14. Presley
Chapter 14
Presley
DEREK: Presley. Cut this shit out. You’re ruining everything.
DEREK: We really are going to replace you.
DEREK: If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow morning, I’m going to call your Mom and say you’re missing.
One missed call from Mom.
Anger and sadness lodges in my throat as I stare at my phone next to my bowl of chili and cornbread on the small kitchen table. Leave it to Mom to call me only when she thinks I’m murdered or missing.
I spoon the beanless meat mixture before letting it plop back in the bowl. I haven’t had much of an appetite since I fainted yesterday, but if I don’t eat, either Ruby, June, or Blake will force-feed me. Maybe not force-feed me, but they’d probably make me eat in front of them.
I groan and push my bowl away. I can’t believe I passed out—and in front of Kade, no less. I’ve never passed out a day in my life. It made me question if the cowboy was right in his assumption that I couldn’t handle being a ranch hand. But Blake would hear none of my apologies, telling me how she did something similar earlier this year when she got heat stroke. It was nice of her to try to make me feel better, but I still feel guilty for not completing my first day of work. On top of that, when I woke up this morning, Kade was nowhere to be found. I half expected him to be asleep on the couch again, but he wasn’t there, and unless he slept in one of the rooms not connected to the living room, he didn’t come back at all last night.
I’m trying to figure out why I felt disappointed when I didn’t see him or why he didn’t come check on me after everything happened yesterday. He seemed genuinely concerned when I passed out, which is part of the reason I lied when Blake asked me if he’d given me breaks. He hadn’t, but I’d also been irresponsible. I should’ve told Kade what I needed, but my desire to prove myself won out over my own safety.
Kade only shocked me further when he offered to bring me back to the house, his arm tightening around me as if he didn’t want to let me go—a feeling that made my stomach flip-flop in ways it shouldn’t. His desire to care for me was sweet, albeit strange, after all the shit he’d been giving me.
The logical side of my brain tells me I shouldn’t like him, but after spending time with him…I don’t know. He’s confusing. Which makes me want to understand him, get to know him and this caring side better—
No. I can’t let myself go there. He has issues. I do, too. And while I can’t lie that my body is attracted to him, he’s not a person I should get involved with. Especially because he’s a playboy who drives me nuts half the time.
But then my mind wanders to the look on his face when I opened my eyes—there was fear there, real fear. It brings my curiosity back about the rumblings I’ve heard at the bar, why he was off work for three months, the accident I keep hearing about. Did something happen to him or someone he loved?
Ping !
I jump as my phone chimes and vibrates on the table. It’s Derek. You’d think it would be my mom, that she’d be concerned I still haven’t returned her call. But no, I guess my shitty ex cares more about me than she does.
The vibrating stops, but before I can turn the phone off, it starts again. Derek’s name flashes across the screen.
I put the spoon back in my bowl of chili and debate my options. If I don’t answer, will the cops show up looking for me to get proof of life? The idea of that happening in front of any one of the Montgomerys or people at Night Hawk makes me nauseous, though I find it hard to believe anyone in my life back home cares that much.
As a teen, there were times when I would test my mom. I would stay overnight at a friend’s place without asking, thinking she’d call worried, wondering where I was or why I didn’t come home. But that never happened.
Then when I turned fifteen and she had my half-sister, Desi, I became a complete and total afterthought. Not that I wasn’t before, but it only got worse. The new baby made me nonexistent. Which I understood at first, but over time, I realized my own mother had replaced me with a shiny new baby, a child she liked better. One would think she’d have had space in her heart for both of her children, but that wasn’t the case. She put all her focus on Desi. Last I heard, she was entering her into beauty pageants.
It figures because she always wanted a little girl who would be the cheerleader and homecoming queen. That was never me. I was just her weird, orchestra-nerd daughter who could never lose weight. When she got what she wanted with Desi, that was the end of me.
And don’t get me started on my dad, who only texts me on holidays and on my birthday. It’s not like he’ll be calling me anytime soon.
Ping !
