for it. I
lean forward so my lips brush the mic, and I start to sing.
Maybe I’ve been too daft to notice. Maybe I was just too young.
Whatever it was that kept us from us. Whatever that was, it’s done.
I hate that I missed…
Every moment…
That you needed someone by your side…
But I won’t falter now.
The band kicks in on the break, and the crowd starts literally swaying with us—like those crazy things you see when Springsteen sings one of his classics. Un-fucking-real!
I look back at Avery, and she has both hands over her lips, her eyes soft and watering. I love that everyone is getting to hear this song, and I can’t believe how people are reacting to it, but truly—this girl is the one that matters. And seeing her face look like that has my heart pounding out of my chest.
What if I could go back? What if you changed your mind?
Would you still want me so bad, if I wasn’t so damned blind.
I hate that I wasted…
So many kisses…
Before my lips knew yours…
Perfect. All you are is perfect.
Time won’t let us go back to the place we used to know,
but I won’t stop till you let me love you completely.
My heart, breaking in two, that’s what you’d do, if you didn’t let me…
Oh girl just let me, love you…completely.
I can’t help myself when the band breaks into their solo, and I walk to the side of the stage, down the steps and right to where Avery is sitting. I push my hand into the hair that falls down the side of her face, and pull her to me for the deepest kiss of my life. When I back away and smile, her eyes are drenched in tears, but I know they’re the good kind, and I mouth “I love you,” and head back up to the stage to finish the song out with the guys.