Break Away: A Midwest Small Town Romance

by Vanessa Sheets

  There are selfies with her friends. I can tell that she has thrown a few back in those snapshots, but the people that she lets into her life seem to be good people. Then, there is Corbin. I don’t like that guy. He doesn’t look to be a problem, not bad company at all. I just see the way he looks at Sofia and it triggers a jealous rage in me like no other. I know I told her to let people in, I guess I just didn’t consider how much it would rip at my insides as I watched it happen.

  So the pictures of her laughing with his arm around her, I don’t click the little heart under. I just close out the app and busy myself with work.

  I listen to the booms and crashes coming through my hotel slider and decide to make myself another drink and try to enjoy the rest of the show.

  I lean back in the patio chair and kick my feet up on the railing. I take in the beauty of the colors that explode all over the dark Nashville sky. I wonder if Enz is watching fireworks. I hope he is. That boy deserves all the fireworks in the world. I still am broken over the fact that Sofia didn’t get him out of that hell hole. I will never forget that hysterical phone call that I got from her. It was the first time that I had heard from her since I left. I got the impression that she wanted nothing to do with me, after no response from the dozen texts that I sent to her. My heart sank when I finally checked my cell account and found that her line had been inactive for months.

  I was half awake when I answered the unknown call at three in the morning. She was beside herself, broken and angry. She was out of sorts and wasn’t acting herself. I nearly drove the sixteen hours I would have had to drive to console her. I quickly changed my mind, knowing that would do us no good. So, I listened and did my best to walk her through the rage of emotions that she was going through. That was the only time that we have physically talked on the phone. Now we just text. When you text someone, it is a disconnected way of communicating. Texting works for us. It keeps us connected, but hurts a hell of a lot less.

  I hear the door slam and drunken chaos erupt behind me. Crew is back from his nightly drunken frolic through the city. Oh, goodie.

  “Shit, Noah, think I drank enough for the both of us tonight.” He falls down in the chair next to me and lights up a smoke.

  “Yeah, I'm sure you did. Why don’t you stay out a little longer? Still plenty of night left to burn.”

  “Aww, and leave you here? All alone, pouting over some stupid girl that broke your soft wittle heart.” He blows out a puff of smoke and laughs.

  “The only reason that I left her is because of you, dickhead. You're a piece of shit and if I could scrape you off the bottom of my shoe, I would.” I start to get up and he grabs my shirt sleeve. Holding me at eye level.

  “Crew, what the fuck is your problem? Are you looking to get your ass handed to you tonight?”

  “You're my problem, Noah. Fucking you! I finally found someone that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and you took her from me. All because some stupid ass ho had your dick in a hizzy.” I rip my arm away, kicking my chair back as I stand up. I take hold of his shirt in my angry fists and press him hard into the back of his chair. My clenched jaw inches from his face.

  “I made you come with me because I don’t want you anywhere near her. You see what happened the last time I left you with someone I loved. And you so much as ever even think of calling Sofia a name again, and I won’t have to run from my past anymore. There won’t be a witness to tell about it, because you'll be dead.” I thrust him away from me and storm inside.

  I've had enough of this piece of shit, and it kills me more and more every day that I don’t have a choice in the matter. I have to keep him around. Not a damn thing that I can do about that. I am not going to jail while that filth runs around wrecking people's lives. The only positive of him staying under my thumb, is that I know at any given time what the fucker is up to. I'm not going to let him hurt another person the way that he hurt my sister. If I have to give up my entire life to make sure of it, then so be it.

  I shut my bedroom door and slam back a shot of Jack before climbing into bed. I lay there staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how much easier it was for me to play this little game with Crew before she came into my life. Giving up my entire life was a small sacrifice compared to giving up her.

  The drive to work is barely two minutes long, but after years and years of walking everywhere, I drive my Jeep every chance I get. I can try and deny the fact that every time I get in it, I don’t go back to that place where he was a part of my life, but that would be a lie. With or without this Jeep, he will always be a part of me and a huge piece of who I have become. The very reason I am where I am today. The keychain with the Chicago skyline dangling from my keys speaks volumes.

  I park on the side of the grocery store and notice a group of kids hanging out. They try but fail tremendously to hide the vape pen they are passing around. I smile at them as I walk by but stop dead in my tracks as the blond girl with a nose ring shoots her mouth off in my direction.

  “Oh, look, it's the skank that got Cam beat up and arrested after he fucked her and left. Just like her mom. Nothing but a leftover ho.” I walk up to the girl and see that she is Madison’s little sister. Madi was the head cheerleader and the definition of an overindulged rich bitch. Before I know it, I have her pushed up against the brick building. She stares back at me with a

  smug look on her face and a cocky smile. “Nice Jeep, how many fucks did it take to get that?” I squeeze her arms tighter and push her harder against the wall.

  “Listen to me you little bitch, you know nothing about me, so I suggest you shut your fucking mouth, or I am going to rip that nose ring out and feed it to you.”

  I want to hit her so fucking bad.

