Changing Lanes (Highway 17 #1)

by Leaona Luxx

  I have spent the last four years trying to make my dad proud, to honor his memory. The mistakes I made around the time of his death, he was trying to teach me these things through them. If I know anything, he would tell me to do whatever I could to make this right. I pick up my phone.

  Torrie— My single text. Anxious, I release the breath I was holding when my phone vibrates with an incoming text.

  Yes— Her only word.

  I’m sorry—

  Fucked up— I type and push send.

  Me too— Flashes across my phone. What the hell? I’m confused.

  How’s that?— I reply, hitting send.

  I came home, not to Carolina— Her words pop up, and I can’t breathe. I immediately dial her number.

  “Hey.” Her voice is soft, sleepy.

  “Hey, baby. Did I wake you?” I didn’t even check the time, I chance a quick look at the phone. “Oh, shit. It’s ten in the morning, were you still asleep? I’m so sorry, baby.”

  Her voice is raspy, she isn’t having it. “Shhhh, I needed to hear your voice.”

  My heart beats rapidly at the need she has for me. “I needed to hear yours. I’m fucking stupid, I shouldn’t have left.”

  “Yes, you should have. He’s an asshole, Brannon. I told you that from the beginning.” She’s right, she did. But it’s no excuse for the way I left, it was cowardly.

  “I know you did. But I’m no better leaving the way I did. It surely doesn’t help my claim that I’m a better man.” Dropping my head in defeat, I drag my fingers through my hair and tug.

  “I understand, trust me. Are you okay?” she whispers as if she’s worried for me. I cringe at the thought of her protecting me.

  “I’m good. How are you? Such a dick move, I’m sorry,” I huff with irritation as she giggles.

  “Yes, it was. I’m glad you admitted it so I didn’t have to call you out.” She’s playful.

  “Oh, okay. Well, it was. When did you leave?” I ask as I get comfortable on some straw.

  “Early this morning. I haven’t been asleep for long, I just missed you so I decided a nap was my best option,” she replies, sounding a little more awake.

  “You in bed?” Man, do I wish I was there.

  “Nope, the couch. But I do have your shirt on. It smells like you,” she says sweetly.

  I lose track of time as we talk. I decide at some point, I’m going home tomorrow. I need to be with Torrie. I want to be with her. After ending the call, I check the hundred messages I had been getting while talking to her.

  Ava hasn’t stopped calling or texting. She’s driving me insane with her constant badgering. I need to tell her about Torrie, she’s going to flip shit. I just don’t know what to do to make her understand we’re no longer together. It’s not happening.

  “Brannon? Are you ready to eat?” Mom peaks into the barn.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry, I lost track of time.” I jump up, dusting my clothes off.

  “Well, let’s get some food in you.” She turns, walking back to the house. I catch up with her, throwing my arm around her shoulder.

  I hold the door open for her as the aroma of a home cooked meal, hits me in the face. “It smells so good, Mom.”

  “Thank you. Let’s eat.” I close the door behind us.

  The table is loaded with food. Mom asks about everything, she wants details. “So, how are your classes?”

  “Great. I love all of my professors, classes are tough, but I can’t seem to get enough.”

  “Sounds like how you feel about Torrie.” She smiles. The mere mention of her name has my pulse racing.

  “I’m falling in love with her, Mom. I know it may be too soon, but she’s it for me.”

  “Who says it’s too soon? Correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s no time limit on love. It begins when it wants, it ends when it wants. Love can come fast, and it can grow slowly. No one should ever judge how someone else finds love. No matter the age, the person, or the social acceptance. Love is love.” Patting my hand, she gets up to get the pie.

  “I want to go back. She’s there alone.” I look up through my lashes, waiting on her thoughts. A pain in the pit of my stomach reminds me, I hate leaving her, but I want to be with Torrie.

  “I guess you need to check the flights before you eat your pie.” Smiling at me, she hands me my dessert.

  Pulling out my phone, I return her smile. “Thank you, Mom.”

