Come Back for You: Boys of Alabama

by Mica Halstead

  Prologue

  The lights are too bright, is all I can think when the ultrasound technician squirts the gel on my stomach. Dean squeezes my hand and I glance at him. He has been my rock through all of this. I love you; he mouths. I smile and squeeze his hand back.

  “Alright! Let’s get this show on the road.” The tech takes the wand and smears the gel around on my stomach, pressing on one side and then moving to the other. “Hmm,” she says, still moving the wand around.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Dean asks gruffly. We are here for our last ultrasound before my due date. Nothing is wrong. Nothing can be wrong. This pregnancy has been so easy, and I can’t wait to meet our sweet Everly.

  The tech puts the wand back and excuses herself to go get the doctor. My eyes well with tears.

  “Dean,” I whisper, and he leans over the hospital bed.

  “Hey shh, it’s fine. Everything’s fine, Whit. She’s probably just sleeping in there and they gotta wake her up.” Dean is two years older than me, nineteen to my seventeen. We have been together since my Freshman year. Now I’m a senior and he’s outta school, workin’ at the auto shop here in town, putting money back so we can all three move in together when I graduate in a month.

  He presses a kiss to my forehead and links his fingers with mine. I want to believe him, but something doesn’t feel right. The door to the room opens and the doctor walks in.

  “Dean, Whitley. Good to see you,” Dr. Amari says, washing her hands and then grabbing the wand and punching some buttons on the ultrasound machine. She does the same things that the tech did, moving it around, taking pictures of Everly. The room is too quiet.

  “Whitley, when was the last time you felt the baby move?” She asks, her brows furrowed.

  “Yesterday,” I whisper, and she glances at me and then back to the machine.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says and my stomach drops, “I can’t find a heartbeat.” A sob escapes me.

  “Look again,” Dean says harshly, and I tug his hand.

  “Dean,” my voice cracks. And I just know. I know my baby is dead.

  “No, fuck that. Check again.” He demands. The doctor clears her throat before sliding the wand around my stomach. Nothing. No whoosh whoosh filling our ears like all the ultrasounds before. Dr. Amari puts the wand away and drags her stool over to my bedside as the tech silently wipes the warm gel off my stomach.

  “Whitley, we are going to have to have the baby today. We need her out as soon as possible so we will have to do a c-section. Do you remember me going over all that with you before?” I nod my head. “I have to get permission from your mom since you’re a minor, so I’m going to go call her now. But I need you to understand, going into this, that no heartbeat means we could be delivering a stillborn baby.” Stillborn. Just a polite way to say that my baby is dead.

  “Was it something I did?” I ask and her face softens as she pats my hand.

  “No honey, it’s nothing you did. You did everything right, it’s just that sometimes these things happen. She could be stillborn for any number of reasons, but it isn’t something that you did. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to go call your momma and then the OB floor to let them know to get a room ready.” I nod my head and she leaves. Dean exhales shakily and grabs my hand.

  “Everything will be just fine,” he starts, “you’ll see…” and I cut him off.

  “She’s dead, Dean.” I say, tears rolling down my face and his facade cracks and a tear escapes his eye, trailing its way down his cheek. He drops his forehead against the bed as sobs rack his body.

  Present

  “Order up!” The cook hollers from the kitchen for the third time and I roll my eyes.

  “I said, gimme a minute Kolby! I gotta deliver these drinks and then I will come grab that food,” I shut the beer tap off, drop the beers on the counter to the two good ole’ boys that just sat down at the bar, and make my way to the window to grab the plates.

  “Keep your damn pants on.” He winks at my comment and I roll my eyes again.

  “Wish you’d help me take my pants off,” he says, clutching his chest.

  This man has been trying to get in my pants for the last eight months and no matter how many times I say it ain’t happening, he just keeps shootin’ his shot.

