by Joanne Ganci
“It's not like I gave you a chance to,” I mutter.
He chuckles, “You're right about that. But you're not running away and ignoring me right now. Why aren't you ignoring me?” I go to answer but he cuts me off. “Don't worry about it. It's not important. I'm supposed to be apologizing.”
“Okay. Go on.” The corner of my mouth ticks up, “I just want to point out that you're really building up this apology. You better make it a good one.”
“Damn. I’m doing a pretty good job of digging myself into holes lately.” We both laugh. God, it feels really nice to laugh with him again. “Lydia, I’m so fucking sorry that I left. I love music and my career, but I’ve always loved you more. I was stupid to throw our life together away without genuinely putting up a fight. It’s something I’ve regretted every day since.”
“Why didn't you call me or come back then?”
“Honestly, I didn't think that was an option. I thought you fucking hated me.”
“I did.”
“Exactly—”
“I hated you, because I still fucking loved you, Max. When you left, it felt like you ripped half of my fucking heart out of my chest, leaving just enough there, so I could keep existing. Everything hurt. It felt like I was missing an essential part of myself and everyone just expected me to go on like I wasn't half a person.” I close my eyes for a moment. Remembering that time is always hard. I don’t allow myself to take too much time, or I won’t be able to get anything else out. “And then one day, I could. I could wake up and live, not just go through the motions, but actually fucking live.” I could have sugar-coated that, I’m sure. But I never really understood why people do that. What’s the use saying anything if it isn’t raw and honest? With how harsh I was I almost expected him to turn away in shame or get defensive. But that's not Max, it never was. “So, yeah. I hated you. But I still loved you. If you reached out, I wouldn't have turned you away. Ugh. Okay, maybe I would have.”
“I'm pretty sure you would have, Blondie.”
“You might be right,” I admit reluctantly. “It's been brought to my attention recently that I may not always hear people out. And that I usually just get angry and jump to conclusions.”
“You? Lydia Marie Lancaster jumping to conclusions? Anger?” he mocks in faux astonishment. Even I can't hold in my laughter at that.
“Okay, okay, I get it. I'm a hothead,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“And I knew that. We were together for long enough that I knew that and usually knew how to deal with it.”
“Yeah, you did.” A delicious image of exactly how he used to deal with me when I was being unreasonable flits across my mind.
“Blondie. You better start thinking about something else before I lose control and touch you,” Max growls out.
“What if I don't want to?” I ask him, a challenge in my tone. The spark in his eyes as he draws nearer definitely says, “challenge accepted.” I take a step back, running right into the fence. When he grabs the back of my neck and crashes our lips together, I give in. His grip on me is so possessive and sexy. How could I not?
The kiss in the parking lot was nothing compared to this. Both of them wild and fierce, but this time I can feel how much he needs me. I don't have time to dwell on the comparisons of now and then for long. His hands start to roam down my body, and I lose the power to form a coherent thought. All I can do is feel. The pressure of his right hand as it slides down to cup my ass. His lips as they move down my neck. The cotton fabric of my dress as it lifts higher and higher.
Before I know it, he's dragging my panties down my legs. I step out of them when they drop to my ankles, with somehow a minimum amount of awkward fumbling. When his fingers skate across my clit, I let out a whimper. “Nooo. I need more. Now."
“You're so fucking bossy, Blondie.”
“Mhmm. Now get back to work.” A loud moan escapes me when he starts rubbing my clit in circles with his thumb at the same time that he slips two fingers inside of me. Did you know that was possible? Let me fucking tell you, it is. AND IT IS FUCKING FANTASTIC. He works his voodoo magic on me, ripping an orgasm from me much faster than any guy has ever done.
“How was that for work, Blondie?”
“Shut up and fuck me, Max!” He pushes me back up against the fence and kisses me passionately. I hear him undo the buckle on his belt and unzip his jeans. He trails kisses down to my ear, nibbling on it a bit. “I don’t have a condom, Blondie. I’m clean, but whether we continue is your decision,” he says in a voice so low and husky, I almost miss what he’s saying.
