Chapter 5
Addison
I unbuckle my seat belt and glare at him. “You and your height preference. Why does it matter?”
“Because she cannot be taller than me.” He shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
I laugh at him, observing his almost six-foot frame get out his truck. I step out onto the loose gravel realizing I should’ve worn my other boots. These soles are worn out so much that I can feel everything that lies beneath them.
We just got to the rodeo arena. It took forever to find a parking spot, because of course we couldn’t park near anyone who looked like they didn’t know how to drive.
Mason’s too worried someone will scratch his truck with their door.
All my brothers are very particular about their trucks.
Mason’s probably the worst, but Cody and Jesse are not far behind when it comes to wanting to keep it “clean and mean,” as they say…
whatever that means. I don’t pay much attention to trucks.
Ford vs. Chevy, black vs. white, I don’t care. If it looks cool, I’m in.
I walk around to the other side and wait for him, watching him shove his off-duty handgun into his belt holster and adjust his flannel over it just right.
All the men in my family carry, especially out and about at events like this. I’m not old enough to get a carry permit yet, but I honestly don’t feel much need to. As long as one of them is with me, I’m covered. It’s like having your own private security.
Once Mason shuts and locks his truck, we head into the arena. I am kinda glad it’s indoors; this hot air outside is playing with my gag reflex a little too much for my liking.
I did pretty good on the way here. I had one little anxiety flare-up, but it was manageable with water and scrolling on my phone.
I caught up on all the random videos my family sends.
Wesley’s too. He mostly sends videos of little kids doing funny or cute things, following them up with the text: “This is your kid.” They’re always spot-on too.
The one he sent me late last night was cute, a little boy sitting in a garden eating tomatoes straight off the vine. That would be my kid.
I usually send him the same sorts of things. Like when I sent him this one of a little girl, probably three years old, sitting on the floor of a combine eating Goldfish crackers with a doll tucked under her arm. I told him, “Definitely your kid.”
Brantley never sends me videos like that. His are always rodeo-related or some dumb redneck thing that he thinks I’d find funny. I never do.
I look to Mason. “Brantley said he’s at the second gate. Do you want to come with me or stay in our seats?”
“I’ll stay here. Let you two have some privacy.”
“Oh, well, up to you. I’m sure his dad’s there and whatnot.”
“Nah. I’ll do the speed dating thing awhile.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “Have fun.”
When I get down to the gate, I look for someone I recognize. Brantley’s green shirt catches my eye, and when I see his dirty-blond hair poking out from his hat, I make my way over.
He turns around and smiles just before I get the chance to scare him like I was planning. He wraps his arms around my waist and gives me a hug and kiss.
“You nervous?” I ask.
“Eh. Nah.” He shrugs but I think it’s because his buddies are here. He’s gotta be a little nervous. I don’t care that’s he’s been doing this for three years…he’s about to ride a bull for crying out loud!
“Addison, you coming with us tonight? I’m trying to get a head count,” Brantley’s friend Steven asks.
I look back to Brantley, unsure what he’s talking about. His hands squeeze my shirt a little more. “We’re going to Dally’s after the show. I figured you weren’t interested so I didn’t ask.”
Irritation creeps in. It hurts when he assumes I’m not interested, because even if he’s right, he shouldn’t assume.
Don’t put me in a box and make choices on my behalf.
That’s exactly what people did to me in high school.
Eventually, the invitations stopped coming, just because I didn’t go a few times.
And before you know it, you’re not part of the group anymore.
“Yeah, I have Church tommorow, early,” I say in my defense, glad that this time I actually have a reason. Usually, I don’t have one, and it’s not that people need a reason, but it always came off better, in my opinion. Rather than letting them think you just didn’t want to be around them.
Steven and his friends all turn away from us, continuing their own conversations. Brantley meets my gaze again and his hands loosen around me.
“What?” he asks.
“Isn’t Dally’s a strip club?” I say.
“Yeah, but they have food and stuff.”
I tilt my head. “And you’re telling me you’re only going for the food? The girls dancing around are just…what? An accidental bonus?” I cross my arms.
“Be mature. C’mon.”
“Me? You shouldn’t be somewhere like that, ever, but especially when you’re in a relationship. It’s disrespectful.”
“Touching is disrespectful. There’s no harm in looking. They are two very different things.”
“They’re not actually.
He breathes, annoyed. “I’m a man. We…look, it’s sorta in our nature.”
“That’s no excuse. It doesn’t mean you feed the temptation. Sin feels good, that’s why it’s tempting.”
