Chapter 15
brODY
My truck’s heater blasts into the cab as I wait outside the salon that evening.
The sun has already set despite it being just after five.
There’s not nearly enough light on the street without it, and I make note to mention the addition of some extra outside lights to Wanda.
Cherry Peak is safe enough, but knowing Anna— or any woman —has been walking home alone in the dark doesn’t sit well with me.
The reminder of why I’m here has my eyes darting to the coat on my passenger seat.
I searched my closet high and low for one that wouldn’t either drown her or cover her in dirt before finding that one.
Thick and lined with sherpa material inside and over the folded collar, it’s the nicest and cleanest jacket I own.
I don’t know if she’ll even accept it, but I didn’t have time to stop at the store to grab one for her, nor do I even know what she would have liked if I had.
Fuck, I don’t even know her well enough to pick a winter jacket out. What makes me think I have the right to toss her one of mine and expect her to wear it?
It must be my manners. I was raised to put women first always, regardless of who they are to me. That’s what this is. I’m being thoughtful, protective in a very standard way. What kind of man would I be to continue letting Anna freeze half to death whenever she steps outside?
I shut my eyes and lean my forehead against the steering wheel.
If my grandmother could see me right now, she’d lose her mind.
It wouldn’t be long until she was shaking wedding bells and calling every living Steele relative with the news.
Which is precisely why I lied to her when I left before dinner.
As far as anyone at the ranch knows, I’ve started stepping out every afternoon to meet with a member of Swift Edge Records while they’re in town to keep tabs on me.
I’m hoping it won’t be a lie for long, despite how badly I don’t want to be guilted into going back to work. It’s only a matter of time until Garrison sends someone else to guilt me into returning early or to remind me that my next album is supposed to be completed by the end of the year.
I startle when the passenger door opens and Anna hops into the truck as if she’s done it a million times and not only just once earlier today when I dropped her back off at work. Before sitting completely, she holds herself above the seat and grabs the jacket before her eyes lift to mine.
“Can I move this? I don’t want to sit on it.”
My throat is tight when I say, “It’s yours.”
“Mine?” she echoes, a hint of bewilderment in her tone.
I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly too hot. “You can’t be walkin’ around town in December with the jacket you have. If you don’t want that one, I won’t be offended. Just please use it until you get another.”
Something far too similar to pain flickers across her face. My brows scrunch at the reaction, not expecting it as guilt churns my stomach. Alarms blare in my head when she blinks and whips her head to the side, a hand coming up to rub at her cheek.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” The words are stumbled, awkward.
Fuck .
She shakes her head furiously, as if she’s angry. “You hardly know me. Can barely stand me, really.”
“ We can hardly stand each other ,” I correct her, attempting to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.
“And you still thought to bring me a jacket so that I didn’t freeze? Your jacket?”
“I don’t use it anymore.” As if that’s a valid reason.
“That wouldn’t matter to most people,” she whispers.
I don’t have an answer to that. She’s right, and we both know it.
After a beat, she turns to me again, and I search her face for tears. The thought of them marking her pink cheeks is an unpleasant one. But there’s no sign of them after that first swipe of her hand. Instead, her mouth is quirked.
“Can I put it on now?”
I shake off my shock and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
The cab of the truck is big enough that she doesn’t have to struggle with taking off the too-thin jacket and dropping it to her lap before sliding her arms through mine— hers .
It’s a good two sizes too big for her, but with the sleeves rolled up once, it’s good enough. At least it’s warm and will keep her from turning blue with the true winter temperatures approaching. Her approval lights up her face and the whole damn truck.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“No worries.”
She zips up the jacket and rubs her cheek on the lining on the collar. “I’m sorry I was a couple of minutes late today; I had a client run long. I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen again if you choose to continue driving me home.”
“It’s not a big deal.” I adjust myself in the seat and wait for her to do up her seat belt before putting the truck in reverse.
It’s dead quiet on Main Street tonight, no other cars on the road besides us as we pull away from the salon.
“I don’t have a lot to do in the evenings anyway. Where am I dropping you off?”
“I’m a couple houses off Second Street. The one with the red roof.”