Screw it. I can’t have the cops showing up to make sure I’m alive—or Derek. With shaking hands, I tap the screen to answer the call. I don’t say hi, and I don’t need to.
“Presley! What the fuck?”
I cringe at the tone in his deep voice, the voice I used to love. Now it only gives me goosebumps—and not the good kind. “Well, hello to you, too.”
“Cut the cute shit, P. Where have you been?”
“I left you a note,” I say. I knew that note would never be enough for him, but it was all I could do when I left. I wasn’t going to risk speaking to him and having him convince me to stay.
“Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? We have a record deal, and you don’t show up to sign the contracts? Do you know how bad that made us look?”
I feel like that viral sound: Well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions. I shouldn’t have picked up.
“It wasn’t my intention to make you look bad,” I say honestly, and it really wasn’t. I just wanted to get out of the city fast.
He mumbles a few curses under his breath then huffs loudly. “We’ve already been auditioning fiddle players. They’re better than you.”
Tears sting my eyes. I should expect nothing less than Derek taking a dig at me where he knows I’m most insecure. It’s his favorite thing to do. I blink and clear my throat as best I can, trying to hold myself together. “Then why are you calling me?”
“Because I wanted you to know.”
“You’ve been texting. And my mom, really? You didn’t have to call her.”
He chuckles snidely. “I couldn’t get a hold of you. I thought you may be dead. How was I supposed to know you were reading them?”
The chili in my stomach revolts, and acid burns my throat. “Please stop calling and texting me. If you’re replacing me with someone better, then it doesn’t matter. ”
I hear him crack open what I’m guessing is a beer before he says, “I just wanted to tell you how disappointed I am in you, that I never should’ve gotten involved with a loser like you. You’ve ruined all our lives, and for what?”
I go still, processing his words. Derek used to be sweet—at least, he was when I first met him. He saw me play at a bar in Boston and seemed to be enamored with me. He was the first guy who ever approached me in a bar to hit on me, the first guy to pay attention to me instead of the hot women in the bands I played with. It felt nice, as if I was finally special to someone. And I fell for him and his pretty words hook, line, and sinker.
It wasn’t until we were dating for a year that he began to take digs at me. It started with little comments like how I should dress differently for gigs, that the food I ate wasn’t good for me. Then he would start on the quality of my fiddle playing. I don’t know why I stayed with him for as long as I did—five-plus years of my life—but I did. And I regret it.
And I regret that I picked up the phone after finally having the courage to walk away. Not just from him but from my toxic band.
“Did you hear me, P?”
“You know I hate it when you call me that.”
I hear him throw something that crashes against a wall. “You ruined everything! We’re never going to forgive you for this. You made me look like a fool. A fucking fool, Pres.”
“Please stop calling me. We’re done.”
“No, I get to say when we’re done. You fucked me .”
“No, you fucked another woman ,” I spit out, unable to contain my anger any longer.
“Is that what this tantrum is about, Presley? That I fucked someone hotter than you?”
“Screw you, Derek!”
“Don’t you dare hang up on me. You need—”
I end the call and throw my phone down on the table. Tears spill from my eyes, and I pull at the collar of my T-shirt, trying to breathe, but the air just won’t seem to come. More acid burns my throat, and I force myself to breathe through my nose. “Don’t let him get to you, Presley,” I say under my breath. I reach into my back pocket and grab the calming inhaler. It’s almost gone, but there should be enough to help me through this anxiety attack.
I wrap my lips around the mouth and breathe in. The familiar taste of peppermint and chamomile coats my tastebuds, and my heart rate slows slightly. As I pull it from my lips and exhale, I stare at the little stick. Behind my eyelids, an image of Kade appears from yesterday when he’d wrapped his lips around the same opening. I take another drag of it and hold in the vapor before exhaling again.
“How did you end up here?” I ask myself, wishing I could answer, wishing I knew why I let someone like Derek screw up my life so badly. I wonder why I answered the phone. Even if Mom did think I was dead, would it be so bad? I could live my life how I want to, pretend my past doesn’t exist.
