Young Buck: A Slow Burn Small Town Romance (Green Valley Heroes Book 5)

Chapter 8

“You’re late,” my father informed me through a wide smile that was certainly not for my benefit. His teeth showed, but emotion didn’t reach his eyes. His words were spoken as he threw an arm around my shoulder, patted my back, and guided me into the party.

“I had to work.” I returned a smile and a wave to one of his cronies whose eye I’d caught, answering my father as I walked. My parents’ house was decked out for the Fourth of July.

“It’s a holiday,” he countered, guiding us toward open doors that led out back.

“The fire department’s open every day, Dad,” I pointed out as jovially as I could. Easier said than done, given that I’d just come off a twenty-four hour shift and made the two-hour drive to Lookout Mountain.

“Bucky!”

My smile turned genuine at the sound of my mother’s voice. Following it, I found her cutting through the crowd. She wasn’t shy about pulling me into a warm hug. It required bending and stooping on my part, as I had a foot on her, even when she wore her party heels.

“The house looks great, Momma,” I complimented. “You outdo yourself every year.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. Large mason jars on every surface burst forth with red roses, white lilies, and blue delphinium. A small American flag stuck out of every bouquet. The smell of grilled meat wafted in from outside, but the long table down the middle of the great room had tiered displays of colorful desserts: cherry pie with dough stars on top instead of lattices; strawberries dipped in white chocolate and blue sugar; an American flag fruit tart; and other things I planned to try.

Outside, red, white, and blue bunting was draped along the painted white fence that separated the stables from the lawns. I’d make my way out there eventually, to visit the horses. But not until I did what I was expected to and made my rounds.

“Come say hi to Vivian. She is just dying to hear the story.” My mom hooked her elbow into mine. “She read in the paper all about how you solved that case with those fires.”

“That was a while ago, and I didn’t solve it myself, Momma. Forrest Winters and Sierra Betts did most of the work.”

“Why don’t you ever bring that Forrest Winters around?” my father wanted to know as they ushered me forth. It looked less like a holiday party than it did a wedding. Guests sat at tables under large white tents and a bluegrass band jammed on a stage.

“Lookout Mountain isn’t exactly around the corner from Green Valley,” I pointed out.

“It’d be nice to have his family up here some time. Heard he got some sort of special appointment directly from the Secretary of the Interior. You’d do well to take an example from him, Bucky. That Forrest Winters is going places.”

My mother’s steadying grip on my arm tightened in time with the clench of my jaw. I hadn’t been home for three minutes and, already, my father was digging in.

“Oh, there’s Vivian, right by the gazebo.” If my father was the master of the dig, my mother was the master of the subject change. “She went on and on about how she is just dying to see you, Bucky.”

“More like she’s dying to get that daughter of hers a ring on her finger.” My dad rolled easily with the change in topic as if he hadn’t just insulted my career choices.

Forrest Winters was the right kind of firefighter. The kind with a nationally important position and ties to the top brass. The kind who acted on his leadership potential and climbed the proverbial ladder. My father hated that the only kind of ladder I wanted to climb was on a truck.

“Rex, can I steal you away?”

Twenty feet from Vivian, we were intercepted. Buddy Nash was my father’s best old crony. I wasn’t sure my father actually had friends.

“Oh, hey there, Buck.” Buddy jutted out his hand to shake mine. “You just gettin’ here?”

I mentioned again that I’d had to work.

“Good, good.” Buddy always repeated himself. He turned back to my dad. “Justin Martin’s on about infrastructure spending. Trev’s getting a little fatigued.”

Buddy saying that my brother, Trevor, was fatigued was code for saying he’d reached the edge of his capacity for conversation. Trev was sociable, but he wasn’t deep. Apart from dogs and baseball, he didn’t like to talk about anything for too long. It wasn’t a knock against him exactly. Our father’s friends were boring as hell. But it did make me question his decision to follow in my father’s footsteps as a politician.

“Buck,” my father declared authoritatively, “you ought to come.”

I gave my mom a kiss on the cheek and squeezed her arm. She squeezed back and made no further mention of Vivian. Vivian wasn’t why I was here. Neither was beer or brisket. This barbecue wasn’t really a barbecue. It was a campaign fundraiser. If my dad had his way, Trevor would be Tennessee’s next General Assemblyman in District 46.

“This can’t be Buck,” Justin Martin boomed in surprise a minute later, turning his attention to us as we made our approach. He stood with my brother on the outer perimeter of the lawn. It had chairs that looked outward and tables to set your drink on, just like the ones we had on the house’s wrap-around porch. The white Adirondacks were ideal for taking in majestic views of the foothills and the valley below.

“Yessir,” I replied, smiling and extending my hand. The chairs sat empty and Justin and Trevor stood. The hand that didn’t shake mine held a half-smoked Cohiba. For Justin, it was never too early for a cigar.

“Last time I saw you, you were a wiry little thing.”

Justin had made the same comment the last three times he’d seen me. It seemed that memories of my earlier self were hard to shake. I’d been lanky growing up. But training for the fire service had transformed my body.

“I’ve been to the gym once or twice.”

“You look like you own the gym, kid. What are you doing nowadays?”

I wasn’t surprised that Justin didn’t know. My dad made sure his friends knew every time Trevor took a shit or sneezed, blasting even his minor accomplishments from the top of our mountain. By contrast, he barely talked about me at all.

“I work in the fire service.”

“Buck’s down at Great Smoky Mountains National Park,” Buddy supplied.

