25. Josie
josie
. . .
The Lone Star was packed when Bishop’s old truck pulled into the crowded parking lot. “Dammit,” he said, slapping the steering wheel as someone stole the spot he’d eyed near the end of the dirt lot. “Why are there so many people here tonight? Who the hell is playing?”
Lennox shrugged. “I don’t know. One of my friends was talking about them, but” she said, pulling up her phone and scrolling, “according to their website, the lead singer’s actually from the area.”
I felt Cleo straighten beside me. “What’s his name?”
“Lawson Wilde,” Lennox replied. “Oh, and he’s stupid hot.” She thrust the phone into Cleo’s hands to show us the video she’d been watching.
Lawson was standing in front of a crowd. He wore a smile as his arms were outstretched, basking in the echo of his fans screaming his words back to him. An old guitar hung in front of his body, supported by a tooled leather strap over his shoulder. Mid-length hair peeked out of a cap, sticking to the back of his neck after hours of performing under lights .
“Yeah, I’d say he’s the reason for the crowd,” I laughed, nudging Cleo’s arm, but she didn’t move. Her eyes were glued to the man on the screen. It may have just been the funky lighting of the video, but it looked like her skin had grown pale. “Hey, you okay?”
Cleo swallowed, nodding slowly. “Yeah, it’s just weird,” she said, forcing a laugh before handing the phone back to Lennox. “I went to high school with him. That’s not his name, though. Must be some kind of stage thing I guess.”
“Really?” she asked, not looking up from her phone. “What’s his real name?”
“Grady,” she said, drawing out the name like she hadn’t said it in ages.
“Huh. Maybe you could work your charms and get us autographs,” Lennox said, scrolling through his social media.
“Yeah,” she said, chewing on her lip. “Maybe. I dunno. Doubt he’d remember me. Wouldn’t wanna get your hopes up.”
I slid my hand over and found Cleo’s, giving it a squeeze. She didn’t have to say anything. I knew her well enough to know there was something else on her mind. It wasn’t easy for someone to show back up in your life when you least expected it—I would know—but I’d be there when she felt like talking about it.
“Well, this better be worth it,” Bishop mumbled, putting the truck in park. “Because it’s gonna take ages to get a beer.”
“Oh no,” Lennox pouted, setting her phone down to meet Bishop’s gaze in the rear-view. “How will you ever survive?”
“I won’t,” he shot back, returning her glare. “I’ll leave your ass here and find somewhere less crowded.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I think you know I would,” he said. “Rocking Wells is right down the road.”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “Wells is gross and dingy. The last time I was there, my shoes stuck to the floor all night. ”
“Alright,” Lincoln interjected, reaching over to turn the truck off. “That’s enough of that.”
“Hey!” Bishop called, leaning across his console, but Lincoln was already hopping out of the truck.
He stopped outside my door, opening it and offering his hand. I stared at it for a moment before placing mine on top and letting him help me.
“You know, I never got the chance to tell you how good you looked tonight, darlin’,” Lincoln said, letting his gaze drop down my body.
I didn’t go out much these days, so it’d taken me a while to find an outfit Cleo and Lennox deemed appropriate. They’d both opted for cute summer dresses, but that wasn’t much of my style; the ones I saw in my closet were far too formal to wear to my hometown bar. Instead, I’d settled on a pair of black bell-bottom jeans with boots and a distressed, cropped t-shirt with the Black Springs Ranch logo. Cleo curled my hair in loose waves, letting it flow freely down my back.
“Well, I wanted something that’d be easy to dance in,” I said, forcing a smile.
Lincoln pulled me out of the way before helping Cleo out next. “I didn’t know you danced,” he said.
“I grew up in a small town in Texas. There isn’t much else to do on the weekends but show up here with fake IDs and learn to dance.”
“Makes sense,” he said. “Wish I would’ve known sooner.” He placed his hand on the small of my back, and I relished the brush of his skin against mine.
I hated how his touch made me feel, how easy it was for him to have complete control. It took all my willpower not to curl into his arms and beg him to take me home.
