10. War
CHAPTER TEN
war
After storming out on my father, I debate my next steps for about four seconds. I could go back to Trail Creek or chase a long shot. Something spurs me toward the impossible. It reminds me of the same internal urging that prompted me to stand up for Tuesday, to tell my parents I was quitting, to say yes to a date with Laramie, and to walk out on my father tonight.
I’m learning to trust my instincts, and it isn’t the time to doubt myself.
So I drive the thirty minutes to the outskirts of Lubbock and the midsize arena hosting The High Plains Stampede, wondering if, on a scale of one to bat-crap bananas, what the chances are that Laramie is here. The practical side of me calculates the odds at just this side of finding out the moon is actually made of cheese.
Still, I can’t deny being in her element makes me feel more connected to her, even if it’s a tenuous thread at best.
There are way more people here than I expect, but thankfully, they have plenty of seats available. I splurge and buy one near the racing gate rather than the chutes—which matters if you want to see the racers. The nice lady in the ticket booth explained all this after she asked me where I wanted to sit, and I stared at her like she’d grown an extra head.
Sliding past the occupied seats, I find mine and plop down next to an older man.
“Hey, there.” He greets me with a kind smile.
I dip my head in greeting before looking for any sign of Laramie. A roster, her name, anything.
“First time at a rodeo?” the man asks.
My lips tug upwards. “What gave me away?”
He shrugs. “I can spot a greenhorn.” There’s a teasing tone to his words that appeals to me.
Leaning closer to him, I say, “So I’m guessing you’re an old hand?” At his nod, I continue. “Any chance you know how I can find out who’s competing in the barrel races?”
He hums. “I can.” His piercing brown eyes study me. “Who you looking for?”
“Laramie Larson. She may not?—”
A large work-worn hand lands on my bad shoulder, and I give a slight wince. His lips quirk in a small smile. “Son, you’re in exactly the right place, especially if you’re who I think you are.”
A thousand thoughts flicker through my mind when I see her. How have you been? How’s your shoulder? Are you seeing anyone? Why did you leave me that night ?
That one, more than any other, echoes over and over.
But all I manage to say is, “Congratulations, Trouble,” before thin arms loop around my waist and a head of beautiful brown hair presses to my chest.
The last thing I expect is a hug; the shock and her unexpected weight are enough to knock me down, taking Laramie with me. We end up in a pile on the ground, my back flat against the dirt and her wide-eyed, looking down at me.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” Laramie blurts as I say, “Be careful of your shoulder.”
I breathe in her scent, that mix of hay, sunshine, and the sweeter undercurrent of a fresh bouquet. My hands drift to her hips, and for another beat, we lay there, staring at each other. Being this close to her sends a pang of longing through me.
“What are you doing here?” Laramie brushes a too-long strand off my forehead, searching my face as if she can’t believe I’m real. The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.
“Mimi, you wanna let the man up?” Her dad’s laugh snaps us to action.
“Oh, crap, yeah.” Laramie scrambles off me before reaching to help me up.
Once we’re back on our feet, an awkward silence settles over us, neither of us able to tear our eyes away, but both frozen in place. I want to go to her, to gather her into my arms and shake her while begging her to tell me why she left and how I can make her stay. Spank her ass for putting me through all this pain and then kiss it all better. Get on my knees and promise to be so good for her, she’ll never think of running from me again. Fuck her into the mattress so deep, she can’t walk away.
Conflicted might be the best way to describe what I’m feeling. And if the cloud of indecision flickering across her face is any indication, it’s the same for her .
From behind us, Kit chuckles. “I think you two have some things to discuss.”
“How do you…” Laramie gestures between her father and me, her brow furrowed.
“I’ll let the young man here fill you in on all that.” He steps up to Laramie and hugs her. “You did good, Mimi. Tomorrow will be even better. I’ll see you back at the trailer. Be safe. Be smart.”
To me, he extends a hand. “War, think about what I said.”
The older man’s words replay. “She spent weeks crying over you and her mistake. I don’t tell you that to make you feel any kind of way. My Mimi, she’s a tough girl, but she’s also soft. She just buries it down. Not pushing you to give her another chance, but you being here… well, that says it all. I wasted years hiding my feelings for Laramie’s mom when I could have been hers. Pretending she was nothing but a friend. I’d give almost anything to have those years back. Years I could have spent showing her how much I loved her.”
