10. Always On My Mind
Chapter ten
Always On My Mind
Maggie
After we ate, Easton had me up and on the dance floor.
I almost laughed at the way he danced, though.
It was nothing like the old barn dances I learned years ago.
What could have been a fun line dance turned into something like ballroom dance and spasms had an incredibly awkward love child.
Polished, pretentious, and preposterous.
I tried to get him to loosen up, but there was no persuading him.
Everyone was staring, making me cringe under the scrutiny.
When Easton spun me clumsily, I stumbled toward the bar. A man sat there who made my heart race. Blood rushed in my ears, drowning out all other sounds.
Was that Paul?
Pulling me back from the spin, Easton tried to make a move on me, but I ducked away. If Paul was here, I had to see him. I tore away from Easton, hurling myself toward the bar, but so many obstacles stood in my way.
I called out as I tried to get through the crowds, “Paul, it’s Maggie! Is that you?”
But by the time I reached the bar, the stool was empty and the one next to him held a man much older but handsome.
My breath came out in pants. “Pardon me, sir. Was someone else sitting here with you?”
He gave a small nod. “Yes, ma’am, but he left.”
My face fell as I fought off the disappointment flooding me.
“Oh, okay. Sorry to have bothered you,” I muttered.
“Maggie? What are you doing?” Easton shouted from behind a line of large men.
I turned, facing him, then winced. There was no way I was dancing with him again.
“No bother at all,” the man said. “Have a seat if you’d like. Need any help with him?” he asked, nodding toward Easton, who was struggling to get past the giant men standing in his way. “What’s his deal anyway?”
I lifted one shoulder. “He’s from the city.”
“You’re not?” he asked before taking a sip of his amber-colored drink.
“No, I transplanted here a while back,” I replied, my voice not as happy about that as I used to feel. The problem was that if I wasn’t living here, where would I go? I didn’t have a home to go back to anymore.
“I’m Wyatt,” the man said, holding out his hand to me. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks. Think I need a break from life,” I muttered, shaking his hand.
Easton jumped against the men, bouncing off of them like a fly off a screen. “Let me take you home, Maggie.”
“No, I’m good,” I shouted back. “Why don’t you head home? I’m going to sit for a while and spin a yarn with my friend, Wyatt.”
Tired of fighting the bodyguards, Easton gave up and left in a huff.
Wyatt gave a hearty chuckle. “Definitely not from here, are you?”
I bit my lower lip. “Sometimes I wish I was, or that everything started differently.”
Leaning on the bar, I planted my elbows on the counter as I held my head. Slowly, I sunk onto a bar stool, pushing my hair from my face with both hands.
Gesturing to the bartender, Wyatt nodded. “It’s okay to miss home. Ever thought of visiting?”
“I can’t go home.”
His tone darkened. “Can’t? You in trouble, darlin’?”
The letdown from the adrenaline rush of thinking Paul was here left me exhausted. “It’s nothing like that.”
I took a glance at myself in the mirror behind the bar and scrunched my nose. Glancing away from it, I took the shot of whiskey he’d ordered for me. It burned all the way down, just as I remembered from the bonfires back in high school.
Wyatt tipped his chin to me, taking a drink. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
I didn’t know what it was about this sweet man that made me want to talk, but I did. “Want to hear a story?”
He gave me a little smirk. “I do.”
I wet my lips and started at the beginning.
“Growing up in a tiny town, as the pastor’s daughter, I was supposed to play the role of the perfect child and follow all of Father’s silly rules.
I could only wear modest necklines and long dresses, I was to be proper and have a submissive demeanor, studying the arts and things that would make me a good wife.
Well, it turned out the art part was the only thing I liked, so I used the rest of my time to rebel against the other rules whenever possible. ”
“Understandably,” Wyatt muttered against his glass as he took a drink.
“For as long as I remembered, I wanted to get out of that town, away from Father’s stern, disappointed glare.
