2. PAIGE
2
PAIGE
With my arms full of boxes, I limp by Marcus for the third time. I shouldn’t be surprised he doesn’t notice I’m moving out.
Because he doesn’t care.
Back and forth I go. My ankle hurts like a bitch, but I can’t carry these boxes and my crutches at the same time.
Finally, half an hour later, he finally looks up from his giant flatscreen. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” When he doesn’t say anything, I keep going.
“Paige.”
I pause and turn to him. “I’m moving out.”
“What? Why?”
He looks genuinely confused. Between the two of us, he’s supposed to be the smart one. I roll my eyes and carry the last of my crap to my car. It’s a sad reflection on my life that all of my belongings fit in my old Kia Rio hatchback.
“Paige,” he calls out from behind me as I shove the box in my passenger seat. “What’s wrong?”
I hate having confrontations, but I suppose there’s no way around this. I close my car door and turn around. “I heard what you said last night.”
He follows me back into his apartment, where I grab my purse and my crutches. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I’m tired, my ankle is throbbing, and I don’t care about salvaging this relationship, which makes the words a little easier to say. “Do you remember what you told your friend when he asked if you were bringing me home for your parents’ anniversary dinner?”
Marcus freezes. “You heard that?”
Yes, asshole. I heard that. But there’s no sense in being antagonistic. “Thank you for letting me live with you last year when that tree bulldozed the house I was renting. I really appreciate you helping me then, but I’ve obviously overstayed my welcome. I left you the money I owed you for rent on the kitchen table.”
He and I were never right together. I should’ve moved out months ago, like I told my friends I was going to, but I hate making waves. I knew I didn’t love Marcus, and he didn’t love me, but I guess I was hoping we’d break through that and level up.
All of my friends are falling in love and pairing off, and I want that too. I’m starting to worry something’s wrong with me because I’ve never been in love. And when I say love, I mean adult love, not whatever idiotic thing I felt for Rhett Walker.
I hoped I could make it happen with Marcus if I stuck it out long enough.
Now I realize he’s not the kind of man I want for my happily ever after.
“Baby, don’t be like that.” He tries to grab my hand, but I push him off. He follows me back outside. “It’s just… my parents won’t understand what you’re doing with yourself after graduation.”
I really don’t need another person questioning my life goals. “Good luck finding the perfect trophy wife. I’m sure she’s out there somewhere.” I shove my crutches into the footwell of the passenger side. They barely fit.
“Look, you can come with me to their brunch if you want.”
“Gee, thanks. Appreciate the invite,” I say sarcastically as I drop into the driver’s side with a groan.
When I try to close the door, he blocks it. “Paige, are you seriously going to walk away like this? I’m about to make junior vice president at the company.”
“See, unlike you, I don’t care one way or another if you’re rich and climbing the corporate ladder.”
“But we’ll have more time to spend together once I get that raise.”
I laugh darkly. “We have plenty of time together now, but you’re too busy playing video games or hanging out with your bros to notice me. And that’s fine. Live life the way you want to, only I’m tired of feeling like an afterthought.”
“What if I took you on that vacation I know you want to go on?”
A sad smile graces my lips. “You can’t buy my love, Marcus. It’s not for sale.”
With the windows down, I drive along the dusty road to my hometown. I avoid coming back to Wild Heart whenever possible because there are too many painful memories, but now I don’t have a choice. It’s too expensive to stay in Charming. All of my friends just graduated from college and moved away, so I’d have to get a place by myself, and I don’t have the money for first and last months’ rent.
When I spot a hill covered in wildflowers, I crank the steering wheel and pull off onto the side of the road. It takes me twenty minutes of limping around, but I manage to put together a pretty bouquet. Once I’m back in my car, I reach into my sewing bag and pull out a ribbon that I tie to the base of the flowers.
With a smile, I sniff the soft petals. Wildflowers are so pretty and cheerful. Most people would probably describe them as delicate, but I love that they often flourish in the toughest conditions.
It’s been a while since I’ve visited Danny, and I think he could use something cheerful.