  “Not happening,” I sing-song before walking away and I hear his laugh trailing behind me. I deliver the food to the table of four that I have before heading back to my bar. Well, it’s not really mine. Fred owns it, but I’ve worked here so long it feels like it’s mine. Started serving at the Rustic Tavern when I was eighteen and slinging drinks when I turned twenty-one. Six years later feels like a lifetime but I love this bar and all its customers.

  The front door to the bar creaks open and Avery comes flying in for her closing shift.

  “I’m here, I’m here!” She shouts, ducking under the bar top partition and stashing her stuff down below before throwing her hair up in a bun.

  “Well look who decided to grace us with her presence,” I drawl, but she knows I’m just kidding. She’s one of my best friends, but God love her, the girl will be late to her own funeral.

  “I know, I know. Genevieve and I had a massive fight about some party she wants to go to and then I got Blake out to the car, only to realize he wasn’t wearing any shoes, so I had to go back inside and search for those, which of course made me super late.” She huffs out a breath while she ties her apron on. This girl, living the life of a forty-year-old woman when she should be enjoying her twenties. Her piece of shit mom skipped town shortly after her brother was born and left Avery raising him and their sister when she was just a kid herself. She is killing herself working three jobs to provide for them.

  “Hey,” I say, resting my hand on her arm so she looks at me. When she does, I go on, “you know I don’t give a shit if you’re late. You’ve got enough going on without having to worry about all that.” She nods her head and shoots me a watery smile.

  “And I love you for it. Now go on, get the heck out of here. Your shift ended twenty minutes ago.”

  I decide to head to the office to fill out some paperwork and go over our order for the beer truck. Fred promoted me to manager about four years ago when he decided he didn’t want to be in here day in and day out, so he only comes in if there’s an emergency or we’re short staffed. He’s been so good to me, the least I can do is make sure we are fully staffed so he doesn’t have to be on his feet for eight hours.

  I’m halfway through the order for the beer truck when there’s a knock at my office door.

  “Come in!” I holler and the door swings open and low and behold, there’s Fred standing in its frame. He ambles in and plops down in the chair across for me.

  “I’ve told you, Fred. You don’t have to knock. This is your office.” I say and something passes behind his eyes.

  “More your office than it is mine, girl.” He says as he looks around and clears his throat. “Listen, somethin’ I been meanin’ to talk to you about and I can’t put it off any longer.”

  My stomach sinks and I know what’s coming. He’s selling the bar. He’s only been talking about it for the last four years and I’ve been trying to get a loan, but I just can’t, and he knows it. Said he would give it to me if he could afford to.

  “Fred...” I begin but he cuts me off.

  “Now, now. Before you start hyperventalatin’, lemme say what I gotta say. You and I both know I don’t want this bar no more. Ain’t wanted it for a long time, which is why I was so eager to let you take the reins. And sugar, you have done a great job. But I’m old and I want to retire somewhere tropical. And well, I got an offer outta the blue and I gotta take it. Sil
ent investor type. Said he’d continue to let you run the bar and he’d stay outta your hair.” I collapse back in the chair, trying to absorb all his words.

  Retiring. Offer. Silent investor. I’m not ready for Fred to leave just yet. Tears well up in my eyes and his face blanches.

  “Oh no, I don’t do cryin’ sugar. Knock that shit off.” I cough out a laugh.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just, I wanted to be the one to buy it. But I knew you couldn’t wait forever.” And that’s exactly how long it feels like I’ve been trying to get approved for this loan. I started working with a lender about a year ago but I’m just not ready to buy yet.

  “I know, and the only reason I’m lettin’ this guy buy it is because I made him sign a contract stating you would stay on as manager and when he’s ready to sell, you get to put in the first offer.” Fred says and my heart soars. This man has been so good to me.

  “Thank you. Truly. I love this place and these people and can’t see myself ever workin’ anywhere else.” Fred starts to stand and gives me a hug before ambling back towards the door.

  “Hey, wait,” I call out and he turns around. “Who’s buying it?”

  “Uh, ya see...” he starts but is cut off when a deep voice cuts in.