I wanted adventures and traveling all over the world, seeing that there was more to life than his rules and propriety.
So, I enrolled in college here, leaving home right after graduating from high school.
I focused on art as a career, meaning I’m a commercial photographer even though I’m supposed to be taking pictures of what I want instead. ”
Wyatt contemplated this information, swirling his drink. “So, you got what you wanted then, right?”
I shrugged. “Not really. That man who sat here before you? He looked like a boy I once knew. Like me, he was suffocated by that small town. Generationally bound to the land that he was taught to hold above all else. And, as it turned out, I loved him but he didn’t love me back.”
Setting his rough hand over mine, Wyatt shook his head. “What a damn fool.”
I released a choked snicker. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
He looked me up and down. “Definitely a damn fool.”
Forcing a weak smile, I shrugged. “I forced him to choose me over his responsibilities as the oldest son. He was a good man, probably still is, doing his duty and not complaining. I envy him his ability to live in a way that doesn’t disappoint his family.”
“Surely, your family is proud of you now,” Wyatt said, taking a drink.
“My parents disowned me for choosing to live my life away from the church,” I admitted.
Aunt June and Uncle Isaac quarreled with Father several times after I’d moved into their place. They championed my right to live as I pleased while remaining part of the family, but Father wouldn’t hear of it. No one could talk any sense into him.
“Oh, and on top of that, the boy I love is now a man. What if he’s married now? Or dating someone? How could I go back there and watch him be with someone else?” I asked, feeling the burger consider making a reappearance.
With a gesture to the bartender, Wyatt studied me in the mirror behind the bar. “Maybe he’s not married or seeing someone.”
As I thought of the possibility, Wyatt rested his hand on my thigh.
I raised my eyebrow to him. “Ahem.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, didn’t think I’d get away with it for long,” he said, removing his hand, “but I was right. He’s a goddamned fool.”
With a sigh, I twisted to rest my arm on the bar.
“The worst part? I have no doubt that the moment I set eyes on him again, my heart will pick right up where it left off, loving him all the more. After all this time, I’ve given up thinking I can forget him when I still think about him every damn day.
And if I went back, faced him, and he turned me away again, I’m not sure I’d survive it. ”
The bartender came up to us with a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. He poured two shots and pushed the glasses toward us, leaving the bottle.
Wyatt lifted his glass, the wrinkles around his eyes a compassionate response to my plight. “To the hearts who have captured ours, may they be gentle and one day share our feelings with equal or greater passion.”
Throwing down the drink, I hissed at the way it burned down my throat.
Wyatt poured me another shot. And another. I lost count of how many I’d had.
But instead of the alcohol impairing my mind, it felt sharper. “I have to go. There’s something I have to do.”
With the constitution of a man who could hold his liquor, Wyatt stood easily. When I pushed upright, my feet didn’t work well for balancing, so Wyatt helped me to the street where a car was waiting for me.
After he helped me into the backseat, he leaned down. “This is my driver. He’ll get you home safely. If you need anything in the future, darlin’, just call or come back here and ask for me. The boys know where to find me. You’ll always be welcome, Maggie.”
With a smile, I held out my hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”
He kissed my hand. “Damn straight, it has. Take care now.”
My black chariot took me home. Things were a little spinnier once I reached my front step, but I grabbed the railing and made it upstairs. Fumbling with my keys, I used two hands to open the lock, duck inside, and relock all the deadbolts. Then, I collapsed on the sofa.
With my eyes focused on the ceiling, I noticed the scalloped sparkly pattern in the glow from the streetlights.
It was just like the ceiling at the old farm house where Paul lived.
The streetlights made the sparkles twinkle and I wondered where my sparkles went.
That light I used to feel inside that made me feel like me.
I'd had it with Paul. Did I lose it when I left home?
Or did I lose over time? If I made my peace with Paul, would I get it back?
Then I realized, once again, that he was my last thought as my eyes drifted shut.