I was twenty-one when I finally decided to care about my future.
***
“Check out the ass on that one,” Saul snickers next to me. “Fuck, that’d be a handful in bed. Too many handfuls.” He laughs and nudges me but I take another drink of my beer, not giving him the time of day.
Lately all the guys in this group have been raking on my nerves. They’re assholes to the extreme, being led by the unbelievably unstable Cash Fayer.
“Do you have a nice bone in your body?” I don’t really mean for the words to come out, but I’ve had one too many drinks tonight and I’m seriously done with this crew.
“The fuck you think you are? Fayer! High and mighty over here thinks he’s better than us!” Saul’s voice echoes throughout the bar.
I knew I shouldn’t have come out tonight. I groan and roll my eyes. Saul would be the fucker to start something over a comment like that, and I’m not about to give him a reason to take it any further.
I can’t be around these assholes anymore. The degrading comments. The way they put the fear into everyone around them, trying to keep them under their thumb. Cash is nothing but a grade-A fuckwit who needs control over these uneducated goons to feel better about his tiny dick.
I chuckle to myself, remembering when Affton called him out on that, then shake my head, nursing my beer. I haven’t heard her voice since she left here. It’s been too long, but she’s not answering any of my calls. The most I get is a text or e-mail every now and then, but even those are becoming few and far between.
“Little Tommy Barns thinks he’s better than us, huh?” Cash says. I don’t have to turn around to know he’s right behind me. He’s always gotta be close to the threat. “That newly attained degree sitting pretty on your shelf making you think you’re better than us?”
“Never said that.” I finish off my beer and spin on my stool.
Cash’s eyes are crazy. He hates that I went to college. He hates that I got a degree. He’s intimidated by anyone and anything that’s smarter than him…but that’s not my problem. I have to do something with my life, so joining my dad’s business seemed right. Someone’s going to have to take it on when he retires. And since it’s just the two of us, I’m the only option.
I glance around the bar, the dim lighting and smoke filled room makes me cringe. This is what I’ve turned into? All those long ass nights studying. All the fucking student loans I had to take out…and this is what I’m spending my night doing? All this time I’ve put up with the dirt and shit of this place because Cash was there to help take the edge off with partying, booze, and drugs. Affton left me and with no one understanding just how low that made me, it was either get in with Cash or be alone. I chose Cash, because as hot headed as he is, his crazy didn’t really start showing until recently. A month after Affton left I got my first motorcycle. Cash gave it to me as a welcoming gift to his merry band of misfits. I spent months fixing it up to the beauty that it is now and surprisingly Cash helped me along the way. If you’re in with him, following his every command, he actually treats you well. I think he knew what Affton leaving did to me and the one small ‘good’ bone in his body was trying to make itself useful. At least that’s what I was telling myself. I think over time that bone’s broken and shattered, though, leaving him the crazed man he is today. I know I need to stay away from him, but getting out of this group isn’t as easy as it sounds.
I ride with Cash a few times a week and the nights I’m not riding I’m at the tattoo shop in town helping out. The owner’s old, and eventually the place is going to close down I’m sure, but I enjoy the craft so I stick around. Cash is happy with it because it means he gets free ink. He’s not supposed to, but no one in this town knows how to tell the guy no.
“You sure are wearin’ that look right about now.” He knocks my ball cap off my head and I roll my eyes.
“I ain’t wearin’ any look. Just tired of your boys always talkin’ down to everyone in this town. Especially women.” I shove my hands in my pockets.
I want nothing more than to fight him, but I don’t. I know where a bar brawl will land me and I don’t have time for that. I’m not eighteen anymore and I’m still smarter than every backwoods hick combined in this room right now.
“Women need to know their place,” he growls, walking back over to his booth where he’s flanked by girls. “And that place ain’t at the all you can eat buffet.” He says it loud enough for the girls to hear him but they’re so dumb they don’t understand what he’s saying, and then all his goons start whooping and hollering, joining in on the harassment.
