"One beer isn't gettin' drunk, Clayton Davis," Quinn snaps.
"You aren't drinkin', babe. End of story."
"Whatever, Dad," she snaps, knowing he hates it when she calls him that. Doesn't stop him from acting like it constantly, though. Clay is more protective of her than her own father anyway.
Quinn jumps down from her truck and pointedly turns her back on her older brother. "Come on, Leigh, let's go dance."
I look over and give Clay a shrug and wave as Quinn drags me over to where Brant Weaton is parked. He's got all the doors open in his truck and the music is blaring, creating a little makeshift dance area in front of it.
I'm not sure how long we dance and laugh with the others around us, but when we stop the sun has long since disappeared behind the trees and everything around us is lit by the fire only. The crowd has grown considerably since we arrived, topping out around a hundred or so. Probably because graduation was yesterday, and people are looking for a party.
That sobering thought takes all the lighthearted fun right out of my sails when I remember the whole reason that Quinn pushed her brother into letting us come.
"Hey, Q! I'm going to go to the little girls' room!" I yell over the Toby Keith song that we've been dancing to.
"Kay, I'll be here when you're done. Make sure and grab the bathroom stuff out of my truck."
I give her a nod and take over toward her truck. I'm no stranger to peeing in the middle of nowhere, but it still sucks to be clomping through the woods in the middle of the night and not being able to see where you're going.
I smile as people call out my name, giving a few waves, but keep heading toward Quinn's truck. The groups of people talking, laughing, and drinking are now edging from the circle of trucks surrounding the bonfire and taking up almost the whole pasture.
"Where are you headed off to, sweetheart?"
I stop dead in my tracks.
"He-hey, John."
He steps out of the shadows by Quinn's truck and walks over to me, tugging at the collar of my shirt. "You sure do look pretty, darlin'."
Thank God it's dark. I can feel my cheeks heating and I just know that my blush is turning every inch of my skin bright red. John Lewis is one of the most popular boys in school and I know for a fact that he's got a girlfriend. But I also know he's got a reputation for not staying true to his girlfriend. That being said, he's never exactly shown attention to a girl like me, so I'm about to come out of my skin I'm so nervous.
"Tha-thanks."
He laughs. "Where you headed?" he asks again.
I clear my throat. "Pit stop in the woods." God, this is mortifying. I hate how I turn into an awkward mute full of nerves any time a hot boy talks to me.
He steps closer, I can smell the beer on his breath. "How about you come find me when you get back down here?" He gives me a wink before walking around me, leaving me gaping at the empty spot where he just stood.
Holy. Crap. I turn, seeing his retreating back and let a nervous giggle escape my lips. That did just happen. Yeah, no way am I going to search him out. Judging by his drunk stumbles, that would be the worst idea ever.
I grab the toilet paper out of Quinn's truck, one of the empty grocery bags, and hand sanitizer before heading over to the side of the field that seems empty enough. Walking a few paces into the tree line before I stop and push my shorts and thong down to my knees and squat. Making quick work, I wipe, toss the used toilet paper in the bag, and tie it off before cleaning my hands.
My shaking fingers make it hard to right my clothes, but after making sure my shorts are buckled, I head back out of the trees and toward Quinn's truck again, but I stop in my tracks as butterflies take flight in my belly--right next to the bed of her truck are Quinn's brothers, leaning against Clay's Chevy.
"You see what Leighton has on tonight?" My jaw drops at Maverick's question. I look down, the firelight casting a glow on my outfit. He noticed?
"Did you see Leighton?" Clay retorts as he brings his beer up to take a long drink. "My guess is Quinn got to her and wouldn't take no for an answer."
Maverick is silent for so long, I'm half convinced he isn't going to answer his brother, but I hold my breath anyway--waiting for what he'll say. The flutters in my stomach going into overdrive. "Hard to miss when she looks like she's naked. What the hell was she thinkin' wearin' that shit?"
