Chapter 11
WILLOW
Iget to Unc’s a little before noon, figuring he’ll be out the door to pull the opening shift at the bar. I’m maybe a bit too early, though, because his truck is still sitting in the drive, so I loop around the block, not wanting to get busted.
As I drive down the side street, I see Unc making his way from the house to his blue Chevy long-bed pickup.
He’s limping, but it’s not as bad as yesterday, so maybe the extra day of rest did help a bit.
I hope I have him set up well enough that today isn’t too much for him.
I cross my fingers and toes that he keeps the pockets of his baggy jeans on a stool all day long and doesn’t run Olivia ragged.
Once he pulls away, I pull into his driveway spot and climb out. Stretching my arms toward the blue sky, I eye my mission of the day.
“You’re going down,” I tell the weeds in the flowerbeds. I’d like to think they cower in fear, but it’s more likely the breeze blowing them around.
I get to work, pulling weeds first then trimming up the small but overgrown bushes.
It’s back-breaking work, but I’m glad to tackle it so Unc doesn’t have to, or worse, pay someone to do it.
Not that he would. He’d rather let the whole place fall to shambles than admit he couldn’t handle things with his own two bony hands.
I even manage to pull out the couple of cracked edging pieces and flip them around so the unblemished side of the concrete is facing forward. I’ll sneak back over and replace them at some point, but I wasn’t sure how many I’d need so I couldn’t buy them at the hardware store this morning.
By the time I’m done, my shirt is soaked through with sweat, my shoulders are a bit pink from the sun, and my heart is full of butterflies. It looks great, maintained and cared for, but not so drastically different that Unc will pull up and immediately notice that something’s changed.
That had been my worry about adding any flowers or doing anything too major. Unc would probably have a fit, and this way, with it being such a minor update, maybe he won’t even realize it. That’s my hope, anyway—to be able to take care of him without abusing his sense of pride and independence.
I head back home, those butterflies moving into my belly. I need to shower and get dressed to head out to Bobby’s for Shayanne’s surprise plan. What do you wear to ambush your boyfriend?
Boyfriend?
A small laugh bubbles up at the idea of Bobby as a boy-anything. He’s all man, from the top of his dark hair to the tips of his booted feet and everywhere in between. Well, I assume as much from what I’ve felt through his jeans, I think with a smile.
I’d like to know for real, but the way he’s slowing us down physically while speeding us up emotionally is unexpected and keeping me on edge. Hunger, want, need, lust, and true enjoyment of his attention all bloom like little seeds he planted deep inside me, growing at a pace he sets.
In the shower, I take the time to shave everywhere because I know that it’s only a matter of time and I want to be ready whenever Bobby is.
I am ready, so ready I consider taking matters into my own hands the way Bobby said he’s done.
But I wait, knowing that while I’m good, I want this orgasm from him, not a weak imitation where I’m fantasizing about his fingers gracefully playing me like that guitar he loves.
After applying a bit of aloe to my shoulders and lotion to my legs, I get dressed in cutoff shorts and a fresh T-shirt, knotting it at my waist. I choose my work tennis shoes because if I’m going to be in with the goats, I’ll want something more protective than my Walmart flip-flops.
I’m about to head out when my phone rings.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer.
“Willow Grace Parker, I have not heard from you in two weeks. Unless you’ve taken up a vow of silence, there’s no excuse,” she replies, a smile in her voice.
Funny thing is, she’s not kidding. I did vow to stay quiet once, in protest for something I’ve forgotten about now but which had seemed hugely important at the time.
The silence had lasted almost a week before I’d given up.
If I remember correctly, it was to beg for a candy bar.
“No vow of silence this time, Mom. I’ve been working six days a week, lunch to close.” She knows that already but has probably already forgotten if she’s been head down in her art or someone else’s.
“Oh, I didn’t catch you at a bad time then, did I? I just wanted to check in and see how things are going.”
“No, I’m heading out, but I have a few minutes.
And things are going really well. I went over this morning and cleaned up Unc’s flower beds, without telling him, of course,” I say, smiling to myself.
“He’s actually taken the last couple of days off too and left me to take care of the bar, so that’s good progress. ”
Mom hums agreement.
“Well, except in return, he gave me today off. Hence, the yardwork,” I muse, seeing her point. “But I left him well set up to sit on his butt all day, and I set Olivia on him. I also filled in Unc’s friends to do a drive-by pre-poker game check too.”