“Fuck this.” I pick up my hat from the floor and drop a twenty on the bar. I start to tell him I’m out for good when the door creaks open and the whole bar falls silent. I glance over where Cash is staring and my stomach plummets.
What the fuck are they doing here?
“Cash!” Brandt, the Kenshaw kid, yells across the room. Bo, Affton’s little brother follows him in and I immediately go into protective mode, knowing I need to get him the fuck out of here before he gets his ass beat. “I gotta talk to you,” Brandt blurts, growing a pair of balls and walking deeper into the bar. Does he not know where the fuck he just walked into?
“Ain't you a little young to be in here?” Cash storms over to the two of them and I try to stay close in case something starts up.
Honestly though, I’m going to have to take Bo’s side or Affton will kick my ass. Then Cash will kick my ass, but it’ll be worth it if I can keep Bo safe. He’s only a couple years younger than me and the kid’s tall but he looks like he’s twelve and about to piss himself.
“You fucked with Jo? Twice now?” This Brandt kid must have nerves of steel. No one goes up against Cash, and watching Cash’s face redden right now I can tell even his little brother isn’t going to get away with talking to him like that.
“Jo...Jo...Jo... That pretty little freaky girl? She was all up on this cock just earlier today. Don't come in here trying to act like a tough big brother.” Cash steps chest to chest with Brandt and I see Bo take a step back, scanning the room. I try to catch his eye to warn him to get the fuck out of here, but he’s too nervous to focus on just one thing.
“You stabbed her, Cash,” Brandt growls. Aw shit. Cash is always carrying around that fucking knife but I didn’t think he’d ever use it! “You call that her being all up on you? Leave her alone.”
The room erupts in laughter and my gaze flies between Cash and Brandt. There’s barely any resemblance between the two of them. They share a mom, but from what I’ve gathered, Brandt got the sweet end of the deal with his dad and Cash was left with the strung out mom and shitty part of town.
The two of them go at it, back and forth with the threats and small jabs. Finally, Cash sucks his tongue over his front teeth like he does when he's losing his cool, the typical Cash move. I step toward the door to follow Brandt and Bo out, because I can tell they’re about to bolt and I don’t want Cash following them without cover.
“Fuck outta here,” Cash barks and slaps Brandt’s hat off his head.
I roll my eyes and lean back against the wall, checking my email to see if Affton’s replied to my latest message while the two of them have a pissing contest over some goth girl.
Nothing from Affton.
When Bo and Brandt finally duck out, mumbling at each other under their breath I slip out and follow them. But then Cash follows and all hell breaks loose. He yanks the phone from Kenshaw’s hand, pulling out his knife and shoving it at him while he glares at what’s on the screen.
“What the fuck. You're fuckin' your step sister.” The look on his face is actually shock. A look Fayer never wears.
The look on Kenshaw’s face confirms what Cash just accused him of. The kid’s white as a ghost right now. Brandt screams at him and tries grabbing the phone away but Cash blocks him and screams back at me.
“If he moves, cut him,” Cash tells me then hands over the knife. How the fuck did I get in the middle of this? I’ve been trying to keep out of it!
Brandt swings first, and I cringe when he barely misses. This isn’t going to be pretty. The two of them go at it, tackling each other to the ground within seconds. The boys around us are screaming, a few start their own side fights because they’re morons, and when Cash gets a few of his guys to get Brandt locked in a nelson I panic. This never ends well. Bo’s being held back by a few of his guys but he’s still standing and looks better than Brandt does right now.
Affton’s going to murder me when she finds out I let her little brother go toe to toe with Fayer, but I told myself I wouldn’t butt in until Bo gets hurt, so that’s what I’m doing.
The sirens start and all I feel is relief.
“Cops!” I yell to Fayer, hoping he heard me. If anything, I’ll be praised later for saving his ass from the pigs.
He swipes the blood off his nose and spits at Brandt who’s gasping for air on the ground.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Cash growls, storming past me and hopping on his bike.