  Before I start on my piece of pie, I book myself on the red eye to Virginia. Deciding to surprise Torrie, I fly home without her knowing. Mom packed us what leftovers she could, and the airport security laughed when they scanned it. I guess they have moms, too.

  Grabbing a cab, I’m home within an hour after landing. Taking the steps two at a time, I set my bags down beside the door. Excited, I reach for my phone to send her a text.

  You awake? It takes no time to get a response.

  I am now. Thought you were calling earlier— My pulse beats faster.

  Who’s at the door? I ask.

  No one— My phone vibrates again, but this time, it’s an incoming call.

  “Hello,” I whisper as my heart pounds in my ears from the adrenaline rush.

  “Hey. No one is at the door,” she says quietly.

  “I heard a knock. Just go check while I’m on here,” I prompt her.

  “Hell, no,” she yells, making me laugh. “Wait. Are you?” she squeals. I can hear her running through the apartment then she slings the door open, jumping into my arms.

  “Hey, baby. I couldn’t imagine you being here alone.” Her nose is buried in my neck with her legs around my waist.

  “I’m so happy you’re home.”

  “I can tell. Let’s grab my bags, I have leftovers, and I’m ready for bed.” Her legs slowly slide down until she settles on her tiptoes.

  “Good, I’m hungry. How exactly did you get this on the plane?” she asks as she takes a bag.

  “Mom,” I chuckle. “I can’t wait until you meet her,” I tell her as we walk into the apartment.

  Saturday comes and goes with us sleeping, eating, and making love. Basically, we spend the day in bed. Sunday morning is usually when Torrie’s parents’ call but today, it’s just her mom. She encourages Torrie to speak to her father and clear the air.

  Christmas break is in two weeks, and she wants Torrie home. I agree, she needs to be home for Christmas. When I suggest it, she says she won’t go without me. We already have tickets, but the plans were never firm. I don’t think I can stay in that house.

  Torrie and I discuss Christmas more times than I care to remember, and in the end, she wins. I’m going back for Christmas. We’re spending a week here, then two days in New York before flying to my house for a week’s visit.

  All this means is I have to deal with her father and Ava. Fuck. I’ve had to turn my phone off most days because Ava will not stop with the constant calls and texts. I know I need to take the bull by the horns and handle it, but damn, how many times do I have to take care of her?

  I’ll soon be nineteen, not old by any standards, but I’ve taken care of Ava since I was five. Constantly, since we were fourteen. I can’t hurt her, I refuse to. I’m just not sure how to help her understand we’re not a couple. We’re friends, family, but not a couple.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Torrie sits down beside me.

  “Ava. Your father. Christmas.” Inclining my head, I cut my eyes at her.

  “Oh. Sorry I asked.” She giggles. “How can I help?” Taking my hand in hers, she bumps my shoulder.

  “I’m not sure you can. I need to convince Ava we’ll always be family. I need to convince your father not to disown you because you like me.” We watch the rain fall outside the living room window.

  “Simple,” she says sweetly.

  “How’s that?” I ask, laying my head on hers.

  “We stay here.” We laugh, knowing there’s no way in hell it can happen that way.

  Our week of solitude ends, and we
pack for our flight to New York. “Are you sure about this?” Her eyes dart from me to our luggage.

  “Yes. Greta calling helped me decide. She’s sweet.” I toss socks into my bag as we talk.

  “I hope my father plays nice this time. I’m over the bullshit.” I can tell she’s nervous by the way she slings her clothes at the suitcase.

  “We’ll do our best.” I wink at her. It’s all I can offer because I’m just as nervous as she is.

  We waited all week to pack, I guess putting off the inevitable for long as possible. Grabbing our bags, I run them downstairs to our waiting cab. Torrie follows slowly behind. “You know it’s not going to help if we’re late,” I call out to her.

  “If we miss the flight it will.” She drags her feet down the stairs.

  “He’ll send his plane.” I watch her trudge toward me.

  “I know.” She sighs in disappointment.

  “It’s not a firing squad we’re facing, it’s your father. We can do this,” telling her as I hold the cab door open.