“You are such a kind-hearted girl, Willow,” she says proudly. “How’s Hank look?”
I consider that carefully. “Lean, frail, bit pale sometimes. But he’s fighting hard, which is good. Nobody here seems to know what’s going on with him, so I’m keeping my mouth shut too. Seems like that’s how he wants it.”
“Figures. Stubborn ass is just like Dad. I wish I could come out there, but I think seeing me would just hurt him more. I’m glad you’re there, though, sweetie.
He doesn’t know how lucky he is.” She’s getting choked up, and I know that she truly wishes she could be here.
Unc was in my life until I was a teenager, but he was Mom’s favorite (and only) uncle for her whole life until Grandpa and him had their row.
She blows her nose in my ear and rallies. “So, a day of freedom then? Are you off to take photos? I’ve seen your recent work, and I must say, the new subject matter you’re discovering there is compelling. You’re doing a phenomenal job of showcasing a different slice of life in stunning detail.”
Her compliments go straight to my heart, meaning more than she could ever know. Mom is an amazing artist herself and knows art when she sees it, when she feels it. So for her to appreciate my work is a huge confidence booster.
I laugh a little, awkwardly telling her, “Yes, of goats, if you can believe that. Bobby’s sister, Shayanne, invited me out to see their goats. And to surprise him, too.”
I told Mom about Bobby after we first met, about his voice and his punching out the handsy customer, but we haven’t really talked much since then for me to share with her the way things have gotten more serious between Bobby and me.
“Ooh, Singing Bobby?” she squeals, as if that’s his given name. “The one with the growly, honey voice and the mean right hook?” Mom clarifies, throwing my own words back at me.
“That’d be him. We’re . . . dating?” I answer.
“That sounded like a question mark. Are you or aren’t you? You can tell me if it’s nothing more than a casual hook-up situation. I’m hip like that, Willow.”
The bad thing is . . . she is. She’s hipper than I am, by far.
I could probably tell her that I’ve taken up group orgies wearing horse reins and going full-on pony play and she wouldn’t blink if it made me happy and I was following my heart.
But, for all the creative free-spiritedness I got from my mother, I’m more of a prude than she is and not usually a casual sex girl.
In fact, I only know about pony play because I watched a video that popped up on my feed, and I’d been careful to clear my history after curiosity got to me just in case the algorithm logistics decided I wanted more of that, because I definitely do not. Not my cup of tea at all.
“It’s not like that, Mom. It’s more serious, but we’re taking things slow-ish,” I tell her, not sure how to explain the way Bobby looks at me, owning my mind and claiming my body, even if we haven’t had sex yet.
“It’s not slow, nor fast. It’s just right and will take as long as it takes for as long as it lasts, sweetie. Remember that,” she says sagely, sounding like fortune cookie advice.
“Thanks, Mom. I’d better go. It’s a bit of a drive out to the farm, and I want to double-check on Unc before I head out. Love you.”
“Okay, call me if you need anything. Love you, Willow.”
The click is final, and I hadn’t realized until just now how much I miss her.
Time has flown by in the few weeks I’ve been in Great Falls, my new routine becoming as comfortable as yoga pants and oversized T-shirts.
But I’m not just lazing about. I’m getting out there, making friends and stretching myself creatively.
Like Mom said, away from the city, I’m finding a compelling new view to explore, both around me and within me.
A quick text to Olivia lets me relax that Unc is doing fine at the bar, and remarkably, he is sitting on his butt, for the most part.
As expected, he grumbled about my liquor rearranging, but Olivia sent me a picture of Unc tilting the stool back on two legs to reach the bottles instead of getting up now.
The balancing act makes me nervous too, but I guess it’s better than laps behind the bar.
Mind and heart at ease, I feel free to focus on this surprise visit.
Following the GPS’s directions, I find myself stopped in front of a large gate that says Tannen. I’m so excited to see where Bobby lives because it feels like who he is, but there’s a tiny bit of nerves still swirling because he didn’t do the inviting.
Not leaving me any chance at backing out, I see a horse galloping toward me, a plume of dust billowing up behind it and a banner of light brown hair blowing on the rider.
“You came!” Shayanne screams before she even gets close enough for me to hear, but I can read her lips clearly.