Never is a Promise

by Winter Renshaw

  “I just wanted to come by and say I was sorry,” I said, holding my shoulders back.

  “For what, darling?”

  “For never coming around.” I tilted my head to the side. “After you and Sam left Lexington with Mabry, I was just sort of in a weird place. I wanted to finish school as fast as I could and get the hell out of Kentucky.”

  “I remember that,” Rebecca said with a carefree chuckle, swatting her knee. Maybe it hadn’t bothered her as much as I thought it did? “Weren’t you taking, like, eighteen credits a semester and summer classes and all that? Sam thought you were insane!”

  “I was. You know how I get when I have a goal in my head. I do whatever it takes to reach it,” I said, adding, “at any cost.”

  Rebecca cleared her throat, her face falling into a serious expression. “Listen, Dakota. Apology accepted but not necessary.” She stood up and began placing her neat stacks of folded clothes into a nearby laundry basket. “People grow up. Their priorities change. They move. They move on. That’s life, darling.”

  I placed my hand across my heart. “I still feel horrible, Becca. I mean, it didn’t hit me until I saw Mabry the other day. I’ve missed out on almost the first decade of her life. Your life as a mother. We used to be best friends.”

  “Best cousins,” she corrected me. She’d always said best cousins was a hundred times more important than being best friends. It was like having the best of both worlds. Though she’d always been more like a shoulder to cry on and, at times, a surrogate mother figure to me than anything else.

  “Yes, best cousins. And I abandoned you – and Mabry - like some selfish asshole.” I shook my head at myself. Someone needed to do it, and Rebecca was too damn sweet.

  “Sweetheart, you were in survival mode.” She hoisted the basket against her slender hip. “Sometimes in order to survive, we have to forget. That’s all you were trying to do, Dakota. Forget. And I can’t imagine it’s easy watching someone else raise your child. I might have done the same thing in your shoes. No one holds it against you, Dakota. Believe me.” Her warm gaze washed over me like melancholy rain before she shook her head and sighed. “He really did a number on you.”

  “He wants me back, Rebecca.” I rolled my eyes. “Can you believe that? All this time, and he thinks he can just sweep me up off my feet again like the last ten years never happened.”

  “Are you going to let him?”

  I gathered my thoughts and pushed them to the surface with about as much strength as a knight worn from battle. “I don’t know.”

  “If loving and forgiving were that easy, everyone’d be doing it, Dakota.” Rebecca flashed a quaint smile. “Don’t let the past hold your future hostage.”

  She left the room with the basket of clothes and returned empty handed a minute later.

  “I should head back to the ranch.” I stood up, resting my hands on my hips as I worried my bottom lip. “I just wanted to come out and get that off my chest.”

  Rebecca floated toward me, arms wide open, and wrapped me up in the kind of loving embrace I hardly deserved; the kind that flooded me in head to toe warmth and made my eyes wet with happiness.

  “Love you,” she said, burying her head on my shoulder the way an older sister might. “I’m always here for you. Know that. And please come around more. We want you in our lives – in her life.”

  “I will.” And that time, I meant it.

  ***

  I soared through the canopy of magnolia trees that led up the Mason Ranch driveway, coming to a slow stop when I reached the top. Beau’s truck rested up on ramps with the hood popped, and the second I climbed out of the car, he emerged from beneath.

  Shirtless and wearing the kind of smile that made me think Oh Shit, he sauntered up to me. His body glistened as his muscles subtly shifted beneath his tight, smooth skin.

  “Enjoy your time in town?”

  “I did.”

  He grabbed a dirty rag from the side of the engine and wiped his greasy hands. “About done here. I’ll head inside to clean up. I’ve got a little something planned for this evening.”

  My lips pulled into a closed-mouth smile. There he went again, trying to force another date upon me – not that I entirely minded. “What might that be?”