Instead, like the good girl I was, I took a deep breath and let him guide me forward. Cleo and Lennox hooked their arms with mine, leaving Bishop and Lincoln behind.
The Lone Star was an Ashwood staple. I wasn’t sure how long it had been around, but I knew my dad used to sneak in when he was a kid, and that was long enough for me. During the day, half the building doubled as a restaurant. Then, once the sun went down, the second half opened—that side was more in line with your typical bar decor.
Up front, there was a stage for live music. Two bars were built into the sides, allowing easy access for patrons focused on the band. The dance floor was in the middle of the room, taking up a large majority of space—which was fine with me.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved listening to the music, but I mostly came to dance. It was just my luck that the two often went hand in hand.
We stepped up to the second entrance, which led us straight into the venue portion. The house band was on, playing a mix of nineties country barely audible over the hum of the crowd. I could already feel my excitement kicking in—the need to move my body to the beat of the music threatening to take over.
When we reached the front, Bishop stepped forward to shake the bouncer’s hand. “Davey! How the hell are ya?”
“Busy night,” Davey grumbled, slapping a wristband on each of us. He gestured toward the door without charging us the cover. “But y’all are in for one hell of a show.”
Bishop thanked him, holding the door. “I’m going to get some beers. Y’all want anything?”
“I’ll go with you, man,” Lincoln said, turning toward me and leaning to whisper in my ear. The heady scent of leather and sandalwood filled my nose, making me dizzy. “What sounds good? Are you in for another whiskey night?” he asked, pulling back just enough to see my reaction. His eyes twinkled under the neon lights, no doubt remembering that the last time we drank together ended with us fucking on a pool table.
“Surprise me. I’m in the mood for anything,” I replied, trying like hell to get the memories of Lincoln’s whiskey kisses out of my mind. “We’ll grab one of those tall tables by the dance floor.”
He nodded, looking over my shoulder where I pointed. “Sounds good. Be right back.”
I watched him go, dropping my gaze to his Wrangler clad ass. God, it really was a great ass—one that looked even better out of clothes. It was almost criminal.
Get a grip, Josephine. Don’t lose your head.
It was easier said than done, especially when I was almost ready to ask him to pull me into the nearest alcove and force me to remember what being with him had been like.
Cleo and Lennox were already at the table. I sat down with a huff, running my hands through my hair. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I groaned. Goddammit, why couldn’t he take a hint? Ellis’ name flashed across my screen, and I hit decline. With each call, my decision became a bit clearer.
As I slipped my phone back into my pocket, it vibrated again. I wanted to take it out, screaming at the screen to be left alone.
“Gimme that,” Lennox said, reaching over the table for my phone.
“Hey!” I called. “Give that back.”
She turned off the phone and tucked it into her pocket. “Nope. Not until we’re home. I won’t have Ellis ruining our night with his obsessive bullshit.”
“This was a horrible idea,” I muttered.
“Why? Because you finally realize that your feelings for Lincoln aren’t gone like you’ve been trying to make yourself believe?” Lennox said, resting her head in her hand.
“I’m with Ellis, though. I can’t be doing that shit to him when I’m with someone else. ”
“You don’t have to be,” Cleo said. “You could end it here and now with a simple text message.” She glanced at Lennox. “I bet she’d give you your phone back for that.”
I cocked my head to the side. “I won’t break up with him over a text message. This isn’t high school. I’m almost thirty. And do you really have room to talk?” I snapped, regretting my words the moment I said them. My sister’s marriage was none of my business, and I had no right to butt in where I didn’t belong. “Shit, I’m sorry, Cleo. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Cleo looked down at her lap before clearing her throat. “You did, and you’re not wrong. I’m not the person you should be taking relationship advice from.” She sniffled, leaning over to place her hand over mine. “But believe me when I tell you it comes from personal experience. I don’t want you to wake up in years next to a man you don’t know if you’ve ever loved, trapped in a marriage neither of you want. Just think about it.” I opened my mouth, but she pushed through. “Now, I think I’ll run to the bathroom before it’s ruined by the stench of stale cigarettes and bad decisions.”