“Shit.” I shove him off me and let out a string of expletives. Reality comes crashing back down, tamping down all the lust that was running rampant through my body a minute ago. “I can't. I...I have to go.” I don't give him a chance to respond, I just run off toward my car.
I almost slept with Max.
I wanted to sleep with Max.
What the fuck?!
Max
14
Lydia runs off so fast, I don't have a chance of catching up with her. Especially with how stunned I am. I'm sure I look a fine picture with my pants undone and my hands running through my hair in utter fucking shock. I knew there was a chance she would stop what we were doing when I admitted I didn't have a condom, but I honestly didn't think she'd run off again. “FUCK,” I shout to the heavens, kicking at the ground. It's then that I realize Lydia ran off so fast she forgot her fucking underwear. I know this, because of course it's now tangled around my boot.
Well, that's just fucking great. I remember when there was a time that having a girl's underwear would be a badge of honor, now it just feels fucking skeezy. I bend over and pick them off my boot and shove them into my pocket before fixing my jeans. Now, I could really use that fucking ride. Sighing, I take off in search of one of the geldings.
I don’t see Tom, but I spot Jerry, grazing under one of the oak trees. I freeze in my tracks when I realize he’s right in our spot.
December 23 - Twelve Years Ago
“I wish we could spend Christmas together. Mom is being ridiculous,” Lydia pouts and slumps down against a big oak tree.
“Blondie, calm down. I doubt my parents would be any more willing to let us spend Christmas together. There’s always next year.” Shit, I didn’t mean to say that.
“So, you’re already planning for next year?” she teases, with a smirk on her face.
I can either play it off like it was a joke or just own up to it. Mama always taught me to be honest with a woman, so I figure that’s the best route. “You’re my girl. I don’t see that changing any time soon. You plan on dumping me or something?”
Her eyes go wide. Guess you didn’t see that one coming now did ya, Blondie. “No. I. Uh…”
“God, you’re adorable when you’re caught off guard.”
“Shut up, Max.”
She tries to shove me, but I grab her hands before she can. We sit there in a staring match. My girl never backs down. It’s one of the things I love about her. I haven’t told her that I love her yet. I didn’t really believe Dad when he would tell me about Weston men loving fast and hard. Not until I met her at least. The second I laid eyes on this feisty girl, I knew I was a goner. I went home that afternoon and went right to Dad and told him that I found her. I didn’t need to explain what I meant, he knew. I don’t know if it was the look in my eyes or just a Dad thing, but he knew exactly what I meant. He simply nodded and said, “Good. Now let her come to you, boy. And when she does, don’t ever let her go.” I let a few weeks go by, making sure I took every opportunity to see her, but more importantly, I made sure she would see me. When she did, that was it. It’s only been a few months, but I know this girl is my forever.
“I’ve got an idea Blondie. You up for a little bet?” I let go of her hands, knowing she’ll be too distracted by her curiosity to try anything.
“Well, let’s hear it, Cowboy.”
“I figure we’ll be together this time next year.
If I’m right, we’ll carve our names right here in this tree. ‘Cause I reckon, if I can put up with your stubborn ass for a year, I’ll be willing to do it for the rest of our lives.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Ladies choice.”
“Ooh! You’re going to regret that.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that, Blondie?”
“Well, if you’re wrong, I’ll probably not be a big fan of yours and you just left it open-ended for me to choose. Whatever. I. Want.”
“Then, I better make sure I win.”
*
December 23 - Eleven Years Ago
“It shouldn’t be that hard to carve a couple names in a tree, Max,” Lydia says. She’s currently pressed up against my back with her arms wrapped around me.
“Maybe if you quit your bitch—OOF! Dammit, Lydia! Now our names are forever memorialized in a demented heart.” I step back and motion toward the mess that was supposed to be a sweet tribute to the best bet I’ve ever won.