My cheeks flame as those stupid butterflies wither and die. No longer feeling the excited flurries because of the burn that's taken over my gut as Clay laughs, slapping his brother on the back, and shaking his head. "Not that I need to point this out, Mav, but my guess is she's trying to get noticed tonight. She looked pretty hot to me."
Maverick lets out a laugh that doesn't sound even a smidgen like a real one. It's deep and almost spiteful. "Yeah, kind of hard not to notice. She looks like a little girl tryin' to play dress up in her mama's clothes. The only thing people are goin' to notice is a kid tryin' to play with the big leagues."
Clay stops his beer on its path back to his mouth at his brother's harsh words and looks over at him, the glowing light from the fire highlighting his deeply furrowed brow. "You see the same shit I saw, brother? I know I ain't losin' my mind and I know for a fact I'm not the only one that noticed how good she's lookin'. Elliott already said something and I'm pretty sure I saw John talkin' to her not even ten minutes ago."
My heart is about to beat right out of my chest. I'm not even sure that I'm breathing as I listen to them talk about me. As I listen to Maverick tear into me, each lashing of his tongue feeling like a physical whip to my soul.
"Jesus, Clayton. It's kind of hard not to see when she's been paradin' around like a whore. She's fuckin' sixteen and has the body of a ten-year-old boy, for fuck's sake, so I'm pretty certain we didn't see the same thing. All I saw, brother, was a kid desperate for some attention. Tell me you weren't actually lookin'?"
I couldn't stop the sob that erupts from my mouth if I tried. And of course I tried, so it came out like a gargled, wet gasp. Hearing Maverick voice all my insecurities so harshly brings a shame over me like I've never known. Here I was trying to get him to notice me and he thinks I look like a little boy? Tears fill my eyes as both of them turn sharply at my choked cry.
"Shit," Clay barks and pushes off the truck to walk toward me.
I just stand there holding a tied grocery bag with my stupid used toilet paper. Tears roll down my cheeks while my heart breaks, my eyes never leaving Maverick's face. He's turned away from the fire now, so I can't make out his expression in the shadows, but there is no doubt he can see the hurt in mine. I might have lost faith in the power of my crush over the years, but that doesn't mean that my heart doesn't still yearn for the man it will never have . . . but hearing what he thinks about me, even though I always guessed it, well, it just about nearly kills.
Clay stops in front of me, his hands clasping my shoulders just like his sister had earlier, and dips his head down to look in my eyes. "Shit, Leigh, I'm so sorry."
Clay continues to talk softly to me, but I don't hear his words, my focus completely on the person that I grew up imagining some grand love story around as he shakes his head a few times. I was right to give up on that stupid fairy tale, but that realization doesn't ease the burn his words left behind one bit. Maverick is staring intently at the ground in front of him. He looks up, tosses his beer in the cab of his brother's truck as he lifts his Stetson off his head and runs his fingers through his hair.
He looks over to where we're standing and I jolt, my body going solid in Clay's arms when Maverick makes the move to start walking over to us. I look back at Clay, my eyes meeting his sympathetic gaze before I return my focus in his brother's direction. He's maybe ten feet away, but the second he takes the first step I jump. Clay's fingers tighten around my shoulders when I let out a strangled sob. Maverick's booted foot makes another move closer and I don't waste a second. The grocery bag, toilet paper, and hand sanitizer fall from my hands as I rip free of Clay's hold and ta
ke off running toward the trees.
"Goddammit," I hear Maverick snap. "Give me one of the flashlights."
I run.
The tree limbs strike my bare legs as I flee, but the searing pain doesn't slow me down. I keep going as quickly as I can.
If I can just keep going, I'll break through somewhere around where my family's property butts up to the Davis's. It might take me an hour or so on foot, but the way I'm running, I'll be home soon enough.
"Fuckin' stop, Leighton!"
Maverick's voice booms out around me and scares me so much that I turn my head around and blindly search through the moonlit woods, searching for him while continuing my quick pace.