I want to check up on Bo and Brandt to make sure they’re okay. I gotta make sure they get out of here before they’re found out, but the sirens are getting louder and Cash is already half a mile away.
“Shit,” I huff, running to my bike and taking off into the night.
I follow Cash’s tail lights into a parking lot on the other side of town and kill my engine the minute I slow to a stop.
“What the hell was that?” I blurt, storming over to him.
His shocked expression turns into a laugh. “I’m sorry, what the fuck did you say to me?”
“I said what the hell was that? He’s your little fucking brother,” I growl, shoving him.
Mother fucking stupid move, Tommy.
Cash lets me have it. A full on swing to my jaw drops me to the ground. It’s just the two of us, thankfully, but he can still put up a fight even after what he did back there.
“I should just end your whiny fuckin’ self right now. You’re being nothin’ but a pain in my ass lately,” he growls, taking deep breaths and trying not to look affected by the beat down his brother gave him back there.
I make it to my feet and spit out a mouthful of blood.
“I’m fuckin’ out, Cash. You fightin’ your kid brother is where I draw the line.” I start to walk back to my bike but his eerie laughter makes me pause.
“You think you can get out that easily? You think I don’t have my dick in every hole of this dingy ass town? Walk back into work at the shop. I fuckin’ dare you.” He takes out his knife and flicks it open. “Don’t think about stepping foot anywhere in this town anymore, Tommy. You’re as good as dead next time I see you.”
He snaps his teeth at me like he’s threatening me, but the twitch in his movements make it look more like he finally lost that last thread holding his sanity together. When he hops on his bike to take off, he turns and flies past me so fast I have to jump out of the way so he doesn’t hit me right before he clips my bike and ends up dragging it half a block. My gut twists at the scraping metal and flying shards of the bike I worked my ass off to fix up and Cash cackles the entire time at the top of his lungs. Motherfucker.
All that money down the mother fucking drain.
But it could always be worse.
I have to walk home because I’m not about to call my dad for a ride. My real friends started avoiding me when I got mixed up with Cash’s shit. I just burned every bridge I have in this small ass town. It takes me awhile to make it to our front porch, but when I do I feel a sense of relief wash over me.
I’m out. I fucking did it!
I rush to my room and grab my laptop.
Beany,
I got away from Fayer for good this time. May be laying low for the next few weeks. Keep an eye on the local obits. I fully expect your fancy ass to be here speaking at my funeral if he gets ahold of me. You can have all my belongings. Even the nail polish you left in my drawer.
You should come home. I’m lonely now.
-Tommy
The reply I got? And I quote:
“YOU WILL NOT FUCKING BELIEVE WHO JUST VIDEO CALLED ME THOMAS BARNS. EAMONN PIAGET WANTS ME! HE WANTS YOUR GIRL!! FUCK MY LIFE! AHHHH!”
***
That’s it. That’s the fucking reply she sent. Of course I headed to Google right away to find out who the fuck Eamonn Pigeon-ass was. Some huge name designer, mega rich and super successful. The thought of her making it huge was the only thing that I could smile about that night. She did it. She made a name for herself and I was crazy fucking proud.
After that I spent three weeks in hell, worrying I was going to be found dead before anyone even realized I was missing. There was no one there for me anymore but my dad. I was in my twenties and my best friend was my dad. How sad is that?
Fayer never held true to his promise. His crazy ass went and got himself six feet under before the end of that year. I went to the funeral, but only because I felt bad for Brandt.
I don’t think Brandt or Bo knew who I was when I went through the crowd. It’s weird being from such a small town but feeling so invisible to some people. I spent the next few years working hard for my dad, taking care of the animals on the ranches he couldn’t get to during the day, and at night practicing my craft at the tattoo shop. I got into an easy rhythm of work, look out for my closest friend Grant, ink, drink, fuck, and sleep.
I was twenty-five when I realized my life wasn’t going to turn out like I had planned and I was completely okay with it.