“He’s been working some of those wildfires,” my father cut in. “He’s the lead investigator who cracked the case.”

Never mind that I’d set the record straight five minutes ago. When put on the spot to talk about me, my dad did as he did with everything else: polished it up until it shone.

“I helped with the case,” I said humbly. “And I’m not working too much in the park anymore. I’m living down in Green Valley.”

“That’s honorable work you’re doing,” Justin praised. “It’s not a life that’s easy on a man or his family. You got a wife and kids yet?”

I shook my head. “Not many women where I was working before, up in Crosby. But Green Valley’s a nice town. Real good people. Living closer to civilization, I’m hoping to meet someone.”

“I don’t know about the ones in Green Valley, but the women in Knoxville aren’t half bad—good for a little fun.”

A chunk of ash fell off of Justin’s cigar when my father elbowed him congenially.

“No one ought to have as much fun with women as you had at your age.”

“I seem to remember Rex having a little fun himself,” Buddy cut in.

“Now, now—” my father interrupted with feigned modesty. “Not in front of my boys.”

I laughed on cue. Trevor did the same. It was a well-practiced routine. Justin had pockets eight figures deep. It cost more money and required more connections than most people knew to have a shot at winning even a minor election. I’d never understood why the prestige of holding office was so important to my father. He and Trevor had always been made of different stuff.

Speaking of Trevor . . .

“You staying out of trouble with the ladies?” I asked it with a bit of a put-on smile. Trevor and I were friendly but not close. We’d played well as kids—gotten into the kinds of mischief brothers did growing up on a mountain in Tennessee. But I’d never been close to our father, while he and Trev were inseparable. It was a lot to overcome.

“’Bout to get into trouble’s more like it,” Trevor came back with a grin so bright I was certain he’d had his teeth whitened. He glanced over his shoulder before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a box from Cartier. I didn’t keep close tabs on Trev’s life, but I’d thought I’d at least know if he was serious about somebody. It seemed he was more than serious. It seemed like he was getting engaged.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Justin saved me from having to ask.

“Priscilla Alexander,” Trevor replied with an impish smile.

Prissy had been Trev’s high school sweetheart.

“Good girl. Good family,” my father supplied.

What he meant was, Prissy would make a good politician’s wife. Trevor flipped open the ring box to reveal what even I could see was quite an impressive rock.

Justin whistled. “You go’n give that to her tonight?”

My dad didn’t give Trevor a chance to respond. He just clapped Justin on the back and gave a broad grin. “Trev’s got somethin’ real special planned. Stick around for the fireworks.”

There was only somuch hobnobbing and elbow rubbing I could stand to do at my father’s parties. Inevitably, I found myself on the south porch. It was peaceful, and far away from the part of the house where we entertained. A sprawling, magnificent lawn stretched out for a quarter mile until it pushed up to the edge of the forest.By now, the summer sun had set but the light was still fading. I could see it glow over the mountains if I walked to the western side. The night was warm and the air pulsed with the chirruping of crickets. I knew just what chair I could sit in to relax and enjoy my drink.

Except you’re not alone.

Hushed voices reached my ears the second I reached my chair. The voices came from around the corner. Not in the mood for company, I scanned my brain for alternate hiding places. I was halfway to leaving when I stopped again.

“When, Rex?”

These weren’t just any hushed whispers. The people talking were my parents. My mom sounded agitated.

“After the election.”

My father knew how to be dismissive with astonishing calm—to sound composed as he shot you down. A lot would be on hold until the election. I’d already gotten wind of how Trev’s campaign had led to my father’s third postponement of my parents’ European vacation.

“We’ve already waited too long.” My mother wasn’t appeased.

“After all this time, it’ll keep,” he retorted tranquilly.

But my mother choked up. “You can’t hold me hostage like this.”

All of a sudden, my dad’s voice snapped into the kind of sharp tone he reserved for political rivals. “Don’t you dare judge me for what you’ve driven me to do.”

My hackles went straight up. I’d never heard him raise his voice like this to my mom. I had half a mind to lean out of hiding, to remind my father how to treat a woman. But revealing myself would only make their discussion stop.

“We talked about this, Annie.” His voice was still biting. “When we decided Trevor would run. We knew what it would mean for this family.”

“You mean, when you decided,” she accused.

She could say that again. Trevor barely woke up in the morning without my father’s permission.

“No scandals. No Hinckley. No dredging up the past,” my dad came back in a low growl. “That was our agreement. And I know you remember the day we made it.”

My mother’s quiet was a sign that she didn’t have a retort.

“You did what you had to do to protect your son. Now I’m doing what I have to do, to protect mine.”

What. The. Fuck?

The warmth in my belly from the whiskey was replaced with a chill. My father’s tone was as cold as his words, no longer bitter—just resentful and cruel.

“You know they’re not the same,” my mother choked out. Her voice dropped down to a whisper. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen her cry.

The vinegar in my father’s voice turned a little sweet. “Now, Annelise, don’t start with the hysterics. You can’t go out there with your mascara running. Go on, now, and fix your face.”

I didn’t hear either of them move. They seemed to have stopped, just like my coherent thought. I barely registered the brutality of him forbidding her to cry.

You did what you had to do to protect your son.

Now I’m doing what I have to do, to protect mine.

The words wouldn’t stop replaying in my head. My father could be referring to none other than Trevor. Somehow, he had chosen years ago, at something that shouldn’t even have needed a choice. If Trevor belonged to my dad, that left only one other son by default...and all of this had something to do with me.