by Joanne Ganci
I reach up and wipe my eyes. “I’m good, Pat. Thank you.” Leaning up on my toes, I kiss his cheek. “You need to get back there or Jo will kill me for keeping you away.”
“She’ll be fine, sugar. I’m not going anywhere if you need me out here.”
“You’re a good man, Patrick Hutchins. I promise, I’m okay. Now go back there so you can get me another beer.” I smile, and this time it’s genuine. He really is a good man.
“If you’re sure. I’m always available for another dance with such a beautiful girl. Just let me know.” He winks and saunters back behind the bar. I stand there for a minute before going back and claiming my bar stool. When I get there, there’s a beer waiting on me.
Mary must have seen our exchange, because she rushes over to my side. Before I can open my mouth to tell her I’m fine, she blurts out, “We need to go.”
My face scrunches up at her abrupt change of attitude. “I thought you were having a good time? It’s still early, and I just got another beer.”
“Well, drink that and follow me. No, leave it. We have to go, Lyd. Please.” She keeps looking at something behind me, and she’s honestly freaking me out right now. What could make the fun, bubbly Mary demand we leave the bar like that? I move to look over my shoulder, and she tries to stop me. “Lydia, don’t. Let’s just leave.”
“You’re being ridiculous. What could be that ba—” Fuck. “That can’t be. What is? Why?”
“It’s okay, Lyd. Let’s just leave. We’ll go out the back door before he sees you.”
Too late.
He’s here, and he fucking saw me. My eyes lock with the gray pools that haunt my dreams.
Maxwell Owen Weston.
Max
3
Lydia Marie Lancaster.
I can’t believe she’s here. I don’t know why it surprises me. I know what day it is. I always end up in a bar today, but this year I have a lot more than a broken heart to drink over.
I’ve been back to Midland a few times, but I always stayed on the farm. This is the first time I’ve really ventured into town in nine years. I never expected to be here on this day. But here I am. And there she is. Our eyes lock and even from across the bar, I can see the turmoil in those baby blues.
When I stop staring in shock, I move towards her, but she picks up and runs out the back door. There is no way after nine years of not seeing my girl I’m going to let her run away without saying anything to her. My girl. I lost the right to call her that a long time ago. But in my heart, she always has and always will be my fucking girl.
I slam my way through the crowd and push through the back door. Not even stopping to consider that she might have gone in a different direction, I head straight toward the parking lot. When I make it around the side of the building, I see her pacing along the lot. I stop a few feet away from her. She halts her back-and-forth motion when she sees me standing there. I have to thrust my hands into my pockets, to keep myself from touching her. “Hey, Blondie.”
Her jaw drops, and she gives me this incredulous look. After a moment she fists her hands, setting them on her hips. I know she’s about to hand me my ass, and it shouldn’t make me smile, but fuck, I’ve missed this girl. Every feisty inch of her.
“Don't you dare fucking ‘hey, Blondie’ me. Nine fucking years, and that's what you come up with? And would you wipe that stupid grin off your face? There is nothing to smile about right now. You're not supposed to be here. Why in the actual fuck are you even here, Max?”
“You're right. And I shouldn't be smiling today, but I've missed your sassy ass. You look good, Lyd.” That's gonna piss her off, but it's true. She's fucking gorgeous. Her blonde hair falls down her back in waves, making my fingers itch to run through it—just like I used to when we would lie out under the night sky counting the stars. The tight navy blue top she's wearing makes her eyes pop, and don't get me started on them jeans she has painted on. Every fucking inch of her calls to me, all the way down to the cowgirl boots, she's currently tapping against the gravel lot in impatience.
“You know what?” She moves closer and shoves me back. “You.” Shove. “Don't.” Shove. “Have any right to comment on how I look.” Shove.
I throw my hands up defensively. “I know. I just—”
“No. You have no fucking right. And I don't need you to tell me anything. I know how fucking good I look. I don't need validation from the big bad country singer from my past,” she bites out with so much vehemence that I wince.
“I'm sorry, Lydia. I didn't mean anything by it.”
She huffs and starts to stomp off. A few steps later she pivots and comes back, stopping just a foot away from me, glaring daggers. “You never answered my question. Why the fuck are you in Midland, Max?”
“Right. Uh...I'm guessing the news hasn't made it to town yet.” I shuffle my feet, staring down at my boots. I have no idea how to say this, I don't even think it's fully hit me. How do you state something as a fact when you can't wrap your head around it yourself?
“Well...” she's growing more impatient by the second. “What news?”
“Fuck. Um. My dad...” I clear my throat, trying to get the words past the lump in my throat. I have to tell her. She'll find out eventually, and it's better if it comes from me. “My dad passed away."
"Wh-What? When?" she stammers.
"Last night. That's why I'm here. At this bar in Midland, on this day. Someone up there must have a sick sense of humor,” I point out, letting out a humorless laugh.
Her hand is covering her mouth, and her eyes are glassy when I pick my head up to look at her. We just stand there staring at each other, feeling the loss of one of the strongest, most hardworking men to ever live.