***
“You’re fuckin’ drunk already! How’d you beat me?” Grant blurts, laughing as hard as he can while leaning over the table and trying to take the beer bottle from my hands. It feels good hanging out with these assholes again. At least Grant and Felder. Chase decided to take his ass to Vegas to make something of himself. Seems everyone wants out of this damn place.
Somehow after high school and after all the shit that went down with Cash, the four of us just kind of stuck together. Grant’s a no-brainer. He’s never going anywhere, but I thought when Affton left, my social life was pretty much over, but these punks have made me enjoy life outside of work again. They’re fucking crazy, but the fun type of crazy. Not the Cash type.
Felder’s a hotshot salesman for a local farm store. I’m finally working more with my dad and the smaller animals on the ranches he frequents while he works the larger animals. I may start enjoying it one day. For now it’s a paycheck, and a paycheck is nice to have. Helps support the drinking habit at least. The majority of the people in this town work on some type of farm or ranch. Even Grant, who got his pilot's license in hopes to go commercial. He’s currently juggling working damn near full time at the tattoo shop as the best artist this town’s seen since Chase left and crop dusting the fields for multiple farmers in town. He’s worked his way through every girl in this town and in the four surrounding towns and he’s drank more than any of us combined. The guy’s a machine. I’ve never understood his schedule but somehow he’s still one of the most reliable people I’ve ever known.
My two jobs are just because I can’t give up the shop. It’s my relaxing time. Therapeutic. Felder’s getting married in a week so it’s supposed to be his bachelor party tonight but he’s not even here yet.
“I’m not drunk,” I mumble, my fingers tingling as I grip the glass. Okay, so maybe I’m a little tipsy.
“I can’t believe he’s late to his own party.” Grant finishes another beer and slides it across the bar.
“I can.” I laugh. “He’s probably out fucking his side chick.”
“Dude,” Grant bitches. “He fuckin’ would be too.”
The bar’s the same bar we’ve been hanging out in since before we were old enough to drink. It’s the bar Chase used to work at, but we‘re still here so we’re not about to give it up. Plus, it’s right across the street from the tattoo shop we both work at so it’s the easiest place to get shitfaced.
“I can’t believe he’s getting married like a damn pussy,” I say, watching the drunks stumble out the front door.
Felder’s never been able to keep it in his pants. I’m not sure what his girl thinks marriage is going to do for him.
“Nah,” Grant answers. “That shit’s so much work. And I like pussy way too fuckin’ much to settle with one for the rest of my life.” He snickers and nods to a blonde at the bar. “Like that one. Big ass titties.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he slides off his stool, almost tipping it over on the way.
“Seriously,” I say and watch as he hits on the girl.
Shaking my head I pull out my phone. It’s like I’m on autopilot, opening social media to the one girl’s page that I thought I’d ever have a future with.
She looks different but I’ve never seen her look so happy. She’s in the zone. She’s made something of herself. My girl fuckin’ did it, and I’m so goddamned proud of her.
“Who the hell is that?” Grant blurts, looking over my shoulder at my phone. I thought he was gonna score with the big tittied blonde.
“Affton,” I say, locking my screen.
“She still around?” He chuckles. “That picture was hot.”
I want to slug him but I don’t because he’s right. It was a hot picture. City life has treated her well. None of my friends know how I felt about her. Maybe Grant does. But nobody knew what we had, not really. They knew we were inseparable, but I think they always assumed as a brother and sister are. I’m not even sure anyone knew we fucked. It was what it was, and it most definitely wasn’t something we talked about.
“Those Hart siblings have a knack of gettin’ out of here and makin’ something of themselves,” I mumble, shaking my head. “I’m proud of her.”
“I’m just glad she’s still hot.” Grant walks away, back over to the blonde at the bar. Another girl’s recently joined her and the curve of this girl’s ass in those jeans is doin’ things to my drunk dick right about now.
As soon as I go to slide my phone in my pocket and make my move on ass-girl it dings, signaling a new email. My face lifts into a smile when I see who it’s from.
