Chapter 4 #2
“Don’t be mad, sis,” Meadow teased. “You got your fairytale. Let me play villain for a night.”
“Villain? Girl, you barely made it through brunch without blushing when that man said ‘good morning.’”
“Yea, well…” Meadow leaned back with a lazy smile. “The night’s still young.” She hunched her shoulders.
Brent grinned, sliding his hand from her thigh to her knee, tracing slow circles with his thumb. “So what you tryna get into after this?”
Tia shook her head. “Fuck already, damn.”
Meadow cracked up, falling into Brent— getting a full whiff of his cologne.
Blain smiled at his wife like a proud father. “You so corny.”
Tia glided into him in that ‘so in love way’ Meadow loved to tease her about.
“You love my corny ass.”
Blain tongue kissed Tia down, pulling back after a gentle tug on her lip with his teeth. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“Oh my God!” Meadow swooned. She loved the look of love on her best friend. “Give me the prayer.”
“Why? Just so you can sit on it and never pray for it?” Tia cocked her head to the side, calling her girl out.
Meadow liked to want a man but loved to stall, claiming she had so much on her plate as if the right man wouldn’t lighten the load.
Flicking her middle finger, Meadow rolled her eyes. “I’m really gonna miss you.”
Brent pulled her into his side.
Tia’s eyes swelled. “I won’t be that far and we won’t stay away from each other too long.”
Meadow stuck her pinky finger out. Tia didn’t hesitate to link her pinky with Meadow’s. They smiled like they always did as kids. Their pinky promise had saved their six-year-old friendship. The same pinky promise that held each other’s darkest secrets and wildest dreams.
“I won’t keep her away too long,” Blain winked.
Meadow stuck her finger out to him. He was her bro for life and she knew without a doubt he was going to make her girl happy. “Pinky promise.”
“Oh, I’m really in the family, huh?” he laughed, feeling crazy for actually doing it.
“You better know it,” Tia bumped shoulders with him.
Changing the subject, Tia leaned in from across the table. “How’s the range been? Your Daddy still out there sunrise to sundown?”
Meadow blinked, pulling herself out of Brent’s gravity. “Mmhmm. Still living and dying by the grass,” she said with a small laugh. “He’s got a guest coming soon, though, staying for a few months, I think.”
“Oh really?” Tia raised a brow. “It’s been a while since he saved some golfer’s career after an extended stay on his sacred land.”
“Exactly,” Meadow said, sitting up straighter. “I just hope they’re paying, ‘cause my lessons sure ain’t. I swear, between the gas for that crop duster and keeping the greens cut, I’m two invoices away from stress crying in the woods.”
Tia giggled. “Girl, you know your Daddy don’t care ‘bout none of that. He’d let half the PGA stay out there for free if it meant he could brag about fixing somebody’s swing.”
Meadow smiled, though her mind ran further than her words.
There was so much more she wanted to say - about her Mama’s care, and the way bills were stacked higher than bookings but she swallowed it down.
They were in mixed company, and she wasn’t about to bleed her real life all over a Sunday night table.
Brent must’ve caught the flicker in her expression because his hand gave a gentle squeeze, bringing her back to the present. His voice dropped low, right against her ear. “You stressin’ too much for somebody that looks so good.”
That made her laugh - soft, genuine, a little bit tired around the edges but still full of spark. “You always this charming, or I just bring it outta you?”
He grinned, leaning closer. “You bring it outta me. I just follow the leader.”
She smirked, brushing a curl behind her ear, that warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her chest again. “Then follow close, Brent.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth. “That a promise?”
“Depends,” she said, her voice playful now, steady again. “How good are you at keeping up?”
Brent chuckled, like he’d just found his next challenge. And just like that, the weight in her chest eased. For tonight, there were no bills, no range repairs, no half-empty schedule. Just a little heat, a little rum, and the sound of her laughter blending with the night.
The night thinned out. The music shifted from bass-heavy trap to slow jams. Couples crowded the dance floor for one last dance while the waitstaff wiped down empty tables. Tia and Blain had left an hour ago after too many goodbye hugs and one teary promise to FaceTime every morning.
Now, it was just Meadow, Brent, and the glow of the string lights flickering against her brown skin.
“You sure you don’t want me to follow you home?” he asked, leaning on his elbows.
She smiled, as she stood to grab her purse. “Follow me where? My Daddy’s house? He still cleans his guns every Sunday.
Brent laughed, head tilted back. “You got jokes, huh?”
“I have standards,” she corrected, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “And a curfew I make myself keep when the rum hits too good.”
He stood too, his eyes tracing her body slowly. “Aight, Miss Pilot. But don’t act like I can’t handle turbulence.”
Meadow smirked, tucking her phone into her purse. “Baby, I am turbulence.”
Brent’s grin was like a promise that he’d be calling tomorrow. “Guess I’ll see you soon.”
“Maybe,” she winked, letting her fingers brush the collar of his shirt before she pulled away.
Flirting with him was fun. The night could’ve ended on a funnier note, but Brent didn’t give her pussy that thump she listened to before she took a man down.
Like, Meadow knew there was still a strong possibility that she’d find herself bent over with Brent behind her eventually, today just wasn’t that day.
Outside, the air had cooled. The city buzzed along to its weekend rhythm. Meadow paused on the sidewalk, heels clicking against the concrete as she scrolled for a rideshare.
Her phone lit up with a notification from the range. An early reminder to check the irrigation lines before the weekend tournament. She groaned, thumb hovering over the screen. The life she lived wasn’t glamorous…dirt, diesel, sunburn, and all, still it was hers.
The ride from the city to Juniper Falls was about a thirty-minute drive depending on the traffic and who was driving. Meadow focused on the road and used that time to just breathe.
By the time Meadow got home, the moon was higher. The old farmhouse sat quiet at the edge of the range, porch light flickering, wind rustling through the nearby trees. She smiled as she walked through the yard and onto the porch.
Inside, Meadow slipped off her shoes by the door, the smell of clean linen plugins and a childhood she’d never reclaim clung to the air.
She padded into the kitchen, opening the fridge just to stare inside before grabbing a bottle of water. A faint hum came from down the hall—her mama’s old record player spinning on low. Probably one of those jazz albums her Daddy claimed kept the soil “in tune.”
The noise was comforting, like the house was breathing around her.
Upstairs, she changed into one of her oversized tees, washed off her makeup, and slid beneath her cotton sheets.
Her phone buzzed.
Brent: Made it home?
She typed back: Always do.
A minute later another message popped up.
Brent: You thinking about me?
She smirked in the dark, tossing the phone onto the nightstand. Not enough to answer that.
Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling fan turning slow above her. The silence hit heavier at night, no Tia to fill it with chatter, no laughter bouncing off the walls.
She missed that companionship, but not chaos.
Connection, but not control. Meadow thrived on companionship.
Her heart beat for connection. But somehow all of that felt so far out of her control that on these nights, she didn’t even dream of a different life.
She loved her parents because they were full of so much life until they weren’t.
Now, her dad threw himself into the land and caring for her mother, leaving Meadow yearning for a home that was full of laughter.
That was the control she hated so much…the loss of it.
Somewhere out on the range, she could hear the distant hum of the well pump kicking on. Her dad must’ve left it running again.
Meadow exhaled and closed her eyes. Not today.
Tomorrow, she’d wake up before sunrise.
Tomorrow, she’d check the grass, the plane, and the guest quarters her father had been fussing over all week.
Tomorrow, she’d meet whoever this new golfer in need of saving was.
For now, she just needed a little peace…and her rose.