  He squinted, showing off a hint of baby wrinkles flanking the corner of his gorgeous blue eyes. His teenage baby face had long since faded, and while Beau had been a head-turning homecoming king type in his younger years, it was safe to say he’d morphed into a panty-melting, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer grown ass man with a swagger in his step that meant business.

  “I’ll meet you back out here about dusk,” Beau said, grabbing a silver wrench that lay in the nearby grass and heading back toward his truck. He flashed me a dimpled grin that flooded my chest with thunderous heartbeats.

  Each step I took toward the house was like walking into a web of sticky emotions. I felt them. Everywhere. In me and outside of me. In my hair. On my skin. Tangled and caught, it was only a matter of time before they’d have their way with me. My head was already filling with frilly little thoughts and my heart was already galloping as I formed a schoolgirl crush on Beau all over again.

  Beau Mason – the boy who’d obliterated my tender heart. The boy who’d sent me into a tailspin of hasty decisions, desperate for an escape from anything and everything that remotely reminded me our time together.

  I laughed at the fact that after everything I’d done to rid myself of his affliction, I’d ended up right back where it all began. Climbing the stairs in the house and running my hands along the rustic railing, I shook my head.

  Fool me once, Beau…

  Fool me twice…

  I slammed the hood down on the truck and backed off the ramps before heading inside to wash up. The faint trail of Dakota’s voice echoed from upstairs, though it sounded like she was on a work call.

  Always working, that girl.

  She’d been that way since we were young, getting a job as a printing assistant at the local newspaper at fifteen. By the time she was a junior in high school, she’d moved up to some position where they let her assemble the want ad section.

  I stepped into the shower, my head filled with all kinds of naughty thoughts as I replayed the night before with a big old stupid grin on my face. Loving Dakota was the easiest thing I’d ever done, and making love to her was the most natural thing in the world.

  With my name in lights and a new city to sleep in night after night, there was never a shortage of pretty girls offering to keep me warm at night. In the earlier days, the attention was nice. But it all got old quick. And then I met Daisy.

  “No one’s ever going to love you the way I do, Beau,” Daisy’d said with tears in her eyes the night I ended our engagement. “I don’t know who you’re all caught up with, but no one on God’s green earth’s dumb enough to love a man with a heart as black as yours. No one except me.” I sat back like some jerk, watching silently as she stuffed clothes into a suitcase and berated herself out loud for ever falling for me in the first place.

  I spent the first half of my twenties keeping my options open and trying to fuck Dakota out of my system. I’d figured leaving her hurt me more than it hurt her. She was a resilient little spitfire who’d be snatched up by some pretty little college boy soon enough, I told myself.

  The first time I fucked a woman who wasn’t Dakota, the promises we’d made to each other that summer under the stars played so loud in my head I’d almost lost my hard on. I’d never forget the raven-haired girl that bounced on my cock and screamed my name with tears streaming down her face as I made her little dreams come true. To have that kind of power over someone at such a young age was a pivotal moment for me, and just being a simple farm boy from small town Kentucky, I wasn’t equipped to deal with that kind of influence in the most mature of ways.

  Still, as the black-haired beauty rode me to oblivion, I died a little on the inside. And when it was all over with, I took a shot of fine K
entucky bourbon to numb the guilt and passed out cold.

  It got easier the second time.

  And the third.

  All the fame and money in the world had been dumped into my lap the second Dakota left for school. I never planned for any of it, and I certainly never planned for the way it ended up turning me into a self-seeking, twenty-year-old bastard who crushed those promises he made to a sweet-faced girl like bones to dust.

  The prick I’d become had never stopped loving her, but he sure as fuck didn’t deserve her. And for that reason, I stayed the hell away from her.

  By the time I got all cleaned up and headed back outside, Dakota was waiting for me, leaning against New Old Blue with one knee bent and her foot resting against the white-walled tire.

  “Hop in, pretty lady,” I drawled, pulling out the keys from my jeans pocket.

  “Going to tell me where you’re taking me?” she asked, batting her lashes as she buckled her seatbelt a minute later.