  “Me.” The bottom drops out of my stomach when Dean steps into the doorway. No mother-fucking way. I’m going to be sick. I shove my chair back and grab the trash can before violently retching in it. Dean’s by my side in an instant and he goes to place his hand on my back. I drop the can and swat his arm away.

  “Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” I seethe. “I can’t believe this.” I look at Fred who winces. “How could you?” My eyes welling with tears, threatening to spill over.

  “I’m so sorry, sugar, but it’s been ten years since you showed up in my bar to fill out that application and you were just a lost girl, lookin’ for somethin’ to sink her claws into and help her forget. And I was okay lettin’ you do that, but I’ve been lettin’ you do it for too long. It’s time, Whitley. Time you worked this out and the two of you move on. You’ve been grievin’ for so long, but you haven’t actually come to terms with it.” Fred says and I shake my head.

  “No. NO!” I shout, scrambling around, looking for my keys. I snatch them and my phone off the desk. “I quit.”

  I shove past Dean and Fred and am almost through the doorway when Fred stops me.

  “Whitley Jean, if you quit, I lose it all. I signed a clause that says you’ll stay on for the first year. If you don’t, the deal’s no good.” I grip the doors frame, letting his words roll through me. Fred’s done so much for me. He took me in when I didn’t have anywhere else to go. He put me back together. Dean has been blessedly silent during this entire conversation.

  “One year?” I whisper, choking on my words. Fred nods his head.

  I look at Dean, the boy I fell in love with all those years ago. The father of my child. The love of my life even if I can’t stand the sight of him.

  “You’ve already had the last ten, what’s one fuckin’ more?” I storm out of the office and out the back door and away from the only man I’ve ever loved.

  ***

  The door slams shut behind me, signaling my arrival.

  “In the kitchen, babe!” Derrick hollers from further in the house and I kick my shoes off before going in search of him. He is at the stove stirring something that smells incredible. He smiles huge when he sees me, pulling me to him for a kiss and I happily oblige.

  Derrick Jensen and I have been seeing each other for about five months. He was a year older than me in school, though we didn’t really run in the same circles, so we were never close. He’s on the Monroeville P.D. so his shifts are all over the places, but he used to come into the bar a lot after he got off. Talking led to flirting and flirting led to a first date, which led to us hanging out casually. Hanging out casually eventually turned into more and we’ve fallen into an easy pattern of being together. He’s handsome and so sweet, plus he treats me really well.

  “That smells good,” I lean over and peek at the sauce on the stove. I should be at the bar finishing the beer order, but I couldn’t be in the same space as Dean a minute longer. He can figure it out.

  I heave out a sigh and Derrick looks at me, his blue eyes searching mine.“What’s wrong?”

  “Fred’s sellin’ the bar,” I say, trailing off.

  “Okay. And…. What? Are you out of a job?”

  “Not exactly.” I grab two beers out of the fridge, handing one to Derrick before popping the top on mine and taking a drink. “It’s Dean. He bought the bar.” Surprise passes over his face. Derrick knows about Dean and me from back in the day, just like most everyone else in town. The tragic love story of the girl who got knocked up and the boy who fled town.

  “So, what happens now?” He asks, plating our food before handing me mine and we make our way to the table. Derrick’s brick townhouse was built in the 1920’s. It has a parlor room that he uses as a dining room, with a large six-person farmhouse table. I choose the seat next to him and move my food around my plate, not actually eating any of it.

  “Well, Dean had it written into the terms of the contract that I have to stay on for a year or the deal’s no good. If I don’t stay, he won’t buy.” Derrick sighs, chewing on the information as we eat silently for a few minutes.

  “Do you think you can handle working for him?” He asks and I’m wondering the same thing. Can I? I’m not even sure at this point.

  “It’s not really negotiable.”

  “It is Whitley. You could say no. Leave the bar, find something different.”

  I shake my head. “I couldn’t do that to Fred. He’s been so good to me; I owe it to him.”

