Serenity Falls(14)

He turns his head, looking at me, as if he just remembered that I’m here. “Wait, I’ll go with you.”

“It’s fine. You seem to have your hands full anyway,” I reply, shaking my head.

“Who the fuck are you?” Leslie sneers. Drunk and rude. This should be great.

“Nobody.” I roll my eyes and turn away from what I’m sure could easily become a confrontation.

I can hear Wes yell for me to wait up, but I act as if I don’t hear him and venture off in search of Brantley. Pushing my way through the throngs of people, I finally find him after a couple of minutes, but not the way I expect to. He dances shamelessly with a petite, red head. One of his hands roams down her ribs, grips her hip, and pulls her into him, while the other hand holds a cup. They are clueless to the people around them. I don’t want to interrupt, so I turn around and make my way over to the creek.

The sounds of the crickets chirping mix with Brantley Gilbert’s Kick it in the Sticks. The music and sounds of obnoxious laughter fade to a lower decibel as I leave the party behind me. I am so not drunk enough for this. I take a seat at the creek’s edge. The sound of the rushing water helps soothe me. I slip off my cowboy boots and slide my feet into the water below, and welcome the cooling sensation. My once-cold beer is warm now, but I take a drink anyway. I sit in silence for a while and let the sounds of nature wash over me—peace takes over. My mind drifts off to thoughts of home—my summer home that no longer exists. A smile spreads slowly across my face as I close my eyes and let myself think about how my mom and I used to hang out and read next to a creek just like this.

“Kenleigh, why don’t you tell me about this Corey boy?” Mom says to me.

“What Corey boy?” I ask, feigning innocence. How she knows about him beats me.

“Come on, I saw your notebook before school got out. His name was scribbled all over it,” she says with her eyebrows almost meeting her hairline, daring me to prove her wrong.

A blush automatically consumes me as I turn to look at her. “Oh my gosh, Mom, he’s so cute. He has the darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. You know, like chocolate. And when he smiles, his dimples appear.” I laugh at how ridiculous I sound.

“And does he know you like him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” I answer coyly.

“Well, have you told him?” she asks.

“Mom! No! I can’t do that,” I answer, covering my face from embarrassment. I can’t believe she actually asked that.

“Why not? You like him don’t you?”

“I do, but what if he doesn’t like me? I would be so embarrassed. That type of embarrassment sticks with you, and follows you all the way to high school, you know.”

A boisterous laugh escapes her as she tries to speak, but she can’t because she’s laughing too hard. I join in with her because her laughter is just too contagious not to. “Honey, you’ll never find out if you don’t ask,” she says, patting my leg.

“Isn’t it the boy’s job to chase after the girl, anyway?” I ask childishly.

“No. I chased after your father. I annoyed him to no end, and look where it got me. A happy marriage with my best friend and the most beautiful daughter in the world. If you don’t go after what you want, you might miss out on something good,” she says with a solemn look on her face.

“I can’t believe you chased after Daddy, but at least you got one thing right. I am beautiful,” I reply, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

My reprieve ends when I feel a tear trickle down my face. I drain the remaining contents of my cup to help with the pain of how much I miss my mother.

“Here, let me get that for you.” I jump at the sound of Wes’ voice.

He’s sitting next to me on the soft grass, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he leans back on his elbows. I wonder how long he’s been here. He leans on one elbow, reaches his hand up, and the calloused pad of his thumb grazes my cheek as he swipes away the stray tear. “How did you know where I was?” I ask, completely shamed by my crying.

“I didn’t. I went looking for you, and this is where I found you. Why were you crying?” His eyes search my face, waiting to see if more tears will fall.

“I was remembering,” I whisper, turning back to look at the creek.

“Remembering what?” He honestly wants to know, and I have no clue why.

“So you’re a bull rider, huh?” I ask, shifting the subject away from me.

“That was a nice move, but yeah, I’m part of the PBR.”

“Professional Bull Riders,” we say in unison.