You still worry me.
Trenton accepted me. I am no longer Affton Hart, founder of Beany Designs. I am now Jr. Fashion Journalist for Trenton, Affton Hart.
Your girl’s still moving up.
Miss you.
-Beany-
PS, that beard is getting out of control, Thomas! Shave that thing!
I chuckle, snapping a picture of my beard and email it back to her with “It Stays.”
I’m happy for her, but I’m not fuckin’ shaving this beard. In all actuality there’s not much I wouldn’t do for Affton, even after all this time. And if she were standing here right now with a pair of clippers, I’d lift my chin, grin, and bear it.
A few days ago I sent her a picture of my new bike that I saved up for. I know how much she hates them, but that’s probably the only thing she couldn’t change about me.
I could write her an email spilling my guts to her tonight with all the alcohol I’ve consumed already, but the girl across the bar with the nice ass has been eye fucking me since she walked in.
Priorities!
I shove my phone back into my pocket, smirk at the girl, and make my way over to her.
“Hey, I’m Tommy.”
She giggles and when she does her tits bounce a bit and I know I made the right decision coming out tonight.
My life ain’t what I thought it would be at twenty-five, but it’s damn sure fun figuring it out.
***
When I turned twenty-eight I had the biggest scare of my life.
And by biggest, I mean huge. Life altering huge. And there was nothing I could do about it.
***
My phone starts buzzing in my pocket as I head out the front door to my bike, ready to head out for the day. The minute I see the screen my face lights up. I haven't heard her voice in a year and our last conversation had to be cut short because of her demanding job.
“Beany?” I blurt, immediately smiling wider than I have in years. The minute I answer I trip on a rock in the driveway, almost going down. “Shit, sorry,” I mumble, regaining my balance. “Hi, hey. Sorry.”
Her small laugh comes through the speaker of my phone and my heart starts to warm. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” I blurt. “So how ya been? Holy shit I thought you lost my number!” I’m shaking. Is it normal to shake like this when someone like Affton calls? Holy shit.
“I'd never lose your number, Tommy.” She pauses but I can’t help but smile. Her voice sounds… wow. I didn’t realize how much I missed talking to her until right now. “So what’s been going on with you?”
“Just stupid shit. Boring, stupid shit. Nothin' worth talking about, ya know?” I sigh. “Hey, you sound real good, Beany. It's... Hell it's fuckin' amazing hearin’ your voice.”
Putting my hand over my face, I close my eyes and try to calm down. Hearing her voice after all this time has my world spinning backwards. I think about her all the damn time, but I don’t get to actually interact with her much anymore.
“You too. How's the south? Dusty, dry, hot, and lackluster?”
I laugh, because she’s always fucking hated this place.
“Pretty hot, yeah. Summer's draining us on the ranch. Dusty and dry, yep.” I clear my throat. “So hey, I may stalk you on social media. You're killin’ it, Bean. That's fucking amazing. Just...amazing.”
My brain’s fried. I short-circuited when I saw her number on the phone and now I can’t even have a conversation without repeating the same goddamned word twenty times. Dammit, she’s going to think I’ve turned into some uneducated hick.
“Uh, yeah.” She sounds like she forces a chuckle and my heart flops in my chest. I miss her real laughs. We've drifted so far apart it hurts. “Work's awesome. Dream job,” she mutters. “But I fucked up.” When she starts to laugh, a real laugh now, I smirk, leaning back on my bike.
“Uh oh. You need me to kill anyone? I got a few shotguns and a crew of boys here that know how to use 'em.”
“Stop.” She laughs. “No need to kill anyone. But...you're gonna be an uncle... Sorta,” she mutters but my ears are ringing so I don’t know if she says anything else after that.
An uncle? A motherfucking uncle? We fucked! Brothers and sisters don’t fuck! I… I’m going to be sick. I slide to the ground and my head falls between my knees to try and help me catch my breath.
