Chapter 8 – Maggie
Two weeks later…
I’ve been on summer break for two weeks now, and so far, I haven’t done anything remotely fun.
The first night back was supposed to be the Kenny Chesney concert, but Clay and Kaleb ruined those plans. I wasn’t mad, though—actually, I was grateful. He’d stopped Kaleb and me from going, especially since Kaleb had been drinking and I was dangerously close to making some bad decisions with him.
He’s an ex for a reason, and though I don’t have any feelings for him anymore, it’s easy to fall back on the familiarity and memories of making old mistakes again versus new ones.
After that, my joint pain had flared, leaving me feeling extra lethargic.
Between interning at the hospital, taking summer night classes to speed up my two-year Xray tech program into a year and a half, I’d been too exhausted to meet up with any of my old friends from town that I’ve kept in touch with.
But today, a warm day in late May, the day of our annual Memorial Day party at my friend Lucy’s gorgeous estate on the outskirts of the city, I was itching for some excitement.
“Good morning, Magpie,” my dad greets affectionately as I enter the kitchen. He pulls me into a big hug and plants a kiss on my head, his hand playfully patting my wild curls. “Have I told you how much I love having you home this summer?”
I smile. If my dad had his way, I’d drop out of school, move back to Lonestar Junction permanently, and finish my degree from here.
And though I’d considered it—especially with my recent flare-ups and how much easier life is living with my dad instead of roommates hundreds of miles away in Houston—I know staying away is necessary.
The distance has helped me grow into my own woman and find my independence. I just hope that I’ll feel healthy enough to return in the fall and finish what I started.
“I love being here with you too, dad.”
He smiles and nods. “So, what do you have planned for today?”
“Heading over to Lucy’s for their annual cook out.”
He frowns in response as he reaches for the coffee pot, and I can instantly read his thoughts.
Almost predictably, the Lonestar Junction Fire Department gets called to Lucy’s family’s annual Memorial Day cookout. It’s practically a tradition at this point that the men in uniforms will roll up in their big, red truck at some point.
Lucy’s parents always go to their beach house on the Gulf Coast for the weekend, leaving Lucy and her older brothers to host. Though most of the crowd is of legal drinking age, thanks to her brothers’ friends, a handful of Lucy’s friends always manage to slip into the gathering too.
And predictably, when you mix alcohol, a big crowd, and a backyard full of fun but questionable activities, someone is bound to get hurt.
Every year, it’s been something—a broken bone, a 4-wheeler accident, someone slipping off the pool slide, or just a drunk face-plant that knocks out a tooth on the concrete.
The Lonestar Junction FD is well aware of the cookout’s reputation, and I’ve never hid it from my dad, the fire chief, either.
This year, Lucy’s oldest brother has joined the FD force, so if something goes down, he can at least give my dad a heads-up.
Ideally, that means he’d try to keep things under control, considering his boss—my dad—would be the one responding.
But knowing her brother, I’m not exactly confident he’ll be that responsible.
“You’ll be careful, yea?”
“I always am,” I respond kissing his cheek as he nods, “Are you working tonight?”
He sighs, “Always.”
That is true. For as long as I can remember, my dad spends nearly every night at the station, which means much of my youngest years—outside of school—were spent with a nanny. I know that he loves me, but I’d missed having him around for those early years of my life.
Once I got older and no longer needed a nanny, I enjoyed hanging out at the station, playing cards with my dad’s employees or babysitting for the Camerons. Ashwood and Cameron ranch felt like second homes to me, a place where I felt noticed and useful, and the fire station like a third.
Taking care of people had always been a comfort to me which is probably part of the reason why I’d foolishly broken into Clay’s house two weeks ago to make sure he was alive and make him breakfast.
Sure, I’d been worried about him—what if he had an undiagnosed concussion?
I knew how dangerous that could be. But if I was being honest, I also didn’t want to go home to an empty house at three in the morning, knowing my dad was still on shift.
Selfishly, I just wanted to know someone was nearby, even if they are unaware of my presence.
“I love you,” my dad calls out as he heads outside to his car.
“Love you too, dad!”
He’s never been one for overt affection or words of affirmation, but he’s always been a great dad. I never doubted that if I needed him, he’d be there for me, no questions asked.
A few hours later, I’m changed into a tiny red, white, and blue striped bikini with jean shorts and a towel that I’ve draped around my shoulders.
I hop into my car and head down the dirt road that connects the city to the outskirts where Lucy lives.
The miles of cornfields, sunflower fields, and open blue skies gives me a sense of nostalgia.
It feels good to be home for the summer.
Lucy’s house is a sprawling estate, practically a mansion by Lonestar Junction standards.
Her dad, one of the developers who’ve helped turn the town into a budding suburb for bigger cities like San Angelo, had built it from the ground up.
It even has a massive underground swimming pool that overlooks a stocked pond and acres of cleared farmland.
“Maggie! You’re here!” Lucy squeals, bounding out of the front door as soon as I arrive. Her long, straight blonde hair blows in the wind behind her like angel winds, the sun reflecting off each strand.
She throws her arms around my neck and squeezes me tightly in greeting. “I can’t believe this is the first time we’re seeing each other since you got home.”
“I know…” I drawl, though I know why that was. My schedule, and how I’ve been feeling lately hasn’t lent much free time or energy for socializing. But today is a good day and I’m going to focus on how good I felt and not the probable pain that’s coming.
“Come on, let’s go around back. My brothers set up an ice luge and though I know we’re not supposed to be partaking in beverages today, I snuck us some wine coolers,” she sends a wink my way as she tugs me toward the back of the house where the holiday party is already raging.
It’s only 2 in the afternoon, but most of the usual crew has already arrived for the annual party.
Hank and Rex, Lucy’s older brothers, along with about ten of their friends, are scattered around a beer pong game set up between the fire pit and pool.
The ice luge Lucy had talked about stands in the center, carved into the shape of a massive penis, slowly melting under the hot, afternoon sun.
A pink, battery-powered light glows from within the middle, illuminating the whole scene with a sex party vibe.
“I know I’ve only ever seen one of those in person before, but I’m pretty sure they aren’t supposed to look that... flaccid,” I joke as I point at the phallic-shaped piece of ice.
Lucy laughs, “Yup. That would be a penis. My pig brother said he wanted to see the girls put their mouths on it when they take shots or some perverted shit.” She rolls her eyes before pushing me through the sliding glass doors to the inside of the home where four of our other friends who are in town have gathered.
After a few minutes of catching up and swapping freshman-year college stories, the wine coolers hidden in red Solo cups made an appearance.
I deftly dodge them and fill my cup with ice water instead though no one is wiser.
For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, we mostly stay inside and, on the patio, rotating between the two hang out spots snacking on food and catching up like old times.
Lucy’s brother’s friends and our group rarely mix much this early in the day, not until later when inhibitions drop, and everyone loosens up.
As the sun begins its slow descent toward 8 PM, I slip into the cool, pool water, the relaxing feel of summer finally settling into my bones. It feels like a promise of long, carefree nights to come outside and I’m glad I finally got out of the house and came.
I move to the ledge and cross my arms underneath my chin as I watch a heated game of beer pong take place across the lawn.
“Hey,” a boy I recognize as one of Hank’s best friends named Matt slides into the water to match my stance.