On the outskirts of town, I turn up the big driveway to the cemetery where he’s buried. My sweet older brother died of leukemia a few years ago.
Danny and my mom are resting along the back. My dad’s on the other side. Irma wouldn’t let him be buried next to Mama.
When I reach Danny’s plot, my eyes immediately go to the empty root beer bottles, and my heart pangs in my chest. “I guess you’ve had other visitors.”
I’ve done an impressive job of avoiding Rhett over the years, but sometimes, the reminders of him and my brother hit me hard.
After I clean off the headstones, I place the bouquet between them. “Mama, I’m sorry I don’t have flowers for you too. You and Danny can share. I know you’re not supposed to cut bluebonnets, but I got a few for y’all. Daddy always said they were your favorite.”
My mom died in childbirth with me, and my dad died in a construction accident at work when I was eleven, which left us with Irma.
I lean against Danny’s headstone and stare at the empty cemetery. “I graduated from college last week. Irma and Ty didn’t come. No surprise there.” My ankle throbs, and I rub it. “I was supposed to start a new job this summer in Austin at this amazing cheer camp, but I got injured. The doctor says I’ll need physical therapy, but I can’t afford it.” I can’t afford anything right now. I shouldn’t have given Marcus money for rent, but I hated the idea of owing him anything.
“I lost that job. Can’t coach cheer if you can’t spot the tumblers, you know?” I pick a blade of grass. “So now I need to eat some humble pie and ask Irma if I can stay in my old room for a while. I’d ask Baylee, but her sister is visiting with her kids, and they don’t have the space.
“I worked so hard to eke my way through school, thinking I could coach, and then this happened. I got a degree in communications. That’s probably ironic since I hate public speaking.” That’s one of the reasons I love cheer. When I step out on that field at halftime, I always know what to do or say. I wish real life was like that.
I blow out a breath. “Sorry I’m complaining. At least I’m not dead, right? Gotta look on the bright side.” I know I should be grateful for what I have. My brother’s life got cut short. My parents’ did too. I need to make the most of what I have.
I just don’t know how.
An hour later, I reluctantly get back in my car and head home.
Even though I get anxious when I come back here, I have to admit that Wild Heart is picturesque. Historic buildings built of limestone brick dot both sides of the main drag with boutique shops, many of which have been painstakingly renovated. Several shops surround the courthouse, where there’s a grassy area and a pretty gazebo that townsfolk light up for the holidays with twinkle lights. And there’s no shortage of cute restaurants, like the Honeybee Hideaway or the Blackbird Brew Coffee Shop.
There are trading outposts and Wild West memorabilia shops. If you want to learn how the outlaws of the 1800s stole cattle or robbed trains, the Wild Heart Museum highlights the most noteworthy ones and even hosts shootout reenactments on Saturdays for tourists at the Wild West Saloon.
My favorite part is the Eden River, which snakes through half the county and cuts through town. There’s a mining kiosk next to all the food trucks that teaches people how to look for gemstones along the banks, but I suspect someone tosses out a few quartz every night so visitors have something to find.
If I didn’t have the history that I do here, I’d think Wild Heart was adorable.
Unfortunately, when I reach my house, the fond thoughts flee.
Ghosts loom large here. That’s the tree where Danny used to push me in the swing. His old Dodge is still parked in the gravel driveway. And that rusty bike he taught me to ride lies there in a heap.
After I wrestle my crutches out of the car, where they’re jammed against moving boxes, I finally get them out and limp to the porch.
“Hey,” I call out through the screen door. “It’s me.” I’m about to open it when the overwhelming stench of wet dog hits me. Gross.
Against my better judgment, I open the creaky screen door and hobble inside, where I find a half-empty bottle of rum on the weathered coffee table. Irma’s still getting sauced. No surprise there.
When the door shuts behind me, a half-dozen dogs come tearing around the corner.
Oh, shit.
They pounce on me, and I crash into a wall with a scream. My ankle throbs, and I try to shove them off me.