  “You don’t fucking scare me, cunt. Now are you going to let me go or should I get the cops involved like you like to do?” I shove her hard, one more time before letting her go. She isn’t worth any of the trouble that will come out of beating the shit out of her. Just an entitled little brat, the whole world handed to her from the day she was born.

  I ignore the chatter that fades behind me and head in to start my eight-hour shift. I try to ignore what the little brat said earlier but I can’t stop going back to the lies that she spouted out. That is the problem with small towns. People know all your business and each time that it is told to another, more is added on. It's sick, really. I have seen it run people out of here. I'm suddenly jealous of the people that can break away, just leave whatever it is that is making their life difficult behind. I don’t have that option, though. I can’t leave Enzo. Ever.

  I make it through the day and find myself cussing at the deadbolt on my front door as I wiggle my key up and down, trying to get the damn thing to unlock. It finally does and I welcome the coolness from my central air.

  I have central air.

  This is something that so many people take for granted. Not me. Nope. I embrace it and keep that bad boy set to seventy-one degrees.

  I grab a Coke out of the fridge. I have a headache and I'm not sure if it's from the bullshit earlier or lack of caffeine. I really should stop drinking this crap; it's not good for me, but I keep drinking it. I stand in front of the fridge, sipping on my pop and a smile breaks though at the thought of Noah's bossy ass comments he used to say whenever he saw me with one.

  I stare at the calendar that hangs on my fridge. My eyes linger on the thirteenth. In a little over a week, I am going to be twenty-one years old.

  I will finally be able to buy alcohol.

  I hate that my birthday falls on the thirteenth, such an unlucky number. How fitting. As if the universe began laughing at me before I was even aware of the circumstances that I was being born into. Something Noah said to me plays in my head.

  Death of a struggling period and new beginnings…

  He has a way about him when it comes to making sure that I am taken care of and happy. The man would move mountains for me. I will never understand why he won’t be honest with me ab
out his past, but whatever has him shackled to Crew must be something unimaginable and is something that I want no part of.

  I settle on the couch with a blanket and a bag of Mrs. Fisher's potato chips. I begin clicking through the top ten shows on Netflix and finally decide to give Bridgerton a try. I have seen it pop up on my feed more than a dozen times and even though I hate historical romance, I am tired of being out of the loop.

  It is now two in the morning and I apparently love historical romances. I begin frantically searching for season two.

  There is no season two?

  I can’t help but feel how my story and Bridgerton are similar. A secret that cannot be told to the woman that he loves. The difference between the two, is that I walked away, and she stayed. Why did I keep pushing him to tell? Giving him an ultimatum of truth or loss. That is not love; that is intimidation. Was I more like my mother than I wanted to admit? Had I unknowingly picked up habits that I swore to never repeat. I thought that I had broken away from her, but had I? Or was I just another version of her on the other side of town?

  I crawl into bed and rest my laptop on my lap. I get lost in the sound of my fingers clicking over the keyboard and the story that I am creating in my head. Writing, now more than ever, has been my escape from all of the hurt, confusion, and memories that take place in my mind. I don’t ever do anything with it, just keep it tucked away in a folder on my home screen named, Mine. It mostly consists of poems and short stories that I never seem to finish. The one that I am working on right now isn’t really calling to me. Not sure if it's because I'm exhausted due to the fact that it's almost three in the morning, or because that part of me was awakened when I started questioning myself about my mother earlier.

  That part of me.

  The part of me that I want so badly to leave behind. My Nonna’s passing, my mother and her stupid little pills and her many random fucks that made me feel so fragile in a world that I should have never even been a part of.

  I hit the back button and double click on the folder, Broken Poetry. I feel as if I'm on a high as the words flow out of my fingertips and appear on my screen. I don’t even notice as my room goes from only being lit by my laptop to the sunlight that is now filling up around me. I look down at my word count, hit save, and set my computer on the floor. It is now five in the morning and I need to get some sort of sleep. I am supposed to go to Corbin’s farm for four-wheeling later. I close my blackout curtains and welcome the dark that envelopes my room. Wrapping myself up in my comforter, I close my eyes and look forward to drifting off. Just as I feel myself start to fall, a ting pulls me back into reality.

  Just wanted to say sorry about how I was about Corbin the other night. Can’t help but envy the guy. Hope you have a great day.

  Jesus, Noah.

  It is 5 in the morning why do you have to be sorry now?

  I rub at my eye sleepily and contemplate shutting my ringer off.

  Ting

  Am going to work. Didn’t think that you would be up? Party?

  Seriously?

  Only you would apologize for being an ass and then follow up with more assness.

  Ting

  Assness? Cute Brown Eyes.

  I send him a middle finger emoji and he quickly responds with a selfie of him smiling sarcastically. I stare into his eyes and imagine what his soft lips would feel like between my teeth. I quickly close out my messages and throw my phone on the bed. I get situated under my covers again and tell myself that I need to just block his number. I'm never going to be able to move on with him always popping up on my phone. That thought is short lived as my hand slides over my stomach and makes its way down. It doesn’t take long to get there with visions of Noah flashing in my head.

  I roll over onto my back, breathing heavily and cursing the day that I ever met the man in that black Ford Truck.