He scoffs and looks around before lowering his voice. “I can’t do this right now. I need to stay focused, not get dragged to church.”
He pecks my lips aggressively and walks away. I spin around and head back the way I came. Frustration is bubbling beneath my skin and the unsatisfying ending of the argument has settled in my chest.
I get back to Mason and see him with his phone pressed against his ear, covering the other ear with his hand.
He grunts when he hangs up. “Sorry. Work.”
“It’s fine.” But Mason doesn’t miss a beat.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“What?” I say, my voice rising in pitch. “Nothing.”
“You’re in a mood.”
“I’m fine.”
He grabs my wrist, pressing his two fingers against my pulse as if he’s giving me a human lie detector test.
“Okay.” I yank away from his hold and roll my eyes. “Brantley is going to a strip club after this.”
“Oh. Gross. Those places are nasty.”
I raise a brow. “You’ve been to one?”
“Yeah?”
“Mason!” I jump back in my seat.
“Not for the dancers. Do you know how many calls we get to those places?” He shakes his head.
“I guess not.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to be anywhere near it. They’re full of cheating husbands, drunk fights, and cheap perfume.”
“Well, that’s exactly what I want to hear.” I sigh.
“Sorry. Just tell him not to go.”
“Ha! Right. ’Cause that’s how that works.”
“What? If my girlfriend told me she didn’t want me to do something, I wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, well, hate to break it to you, but most guys aren’t like that.”
“Well, there’s plenty that are. Maybe he’s not your guy.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, and the conversation ends there when Mason’s phone rings again, leaving me in my thoughts for the time being.
Brantley’s out and about all the time; he’d never cheat on me. I do trust him and know him enough to believe that.
We sit and watch the arena fill up quite a bit. There are these two women in front of us talking to Mason and me, but really, I think they’re just into him. I can tell he’s attracted to one more than the other. Of course she’s blonde.
* * *
The rodeo starts, the crowd’s noise level rising and falling in volume with each ride. Finally, Brantley’s up. My heart starts racing a little more. No one’s gotten hurt yet and I pray it stays that way.
The bull flies straight out of the gate, bucking and spinning as hard as it possibly can.
My eyes fight to watch the clock and him all at the same time.
He gets thrown off just past six seconds, almost landing on his feet, and manages to get clear from the bull, running off to the side while they coax the bull back into the pen.
“Not too bad,” Mason says, sitting back in his seat and sipping his drink.
“Yeah,” I mutter and glance at the time on my phone. “Ready to go?”
“For real? You don’t wanna watch a few more?”
“Not really.” I stand and walk out of the seats.
I hear him say bye to the women he was talking to and his boots clunk down the bleachers behind me.
I decide I can’t just leave without saying bye to Brantley.
I want to, to prove a point, to let him know I’m angry, but I know that’s not right.
So when we reach the first set of doors, I turn around to Mason.
“Just go out here. I’m gonna go say bye.” I groan.
“Addie.” He grabs my arm, turning me back around.
“What?”
“Don’t leave on a bad note. Tell him how you feel and maybe he won’t go.”
“Wanna bet on it?” I bite back, spinning around before he can respond.
When I get to where Brantley is, I spot him right away. There are a couple of his friends hanging around while he sits on a barrel, drinking water and laughing at something.
He spots me before I get much closer and makes his way over. “Hey, you heading out?”
“Yeah, I have to work early and everything so…” I cross my arms. “Good ride though.”
He brings his arm up around my neck for a hug. “Thanks. I’ll see you sometime this week.” He pecks me on the head. “Love you,” he adds when we pull away from each other.
The words don’t roll off my tongue back to him like they usually do, so he cocks his head at me. “You really don’t want me to go to that club tonight, do you?”
I shake my head and he huffs, annoyed. As if I’m the crazy one.
“Addison. Would you just trust me? Please?”
The look in his eyes is genuine, soft and sincere. I guess he’s right. I have to trust him. We’ve been going out almost two years now and he’s never done anything to jeopardize our relationship.
“Okay. Fine. Love you too,” I mutter even though I don’t want to.
Heading back the other direction, I see Mason waiting for me at the end of the hallway.
“He still going?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I told you to wait outside.”
“And what if something happened?”
“Like what?”
“Some creep tries to lure you away or a bull gets loose. Anything is possible at a rodeo,” he insists.
“Right.”
“Hey.” He swings his arm around my neck, bringing me closer. “Cheer up. We can hit Cracker Barrel on the way home if you want.”
A smile sneaks across my face. He knows exactly what I need.