She bursts out laughing at my hack job of a carving. “I mean you probably should have known better than to insult me while you were doing something so tedious. I’m always gonna hit back, you’ll just never know if it’ll be physically or verbally. I like to keep you guessing.”
“Blondie,” I growl out.
“Okay. I’m sorry, Max.”
“And?”
“And I love you.” That’s right. We passed that milestone over nine months ago. I will never get sick of hearing those words come out of that pretty mouth.
“Damn right, you do! Now get over here.” I reach out and pull her into me. She lets out the cutest giggle that brings a huge smile to my face. “I love you too, you pain in the ass.” I make sure I kiss her before she can butt in with a string of insults. She’s feisty, stubborn, and so fucking gorgeous. But most of all, she’s mine.
*
Shaking my head, I put those memories back in their little box in the back of my mind. I hate having to avoid the memories, but it just hurts too much sometimes. I know we’re on a much better foot than when I got to town, but I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to what we used to be. It won’t be for a lack of trying, but that woman is more stubborn than a mule. I’m just going to take the progress we’ve made and run with it.
Making her cum again, even if it was just with my fingers, was such a rush. I should have stopped it there, though. Maybe she wouldn’t have run off. Damn.
I call Jerry over and lead him back over to the pasture gate where I left the harnesses. I put Jerry’s on and carry Mandy’s while I lead him back to the stables. After I get Jerry secure with the cross-ties, I gather up the grooming supplies and give him a quick clean, focusing on the areas where the saddle will make contact. The routine is doing wonders to clear my head, but I know I won’t really feel any better until I’m in the saddle. Riding has always calmed my mind. Since I was homeschooled until I hit high school, I spent a lot of time with the horses. Other than the people I left behind, one of my biggest regrets of leaving was how much I missed the horses. When Bucky died, I holed up in the studio I have in my house in Nashville and wrote my way through the grief. Once upon a time, Bucky was my best friend and dammit do I miss him. Dad didn’t even give me shit about not being here during that call. He knew how much Bucky meant to me. He may have been angry with me for leaving, but he was never cruel about it. Now that I think back on it, he was just sad for me. He knew exactly what I was missing out on, and I was too pig-headed to listen to him. I don’t know why I didn’t just listen to you, Dad.
With Jerry tacked up, I grab the reins and lead him back over to the pasture. Once I make certain the gate is secure and check the cinch one last time, I hop up onto the saddle and ride off.
Lydia
15
I swear I hit every light, and got stuck driving behind six of the slowest drivers in Florida on the way home from the farm. With every second that ticked by, the panic inside of me grew exponentially. By the time I pull into my driveway, I’m shaking.
All of my focus is on getting behind a closed door. I need to be alone.
I know Max didn’t follow me. I checked. I can’t deal with him or any nosy neighbors right now. Once I’m inside I slam the door shut, and lean back into it. I’m panting like I just ran all the way here, instead of driving. “Lydia, is that you? Why the heck are you slamming my front door? You know better than that.”
Shit. In my rush to get inside I guess I missed Mom’s car in the driveway. “Sorry, Mom.”
Mom comes from the kitchen to the entryway, and stares at me leaning up against the front door, with her hands on her hips. “Lydia Marie, you going to play a doorstop all night or are you going to come in the house and tell me what’s wrong.”
Damn, I don’t want to go through this right now. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure the door isn’t closing all the way, I might need to stand here all night, Mom.” I already know that’s not going to go over well. I may have gotten my sass from her, but Diana Lancaster doesn’t take any bullshit.
“I’m going to ignore that snark. You’re welcome. I made cookies, and your brothers haven’t been by, so there’s still a full plate. Go plant your happy ass in a chair at the table, and we’ll talk.” As soon as the last word leaves her mouth, she turns around and goes right to the kitchen. There was no reason to wait for a response, because she knows damn well I’ll be in that chair waiting for her. Sometimes I wonder why the hell I still live here, but I know that I would hate to leave Mom here by herself. We may butt heads—all too frequently—but she’s one of my best friends. I’m so lucky to have a mother that actually gives a shit. I know plenty of people who don’t have that.
