If she was a man I’d punch her lights out, but she’s not. She’s Mallory’s aunt, who obviously doesn’t know a damn thing about Mallory’s last relationship. Raised right my ass.
“What do you do, Beau?” Mrs. Collins asks, condescendingly.
There she goes, throwing my name around, taunting me with it like it’s not good enough. She has no idea who she’s messing with.
“Well, ma’am, I was a kicker on the football team for Georgia University, but I decided not to go back this quarter. I transferred to the local community college.”
“Is that so?” Mrs. Collins says, unamused.
Just wait, it’s coming.
“You see, ma’am, my granddaddy didn’t have any boys. And my mama, well she’s a nurse, so that leaves me to carry on the family ranch since my brother has no interest.”
For the first time since this conversation started, Mallory looks up at me, curiosity in her eyes.
“You never told me, what do you do on your farm?” Mallory asks.
“We raise cattle and sell them for meat.” I cut into the steak on my plate and take a bite. With my mouth full I say, “We’re probably eating my family’s beef right now. We are the biggest producers in the tri-county area. Most of the local markets buy our cattle.”
Mrs. Collins looks down at her plate with disgust and I can’t help but grin. There’s a feeling of satisfaction knowing that she thought I was a broke schmuck and here she is eating my family’s food. Putting money in our pockets. Mrs. Collins looks up from her plate with a fake a smile
“W…well,” she stammers, “I just wanted to make sure you understand what you were getting in bed with.” She looks over at Mallory. “It’s not like you know how to keep your legs closed, dear.”
Mallory gasps.
I stand up throw my napkin onto the table. “With all due respect, ma’am, Mallory’s your niece, and you should have more respect for her than that. I sure as hell do.”
I hold my hand out for Mallory. Her eyes are bloodshot and her face is blotchy, but she stands with me.
“Mallory Jean,” her aunt warns, “if you walk out that door, you won’t be welcomed back again. Ever. And your money, it will be gone. Take your pick. Me or him.”
Mallory freezes in her tracks, stuck. Her eyes dart between her aunt and me. I can’t imagine the weight of the decision she’s being forced to make. Truthfully, it will hurt like hell if Mallory doesn’t pick me but I won’t hold it against her. Family is everything.
Mallory takes my outstretched hand and squeezes it. She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
I turn to her aunt and say, “Well, ma’am, I guess you’ll be having an empty room from now on.”
Mallory’s aunt crosses her arms and turns her nose up at us.
“Mallory,” I say, “we might as well get your things so you don’t have to come back and deal with her rude ass again.” I turn to her Aunt. “Ma’am, you may live in the south but you damn sure haven’t learned what southern hospitality is yet. You’ve got some extra money now, take a class or two. Learn how not to be such a bitch.”
Chapter 35
Mallory
The ride back to Beau’s place is silent. My mind’s been replaying the events from lunch on a loop. I don’t know how to handle it. One minute we were sitting down to what was supposed to be a nice lunch; a lunch that introduces Beau to my family because Aunt Tricia asked to meet him and the next… I should have known it was an ambush.
I planned to tell Beau about Tristan eventually, but it never felt like a good time. I mean, how do you say, “I like you, but I’m not visiting Georgia to look at colleges. I’m actually here because my jackass fiancé cheated on me with my best friend and I’m running away from my problems. Oh, and I was supposed to be married back in June, but that obviously didn’t happen.”
Yeah, there’s never a good time for that conversation. Beau parks the truck beside my car. Well, my aunt’s car. I guess I’ll have to get that back to her at some point.
“We need to talk,” he says.
I force a smile. Everything feels different now. “I know.”
“You want to go first?”
“Not really.” I can feel reality’s cold grip on my throat.
Beau looks at me. His brows push together. “You should move in.”
I feel the color drain from my face. “Wait, what?”
Beau reaches over and takes my hand. He looks happy, excited even. “Move in with me. Let’s do this. We’re great together, Mallory.”
I draw my hand back. “Beau…”
“You don’t have anywhere else to go. Let me save you.”
I shake my head. “This is great Beau, really, but I can’t. I’m flying back to Florida on Monday.”
He sits back in his seat and chews on his lip. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I…I don’t know. Tomorrow maybe.”
“You weren’t going to tell me, were you?” Beau’s voice grows louder. “What were you going to do, Mallory, leave in the middle of the night?”
“No, of course not.”
This isn’t good. He’s angry. I’ve never seen Beau angry.
“Do I mean nothing to you?” His voice cracks. I can hear the pain in it, see the hurt in his eyes.
“Don’t be silly. You know I care about you.”
“Then stay. Move in with me, Mallory. Give us a real shot.”
I laugh, not on purpose and not because any of this is funny, but because I’m on the verge of tears. And laughing is better than breaking down right now. I’ve wanted him to ask me to stay but circumstances have changed. It feels different now, almost like he’s pitying me.
“Us? Beau, we’ve never defined what we are. In the eyes of everyone around us, we are friends with some pretty great benefits. How do we explain to your family and to mine that I’m giving up my life and moving to Georgia to be with a man I’ve only known for two weeks?”