In a lot of ways, I’ve already gotten a head start by moving here. Nobody knows me in Randall, and they don’t know anything about me. I’m just an awkward city girl who’s a half-decent bartender and now a bad ranch hand.
My phone pings again, and I let out a frustrated sound, grabbing it off the table. Derek’s text lights up the screen:
DEREK: You were never good enough, anyway.
You were never good enough, anyway.
You were never good enough, anyway .
You were never good enough, anyway.
Tears well up again, and I almost choke on the emotion clogging my throat. Never good enough? I’ll admit that I let Derek get in my head about my talent, but I’m a good fiddle player. More than good—I’m one of the best in Texas, but I let my ex’s own insecurities and hurtful comments make me think otherwise. I let him influence my life and the choices I’ve made. I let him worm his way into every part of my mind, making me question who I am and every dream I’ve ever had.
My phone buzzes with another text, and all my muscles bunch in my body.
“Screw you, Derek!” I scream.
“Who’s Derek?”
I scream again, this time from surprise as Kade strolls through the door from the other connecting bedroom.
“Kade!” I place a hand over my heart. “You scared the crap out of me!”
He steps up in front of the table, and I stand, my entire body vibrating. His hair is wet from a shower, and he’s got on his Night Hawk T-shirt and a pair of jeans with boots. For a moment, I forget about my anger and the fact that I have tears in my eyes, because I swear every time I see him, he gets more attractive.
Kade’s gaze narrows as he looks me up and down. The intensity of it makes my stomach muscles clench and my body tingle. I swear he looks concerned again—like he was when I fainted.
“What happened?” he asks.
I shove my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and take a breath. I realize it sounds shaky, but I’ve never been a good actress. “Nothing.”
Kade steps into my space like he did the first day I met him, and he brings his thumb up to wipe a tear from my cheek. My entire body freezes at the tingling sensation the brief touch left in its wake as blood rushes into my ears. He studies the wetness on his thumb, observing it as if he’s never seen tears before .
“Doesn’t look like nothing, Lemon.” His hazel gaze flicks to me, our bodies so close that I can see they’re mostly green with little flecks of brown and gold in them. I think I even see a little blue. They’re beautiful.
“What did this Derek do?” he asks.
The breath that I’ve been holding breaks free at the sound of Derek’s name on Kade’s lips. I blink away the tears and step back, folding my arms over my chest.
“Personal space much?”
The corner of Kade’s lips turn up into what I can only describe as a rogue smirk. “You want me to punch his lights out for you? I’m not above wiping the floor with an asshole.”
I stare at him, this man who doesn’t know me, who has done nothing but confuse and arouse me since the day I got here.
“I have to leave for work,” I say, ignoring his question. I would love to see someone punch Derek in the face, especially this handsome cowboy, but I don’t need a man defending me. Kade doesn’t even like me—though maybe that assumption is wrong given our interactions over the last twenty-four hours.
He lowers his hand, the smile from before still on his face. “You’re good at keeping the focus off yourself, aren’t you?”
Not wanting to get into this now—or ever—I step back from him. I walk away, grabbing my keys and small purse from the kitchen counter. When I turn around, Kade is standing right there again, his tall body in my path.
“Who’s Derek?” he asks.
“I’ll see you later.” I move to step around him, but he blocks my path.
“We can drive together. I’m working tonight.”
“I’d rather drive alone.”
“Well, see, that’s impossible.”
I cross my arms over my chest and chuff in annoyance. “Why is that impossible?”
“Because your tire is flat.”
My eyes widen. “You’re lying. ”
“Not lying. I was going to offer you a ride.”
This time, he lets me step around him as I walk outside to where I have my car parked. Sure enough, I have a flat tire.
“Really?” I stare up at the sky and groan. I feel like the universe or some cosmic being is trying to screw with me.
“You need new tires.”
I turn to face Kade and glare at him. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
He shrugs, whistling a country song I don’t recognize. “Come on, Lemon. My truck is comfy and has tires that aren’t flat.”
I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut and asking whoever upstairs is playing a cruel joke on me to at least grant me strength. Because I guess I’m riding to work with Kade Montgomery.