That I ended up seated next to the father of the woman I’d spent the past three months obsessing over—while adamantly trying to convince myself I was not obsessed—was like a gift from the universe. A universe with a weird, fucked-up sense of humor, but I’ll take it.
I take her hand in mine. “You were amazing.”
Some of the tension melts from her shoulders, and she gives me a cocky smirk. “If you think I was good tonight, just wait.”
A layer of innuendo threads into her words, but I’m not here to sleep with her. Or at least not just to sleep with her.
The teasing smile falls from her lips, and she shuffles her boots in the dirt. “How do you know my dad? How are you here?”
“Is there somewhere we can sit?”
Laramie looks around as if realizing we’re still in the holding area of the arena. She nods. “Yeah. Let’s grab some food.”
I follow behind her as she picks her way between trailers and pop-up tents until she finds one serving barbecue. She grabs us a plate to share, then jerks her head toward an empty table. We sit across from each other, and another wave of uncomfortable silence hangs between us.
“I was in?—”
“What are you?—”
It’s not the first time we’ve broken the tension by speaking at the same time, and it works again. Both of us relax, sending the other coy smiles.
Crunching a chip, Laramie waves her hand, encouraging me to speak.
“You asked me a few questions. Which one do you want answered first?”
Raising one eyebrow, she says, “My dad. How did you end up with him? Phillips Construction bought Biscuit—Grand Dominion—from us, but that was all handled through a third party, so it isn’t from that.”
“I don’t, or I didn’t.” I pick at the brisket on the plate. “I ended up sitting next to him randomly.”
Laramie’s mouth drops open. “Hundreds of people, and you end up next to my dad?”
Pushing the food out of the way, I reach across the table, resting my hand over hers. She flips it so we’re palm to palm, and I rub my thumb over her inner wrist. “I couldn’t believe it either. He loves bragging about you.” A mix of warmth and jealousy grows in my stomach. Has my father ever been proud enough to talk about me to a stranger?
The pink that darkens her cheeks is gorgeous. I wasn’t sure she was capable of blushing, but now that I know she can, I’m going to do everything in my power to make it happen over and over.
“Yeah, he’s my biggest fan.” Despite her attempt at downplaying it, I can tell she’s pleased.
“As he should be,” I whisper so quietly I’m not sure if Laramie hears me, but then her eyes snap to mine.
“Why are you here?” she asks again.
“For you, Trouble.”
Her sharp gasp makes me wonder if I’ve played my cards too soon. I watch her swallow, waiting her out.
When she finally speaks, it’s so faint I have to strain to catch what she says. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” Laramie pulls our hands to her mouth, placing a chaste kiss on my knuckles. “So do you, um, want to?—”
“How do you feel about breakfast?” I interrupt to keep her from asking me to go somewhere right now. I’m not strong enough to turn her down if she invites me into her bed, but I’m doing things my way this time. Getting to know her, making it so she can’t bear to run from me again.
Her face crinkles in confusion. “Breakfast?”
“Yeah, it’s this meal people eat in the morning. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “And you call me a smart ass?”
Grinning, I say, “On my way into town, I kept seeing billboards for some famous pancake place.”
“The Stacks? You don’t want to eat there. It’s all a marketing gimmick. The real best pancakes in town are at Lulu’s.”
I rise from the table, make my way around to her, and guide her to her feet. Once she’s standing, I reach down and tuck a lock of wild brown hair behind her ear. “Sure am glad I ran into you. I’d hate to have come all this way and eaten subpar pancakes. ”
“Yeah, that’d be a real shame.” Her voice is sultry, and she steps closer as if drawn by an invisible string.
“I don’t know my way around here; any chance you might”—I take a deep breath and forge on—“want to go with me in the morning? To make sure I get there okay?”
A smile tugs at her lips. “That’s all?”
My hands move of their own accord, unable to resist holding her when she’s this close. One arm wraps around her lower back; the other goes to her nape. “Maybe a few other reasons, too.”
“Like what?”
“Like getting to know you.”
“Without tequila and steak fingers.”
“Without tequila and steak fingers,” I agree.
“Give me your phone.” I adore her bossy ass. Though I hate to take my hands off her, I comply, unlocking my phone and passing it to her.
Her thumbs fly over the screen before she tosses it back to me. “I added my information and texted myself. I’ll pick you up at eight?”
“No, sweetheart. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
She nibbles her bottom lip, that pretty blush faint on her cheeks. “Well, alright then. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” Laramie rises onto her tip-toes and brushes her lips against mine. It’s a whisper of a kiss, but it’s also a promise of more. A promise I’m clinging to.