Beau shakes his head. He clenches his fists and beats them against the steering wheel. “Two weeks, two years, two months, who gives a damn. When you know, you know. You’re the first girl in years to make me feel something and I don’t want to give that up yet.”
I reach over and touch his arm. “We don’t have to. We have three more days together and after that we can figure something out.”
I search Beau’s face for understanding, some sign that he realizes me moving in right now is crazy. I don’t find it. His expression hardens.
He leans over me and pushes my door open. “What’s three more days. Just leave now. Get it over with so I can get over you.”
My heart falls to my feet, shattering into a million pieces. I like Beau, I like him a lot. I think it’s too soon to call what we have love but given time I know we could get to that. My pulse races, violently thumping in my ears.
“Beau—”
“No, Mallory,” he says, cutting me off. “I need you to leave now.”
Desperation claws at me. I wait, hoping Beau will change his mind or shut off the engine or something, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even look at me. Defeated and broken, I unbuckle and get out. Beau throws my bags on the ground, then peels out in reverse.
I didn’t think anything could hurt more than watching Tristian cheat on me, I was wrong. Watching Beau drive away, leaving me and what we could have be3n behind is worse.
Present day
The Day I Came Back to Georgia
Chapter 36
Mallory
Grabbing a Bud Light from the top shelf of the fridge, a high-pitched squeal startles me. I jump, hitting my head on the edge of the freezer door. Rubbing my new sore spot, I close the fridge and look around. Jess runs into the kitchen, her hands waving about like a madwoman, before she throws them around my neck. The sheer force of her embrace makes me stumble back against the fridge.
“Good to see you too,” I say, through a laugh.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. Two months is just
too long.” She squeezes me tighter.
“How’d you know it was me.”
Jess pulls back and gives me a lopsided grin. “Please, I’d know that ass anywhere.”
I can’t help but laugh when she slaps me on the butt. It feels good to be back. As much as I hate to say it, I’ve missed this tiny house. Most of all, I’ve missed Jess, but the thought of leaving again is already tugging at my heartstrings. Fighting a frown, I twist the cap off my beer and take a sip.
Someone clears their throat and I realize we’re still blocking the fridge. I look up and step to the side, out of the way. Jess’s boyfriend, Rob, holds his hand up for a high five.
“Long time no see, lady,” he says as our hands slap together.
“Yeah, it’s been a minute.” I force a smile, feeling my heart sink. I avert my gaze to scan the room. My heart gallops, filling my ears with violent thuds.
“It’s all right,” Rob nudges my arm, like he knows who I’m looking for. “He’s not here.”
Both disappointed and relieved, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“I went and saw him once after y’all split,” he says. “I’ve never seen Beau so tore up before. It’s like something inside him snapped.”
I take a sip of my beer, unsure of what to say. I doubt Beau was that tore up over me. If he was, he would have called by now. Or texted. Or something. Right?
Chapter 37
Beau
Eight weeks. Mallory’s been gone eight weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. Driving to tonight’s party, I look at the passenger seat where Kevin sits and my pulse quickens. Shaking my head, I sigh, remembering all the time Mallory and I spent together in my truck. So many memories.
A sharp ache stabs at my gut as I think about her. The day I pushed Mallory away was the worst day of my life. It’s the day I lost my best friend. The day alcohol became my drug of choice.
If not for Kevin dragging me out of my garage-apartment, I’d never leave. But he insists, reminding me that it’s not healthy to drown my sorrows in a bottle alone in the dark. So, Kevin and I go out and I drown them on someone else’s couch, watching the world move on without me.
That’s how we ended up in my truck on a desolate road that will eventually take Kevin and I to Rob and Jess’s place. The grassy field beside Rob’s house is overflowing with cars. I park in an empty slot down by the street light. Without a word, Kevin gets out and heads to the party. Looking over at the church, the pain in my gut returns. More memories.
I grab the bottle of Jack Daniels from the back seat and stare at the crowd of people lingering by the firepit. My hands shake. I clumsily break the seal on the bottle and take a shot. I chase the pain in my gut away with another shot and then another.
The liquid burns as it goes down, but it’s a slow burn. One I’ve gotten all too used to over the past two months. I put the cap back on the bottle and take a slow breath. It’s now or never.
Walking into this party is like reliving a memory. Only this time I’m not the center of attention. People don’t acknowledge me. There are no high fives, no “where’ve you been’s,” no dirty looks. It’s like I don’t exist anymore.
I twist the cap off the bottle again. Placing the opening to my lips, I fill my cheeks until they can’t hold any more, then swallow. The alcohol is slowly working its magic, lulling the pain a little.
Someone shoves my shoulder forcing me to take a few steps to the right. Before Mallory left I would have been heated, ready to throw down. Now, I just don’t care.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” my assailant asks. A half second later the voice registers in my groggy brain. Rob’s standing a foot away with his tattoo-covered arms crossed in front of his chest. He snatches the bottle of whiskey from my hand and takes a swallow before glaring at me again.
“In my defense, you said not to come back until I was over her.”
Rob’s eyes narrow at me. “And are you?”