That is until I smack right into a tree I hadn't seen coming because I had been too busy trying to pinpoint his location so I could run in the opposite one.
"Shit!" I cry out when the rough bark scrapes against my thighs and left arm, bringing me to my ass before I know what hit me . . . or what I hit. I yelp when my palms scrape against the rough ground.
Judging by what sounds like a herd of elephants crashing through the woods, I know they're close. Shame from Maverick's words now mixing with the embarrassment I feel over my tree collision.
"You all right, sugar?" Clay questions me in concern. He drops to his knees beside me, the light from his flashlight hits my body, and I quickly kick my leg up to knock it out of his hand. "God almighty, Leigh, let me look at you."
"No!" I scream.
"Let me look, Leigh," he tries again and I just shake my head, pulling myself up off the ground and brushing my palms on my shorts.
I take a deep breath and push down the hurt, ignore the pain, and look to where Maverick is standing. The moonlight helping me see him, but his Stetson makes seeing his expression impossible.
I'm so sick of this. Feeling like he's completely unreachable. Untouchable. Closed off. He hasn't always been like this and I think part of me is still hoping the old Maverick I used to want to run off in the sunset with is still somewhere inside this cold person in front of me.
I've got nothing else to lose right now, might as well just let it out.
"Shit," I mumble to myself before clearing my throat and speaking up--directly at Maverick. "You were right, you know?" I tell him, looking to where Clay is still kneeling in the dirt before moving around him and stomping over to where Maverick is standing. "You're right, I tried my hardest to get noticed tonight. I was so sick and tired of just being 'stupid little Leighton.' Stupid Leigh, who has to listen to all her friends talk about their boyfriends, their first kisses, all of it! Funny enough, it was you I wanted"--I yell and jam my finger into his hard chest--"to notice me. All I've wanted since I was some love-drunk kid was for you to see me and notice! I never in my life thought that when I finally got your attention, it was because I look like some . . . some . . . what did you call me? That's right, a prepubescent boy playing dress up!" I scream the last words so fiercely I would be surprised if they didn't hear me over the music echoing around the darkness. "I've thought you hung the moon and all the stars around it my whole life, Maverick Davis. I've imagined you to be some Prince Charming that would come sweep me off my feet when you finally saw me. Pity me for not realizing that all you are is the villain determined to knock me on my ass instead. You know what's funny? In all those years that I foolishly crushed on you, I never once imagined in all of the time that I've known you that you would be capable of breaking my heart. That's on me, though. All of this is on me."
He doesn't move. No words are spoken from his lips to stop me when I turn and start to walk back in the direction I was running, but I stop a few feet away and whirl back around to face him. "Maybe I was desperate for you to see me more than just the little tomboy next door, but you're leaving and it was now or never. So, here you go, I've loved you for years, Maverick. There, now you know and now I know and at least I tried, so no sweat . . . this is on me, not you. You can leave like you planned and I can go on with my life knowing for sure where you stand."
With a deep breath and more strength than I ever thought I had, I push down the hurt and turn back around. I started this night with a smile on my face and hope in my heart. I should have trusted my gut.
"Hey!" Clay calls as he falls in step with me, his arm coming around my shoulder as he keeps pace with me. "If you want to go, let's head back and I'll drive you? It's too dark to head through the back gate, not when I know your dad has the bulls in the north pasture tonight."
I nod, letting him turn me until we're headed back to the bonfire. Clay's light hits Maverick's face and I hold his eyes, letting him see the hurt in mine when Clay and I pass through his flashlight's path. When we pass Maverick, still standing in the same spot, Clay checks his shoulder hard enough that his arm falls from my shoulders, but Maverick doesn't move an inch.
I keep walking as I leave my heart behind me.
If I would have known that was the last time I would talk to Maverick, I might have done things differently. I may have held my hurt and rationally told him how I felt. Who knows? But in that moment, I lost a little of myself in those woods. I should have known that when the love you have for someone is bigger than you can understand, it's better to leave that to your dreams.