“Hello?” Her tone comes through the phone and I know I need to say something. Be happy for her.
But I can’t.
“That's...” I let out a heavy sigh and try to find the emotion that I should have for her sake. “Wow, Affton. That's awesome.” I clear my throat, trying to get rid of the knot that’s forming in it. She’s not supposed to be having someone else’s baby. “Wow. Congratulations.”
“Stop. Please stop. I know I fucked up. I cannot have a child right now, Tommy!”
“I mean, yeah. Wow.” I force out a small laugh and squeeze my eyes closed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You never even wanted kids. How the hell did this happen?” The question comes off like I’m interrogating her for fucking up. It’s not meant that way, but I can’t wrap my head around this.
“Um, well, I'm sure you're familiar with the act. You used to bang everything back in the day.”
“Ha! Some things don't change, Beany,” I blurt, nerves and anger making me say the stupidest goddamn things. I clear my throat and try to form a complete sentence without screaming at her for not letting that be my baby. “So uh... Who's the dad?”
She’s quiet. Too quiet. I know she doesn’t want this baby, I can tell by the tone of her voice. I also know she’ll never get rid of it. That’s not the type of person she is. Once the news sinks in she’ll be happy as a fuckin’ clam over this new life she’s created. And like everything over the years, as long as she’s happy, I’m happy for her.
“A guy I've been seeing for a little while.” She’s monotone now, but I have to keep her talking. I need to hear her voice to try and heal this shattered heart.
It’s lame. I know that. I haven’t held out for her over the years, but she’s my Affton. She’s my girl. She’s…not anymore, though.
“He a good guy? Treat you well?” To say I’m worried about her is an understatement. She just doesn’t sound right the longer we talk. She never even wanted kids. She’d never carelessly get herself into this position.
“He's my boss.” I hear her annoyed laugh. She fucked her fucking boss?! “I mean, I'm not sleeping with him 'cause he's my boss. But...oh shit...” She stammers and I don’t have any words to console her. “This is going to be an experience. That's for sure!”
“Yeah. You could say that again. Hey, I know I'm all the way in the sticks, but if you ever needed anything. Or if I could...I don't know, fly out and somehow help when the baby's here I will. You know that right?” My chest aches with every shallow breath and my legs feel like they’re not going to support me when I get up.
“Yeah,” she whispers “I miss y—” She pauses then curses under hear breath, not finishing her sentence. A sentence I really need to fucking hear right about now. “Tommy, I have to go. I'll call you soon, okay?”
“Oh, um yeah. Sure, that's...okay. Take care, Beany.” The call ends immediately and I stare at the dirt, unable to process any of this.
I should be happy for her, but I can’t find that emotion anywhere inside me right now. My dad comes strolling out of the house and stops when he sees me.
“I thought you left a long time ago.” He leans back against the front porch beam. “Why do you look like you’re getting sick? We got two cows that’ll be giving birth any day now at two different ranches that’ll need our help. I can’t have you gettin’ sick on me.”
I look up at him and clear my throat. “I’m fine,” I say, standing and dusting off my jeans. I don’t feel like riding anymore but I don’t want to sit here and talk to him about why I look like I do, so I hop on my bike and take off.
The drive isn’t as nice as it usually is. My mind’s swarming with the outcome of all of this. She’s never coming back. She’s grown up, and maybe it’s time I do the same. What if I was in that situation? What if one of the chicks I fuck gets pregnant and I suddenly have a baby to take care of?
I still live in my dad’s house because of convenience. We work together, so living together makes it easier on both of us. Plus it’s free.
I don’t have health care because the tattoo shop doesn’t even offer it and the insurance my dad gets is overpriced so I’d rather go without. A baby though? You need things like health care for a baby. Fuck, I’d need more. More space, more money…more stability.
Affton’s set. She’s got money pouring out of those designer handbags I’m sure she designed herself. She’s got nothing to worry about.
I would have a world of hurt rain down on me if I knocked someone up.
Maybe it’s time for a change.
