Whiskey Lullaby(13)

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ll get you out, but I thought getting him in a bed would be good first.”

“Please…” Bo groaned from the passenger seat.

“Come on,” Noah grinned, “just gonna have to sit close to me.” Winking, he held open the driver’s side door and I climbed in with no choice but to straddle the gear shift. Great.

Bo’s head slammed against the window when Noah reversed the truck. “Ow.” Bo slowly looked over at me with crossed eyes. “There’s two of you, Nanner.”

Bless him. I patted his thigh. “Yep…”

“Alcohol’s the devil.”

Noah chuckled. “A lot of things in life are the devil.”

The truck bumped along the trail before coming to a clearing. At the far side of the field, I could just make out a tiny house with one light on.

“How’s your grandma doing?” I asked.

“Ah, she came in yesterday and had a shot of whiskey.” He shot a mischievous grin at me. “She’s fine now.”

“That’s good.”

“Why are y’all shouting?” Bo groaned.

Noah nudged me with his elbow and laughed. “God, I remember being his age,” he whispered, the heat of his breath fanning over my neck. “I hated being a teenager.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe that.”

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you liked being a teenager?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “No responsibility was nice.”

“Huh, I wouldn’t know. Let me guess,” he turned the wheel and the tires bumped onto the drive. “You were the popular girl, probably had boys climbing up the tree in front of your house knocking on your window?”

“No,” I rolled my eyes. “I was the girl that studied instead of partying.”

“What, no boys climbing the trees? I find that hard to believe.”

“No boys in trees for me.”

A curious smirk danced over his lips before he parked the truck behind a powder blue Chrysler that looked older than me. The headlights shined over the hood, showing a thick, yellow layer of pollen.

“You really should wash your grandma’s car,” I said with a smile.

“Well, one”—he cut the engine—“it was my grandpa’s. Two it doesn’t run, and three”—he opened the car door—“I washed it three days ago, even though it doesn’t run.” He smiled again, those dimples popping before he hopped out and rounded the hood.

He helped Bo out of the truck, and I followed them to the front porch. The door opened without a sound and we stepped in. The only noise was the soft tick, tick, tick of a clock somewhere in the room.

“Imma lay you down in my old room, alright?” Noah turned on a table lamp. The living room was small with a recliner and a floral couch against the far wall with those little crocheted arm covers on each end. Behind the couch was a faded copy of “The Last Supper”.

Bo grunted something that sounded like “sure” as Noah guided him into a room at the end of the hallway.

“Bathrooms right out here.” Noah stepped into a room across the hall and came out with a plastic trashcan. “If you have to puke”—I stopped at the door, watching Noah place it next to the bed—“puke in that. Got it?”

All Bo did was groan.

“Alright,” Noah said, turning Bo onto his side and cramming the pillow behind him. “Stay on your side.”

Bo managed to wave his hand through the air before dropping it like a lead weight to his side and then… he was snoring.

Noah glanced at me and smiled, jerking his chin toward the back of the house. I followed him down the dark hallway and through an unlocked back door.

The warm summer air surrounded me the second I set foot on the old, wooden porch.

“He’s out like a light,” Noah whispered.

“Yeah.” I turned to look at him, caught off guard by the way the moonlight highlighted a grayish tint in his eyes. Noah Greyson was catch-you-off-guard, make-your-chest-go-tight-stunning. Something I didn’t want to look away from but knew I should. I knew I should… “I need to go home,” I said.

“Let him sleep it off for an hour or so.”

At least I felt like I tried to escape. “Yeah. Okay.” I leaned against the siding of the house, nervously rubbing my hand over my arm. It was just the situation. The fact that he made me nervous, the fact that Meg warned me he was a Max in waiting. He worked for my father. Mother…Bo…

“Come on,” Noah said, stepping off the porch. And like there was an invisible string tied from me to him, I followed him blindly through the tall grass to his truck. He dropped the tailgate and hopped onto the bed. Grinning, he turned around and held out his palm. “Come on, country girl.”

I took his hand. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt like something more—the strike of a match, maybe, or maybe that’s just what I wanted it to feel like. I wanted him to want me. I’m not even sure why, but I almost feel foolish for it.

Exhaling, he sat on the bedrail of the truck. “You just gonna stand there?”

“I mean...” I took a seat on the opposite side, clasping my hands in my lap. The music from the bonfire blended with the hum of the cicadas and a light, warm breeze kicked up. The burning smell of timbers and the fragrant scent of the sweet shrub swirled around me. I closed my eyes. It was a soothing mixture. The southern smells and the warm night was something that made me feel carefree if only for a moment, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a little of the tension wound so tightly in my shoulders ease up.

“So, tell me about yourself, pretty girl. What’s your story?”

I shrugged. “Not much to tell.”

“Bullshit.”

“There’s not,” I laughed. “What is there to tell when you grew up in a small town, with a small family? Everyone’s story’s the same here.”

“Now, that’s not true, I assure you. You’ve lived here your entire life?”

“No, I moved to Fort Lauderdale for college.”

“Jesus, why in the hell would you leave paradise to come back to this town?”

My chest tightened, and I hesitated before I blurted, “My mom’s sick.”

“Oh,” he exhaled. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s fine.” I rubbed a hand over my arm.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Cancer.”

“God, I—”

“You obviously don’t like it here,” I cut him off because I wanted to dwell a little longer in the carefree. I wanted a moment where I didn’t have to think about the ugly parts of my life. As selfish as it felt, I needed a break from real life. Just for a moment. And Noah was a beautiful distraction. “If you could live anywhere else, where would it be?”

“Australia,” he said quickly with a nod. “Yep, Australia.”

“Basically as far away as you can get from here?” I laughed.

“Yep. I’ve Googled it, and Perth is literally as far away from here as you can get. Plus, Australia is where they used to send all the criminals and shit, so, you know, I figure I’ll fit in.”

“Wow… so now you’re a criminal, huh?”

“Something like that…”

I wondered what he did to go to jail. Daddy never told me the reason any of the guys had been sent to jail, just that they were troubled souls. I studied him. His cut jawbone, the stubble. The tattoos. The ripped jeans and Chuck Taylors. Drugs maybe? Theft…and then I felt guilty for judging him.

A smirk worked across his full lips. “I kicked a guy’s ass, nothing too exciting before you go getting your hopes up.” How did he... He swung his legs around and hopped off the truck.

“Hey,” I said. “Where are you going?”

The interior light flickered on, the taillights cast a red glow over the grass, and the radio kicked on before the door slammed shut. Noah grabbed onto the side rail of the truck and heaved himself into the bed. “Their music selection is shit,” he said, nodding toward the bonfire before he stretched out in the bed of the truck, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the sky. “Man, I never get tired of this.”

I followed his gaze. The stars looked like thousands of sparkling diamonds against a black velvet backdrop. “I forgot how many there are,” I said.

“What?”

“The stars. You can’t see them like this in a city.”

“And you’ve been back for how long?” he laughed.

“A month. I’ve just been busy.”

“Ah, now. You can’t get too busy to stop and stare at the stars.” I swooned a little. “You can come down here if you want.” There was a tap, tap, tap over the bed of the truck. “Promise I’ll behave.”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.”

We sat in the dark, watching the sky, listening to the cicadas and music. “Let it Hurt” came on and Noah quietly sang along. I watched the way he sang with his eyes closed. When it got to the chorus, his eyes squeezed shut a little more tightly, then he wet his lips, but instead of singing the lyrics he sighed. “What was it like?” He opened his eyes, staring back up at the sky.