As we make our way out of the clearing I promise myself never to let another man hold this kind of power over me. What's the point if this is the kind of pain that is waiting for you in the end?
4
LEIGHTON
"Step Off" by Kasey Musgraves
Present Day
I should tell Quinn and Clay that he's here. But one look at him and it's like the last ten years have never passed and I'm back at the bonfire, the awkward high schooler uncomfortable in her own skin. Marching away from him in the woods. It was the last time I saw him.
How is it possible that he can affect me this much after all this time?
He hasn't noticed me, not with his head bowed, so I quickly turn around and focus on Pastor John as he finishes up his prayer. Him being here means nothing. I should be happy that I remember the pain from that night so well, it will make keeping my walls up around him so much easier.
"On behalf of the Davis family, I want to thank everyone for coming today. At this time, the family has asked for some time alone as they say their good-byes. They wanted me to remind everyone that the PieHole will be opening up for a few hours tonight starting at five for anyone that wishes to join them."
I keep my arm around Quinn, not looking back to where I saw Maverick. I can hear the church slowly emptying and I feel a frown pull at my lips. I had hoped that when everyone started to leave that he would have come up front to be with his family, but so far, the pew we're in is still empty save for the three of us.
We sit and wait for everyone to leave, something that Clay had asked Pastor John to make arrangements for in place of the customary recessional, knowing that no one in this town would really mean a word of it anyway. Plus, I know Quinn is having a hard time. Regardless of the fact that she wasn't the closest with her father, she was really counting on this--Maverick home. She's still shaking in my arms, but when I look over at Clay I realize his silence isn't because of the heaviness of Buford's death, but instead anger over his brother's absence that has started to build to a boil. I fear that he's seconds away from tipping over the edge.
I stand when Clay and Quinn do, but hang back at the edge of the row we had been sitting in as they meet Pastor John and gather their father's ashes. I can't wait to get out of these heels. If it would have been acceptable to wear my boots, I would have, but Quinn would have killed me. As it is, I feel like I can't take a deep breath with how tight my dress is against my chest. I never wear tight shirts. I haven't since my boobs became beasts of their own right.
I'm too busy fiddling with the straps of my dress, trying desperately to get some of the pressure against my chest to ease up so I could take a deep breath, when I heard Quinn gasp.
"Mav!" Next thing I know she's running pa
st where I'm standing, her black hair streaming in the air behind her as she speeds forward right into her brother's arms.
Clay moves to stand next to me and I look up to meet his green eyes, the questions he isn't vocalizing dancing in their emerald depths. He's not stupid and I'm doing a crappy job at hiding the memories haunting me right now. He gives me a small smile, shifting his hold on the urn to wrap his free arm around me and pulls me into a strong hold.
"You're shakin'," he says against my temple and I just nod.
"I'm good, Clay. Go see your brother."
"I'm fine right where I am, sugar."
I keep my eyes to the ground, focusing on his worn boots instead of looking up, hating myself for making this moment about me when I should be focused on them. Like it or not, I can't fight the feelings that being near him bring me. I'm that stupid, naive sixteen-year-old all over again.
"Let's get out of here," he says after a few silent seconds.
I look up and give him a smile, hoping that it looks a hell of a lot braver than I feel. Inside I feel like I might puke.
"You think I could have a second with my family?" My head shoots up at the coldness I hadn't anticipated in Maverick's voice. He's not focused on me, though, instead looking at his brother with a hard expression and one brow raised upward.
"Mav!" Quinn gasps and he moves his attention from his brother to her.
"Sorry, Quinn, but I'm thinkin' that Clay's lady friend would understand that this should be a moment for our family and give us time alone."
"I'll just--"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, sugar," Clay all but spits through clenched teeth and drops his arm to take a step forward. "You've got something to say, Mav, then say it."
"Nothing to say, Clayton, I just think it would be nice for your girlfriend to give us some space."
"My girlfriend," he parrots sarcastically, his deep voice vibrating in anger.