Chapter 6
Six
Maverick
Pulling in front of the Riggins house, the first thing I notice are so many changes to when I was last here. The wood around the door frames a different colour pine stain, darker than they once were.
The newly built timber shed, now housing three trucks, laced with their ranch’s logo. Again, a different logo to what it was when I was younger.
The main thing I notice, is a bungalow build to the west of the house, only a stone’s throw away, it’s lights glowing into the distance.
That wasn’t here before.
Taking a closer look, I notice it has a white porch around a beautifully created wooden house, large timber door and matching windows. I see a ratan swing taking centre stage of an outdoor seating area. Looking closer my memory comes to a standstill.
It feels familiar.
Staring more closely at the house, I gasp in realisation and take a step back in shock.
That’s our house...
The house that we always said we would build...
The wooden house, all on one floor. The white porch and the swing. I let out a sigh, dragging my hands up onto my hair, the tears building and the sob choking back in my throat.
She built our house.
Holy shit, she's built our fucking house.
But not where we said we would. My shoulder’s sag at the realisation that our dream wasn’t made fully complete.
Looking through the window of my truck, I see a figure through the large glass window.
Shit, Mabel’s in there.
Why would she build our house after what I done? And not do it in the spot we said? Maybe it was too painful? Maybe she built it to be close to Jane and Wyatt. I wonder why for a moment. The girl I remember always wanted to build out to the East, in the field, our field, our spot.
It was always our dream.
Without even thinking, I’m pulling on the lock to the door of my truck and swinging it wide open. Hurling myself out, I walk towards the bungalow’s front door, not even bothering to shut the door on my exit.
My palms start to sweat as I drag the heels of my black Ariat’s towards the white porch surrounding her house.
I stop.
What the fuck am I doing?
Go closer.
I hear in my own thoughts.
Knock on the door.
The pull is too strong; I can feel it in my chest.
She’s in there, dickhead. Knock on the door.
Placing my hand above my heart, trying to wipe away the traces of sweat almost smothering my palm, I raise my hand up to knock on the door. As I do, it sounds more like a tap to me than a knock. I hear the thumping of my heart and feel my temples pulsating.
I almost hear movement on the other side of the door when I see the curtain being pulled back, the woman on the other sides heads down, looking at floor. She doesn’t know it’s me and I feel myself holding my breath.
“Sorry, takes a sec to come to the-” she says, and then she looks up.
My heart stops.
Wow.
She’s even more beautiful than she was the day I left.
I feel my eyes soften automatically at the sight of her and the pull inside of me finally calms. Tilting my head up, I look towards the one thing that hasn’t changed in all this time, her deep sky-blue eyes.
She gawps at me, holding onto the large wooden door with such a tight fist I see her knuckles turning white.
“Hey, Firefly,” I say, almost in a whisper.
I place my hands in the pocket of my sweater, I couldn’t look or feel more sheepish or terrified if I tried.
Man, if I ever thought she was beautiful all those years ago, it trump’s what she is now. As she gawps at me, mouth open wide in clear shock, it gives me time to study her.
Her flaming auburn hair remains the same, wrapped in, what I can assume is her Mama’s rollers.
She must be heading out tonight and I have a feeling I know where.
With the hint of a grey strand or two if you look closely enough, which is exactly what I’m doing. Even with her hair wrapped so tightly against her head, I see it.
I see her.
Her jaw, still as defined as always. My mind flicks back to when my thumb would trace along it, running my tongue down her throat and towards her breasts.
My dick twinges at the memory.
Her eyes, still the brightest of sky-blue, with white flecks floating just around the pupil. Her freckles unfazed with age. The place I used to plant kisses on, one by one. Breathing against her skin, promising the world to her. With the sun beating down on her face, more would appear.
Looking down, I notice one thing; my girl has become all woman in the years that have certainly passed.
She has beautiful curves now, something that only came with age. Still thin, but her hips have thickened out.
And damn, look at those curves.
I can’t stop staring her up and down.
I’m like a moth drawn to the flame.
She’s the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on.
Would ever lay my eyes on.
Would ever want to lay my eyes on.
A cough draws me from my thoughts and my memories and fantasies.
“Wha- what are you doing here?” She shakes out. Her voice almost louder than a mouse hiding in the hay. Tennessee accent still intact.
Unlike mine, that dwindled as the years rolled through.
“I um, I-” I muster out. I don’t have an answer for her.
In true fact, I don’t know what I’m doing here, nor what the hell I’m even doing in Tennessee or anywhere in the world.
I look back into her eyes and see the tears. The ones trying desperately not to form.
“Please, don’t cry,” I lunge towards her without thinking, but she pulls back causing me to freeze in the spot I stand in.
She never used to pull back from me. The key word here being ‘used to’.
“I… I can’t,” She stutters out.
Shit.
I should of expect this.
“I’m sorry.” She clears her throat. The pain in her eyes is nothing compared to what I have ever witnessed before.
Then again, I imagine this is the pain she had when I walked away.
However, I wasn’t here to see it.
Or make it better.
Or stop it happening at all.
Because I’m a fucking coward.
A selfish coward who believed someone over her and what I should have known.
“Firefly,” I step forward, trying to touch her again.
“Don’t fucking call me that!” She shouts, choking back a sob, stepping back once again.
What I didn’t picture in my stupid spur of the moment visit, was just that she’d just shut the front door.
But that’s exactly what she does.
She shuts the large wooden door, and I hear the bolt lock. And suddenly I’m standing on her white porch, the one we always dreamed of, alone in the dark with the only beacon of light coming from the big house. Her Mama and Dad’s house.
Because she’s turned the light off in her house. And that’s when I hear her scream.
A pain filled scream.
Knowing there’s nothing I can do about it, knowing I’m the cause of her pain.
Fuck. What have I done?
I feel my heart ripping to shreds just from the scream that she let out. My heads thumping from all the blood rushing through it; I can’t breathe yet again.
Panic fills every part of my being.
Before I know what I’m doing, I throw a punch at the door, leaving a fist mark in the wood.
Double fuck.
That isn’t going to help.