  “No, not a firing squad at all. He’s more like a nuclear bomb.” I laugh at her dramatics. Although, I know she’s right to be concerned.

  We’re at the airport on time, making our flight to Torrie’s disappointment. She snuggles my arm on the flight there, rarely releasing it. It’s as if she doesn’t want to let go, and my heart breaks for her. To live in fear of your father is ridiculous.

  We arrive safely in New York. Hurrying to get our bags, we seem to have fallen behind on our arrival time. Torrie doesn’t want to be late getting home. She sits on my lap once we’re in her family car, it was waiting for us when we arrived.

  Entering the gates of her family home, my chest constricts. Something isn’t right, this isn’t a good idea. Whatever is trying to warn me off, came too late. Coming to a stop at the front door, I ask the Lord for a favor because we’re gonna need it.

  I open the door to my parents’ home, looking around for a living soul. My mother descends the stairs to greet us. “Hello, Mother.”

  “Torrie, you look beautiful, sweetheart,” she says as she leans in for an air kiss.

  “Brannon, ever so striking.” Her hands lay on his biceps, and she squeezes. I swear my mother has the hots for my man.

  “Greta, as always, a pleasure seeing you. Torrie is so much like you. I sometimes forget you’re her mother and not her sister.” He’s such a smooth talker. It’s that southern swoon factor.

  “Be still my heart. Now, let me show you to your rooms.” She waves her hand in front of us.

  Brannon carries our bags upstairs, setting mine inside my room before walking over to his. He appears calm, but I’m nervous. Asking him to come back may prove to be more of a testament to him as a person than I first thought. My father won’t make it easy.

  Later in the afternoon, we take a walk along the grounds of my parents’ home, like we did at Thanksgiving. Snow flurries blanket the grass with a light coating, making our stroll more of a struggle for warmth. Hand in hand, we spend the time talking about our thoughts on our future.

  “So, if your father decides to tolerate me, can we come back around my birthday? I’d love to go sightseeing.” His nervous smile is as broad as his shoulders.

  Returning the same smile, I don’t let on about having it planned already. “That’s a great idea. You’ll love Times Square.”

  “Why do you think that, because I’m a square?” He chuckles as he knocks into me. “Get it? I’m a square.”

  “No, you’re not.” My eyes flicker to his. “Maybe. More like a dork instead of a square. It’s just the one thing everyone comes to see. We’ll do lunch at Tavern on the Green, it’s the most quintessential tourism spot.” He smiles as I talk, his face softening as his mouth relaxes into a warm smile. “What?” Tilting my head, I study his face.

  “You. I’m beginning to think I might want to keep you around.” Stopping, he pulls his hand from mine to wrap me in his arms.

  “Oh, really? I happen to be thinking the same thing about you.” Placing my lips on his, it’s a subtle kiss. My pulse speeds from the contact of his warm lips.

  “I know we still have a few days before Christmas, but I want to give you this now.” He pulls a small black box from his coat pocket, and my heart skips a beat. No, not that small. “The colors are brilliant, and the blue matches your eyes.”

  Taking the box in my hand, I open it slowly to reveal a necklace. “It’s beautiful.” I pull it from the case as he takes the box.

  “It’s a Fire Opal sea turtle. Little known fact, I adore sea turtles. No laughing,” he explains, placing it around my neck. “The blues are the depths of your eyes as the greens are your soul. Breathtaking,” he whispers in my ear.

  Turning in his arms, I lock my hands around his neck. “Thank you, I’ll cherish it forever.”

  His lips crash to mine with fervent need as we allow ourselves this time alone. No one else in the world matters, a moment in time standing still. Burning this memory into my mind forever, I relish in all that is Brannon O’Hurley.

  We amble the path to the main house slowly, unwilling to return but know we must. Again, we remain holding hands, as if it were our life preserver. Shivering, we pick up our pace as the snow begins coming down a little heavier now.

  Back at the house, we part long enough to dress for dinner. I hate this, and I’m beginning to wish we hadn’t come. I dread what my father may say or worse, do to us. He’s hell bent on Brannon not being around, but I’m hell bent on keeping him. Guarded, I leave my room to find Brannon waiting for me.