  “You know I’ll support you in whatever you do,” he says, and I give him a small smile.

  “I know, and I appreciate it.” We finish our dinner, rinsing our plates and heading into the living room to watch T.V.

  Derrick and I have yet to have sex. It’s not that I haven’t been with anyone since Dean, because I have. Mostly out of towners, guys I meet at the bar. Nothing that lasts more than a few nights. Derrick and I have fooled around. A lot. But it hasn’t evolved into more than that.

  Tonight is much of the same. We make out for a while, him using his fingers to get me off and me using my mouth. We move to his bed, where we fall asleep holding each other. Only, it takes me a lot longer to fall asleep, my mind filled with thoughts of a certain ex-boyfriend.

  Dean

  Man, this bar is a pit. I had no idea when I bought it that it would be in so much debt. Tossing my pen on my desk I snag my glass of whiskey and take a sip, looking around the office. There are little touches here and there of Whitley. A purple pen, her favorite color, lays on the desk next to a small pocket calendar. A photo on the wall of her and Fred at a Christmas party. A purple scarf hanging on the coat rack. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I recline in the chair.

  I knew I would be walking into the firing squad, coming back. Buying the bar. Trying to get my girl back. I just didn’t know the bar would be hemorrhaging money and the girl wouldn’t even be able to be in the same fuckin’ room as me. There’s a knock on the office door and it opens before I can say anything.

  “Crawford James,” I call out and stand, moving across the room and pulling him into a man hug. It’s been about seven months since I saw him last, crashed at his place the last time I was in town for the night.

  “Good to see you.” He says, helping himself to a glass of whiskey and looking around the office. “Did you already run her off?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at me. He knows why I’m back in town. We’ve always kept in touch, even after all these years. I come back to Monroeville every year on Everly’s birthday and he always gives me a couch to crash on for the night or two I’m in town.

  “She stormed out before I could even talk to her,” I say, and he nods his head.

  “Sounds about right. Saw her car at Derricks,” he says with a cheeky grin,
just adding salt to the wound. Derrick Jensen. I didn’t expect Whitley to not have boyfriends, just didn’t bank on that boyfriend being Derrick. He’s a good guy. We were never close but got along well enough if we ever hung out. From what I’ve gathered they haven’t been together long, so I won’t feel too bad when I break ‘em up. Ford drains his whiskey glass and sits it on the desk.

  “Just stopped in to say hey and let you know that Lex can’t wait to meet you.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting the woman that has you all tied up in knots,” he grins and heads towards the door.

  “Good luck,” he throws over his shoulder on the way out. I’ll need all the luck I can get.

  Whitley

  The aroma of coffee pulls me from my slumber. Stretching my limbs, I roll to my back, letting myself wake up slowly. Derrick is already gone for the day; he usually has to be at the station by seven. Most days I have only been asleep for a few hours when he’s waking up. I may have gotten more sleep than usual, but I don't feel rested at all. I tossed and turned all night, my mind never shutting off. Memories of me and Dean keeping me up. Memories of us as teens, young and in love. Memories of us, planning and prepping for our baby. A sigh escapes me as I drag myself out of bed and do what I need to in the bathroom. I have a hair appointment at eleven at the salon here in town, so I need to get my butt in gear.

  Once I’m ready for the day, I fill the travel mug that Derrick left by the coffee pot for me and lock up before I leave. Monroeville is a small town in Alabama. It’s a very picturesque town and we attract a lot of tourists looking for a quiet vacation spot.

  I couldn’t wait to escape it when I was in high school, Dean and I talked about it a lot. Talked about leaving. We wanted to travel the country, working our way up and down the coasts. But my senior year of school we ended up pregnant and our plans to leave got shelved. When we lost Everly and Dean left town without me, I ended up stayin’. Sure, I could have left. Could have traveled like I wanted to, but the thought of leaving Everly, even though I knew she was dead, the thought of leaving her behind never felt right.