A raspy chuckle makes me look up. “Looks like you met our Frenchies, huh?” Irma asks as she takes her time pulling them off me. “Tyson! Get in here and help me!”
My half-brother laughs when he sees me on the floor. “You should’ve warned us you were coming.”
I haven’t seen him in months, and this is how he greets me? “Nice to see you too, Ty.”
He’s not so little anymore. My brother is much taller than me. Still lanky, though. “Just here for a visit?” he asks as he helps me up.
I wobble and lean against the wall as he hands me my crutches. “I was hoping I could stay in my old room for a while. I got injured, so I can’t start my cheer job.” No sense in telling them I lost it. Irma’s always putting me down, and I can’t deal with any more negativity right now.
My stepmother makes a face. “Wish we had known you wanted your room. It’s occupied right now.”
“What does that mean?” And really, what the fuck? This was my mother’s house. By all rights, it should be mine.
She shrugs. “Go look.”
Struggling to stay upright as the dogs nudge against me, I finally make it to the hallway. When I open the door to my bedroom, the stench of dog shit almost makes me gag. “What the hell?” There are dogs in crates everywhere, in every space on the floor, and there are two dogs on the bed barking at me.
Irma walks up behind me. “Tyson had the best idea to breed French bulldogs. Do you have any idea how much these puppies bring in? I always knew my boy would make me rich.”
I whip around and almost fall over. “You mean a puppy mill. Because that’s what this is, right?”
“You’re always so judgmental, Paige.”
“Excuse me for being upset that my room is filled with dogs.”
“Seeing that you rarely come home, how was I supposed to know you were going to stay here?”
“I left you messages.”
She waves a hand. “I don’t listen much to messages. You know how bad the reception is here. It’s always spotty.”
Irma keeps spouting her excuses as I hobble out to the living room. “So there’s no room? Could I sleep on the couch out here in the living room?” I hate that I have to beg, but what options do I have?
“Ty sleeps here, since his room is full of pups too.”
My jaw tightens. They’re hoarding dogs in my mother’s house, and now I have nowhere to go. Awesome.
Without another word, I head back out to my car where I struggle not to cry. I want to call Baylee, but she’s at a hair convention in Dallas.
So I drive around town until I get to the park sometime around dusk. As the shadows fall, I wonder where I went wrong with my life. How did I get to the point where I’m sleeping in my car?
I finally pull out a few boxes of my stuff so I can lean my seat back and try to sleep. But it’s so hot, I strip out of most of my clothes, only leaving on my sports bra and underwear. I glance down at myself and shrug. It’s like wearing a bikini.
I roll down my windows a crack so I don’t suffocate. I’d like to lower them all the way, but it’s probably not smart to sleep like that.
As I settle for the night, I tell myself things will be better in the morning. They have to be. Once I’ve slept, I’ll have a clear mind and will figure out what to do.
Several hours later, I have to pee. Half-asleep, I tiptoe to the bushes and do my business before I wobble back. It’s almost daybreak. I should probably get going, but I’m exhausted.
I finally fall back asleep when some asshole bangs on my window and I jerk awake. With my heart pounding in my chest, I struggle to remember where I am.
“Paige Lewis,” a cranky-ass voice yells. “Why the hell are you sleeping in your car?”
When I come face to face with a pissed-off Rhett Walker, I groan and shove my hair out of my face. “What do you care? Go away.”
His coal-black eyes somehow darken, and for a brief moment, I let myself look at him. His hair is short on the sides and longer on top. He has scruff along his handsome face, and his lips look just as full as they always have. And oh, my God, the tattoos on his biceps are sexy as hell.
Never gonna happen, Paige. Give it up already.
I ignore the sparks of excitement that light me up at the sight of this asshole and roll over.
Except Rhett doesn’t let up. “Either you get your cute little ass in my truck, or I’m gonna break in there and carry you out.”
“Go ahead and try.” When I hold up my middle finger, that just makes him growl.
A second later, I feel a cool breeze.
Shit. I forgot to lock my car!
And then I’m scooped out and go airborne.