I always imagined the three of us – me, Beau, and our daughter – were out living some simple little life in some alternate universe somewhere. We were happy. We had a quaint house and made just enough of a living to get by. We were respectable members of the community, involved and charitable. Our lives were simple and filled with happy memories and slow, languid days that blurred together over the years.
I’d once wanted that life with him more than anything. I wanted to keep Mabry. I wanted Beau to come back. I wanted to taste the sweet at the expense of being two struggling young parents trying to make it work.
Instead, my options were limited to making ends meet as a nineteen-year-old single mother or giving Mabry the beautiful life she deserved with Sam and Rebecca.
I clicked off the bedside lamp and crawled under the covers until the faint lull of Beau’s voice trailed in through the drafty old windows. He was down below, singing some old tune I’d heard before. It wasn’t one of his – it was an old folk song his grandfather had taught him when he was younger.
My eyes burned hot until I willed the threat of tears away.
How could a man so entwined in family and sentiment turn his back on his own?
5 years ago
“Hey there, cowboy.” Three little words pulled my attention to the bubbly blonde bartender holding a bottle of whiskey and flashing me the widest smile I’d seen in a long time. “How about we cut you off? Get you back home? Where are you staying?”
My brows scrunched and my eyes squinted. Even in my drunken stupor, I could see she was the kind of pretty little thing a lonely guy could have a nice time with.
“Where are you staying tonight?” she asked. Sleek blonde wisps hung over her eyes until she blew them away with one huff. “It’s closing time.”
I pulled in a long breath and sat up straight, as if a breath of fresh air had the ability to undo the last several hours of drinking. Glancing around the foggy bar¸ I didn’t see a single one of my guys.
“What time is it?” I slurred.
“Damn near two in the morning,” she said. She reached for the crystal tumbler in front of me and slid it away, dropping it behind the bar and out of sight. “Time to go home. Need me to call you a cab?”
“Nah, my bus is across the street,” I said.
“You live on a bus?” she laughed. “Like a camper or something?”
“A tour bus.”
“Ah, what kind of music do you perform?” She rinsed out some glasses and patted them dry with a white towel. Behind her, the other bartender, a man with at least a couple hundred pounds of solid muscle, closed out the cash register.
“You don’t know who I am?” My head cocked to the side as I sized her up and attempted, poorly, to study her face for any hint of a bluff.
“I don’t know who you are, cowboy,” she laughed. “Judging by the way you’re dressed, I know you’re not from Detroit.”
Ah, Detroit. That’s where I was that night.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
Her full lips pulled into an amused grin. “Daisy. Yours?”
“Beau,” I said. Any other girl would’ve been throwing herself at me, fawning, crying, playing coy, anything but being genuine. But not Daisy. She intrigued me. And for the first time in years, she pushed all those invasive Dakota thoughts clean out of my mind for a little bit. With my mind unclear and muddled with alcohol, I couldn’t think of a proper way to invite her to my bus without coming off as a complete sleaze ball, so I gave her a nod and climbed off the bar stool. “Nice meeting you, Daisy. Thanks for…”
My words trailed off. She hadn’t been my bartender. In fact, she hadn’t waited on me all night. I’d been there for hours and that was the first time I’d seen her.
She lifted her brows and laughed. “You want me to walk you home? That street gets pretty busy this time of night. I’d hate for you to become road kill on my watch.”
She tore off her apron and threw it on the counter, revealing a tiny hint of a waist wrapped in a studded belt buckle. A white cotton tank top hugged her upper body, displaying her rack and the way they bounced a little with each step. Daisy hooked her arm into my elbow as we headed outside.
The cool November night air brought a sobering shock to my system, and under the pale moonlight I found myself attracted to the first girl who’d made me do a double take since Dakota, and on the heels of recently discovering Dakota had married and moved on, I welcomed it, shoving what guilt I felt deep down until I could barely feel it anymore.
We ran across the busy road, our feet shuffling toward the bus under the shade of night.