My gaze falls to the ground. I don’t think I’ll ever be over her.
“I think you should leave,” Rob says, not bothering to wait for my reply.
I cover my heart with my hands and pretend to be hurt. I am, but I can’t let Rob know that. “What? Why?”
Rob looks over his shoulder. My eyes are drawn to her like a magnet. I couldn’t look away even if I tried. Mallory’s head is thrown back laughing at god-knows-what some dude said. He brushes a lock of hair behind her ear and the whiskey bubbles up in my throat. I swallow it and bile back down. Every inch of me wants to leave, but my feet are glued to the ground.
“Rob what are you—” Jess’s words cut off. Her mouth falls open and the color in her face washes away.
Mallory looks at Jess. Her brows push together as her eyes move from Jess over to me. What’s left of Mallory’s face blanches, her smile disappearing as soon as our eyes lock. Her beer slips out of her fingers, the yellow liquid spills all over the floor. She turns and runs into their bedroom.
My gaze flits around the room. No one’s chasing after her, not even the guy she was just flirting with. Everyone’s just staring at me, like this is my fault.
Rob puts a hand on my shoulder, instinctively knowing my next move. I shove him of and walk through the crowd of people, ignoring their judgy eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I exhale through my nose. This is it. The moment I’ve been putting off for far too long. I could turn around and leave but I’m selfish. I need to have her in my arms again.
I lean my forehead against the door. It’s cold, shocking my system. “Mallory, can you open the door please.”
“No,” she screams, her voice cracking. The sound of her sobs is audible through the wood. I take a deep, pained breath and close my eyes. She’s just as broken as the day I met her. Only this time, it’s all my fault.
A firm hand rests on my shoulder. “Hey man, come on.”
I know the voice without looking and shrug the handoff. Kevin touches my arm this time and says, “Dude, give her some space. You’ve done enough already.”
“Leave me alone,” I deadpan. Kevin clenches his jaw. He holds his hands up in surrender and stalks away, mumbling under his breath.
I pound my fist against the door, more desperate to reach her than before. “Mallory, open up.”
“No,” she cries.
“Baby, I need to talk to you. Please.”
The door rips open and a soft white light casts a halo around Mallory. Her breaths are coming in short huffs. I reach my hand out to her, but she flinches and takes a step back. I sigh, letting my gaze fall to the floor.
I’ve majorly screwed things up.
We stand in the doorway. The silence eats away at me but I don’t leave because Mallory hasn’t turned away yet. And being with her in this awkward state is better than not being with her at all.
She raises her fist and clashes it into my stomach. “I hate you.”
The blow is more shocking than painful, but I double over, wrapping my hands around my waist. Mallory’s eyes widen, probably not expecting my reaction. She gasps and hurls herself into me, her delicate hands clutching at my shirt collar.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I just missed you so much.”
Straightening up, I wrap my arms around her, relishing in the feeling of holding her again. The sweet smell of coconut fills my nostrils and I let it take over.
“I missed you too, baby. I’m sorry there’s—”
Both hands press against my chest, shoving me away as Mallory rears back. There’s a cool breeze where her body once was.
“No,” Mallory growls. “You don’t get to call me ‘baby’. You don’t have the right anymore.” Her face pinches together making three small wrinkles near her nose. I try not to laugh because she’s too cute when she’s angry.
Realization hits and fire begins to tickle at the back of my throat. Mallory’s right. I don’t have any rights when it comes to her anymore and I certainly don’t deserve her. The only thing I
deserve is that punch and if she wants to do it again, I’ll let her.
Mallory turns away from me. She closes the lid on the toilet and takes a seat, burying her face in her hands. The sound of soft whimpers echo in the small space.
Stepping into the bathroom, I close the door behind me and lock it. Crossing the room in three long strides, I fall to my knees. My hands grasp at the back of her calves. I lean my forehead against Mallory’s legs, half expecting her to kick me away but she doesn’t.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
My apology is long overdue and probably worth nothing at this point, but I owe her at least that much. Mallory sniffles. She touches my shoulder, sending a tingling sensation throughout my body. I look up into her pained eyes, puffy and red from crying.
“Why didn’t you call me or text me or something?” Her wet eyes bore a hole into what’s left of my shattered heart. “I could have forgiven you, but you shut me out.”
Not knowing how to answer her question, I shrug. I should have called her. I should have gotten on a plane and went to her, but I didn’t. Instead, I stayed here drowning my pride in every bottle I could find, like a coward.
There’s a burn in my throat I choke down. I refuse to let her see the tears that are on the brink of escaping.
I’m a man. I can’t cry…not here.
Chapter 38
Mallory
“I hate you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but I know he heard me. My words bite into him like a viper, the sting they left written on his face. And now I wish I could take them back because they are a lie.
I don’t hate him. I love him, and that’s the problem. He doesn’t know, and that’s my other problem. He can’t know. Ever.
He can’t know how much he’s hurt me. How often I cry myself to sleep. How every single night I’ve wished he’d call. I’ve read through our text messages a million times. Their words haunting me, breaking me, but they’re all I’ve had.
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