Chapter 50

Axton

That navy bikini has kept my cock hard all afternoon, through the entire movie, cold shower, and the drive to Addi’s parents’ house. How in the hell am I supposed to sit down to a meal with her family with a thick bulge in my pants? The last couple miles into Forsyth, I think of horrible things, vile things—things involving animals being hurt and that time my grandmother’s dentures fell out at Easter dinner. Nothing calms my cock until I picture Addi getting out of the truck and running into Gabe’s arms. Talk about flaccid in a minute flat.

“Thanks for the ride,” the beautiful girl on the other side of the truck says as we pull into the driveway.

“I wish you’d quit thanking me every time I drive you over here.” I put the truck in park. “I don’t want to be anywhere but with you.”

“You didn’t want to be with me at the lake,” she teases, and my cock threatens to get hard once again.

“I didn’t want to fight for your honor,” I tell her.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I wasn’t in the mood to fight chicks who wanted to climb all over you.”

I love her propriety.

“You’d be fighting a battle you’ve already won.”

I climb out of the truck, grabbing the gift bag I stashed behind the seat. Like a true southern woman, she waits in the cab for me to open her door. Taking my proffered hand, she climbs out, and I don’t let go until her feet are solid on the ground. Only this time, she doesn’t release my hand. Walking hand in hand into her parents’ house, we find everyone already gathered around the table and her mother placing the main dish in the center.

I drop her gift off with the others on a side table and hold her chair for her.

“We thought we’d have to have your graduation dinner without you,” her father says with a smile as we take our seats.

With a playful slap to his shoulder, her mother says, “We wouldn’t have done that.”

“Sorry,” Addi apologizes. “The movie ran later than we expected.”

“Movie?” Mandy says. “I thought you were going to the lake.”

“We, um...” I rub the hair on my jawline, “changed our minds.”

“That bikini changed your mind,” Renee interjects.

Mandy laughs and her father gives me a questioning look.

“It was really crowded at the lake,” Addi offers, ignoring her older sisters.

“I bet,” Mandy mutters before asking Elijah to pass the mashed potatoes.

We fill our plates, say grace, and dive in. Addi’s mother is an incredible cook, and I have firsthand knowledge that Addi is just as talented in the kitchen.

“All of my children have graduated college,” Mr. Hatfield says with a toast of his sweet tea glass. “Looks like we did something right, Virginia.”

“We did,” her mother says, looking to each of her daughters.

“That new tile in the church bathroom looks great, Axton. Thanks again for helping an old pastor with back problems out this week.”

“No problem,” I tell him after swallowing a bite of the best green beans I’ve ever tasted.

“Will you still be able to help out when Addi moves to Atlanta next week?” Her mother’s words stop my heart cold. In my peripheral, Addi stiffens and her fork clatters to her plate.

“Excuse me?” I say, sure I didn’t just hear her correctly.

“You didn’t tell him?” Mr. Hatfield directs his words at his youngest daughter.

“You can’t keep things like that from your boyfriend, Addi. It’s rude.”

My thoughts exactly, Mrs. Hatfield.

“We’re friends,” she corrects.

It’s my fork’s turn to clatter to my plate. I’ve grown to hate that fucking word, and the fact that I feel bad for using bad language in my own damn thoughts.

“It’s a shame you’re sticking to the friend train, Addi. It’s obvious you two love each other,” her mother adds.

“Mom,” Mandy says, “stop meddling.”

“You’re moving next week?” I whisper-hiss at her.

“Not technically,” she says. “There’s some water damage in my and Mandy’s apartment, so it won’t be ready for another couple months.”

I raise my eyes, glaring at Mandy and feeling betrayed. Next, they sweep to Renee, who just shrugs. Thick as thieves these three. It makes me realize no matter how close I get, I’ll always be an outsider.

“But you’re moving?”

She nods. “I got accepted into a great MBA program in Atlanta. Almost a full scholarship.”

“So smart,” her mother chimes in, clearly trying to break the tension.

“How long? What does it take for an MBA?” I’m not very college savvy, but I know it’s not just some summer program if she’s moving two hours from Macon.

“Two years,” she mutters.

My lips twitch, and I take another bite of food. Even though I’ve lost my appetite, if I don’t busy my mouth, I’ll say something I’ll regret.

She was so upset when I was added to Easton Montgomery’s tour. I’d made that decision without her, and this is my payback. She’s punishing me for my past mistakes. The last two weeks have been perfect. I should’ve known it was going to blow up in my face.

“You can drive up on weekends,” her mother offers as a consolation.

“It’s a very rigorous program,” Addi says. “I won’t have much free time.”

She’s rejecting me, putting the same distance between us I did last year.

We finish dinner in silence, the others at the table making small talk about a summer vacation they’re planning in July.

While waiting for the cobbler to finish cooking, we gather around her as she opens her graduation presents.

“This is perfect,” she says, waving an Amazon gift card from her sisters. “I can get my textbooks cheaper online.”

The knife twists in my chest.

Her parents gave her a new cellphone and a can of mace.

“For when you move to the big city,” her mother explains.

They all knew, all made preparations for her move, and I’m stuck, reeling over the fact that my girl is moving two hours away and she couldn’t even be bothered to tell me about it.

I hand her the small gift bag I carried in earlier. With eyes near brimming with tears, she accepts it, but doesn’t meet my eyes.

After clearing her throat twice, she pulls the tissue paper from the top and reaches inside. Delicate hands pull out the gift I had custom made for her.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, looking down at the ornate turquoise music box. Lifting the lid, the melody from the song we wrote plays into the quiet room and sobs overcome her.

“Excuse me,” she says, placing the box gently on the table and running out of the room.

“Don’t,” her father says with an arm on my elbow when I try to stand to go after her. “Give her some time.”

“Two years’ worth?” I murmur.

“You and I both know better than that,” he says with a wink.

Twenty minutes later, we’re walking to my truck, having declined dessert and the board game her mother wanted to play.

I guess I should count my blessings that she didn’t send me away and say she was going to ride back to Macon with one of her sisters.

I open the door for her, allowing her to climb up and get buckled before I close it. I take a moment at the back of the truck, an attempt to gain some composure, some control over my emotions. Proving fruitless, I hang my head and climb into the cab.

She remains silent on the way back home, and for that, I’m thankful. If she tried to speak, apologize, or explain herself, I’d lose my cool, and that’s the last thing either one of us needs, especially on a dark interstate. No matter how upset I am, her safety always comes first.

My gut clenches as we pass the spot on the side of the road where I met her over a year ago, the location holding bittersweet memories now.

She doesn’t move to get out of the truck when we pull into her driveway, but she doesn’t speak either. I make the first move, climbing out and opening the door for her. She clenches my gift to her chest as I guide her with the other to the ground.

“Axton,” she says as we climb the front steps to her house.

“No big deal, Addi.”

I pull her to my chest, kissing her forehead and letting my lips linger on her warm flesh.

“I was going to tell you,” she begins.

I shake my head. “Now, or two weeks ago when we were in my room talking about college, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I’ll make time for you. I mean, if you want to come up on weekends.”

“A couple hours a week isn’t enough for me anymore,” I say.

“We still have the summer,” she offers. “We can spend loads of time together between now and then. So much, you’ll grow bored of me and be ready for me to move.”

“I’d never grow bored of you, Adelaide.” I release her from my hug and turn to leave.

“Y-You don’t want to stay for a little while?” she stammers as I take the first step off the porch.

“Class starts on Monday. I need to make sure I’m ready.” I give her the best smile I can muster. “I’ll see you at nine tomorrow for church.”

I walk away from her, not looking back even though I don’t hear her unlock her front door.