“Got it. There’s the crabapple tree in front of the back gate, right?” No amount of time away will fog my memory of every nook and cranny of this place.
“That’s the one. And you’re telling me you don’t go out with your friends all the time after a long day? I figured you’d be spending most nights with them at Peakside.”
“Caleb loves to drag me out with him, but I’m supposed to be relaxin’, not joinin’ him and his friends in drunk karaoke.” I glance across the truck and catch her worrying her lip like she’s holding something back. “You can ask what you want to.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. If I don’t want to answer something, I won’t.”
There are some things I can’t hide from, and Anna’s knowledge of who I am is one of them. I can’t imagine that it’s easy being around someone with as much drama surrounding them as I have and not wonder.
My headlights beam off the snow of the intersection as we stop at a red light. Anna taps her fingers on the centre console before saying, “Fair enough. So, how bad was it? Your voice? They kept it vague in the media, and I didn’t really pay much attention to that until, well, I saw you here.”
More guilt for judging her the first time we met nips at me. I couldn’t have been further off about her.
“Bad enough I got permission to leave the tour and come home. It could have been worse, but it could have also been a hell of a lot better.”
“How long are you home for?”
Something sours in my stomach. The thought of leaving again . . . “At least another month.”
“And you’re upset about that?”
“Nashville is very different than Cherry Peak” is all I say.
“Would you stay here forever if you could?”
When I look at her again, she’s already watching me thoughtfully.
“I don’t know. But Nashville was never my plan.” The sign for Second Street appears, and with it, I put her in the hot seat. “Do you plan on stickin’ around long?”
“For as long as I can. I like it here.”
“You’ll have to learn to drive in this weather if you stay. You realize that, right?” I tease.
Her following laugh is warm, welcoming. I like it. “Why would I do that when I get to have you driving me around instead?”
My laugh joins hers. “You make a strong argument.”
“Work smarter, not harder, Brody.”
“Maybe I ought to bring you out to the ranch sometime. My grandfather could use a verbal smack talk from you about that.”
She hums. “Grandpa Steele working you too hard lately?”
He’d be disturbed if he heard her speak of him that way. The idea of witnessing such an event amuses me far too much.
“Lately? Hard work is what fuels him. There’s nothin’ like skipping a workaround for a problem simply because it’s either too easy or not the way he was taught to do it back in his youth.
It’s the difficult way or no way.” The complaints seem to fall from my lips of their own accord.
I don’t have time to feel guilty for them before she’s speaking again, having already digested everything I’ve admitted.
“Is that an odd way of thinking for an older-generation rancher?”
I slow the truck when her house comes into view, and I contemplate doing a lap around just to talk to her longer before flinging that idea into space.
“Not at all. But times are changin’. He doesn’t take my ideas into consideration often, and I think that’s because he doesn’t want to deal with the responsibilities of them when I inevitably leave again. I can’t make any promises to him.”
“What if it wasn’t inevitable? What if you stayed?”
I contemplate the questions, wishing I had a better answer. But the one I want to say just isn’t possible. Not anytime soon.
“There’s no use in hopin’ for the impossible.”
“I’m sorry, Brody,” she says.
I shrug nonchalantly, even as my chest grows tighter and tighter. “Thanks for listenin’ to that. I’m sorry to dump it all on you.”
“I asked. Despite the rocky start to our relationship, I’d like to be your friend. These are things friends know about one another.”
Pulling up in front of her house, I put the truck in park and shift to look at her fully, taking in her timid smile and cautious eyes. She’s most likely worried I’ll reject her, and I don’t blame her for that. Not after everything I’ve done and said so far.
I’ve taken the boot out of my mouth, and now I’ve got to earn the forgiveness she’s gifted me. It’s a shocking revelation to learn that I want to earn it and get to know her in the process.
“I’d like to be your friend too, Anna.”
Those timid eyes grow more confident as she reaches across the console to pat my shoulder and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then, friend.”
And then she’s slipping into the cold night, bundled up in a jacket that I can rest easy knowing won’t leave her teeth chattering and a pair of pink mittens on her hands.
I only head home once she’s made it inside and waved me off from the front window. The drive is as quiet as every other I’ve taken before today, and I find myself missing her chatter the entire time.