I spend the next month waiting for a phone call from her. A picture to pop up on her social media. Something. Anything that tells me she’s happy. She’s not posted anything new in going on a month now and it’s starting to worry the fuck out of me.
I’m not prepared for what she does post though, when she finally comes out of hiding.
In the middle of the workday, almost a month to the date since she called and told me the news, I open social media to an inspirational picture she posted just hours ago.
“If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.” It’s an image with tiny footprints on it… No.
My eyes go wide.
“Holy shit,” I mutter to myself. Fuck me. She…she lost the baby. “Dad!” I bark, stepping over the kid I just aided in birthing. Baby goats are probably the best part of this job. My dad can have the cattle. I just want to play with goats all day.
“Over here!” he yells from the corner of the barn.
“Dad, I gotta make a call. I’m stepping out.”
We’re in the middle of the spring birthing season and we’ve been swamped lately. I never thought helping out my dad in his line of work could be so rewarding but I’ve come to love it as much as I love living in the country.
“Okay. Make it quick, we got another farm across town to make it to in a little bit.”
I ignore him, almost running outside and pulling up her phone number, hitting send immediately.
When I get immediate voicemail, and it’s not her voicemail, my stomach plummets. I groan, kicking dirt and swiping my hat off, rubbing my head. Why the hell would she get a new number and not tell me?
I glare at my phone for a minute then pull up social media and DM her.
Tommy Barns: I need you to call me. Code red Beany.
I hit send and stare at my phone. She’s always fucking active on this thing, she’s gotta see the message. I lean back against the barn and feel like I wait an entire lifetime for that tiny ‘seen’ message to pop up under my message. Thank god.
Affton Hart: This is Ms. Hart’s assistant. I will let her know you messaged.
My eyes go wide. Her assistant? She has a fucking assistant?
Tommy Barns: Please make sure she does. It’s very important.
***
The message was never replied to. I’m still waiting on it. But that conversation I had with her, the day she told me she was pregnant, made me realize I needed to get my life in order.
So at thirty-one I did just that.
***
“Here are your keys,” the realtor says, smiling wide.
I’m not sure why she’s smiling. I just bought the cheapest, shittiest house on the outskirts of town that I could find. I probably made her no commission, but here she is, smiling like she just won the lottery.
“Thanks,” I say, shoving them in my pocket and grabbing my paperwork.
The house is mine. I hunted forever for one that I could completely remodel that was still in my budget. And as a bonus, this house comes with a few acres of land. Perfect.
On the drive to the house I call Grant.
“I signed today, want to help me demo this bitch?” I grin.
“I’m working all week, man.” He groans. “Working all these jobs is fucking stupid. Fucking adulting is fucking stupid. Know what’s not stupid? Being drunk and fucking. Nothing stupid about that shit.”
I laugh out loud. “You’re the only guy I know that still bitches about adulting, Grant.” I want to tell him to grow up a bit, but I’m just now starting that phase of my life so I’m not really one to talk. God, growing up does suck. “Hey, you’re not leaving town for Halloween, right?” I pull into my driveway and can’t help the smile from spreading on my lips. My own fucking house. My own property. Damn this feels good.
“I wouldn’t miss that shit show for the world,” he says.
I rattle off my address and tell him to stop in whenever he can. I could use his help and he’s really the only one I can rely on.
I get to work figuring out what and how to demolish this place.
My goals in life from ten years ago are much different now, not all of them changed, but most changed for the better. This house is about to be the best house this town’s ever seen.
***
It took an entire year of renovating, but I’m proud to say that my house is the best house I’ve ever stepped foot into. Nothing high and mighty. Nothing massive. But it’s mine, and every inch of this place I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into.