Lennox and I watched her walk away, my stomach churning like it always did when I felt guilty. I hung my head in my hands. “ Fuck , I’m an asshole.”
Lennox ran her hand over my back. “You are, but you aren’t wrong.”
I turned to the side. “I’m not?”
She shook her head. “No, but neither is she.”
“I know,” I sighed.
I knew it with every fiber of being that Ellis and I weren’t going to last, but he was the last excuse I had not to go all in with Lincoln. After that, we’d have nothing stopping us from crossing that line and picking up where we left off. Frankly, I was terrified of getting my heart broken because I wouldn’t survive if Lincoln walked away .
“Where’d Cleo go?” Bishop asked, setting down two buckets of cold beer in the middle of the table. Lincoln followed, slipping what looked like a whiskey soda in front of me with a wink.
“Bathroom,” I said, bringing the glass to my lips. “She’ll be right back.”
Bishop nodded, taking the seat across from Lennox, while Lincoln stood at the end of the table near me. He kept his eyes on the crowd, ensuring no one came too close. The boys chatted about the ranch, going down the rabbit hole of hay cutting with other ranch hands who’d stopped by our table.
By the time Cleo came back, her eyes were red-rimmed. I hated myself in that moment, hated that I’d made her cry in a dingy bar bathroom. There was nothing I could do to excuse my behavior, but when she met my gaze, I mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
Cleo shook her head, reaching across the table to clink her drink against mine. “Love you,” she said.
“Love you, too.” I forced a smile.
“Love you mostest!” Lennox called, leaning between us and doing a little cheer. “I win.” I rolled my eyes, shoving her lightly. She caught herself on the table and stuck her tongue out. “Let’s fucking toast to a great night!”
“Go on then. I already know you’re dying to say it, so go ahead.”
“What’s she talking about?” Lincoln asked, bringing the glass to his lips.
Bishop shook his head, but wore a smile. “Just watch this shit.”
Lennox grabbed her beer, staring each of us in the eye as she cleared her throat. “Fuck the leather, fuck the lace. Cheers to the ones who sit on our face!” And then she slammed her bottle on the table before taking a sip.
“That’s sure as fuck something I could toast to,” Lincoln said, following suit with a chuckle .
“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Cleo groaned, but she was smiling.
“No, I’m the best,” Lennox said. “It’s the reason you keep me around. I’m funny, smart, and pretty as hell.”
“And annoying to boot,” Bishop mumbled.
Lennox leaned over the table and smirked. “Is that why you can’t stop staring at me?”
“Maybe we should add delusional to the mix, too. I ain’t fucking staring.” He pointed the bottle in her direction. “And if I am, it’s because you’re too damn loud.”
As Bishop and Lennox bickered, I raised my glass and savored the liquid courage as it slid down my throat. Couples turned on the dance floor, whipping around to a catchy beat. I swayed in my seat, humming to the music.
Lincoln stepped closer, and I leaned into the warmth of his body without thinking. We were magnets, drawn together by some force entirely larger than ourselves.
“You sure are wiggling in your seat,” Lincoln said, flitting his gaze along my body.
I shrugged. “I like to dance.”
He raised a brow. “This is considered dancing? Look, I know I’m old, but?—”
“No, but it scratches the itch,” I laughed. “I mean, haven’t you gotten the urge to just move before? Like when a song comes on that’s so good you just can’t help yourself?”
Lincoln nodded. “Yeah, I suppose so.” His eyes drifted to the dance floor. “Would you want to dance, Josie?”
“I don’t have anyone?—”
“You have me,” he said. It was simple, matter-of-fact, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I had him, and he had me, and nothing else mattered.
Except, that wasn’t the truth at all.
“Well, what do you say?” He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it. I stared down at it, knowing my decision would have consequences.
“She says yes,” Lennox called, but Cleo smacked her arm. I couldn’t make out their hushed whispers because I focused only on Lincoln’s hand.
The rough and rugged hand that had once caressed my body so tenderly and full of love. The hand that had held my own and brought me pleasure I’d never known.
“Alright,” I whispered, looking up into his deep brown eyes. “I’ll dance with you.”