“Sleep tight, Trouble.” With one last squeeze of her hips, I turn and walk away, lighter than I’ve been in months.
I shift on the uncomfortable motel mattress, rereading Laramie's texts for the hundredth time.
Your Trouble
Now you can chase me if I run
Too soon?
That she entered her name as Your Trouble had my heart jumping. God, how I want it to be true, for her to be mine. My trouble. My future.
My phone buzzes, a new text adding to the thread.
I really am sorry, War. I’m looking forward to breakfast and a chance to talk.
Me too, sweetheart. Get some sleep.
When Laramie doesn’t answer after a few minutes, I figure she’s taken my advice and turned in for the night. Switching gears, I brace myself to share the night’s developments with my sister and pull up our text thread.
Things with Dad went about as well as you’d expect
Tuesday
I hate to say I told you so, mostly because I can’t because you didn’t tell me you were doing this, but…
I deserve that
Can we talk?
No sooner than I send the last text does my phone ring.
“Hey. ”
“What’s wrong?” Tuesday asks, somehow able to read me even from that one word.
“Hi to you, too, sis.” I chuckle, but Tuesday isn’t deterred.
“War.” My name is a warning. A warmth spreads through me that someone cares enough to scold me.
I draw in a long breath. “Do you want the bad news or the weird news?”
“Bad news first. Then we’ll move on to weird.”
“The meeting with Dad was a clusterfuck.”
“What happened?”
I shrug despite her not being able to see it. “More of the same. Scare tactics and threats when I didn’t immediately agree to return to Dallas and Phillips Construction.” My voice drops. “I left my watch with him.”
“What? You love that thing. I mean, I think it’s ostentatious, but for the last three years, you’ve never taken it off.”
A strangled laugh slips from my throat. “Tonight, I realized it was more of a shackle than a showpiece.”
“What happened after that?”
“I walked out.” I run my hand through my hair. “The picture you sent… you didn’t plan it, but it gave me the courage to leave. So, thank you.” I swallow. “Tuesday, I doubt I’ll ever be able to do enough to make things right for all the hurt I caused you, but I won’t ever stop trying.”
Over the line, she sniffles. “I’ve told you, there’s nothing to forgive. You stood up for me when I needed you the most, and you’ve been by my side since then. We didn’t have a normal upbringing. I don’t blame you for doing what you felt you had to. You’re a good man, Warren Phillips.”
I rest the heel of my palm over my heart where my sister’s kind words have settled. Aiming to lighten the mood, I groan and say, “Don’t call me Warren.”
She giggles. “Fine, fine. Okay, I’m ready for the weird. Spill it.”
“So, I’m extending my stay in Lubbock by a few days. ”
“What? Why?”
“Do you remember the day I showed up in Trail Creek?”
“Of course. You were a wreck.”
“And the night we went to The Great Dane and you convinced me to drink three Flocked Up Flamingos?”
Her laugh makes me smile. “God, yes. You were a mess.” Her laughter cuts off. “Oh. Laramie.”
“Yep.”
“She’s there?” Surprise colors Tuesday’s voice.
“Believe me, I’m as shocked as you are.”
“How did you… when did…” She sputters before finally settling on, “What?”
I chuckle. “After leaving the bar, I drove to some arena and somehow ended up sitting next to Kit Larson, her dad.”
“Damn. What are the odds?” She pauses before continuing. “War, that’s a sign if I’ve ever heard one.”
Closing my eyes, I say, “I’m scared out of my mind.” Being vulnerable with Tuesday is new, but after the way I crawled to her back in December, it’s safe to say she’s seen me at my worst.
“You’re a moron if you don’t take advantage of this.”
My mouth is like parchment. “What if I do this and she leaves again?” Confessing that fear loosens some of the tightness in my chest.
“What if you don’t do this and miss out on something amazing?” Tuesday counters before huffing out a sharp laugh. “You and I have more in common than we know. Do you think I didn’t try to run from Bond? To deny what I felt for him? That I wasn’t scared? But he’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I never would have gotten it if I hadn’t taken a chance.” Her tone softens. “What would you regret more?”
What would I regret more? Having her for only a moment or never having her at all ?
The answer is easy.
With renewed clarity, I say my goodbyes to my sister. Shutting off the lamp, I slide my arms behind my head and stare into the dark. A smile tugs at my lips as I drift off to sleep. Tomorrow, I take steps toward the future I want.