  “You’ll see soon enough.” I shifted the truck as we rounded the corner and pulled down a paved road that led to The Overlook.

  A quaint cul-de-sac filled with McMansions, it wasn’t nearly as picturesque as it was when it was a secluded mess of timber and privacy, but it still had our stamp all over it.

  “The Overlook,” Dakota said, the corner of her mouth pulling up as if she were replaying the many nights we’d slow danced in front of the headlights of my truck. “Look at all these houses. It’s too bad.”

  I rounded the neighborhood before heading out and driving north. In recent months, I’d discovered a new little development called Hickory Pass. Same sort of set up with undisturbed timber, it was damn near an exact replica of our old spot.

  Coming to a stop and setting the brake, I flipped the headlights on and nodded for Dakota to meet me in front of the truck. She stifled a grin as she obeyed my silent command, and within thirty seconds my hands were gripping her hips as her head rested on my shoulders.

  “We don’t have much time on account of New Old Blue’s battery,” I said, “but I wanted to get one dance with you while I had you.”

  She sighed the kind of happy sigh that made me feel like there might still be hope for us. I pulled in a lungful of the warm clean scent that left the top of her pretty little head.

  “We need music,” she said wistfully.

  “Not a problem,” I said. Pressing my lips, I began to hum a soft tune. The words played in my head, but the melody rumbled in my chest, inviting Dakota to melt into me. And for all of three minutes, melt into me she did.

  “You know I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” she said a moment after the song had ended. She pulled herself away, though my hands reached for hers, catching them in mine and lacing our fingers together. I couldn’t bring myself to let her go entirely. Not yet.

  “Stay,” I said. I wasn’t asking.

  “You know I can’t.” She laughed, tilting her head and gazing into the distance. Funny how just a few days ago, she was this poker-faced Ice Queen who resisted everything about me, and now she was letting me hold her in my arms and unfolding like a flower in the spring.

  “I’ve never loved anyone else the way I loved you,” I said, my voice low and my jaw clenched. “And I never will. You’re it for me, Dakota.”

  “There she is,” Harrison announced as I pulled my suitcase inside the front door of our apartment. “The woman of the hour.”

  His face captured an overdone excitement I hadn’t seen in him since I didn’t know when.

  “Dare I ask if you missed me?” I set my purse down on the antique, marble-topped buffet he’d gifted me on our first wedding anniversary. We’d found it at an antique shop in the Hamptons, and supposedly it had once belonged to a Kennedy.

  He stood with his hands in his pockets, his cheeks rosy as his eyes drank me in from head to toe. He lunged for my suitcase. “Here, let me get that.”

  I resisted the urge to ask him what’d gotten into him. It was as if I left Manhattan with this micro-managing curmudgeon of an ex-husband and returned to find he’d been completely transformed into the man I’d once fallen hard in wonderment with.

  That’s all it had ever been – wonderment. I realized that as I was walking down the aisle on my wedding day. With the most breathtaking designer gown sucking in all my curves and a bouquet of fresh peonies in my hand, a sick feeling flooded my stomach when I looked up at my groom and saw the face of the man I’d been unable to love even after a handful of good, hard years.

  “I ordered us takeout,” Harrison said after rolling my bag to my room and returning. He followed me to the living room where I collapsed upon the sofa. “Got your favorite. Special number four from Happy Panda.”

  “Are you feeling all right?” I teased.

  Harrison lowered himself to his leather chair, his eyes locked on mine. I waited for him to ask about Kentucky or how the interview went or what kind of quotes I got on tape, but he only sat there, staring at me.

  “I made an appointment with Dr. Goldberg,” he said, breaking the silence. We’d attempted marital counseling once. It was an hour-long session that had ended with Dr. Goldberg telling us that neither of us were vested enough in our marriage to make it worth her while to even treat us.

  “Harrison,” I cocked my head to the side. “We’re not married. Why would you do that?”