“Lydia, are you okay? What the hell is going on?” I hear a feminine voice shouting from behind me. I turn around to see who the fuck is interrupting us. A woman with fiery red hair and daisy dukes comes stomping our way. That's not...holy shit.
“Mary?”
“Fuck off, Weston. Lydia, why are you crying? What did he do?” Mary asks in rapid succession, shoving past me to get to her friend.
“Mary, it's fine. He, uh...he didn't do anything. Mr. Weston passed away.”
Her face falls, and she wraps Lydia up in a hug. She turns them around, so she's facing me. “I'm so sorry, Max. I didn't—”
“It's okay, Mary. There was no way you could have known. I understand what it looked like.” She nods and goes back to comforting her friend. I fucking wish more than anything that it could be me with my arms wrapped around her. Us leaning on each other the way it should be. But things just aren't like that anymore.
I'm so caught up in watching the girls that I don't notice the truck that pulls into the lot. It isn't until I'm being pushed out of the way by strong arms that I realize we're not alone anymore. I stumble and see those arms are attached to a man just about my size, with a full beard and covered in tattoos. What the fuck. He cocks his arm back, and I get my wits about me in time to block his shot. “STOP! Parker! Stop!” Lydia is shouting, pushing the guy away from me.
“Why the fuck would I stop? This asshole deserves more than a goddamn shove. I come here after getting a frantic text from Mary, and I see you crying in her arms while this dickhead stands over to the side looking on. Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn't beat his ass to the ground,” he seethes. There's this fire in his blue eyes that remind me of...shit. That's Parker Lancaster, Lydia's little brother.
“Look, man—”
“You. Shut the fuck up,” he shouts, pointing my way. He looks back down at his sister who is frantically trying to hold him back from me. “Lydia, you better start talking before I lock your ass in my truck and—”
“Parker, enough! He didn't make me cry. Not intentionally. His dad passed away. That's why I’m crying. He didn't fucking do anything. You need to calm the fuck down,” she tells him, pushing him back the entire time. That is, until what she said sinks in. He gives up the fight then.
I can see in his eyes that he still wants to beat the shit out of me, and I don't blame him. But now isn't the time, and he understands that.
“Shit. Fuck, man. I'm sorry to hear about your dad.” He gets it. He wasn't old enough to remember him, but they lost their dad. He knows what it feels like to not have a dad anymore. Like me. Fuck. I don't have a fucking dad anymore. I don't know why it took Parker coming at me, then apologizing, but there it is.
“Thanks.”
We all just stand there for a minute. What the fuck do you say after that?
“Let's go, Park,” Lydia mutters, nudging his side. “I'll see you tomorrow, Mary?” Mary nods and a silent conversation seems to pass between them before she looks over at me. “And Max, I'm so sorry about your dad. He...he was a good man. The best.” She looks at me, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Everything is hitting me too fucking hard right now.
She climbs up into the truck, and Parker shuts her door. He makes his way around the front of the truck, but pauses to look back at me. “I really am sorry about your dad. But none of that changes how I feel about you. You fucking hurt her. Leave her be, Weston. She doesn't need you tearing her heart out and stomping on it all over again.” He doesn't give me a chance to respond, just gets in the truck and drives off.
I'm left standing there, watching on as the taillights fade in the distance. Mary clears her throat next to me, bringing my attention back to the parking lot. She reaches out and touches my arm, “Sorry about your dad, Max.”
“Thanks, Mary. You be safe getting home.” I should probably wait and make sure she has a ride or something, but I need to get out of there before I lose it.
Lydia
4
“What do you mean Max is back?” Rachael asks, as she pours us both a cup of coffee.
“Just what I said. I went to Gator's last night because...well, you know. And there I am drinking and dancing, actually managing to have a good time, when Mary insists we have to leave. Like NOW.”
“Yeah, because you're just going to listen to someone without an explanation,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“You keep rolling your eyes at me like that, they're going to end up stuck in that big head of yours.” She hands me my coffee and joins me at her kitchen table. “The fact that you're right is beside the point. She was all shifty eyes, glancing over my shoulder as she frantically tried to get me to sneak out the back door. So...”
“You looked and there he was. Seriously? Just like that? Why yesterday? It's been nine years, and he shows up on the exact day he left. What in the hell was he thinking?”
“That's exactly what I fucking said. It ended up being a coincidence that it was that day. His dad passed away Friday night.”
“Oh, no. What happened?”
“I don't know. I never actually asked. I was drunk and reeling from the fact that he was there when he told me. I just got done yelling at him. I feel so fucking terrible.”
“Lydia, you had every right to be pissed that he showed up. You didn't know about his dad. You have no reason to feel bad about your initial reaction,” she reassures me, leaning over to pull me into an embrace. She starts rubbing my back as she continues talking. “And I know, you wouldn't have kept yelling at him after you found out. He can't and won't hold your hostility against you.”
“I know, but I still feel bad. He's dealing with his father's death, and I was busy yelling at him. I'm not worried about him holding anything against me. He wouldn't do that and if he did, fuck him. I have every right to be pissed.”
“Exactly.” She lets me go and moves back to her chair. “So, how are you feeling about everything?”