I slump into the chair at the kitchen table, wiggling around to get comfortable. That’s when I realize...I’m not wearing any fucking panties. Fuck. Now, I’m about to have a serious conversation with my mother with no fucking underwear on. Maybe I could run upstairs real quick. I get up, of course that’s when she turns around, and I’m met with a glare, “Don’t even try running away now. We’re talking whether you like it or not.” I sit back down and sigh. “Drop the attitude, Lydia.”
“Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t trying to run away, I swear. I…” Nope, not telling my mother I was going to put fucking underwear on. I don’t care how close we are. That’s not happening. “I was just going to go plug my phone in.”
“Is it dead?” Mom asks. A buzz answers that question for me. “I see...not dead. You can wait, let’s just chat for a bit, Lyd. I saw you left the memorial service with Maggie. How’s she doing?”
“As good as she can be, I suppose. She went to bed not long after we got there.”
“Oh, did she?” she asks, glancing down at her watch. And there I go putting my foot in my mouth. “Did you go somewhere else before you came home?”
“No, I...I hung out with Max for a bit.”
“Hm.” She gives me that Mom look that says she knows there is way more to that than I’m letting on.
I try to stare back at her, without admitting that she’s 1000% right. That lasts about 2.5 seconds. “He apologized for leaving,” I blurt out. “How do you do that? You just look at me, with those beady little mom eyes, and I cave every single time.”
“It’s an art, dear. Many years of practice went into those ‘beady little mom eyes’ as you call them,” she says, chuckling at me. “So, he apologized? That’s interesting.”
“Yeah, that’s an understatement. I may or may not have had a realization that I maybe, might have blown everything out of proportion when we got into that fight. Well, I had a Rachael and Mary point that out. I don’t know if I’m fully behind that logic, but I see what they’re saying.”
“I see. Can you do something for me, Lydia?”
“Sure, Mom.” I eye her skeptically. What could she possibly want me to do?
“I’m sure you’ll be pouring over every moment involving Max over the last 12 years. As you go over these things, just remember
not to dismiss your feelings. You can come to the realization that you did some things wrong, but never dismiss that pain. That pain was real. Whether or not it was made bigger by you, he still planted it there. I always liked Max, but I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for leaving like that. Seeing you suffer was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through in my entire life. Now, don’t let my feelings stop you from doing whatever your heart wants. Just don’t dismiss the pain and explain it away, putting it all on you. Nothing was entirely your fault. Can you do that for me?”
Wiping the tears off my face, I look up into my mother’s glossy eyes and nod my head. “Yes. I can do that. I’m sorry, Mom. I never really stopped to think about what I was putting you through with all of that. I’m so, so sorry.”
She stands up and comes over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, and pulling my head to rest on her stomach. Stroking my hair, she murmurs, “Hush, now, baby. You were in pain.”
“I know, but—”
“It wasn’t your job to stop and think about what it was doing to me or anyone else. You are a strong, stubborn, beautiful woman. You may try to act like you don’t, but you feel more than any of my children. With everything else in your life, you’ve always put up a wall, not allowing anyone to see you had these feelings. Sometimes that wall comes crumbling down, and you just have to let it out. You did that, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, my sweet girl. Allow yourself to feel. Then allow yourself to pick yourself up and move forward. Take the help that your loved ones offer. You have so many people in your corner, Lydia. Always remember that.”
I’m crying much harder now. My head is still pressed into her stomach, and I couldn’t possibly form words right now, so I just nod. She squeezes me just a little bit harder.
We stay like that for a long time. Eventually, I feel like I might be done crying long enough to speak. I lean away from Mom and motion for her to sit back down. When she sits, I reach over to squeeze her hand in mine. “Thank you. Thank you for everything, Mom.”