  “Coco,” he responded, parroting my tone. “We might not be married, but we can still salvage this. I want what we used to have. I miss that. And being away from you this week made me realize that you’re the kind of girl worth fighting for. I’m sorry I didn’t fight hard enough for you.”

  “Harrison.”

  “Please.” His eyes flashed with fired-up determination. “The last two years, going back and forth like we’ve been doing, it needs to stop. We’re grown adults here. It’s time to piss or get off the pot.”

  “Elegant,” I laughed, standing up.

  “You know what I mean,” he huffed. He stood and stepped toward me, taking my hands in his. Perhaps at the peak of our marital days, we’d had an unstoppable physical passion for each other, but the emotions were always surface-level. And in the end, we discovered we loved our jobs more than we loved each other.

  “Come on, don’t do this. I’ve been traveling all day. I’m exhausted.”

  “What about last month?” he asked, referring to the night we’d shared a bottle of wine and one thing led to another. It seemed innocent enough at the time, and my physical attraction to Harrison was still rampant and undeniable despite the dissolution of our marriage. Sex with him was always chocolate cake. A guilty pleasure. A special occasion desert.

  “That was…” I shrugged. “It was what it was.”

  “So can we go to counseling? Can we try again?”

  “This is coming out of nowhere, Harrison. To be honest, you’re kind of freaking me out. Can’t you go back to having a stick up your ass and only discussing work things with me?”

  I pushed past him, making a beeline for my suite.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?

  Stopping in my tracks like a rabbit in front of a dog, I didn’t even turn around when I asked, “Pardon?”

  “Beau.” The sound of Beau’s name uttered in my home coming from the Harrison’s mouth was a jarring combination. “Talked to your mother the other day. She told me all about your little history with Beau.”

  My mother didn’t know half of what went down with Beau and me, but still, I could only imagine what she’d told Harrison. Never ill-intentioned, the woman just loved to gossip and stir pots.

  “Your mother told me you and Beau used to date. Said you were quite distraught over him when he left you,” Harrison’s tone held me at verbal knifepoint.

  Damn it, Mama.

  She’d been stirring pots since the day I was born when she’d told two different men they were my father, garnering all sorts of attention and becoming the talk of the town. When I came out looking damn near identical to Bobby Andrews,
Mama latched onto him for dear life, keeping him close until the day he passed away in a motorcycle crash outside Louisville.

  “He didn’t leave me,” I corrected him. “I went off to college and we decided to break up.”

  “And then he turned into this famous musician and you were left trying to carve a name for yourself in order to make yourself feel better.” The ugly part of Harrison’s personality was still alive and well. I’d only seen it a small handful of times during the time I’d known him, but when he took that tone with me, it always sat heavy in the center of my body and turned the sky red. “Is that why you wanted to go into journalism, Coco? Because it was the only way you could become famous and show this ex-boyfriend of yours that you could succeed without him by your side?”

  “Not. At. All.” The words gritted like sandpaper in my mouth as I turned to face him. It was the truth. Growing up, we never had cable. Watching T.V. at our house mostly consisted of watching major network news programs. Barbara Walters was my idol. I used to switch on the closed-caption function and practice reading the news in front of Addison and an assortment of stuffed animals.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Harrison laughed a hearty laugh as he walked to the mini bar and poured himself a glass of single-malt Glenfiddich. “God, it’s so junior high, Coco.”

  I silently cursed my mother for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. And why had those two been talking in the first place?

  “This whole jealous ex-husband thing is really unattractive.” I crossed my arms, squaring my shoulders. We weren’t married, and I wasn’t with Beau. I didn’t need to explain or defend a damn thing.

  Harrison downed the rest of his drink and slammed the crystal tumbler on the table. His eyes locked into mine as he lunged toward me like a fire soaring upward.

  “I still love you, damn it,” he said, cupping my face in his shaking hands. “Imagining you with…with that hick, that cowboy…imagining his hands on you, his mouth…imagining him touching your body…”