  Standing by the stairs, his hands in his pockets as he watches the snow fall outside. He’s wearing all black with a slim, black silk tie. I can’t find fault with this, but can my father? He glances back once he hears my heels tapping against the marble floor. It’s his double take which brings a smile to my face.

  My green satin skirt falls just above my knee with chiffon underneath to make it full. A long sleeve black lace shirt with an open back goes well with the strappy emerald heels, giving the set a Christmas feel without being overdone. Opting for diamond studs, I match my necklace as close as possible.

  His eyes leave mine, only to run roughly over my body. I feel as though his hands have been all over me by the time he reaches my gaze again. Brannon’s hazel eyes burn, making the all too familiar pull deep in my core, eliciting my response of biting my lip. He’s having none of that.

  Taking my hand, he yanks me to him, placing his hand on the small of my back. Warm and rough, the command he shows makes me weak in the knees. He presses me to his hard, broad chest when his lips brush my ear.

  “You. Are. Enough. Devine, goddess you are.” Running his nose along my jaw, he finds my lips quickly.

  Opening to his demand, I melt into him. Our tongues in a slow dance of sensual desire, our right hands are laced, our bodies forming a bond. Frenzied desire soon flashes bright between us as we fight to stay in the moment.

  Footsteps on the stairway give us our reason to stop. Our foreheads pressed together, we calm ourselves before turning. My family’s butler has come to find us for dinner. I would’ve preferred to eat in my room. Or Brannon’s.

  We walk to the dining room, my hand in the bend of his elbow. It’s as if nothing has happened, until he turns to me, handing me his handkerchief. “Lipstick.” I press it to my mouth, and he touches up the corner with his thumb. I quickly apply another coat, shoving it in his pocket.

  “Good evening,” reluctantly, I greet my parents’ as we enter the room.

  My mother, polite as always, replies, “Good evening. Look at the two of you, picture perfect.”

  “Thank you. And again, thank you for having me,” Brannon offers as he nods to them both.

  “So, Brannon. How long do you think you’ll be living with my daughter? Or should we plan to put you on the payroll?” My father wastes no time with his first cut.

  “As long as she wants me there, I suppose. And not yet, I’m waiting on
this engineering thing to pull through. Thank you, it was nice of you to think of me.” Brannon folds his hands in front of him. He handled that well. My face, on the other hand, flames red with embarrassment. I shoot my father a lingering glare, but he pays me no attention.

  “Let’s hope her tastes change soon, for all our sakes.” My father goads him as he pins him with beady eyes.

  “I couldn’t agree more. I’m not sure what could be worse, except for not being able to pick family.” Brannon lays his arm on the back of my chair as my father narrows his eyes.

  Dinner continues without another word. My mother chances a few glances at Brannon with a smile on her face. I think she likes Brannon standing up to my father or the fact he stands up for me. My revelry is short-lived when my father makes a not so subtle demand as we leave the dining room.

  “Torrence, I want you in my office. Now.” Rolling my eyes at Brannon, I try to make light of the situation. He’s not having any of it, and he stares down my father until he walks into his office.

  “Please. Do not allow him to hurt you, I believe in you.” He kisses me as if he’s sending me to my death. Fuck.

  “I’ll be fine. Promise.” I kiss him back, sweetly. The butterflies in my stomach don’t agree.

  The office door is open as I approach it. I straighten my skirt before entering, making a mental note to disregard most of what he has prepared to say. He stands by the fireplace, smoking his cigar. More than likely to calm his nerves.

  “What do you want, Father?” I ask about halfway into the room.

  “I refuse to play this game with you, young lady. Get your fucking head on straight, or I’ll do it for you.” His voice rises with every word, which is laced with disdain.

  “I believe it is, sir.” I fold my arms around my waist and clench my jaw, trying to remain calm.

  “Then you should know better than to come ill-prepared with a half ass example,” he spits at me.

  “What exactly is it that you want?” I place my hand on my hip, popping it out to the side with a bit of attitude in my tone and stance. Bile rises in my throat like venom.