  A few days have passed since I last talked to her. I feel sort of bad for how I acted about that Corbin dude. He’s been there for her this past year, more than I have. I guess that is what set me off, but the truth of the matter is, I can’t be there for her and it’s my own stupid fault.

  I wash the soap out of my hair and turn the shower off. No sooner than I wrap a towel around my waist, I am texting her to apologize. I only get pieces of her here and there and I'm not going to risk losing that connection. It’s all I have and with time I will have to come to accept that.

  To my surprise she answered right away. I didn’t expect her to respond for a few more hours. Figured she would be sleeping. Of course I go to that place and can't contain myself from responding with sarcasm. She sends me a middle finger and I shoot her a quick selfie, to mess with her even more. I look forward to her playing back with me and wait for a picture to pop up on my screen of her with morning hair and sleep lines on her face.

  Nothing.

  Satisfied that I have gotten under her skin, I go back to getting ready for work. I make my way to the kitchen to grab a coffee for the road and notice that Crew has already left. Smartest thing he did was use the bribe money that I paid him to get a truck of his own. If I had to ride with that asshole one more day, I may have killed him. I'm forced to carry his dead weight through life so that he keeps our secret, but there are times that I think killing him would be worth the time in jail.

  I snap the to-go lid on my cup and head out the door.

  I HATE EATING LUNCH in my truck, alone. Memories of her always seem to find their way into my mind, filling the silence with moments that we shared together.

  All day I have been checking my phone. Obsessively checking my phone. I am almost to the point where I think that talking to a professional would probably be in my best interest. I try to piece together in my mind what I would even say to get that conversation started?

  “I met this woman that I can’t seem to breathe without, but I have to protect her from my stepbrother who witnessed me murder his father and is now blackmailing me.”

  I growl out as I crumple up my half-eaten taco from Chipotle and toss it into the bag on the passenger seat. I shake my head and rub at the back of my neck.

  Shit... shit... shit.

  I should have just left her the hell alone. Packed up that job in Illinois early or something, anything but this? Being away from her is going to fucking kill me. I need some sort of relief from the pent-up frustration that is crawling under my skin.

  I look out the window at the nothing that surrounds me and decide that is exactly what I am going to do. Fuck it.

  I move my seat back so that I can stretch my legs out. When I undo my pants, he’s already struggling to break out of the opening of my briefs. I have always been one to get a hard on at the drop of a hat. It was a struggle during my teenage years, because I was blessed with a dick that isn’t easy to hide in a pair of sweatpants.

  I wrap my hand around it and slowly start sliding up and down. It hardens to my touch, as it always does and I cup my balls with my other hand.

  “Mmm.”

  My thumb circles the tip where a bead of wetness is forming, and I spread the natural lube around until my whole head is covered. Pressing my head against the headrest, I close my eyes and picture the face that she makes when she gives herself to me.

  I tease myself with my hand, up and down, long and slow. I want this to last as long as I can make it. Edging is the secret to a mind-blowing orgasm.

  More wet beads, yes. My palm grazes over the tip and I slip my hand back down my cock, saturating its hardness with the liquid.

  “Fuck, uhhhh.”

  I pump my balls gently and squeeze my cock a little tighter, rubbing the now slippery shaft up and down... up and down.

  I let go of my balls and grab hold of the steering wheel. Looking down, I bite down on my bottom lip as I watch myself. My throbbing cock moving in and out of my hand, gifts me with more wetness and I quickly slide my hand up to catch it. I close my hand around the head and start pumping it over and over. The wet sound it makes has me sucking in my breath
with clenched teeth.

  I fucking love that sound.

  I feel the pressure build and my body getting hotter with every stroke. I push my legs up against the floorboard, knowing that I am about to nut all over myself.

  And I don’t give a fuck.

  I grab my balls back up and begin to fuck the shit out of my hand.

  “Uhhhhhhhh.” My balls suck in tight and waves of tingling electricity shoots through my now pulsating cock. I watch as white waves of thick and warm cum covers my hand.

  “Mmmmm.” Breathing heavy, I slip up to my pink, soft head and squeeze it gently a few times. It feels good as fuck and I shudder as I milk it until there is nothing left.

  “Shit.” The mess from my impromptu hand job brings me back to reality, and I grab a pile of napkins off my dash.

  I clean myself up and check my phone, again.

  Nothing.

  I don’t mind temporary fixes for my sexual tension; I can live with that. What I don’t think I can live with, is a lifetime without her.

  I gently drop the three tomatoes that I just pulled off the vine into a bowl on the kitchen counter. I can’t stop staring at them as I wash my hands. I am damn proud of those bad boys. I planted them from seeds in the windowsill before transplanting them to my tiny little garden out back. I smile at the memory of Ezra texting me as soon as she saw my post of the little buds sticking out of the dirt.

  Only you would break away from a lifetime of responsibility and make more responsibility. ;-)

  I miss her so much. The way she would make everything so carefree and fun. She was my little piece of normal growing up. I will never take our friendship for granted. Getting used to a life without Ezra is something I don’t know I will ever get used to.