“I don't fucking know.” I throw my head down onto the table in a dramatic flourish. I have no idea how to feel right now. I can't believe Dale is dead. That man was practically like a father to me throughout high school. There were times when Max used to joke that Dale liked me better than him. He wasn't entirely wrong. After Max left, I couldn't bring myself to go back and see his parents at the farm. I'd occasionally see them around town, but they mostly kept to themselves. Dale really only went into town over the weekend for the Farmer's Market. It took me a few years before I was able to go, but I eventually started visiting him on Sundays. I didn't make it every week, but I always looked forward to the weeks when I could. Dale was a good man, and I'm really going to fucking miss him.
“I can't believe Dale's gone.” Tears trickle down my face. “I know he wasn't my dad, but that man always made sure I knew he was there for me. It didn't matter that Max wasn't in my life. He always considered me to be his daughter. I didn’t tell you this, but he told me as much a few weeks ago when I went to see him. God, that was the last time I went to see him. I just...I appreciated that, but it was hard to go back and see him afterwards. I couldn’t bring myself to visit. Oh, God, Rachael. I didn’t know that would be the last time I saw him.”
“Oh, sweetie, I know.” Rachael's out of her chair, pulling me into her arms. I bawl into her shoulder. I know we have no control over who stays and goes or when. Dale just had so much life in him, I don't understand why he had to go.
“Oh, God. Maggie. She must be beside herself. I don't know if I'm ready to see Max again, but I need to go see his mom. Unless you think she wants to be left alone?”
“I don't know how they kept the news from spreading before, but with Max showing up at Gator's last night, everyone is bound to know. I'm sure she's had a parade of people on her doorstep today. Having you stop by would probably be the most welcome visit all day. Maggie loves you. If you want, I can go with you.”
“Would you?”
“Of course. Does Diana know? She'll want us to send over a pie. Let me call her, and we'll go by the farm this afternoon.”
“Okay.” I grab her hand before she walks away. “Thank you, Rachael.”
“Don't thank me. Best friend, remember?” she jokes, pointing at herself.
“Hey, that's usually my line,” I tell her, wiping away the rest of my tears.
“Well, it goes both ways.” She smiles and squeezes my hand before going off to find her phone.
∞∞∞
We pull up to the farm a few hours later, pie in hand. “Rachael, what the fuck do I say to her?”
“You want me to do the talking?”
“No. I can't just pawn that off on you. Maggie deserves better than that.” I let out a long exhale. “Well, on the plus side I only see one truck. Maybe Max isn't here right now.”
“Good, let's go in before he comes back then,” Rachael says before getting out of the car.
“Why do you always have to make so much sense? Can't you just let me procrastinate and avoid the hard things for just a little bit?” I grumble, getting out of the car while trying not to drop the pie.
“Nope,” she says, popping the P and walking straight up to the Weston's front door.
I mutter some choice words under my breath as I rush to catch up with her. I make it up to the porch as Maggie opens the door. Her red-rimmed eyes zero in on me, immediately. “Lydia,” she says in a shaky voice.
I hand Rachael the pie and pull Maggie into my arms. The second I embrace her, tears stream down my face. “I'm so sorry, Maggie. So fucking sorry.” We stand there on the front porch of a house that once upon a time I spent just as much time in as my own, crying in each other's arms.
Max
5
The woman manning the desk told me that Lydia was in the children's section, shelving books. I wander over there and see her with a full cart in the back of the room. “Mama told me you came to see her yesterday. Thank you for that.”
“Jesus! Max, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that,” she whisper-shouts at me.
“I forgot how easy it is to scare you.” I chuckle at the angry pout she's throwing my way. “Anyway...thanks for checking up on Mama.”
“Of course, I love your mom. I wish there was more I could do than bring over some stupid pie.”
/>
“She said that seeing you and breaking down like she did was really helpful, actually.”
That brings a small smile to her face. “Good. I'm glad. Well, thanks for stopping by.” She goes back to shelving books, completely ignoring my existence.
“You got a minute? I'd actually like to talk to you.”
“Nope. Really busy.”
“Okay, well...when's your lunch?”
“Already took it.”
“Alright. When do you get off?”
She snaps her head up and looks at me. “Can't you take a hint, Maxwell? I don't want to talk to you. I'm trying really hard to be nice right now, and you're making it very difficult.”
“Lydia, please. It's been nine years. Could you just take a few minutes out of your day to talk to me?”
“NO!” A few heads pop up and look at what all the commotion is about. “Look, fine. I'll talk to you after I get off work if you will just leave. I'm at work, Max. I can't do this right now.”
“Okay, good. Perfect. I'll see you at closing time.” I practically run out the door before she changes her mind.
∞∞∞
Before I left, I checked the sign on the front door to see that the library closes at six. I park my truck in the lot next to a purple Mini Cooper with an I like big books and I cannot lie bumper sticker that I automatically know is Lydia’s. It’s a few minutes before closing time, and I see a few stragglers wandering out the door with stacks of books in their arms.
At 6:05 I decide to get out of the truck and wait on the bench that's on the landing of the steps, just outside the doors. My legs are bouncing, and I’m running through what I want to say to her when I hear her voice. “Bye, Stacy. Great work today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”