I’m just walking into the house after a week in Vegas with my best friends for Chase’s wedding. A week with some super close friends, getting to catch up with more old friends, and all the booze we could drink. I was able to catch up with Bo, Affton’s younger brother, and from the sounds of it he didn’t know much more about her than I did. Brandt Kenshaw offered me a job as the Ranch’s full-time vet so I start there next week. All in all it was a pretty fucking fantastic week. My girlfriend, Rachel, was supposed to come with me but she backed out last minute. Probably a good thing, because I considered eloping while we were there. Only seems logical, right? I’ve got the house. She’s been in my life for eight months now. I should probably marry the poor girl.
I walk into an empty house and head straight for the back door. As much as I love being inside this place, the backyard is my favorite spot.
“Ginnie!” I yell. The minute the back door opens she comes running for me. Goats are better than dogs any day of the week.
Rachel wants a dog so she’ll probably get what she wants, but Ginnie and I have a special bond. I helped birth her a year ago and for some reason I asked if I could buy her. Don’t ask what I was thinking, but I needed a companion. Other than regretting putting such nice floors inside my house just to have her hooves ruin them, everything has been great.
“Hey,” Rachel says, walking out the back door about an hour later. “Didn’t know you were home.”
“Yeah. I wanted to come give her some attention since I was gone for so long.” I smile and lean for a kiss, getting her cheek. She must be in a mood so I go back to playing with Ginnie.
“How was the trip?”
“Fine.”
“Hey, so…” She sits on the chair on the back patio and looks out over the land. “I was thinking.”
“That’s never good,” I joke, laughing. It falls short when I see the annoyed look on her face.
Only one other girl I could make look like that, but back in the day it was a look I strived to earn because I knew I could fix it with sex. And my god, I loved the sex with her. These aren’t things I should be thinking about when my girlfriend says ‘I’ve been thinking’.
“Are you happy with us?” she asks and I look at her.
I really look at her. She’s nice. She’s pretty. She’s not a bitch, so that’s a plus, I guess.
“I mean…sure…” I furrow my eyebrows. I know where this is going but I’m not really certain I care.
“Do you ever see us getting married? Having kids? Tom,” she says and I cringe. I fucking hate being called Tom and Rachel insists on it. She says Tommy makes me seem twelve. Affton never had a problem with it.
Don’t ask why I’ve been thinking about her more and more lately. Maybe it’s just that things are settled down here and I finally realized how fucking stupid I was thirteen years ago to let her go without telling her how I felt. Maybe it’s because I have everything I’ve ever wanted except the one thing I needed most in my life.
Affton Hart.
“No,” I whisper. “I…no. I don’t. “ My eyes hit Rachel’s and I feel insanely guilty until she starts laughing.
“Thank god!” She laughs. “I’m sorry. You’re a good guy and all, Tom, but I just feel.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s just no connection. I want that tingly feeling…I don’t get that with you.” She makes a face and I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I guess you’re right,” I say. “So then?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m too young to settle. The sex is really good though!”
I bark out a laugh.
That’s the magic dick for ya.
“Hey, it’s all good. I totally get it.”
She walks over and gives me a hug, then steps toward the door. “I got most of my stuff out of here while you were gone, but I’ll grab the rest and head out. Have a good life, Tom.”
“Yeah, you too.” That was so…weird.
I’m not even sad, because she’s right. We both deserve those tingles. The only girl I’ve ever gotten tingly around hasn’t been back to town since she left. But I’m about to pull out the one card she probably doesn’t remember. Because while she was out making a huge life for herself, I was sitting here waiting for something I didn’t even realize I was waiting for until just this minute. It all makes sense. Why I couldn’t ever find the perfect girl. Why I never felt like things were right around here.
It’s always been Affton.
I still don’t have a phone number that actually rings for her, but I’ve been following her social media and know for a fact that someone runs it, so I type out a simple message.
Tommy Barns: Your birthday’s in three days. You’ll be thirty-five. It’s about time for you to move back here and make good on that deal we made fifteen years ago. I miss you Beany. Please just call me.
The message is read immediately.
Affton Hart: This is her assistant. I will let her know you messaged.
I roll my eyes. So much for that attempt. I know how well relaying my message went over last time.