Whiskey Lullaby(14)

“What was what like?”

“Growing up with parents. A brother… on the good side of town?” He laughed, but there was a vulnerability on his face, and I noticed him swallow.

“It was…” I slid off the rail and sat next to him, wrapping my arms around my legs. “It was all I knew.” I sat silently for a moment, wondering if I should prod, if I should ask him about his family. It’s hard to know what to do in situations like that. Some people say things because they want to open the door, and some people simply say them without thought. “What happened to your parents?”

The chorus ended, and he started singing again, louder this time. The raspy edge to his voice sent goose bumps down my arms. I thought to myself that I could listen to him sing like that all night.

Mid-chorus he exhaled. “Ready for it?”

“Sure.”

“My mom got knocked up when she was seventeen. Evidently, from what Grandma said, she was one of those ‘good girls’ that met the bad boy—the bad boy being my dad. He drove a motorcycle and sang in some garage rock band.” He grinned. “Apple doesn’t fall far, huh?”

“Well, you don’t have a motorcycle.”

“It’s at my house.”

I rolled my eyes. “Did you ever meet him?”

Noah shrugged. “Not that I remember, I mean, there’s a picture of him holding me in one arm and a pack of Coors Light in the other. He looks stoned outta his mind with one epic mullet going on.” He laughed. “But, nah… family life wasn’t his thing, so he hightailed it right on outta good ole’ Sylacauga.”

“Must have been tough on your mom.”

“Why would it have been? She followed him.”

“Oh.” I shifted on the bed of the truck, leaning back and bracing myself with my hands.

“Yep. Good thing Grandma thought I was worth a shit, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.” What else could I have said?

“Don’t be. I’m a fucking Tin Man.”

“A Tin Man?”

“Yeah, that guy was my hero growing up because he learned to live without a heart.”

God. That hurt a little. It was as though his words, that empty place I saw in his eyes, dug at something deep inside me. The things most people took for granted—he didn’t even know what they were like. He thought he didn’t have a heart, but I saw the way he looked at his grandma in the hospital. “But the Tin Man always had a heart…” I whispered.

“God, you’re adorable.” His eyes narrowed, and he reached for my face, his hand lingering on my jaw as he swept a piece of hair behind my ear. My eyes closed. That touch was soft even though his fingertips were callused from the strings of his guitar. Everything about that man was a contradiction, and it made my heart beat a little too fast. When I opened my eyes, he was looking at me with a promise of tenderness that could easily break me. Before I could react, he’d pulled his hand away and went back to staring at the stars.

“So,” he inhaled. “Did your friend warn you about me?”

“Meg? No,” I lied.

He chuckled. “Good, I don’t want to scare you off, country girl.”

And I laid back next to him. Close enough to feel the heat of his body but far enough away that we didn’t touch. The next song came on, one I didn’t know, and Noah sang along, his fingertips every so often trailed over my arm in a feather-light touch.

I closed my eyes to the sound of his voice and forgot the things that worried me, remembering when I had nothing more important to do than lie back and watch the stars. Just for that night, I pretended there were no such things as goodbyes, and I fell asleep.



The loud flutter of wings and loud crowing of a rooster woke me with a start. I opened my eyes to find a mangled-looking rooster perched on the bedrail, staring down at me. He stretched out his wings before letting out another wake-up call. The sky had taken on the soft pink hue of a pending sunrise, and the muggy morning heat was already sticking to my skin.

As innocent as last night was, there was an awkward feeling that churned my stomach. I didn’t go home. What if Momma had a bad night? What if they were worried about Bo? Crap. I slowly climbed to my feet, grabbed onto the side of the truck, and hopped to the ground. That rooster crowed again when I was halfway to Noah’s Grandma’s front door. “And just where do you think you’re going, huh?”

I turned around, shoving my hands in my pockets and smiling. “Um, well…”

“First of all, your dad’s truck is still stuck.” He sat up, shooing the rooster away before he ran his fingers through his messy hair. “And then, your little brother’s still passed out in my grandma’s house.”

“Right…”

He swiped a hand over his face before stretching his arms over his head. The sun caught on his skin and, before I realized it, I was gnawing on my bottom lip. He stood up and jumped off the truck, strutting past me and smiling when he trailed his fingers over my cheek. “Don’t go and chew a hole in that pretty lip of yours.”

I let go of my lip and a wave of heat washed from my head to my toes.

“Come on, little lady,” he called over his shoulder before he yanked the screen door open and stepped inside.

I exhaled. I was in so much trouble. So much trouble…





13





Noah





Damn. She was cute as hell chewing on her lip like that. The way the rising sun shined through her hair while the fog crept behind her through the field—it looked like a picture. She may have only been a stranger passing through my life, but I wanted this to be a moment I’d remember forever, because if I could remember her just like this, I’d remember that, at one point, there was an innocent, pretty girl who looked at me like I may just give her the world. And money couldn’t buy shit like that.

“Come on, little lady.” I stepped onto the porch and opened the screen door, stopping to hold it open for her.

Her cheeks were pink when she ducked beneath my arm. It took very little to make that girl blush, and I reveled in it. My eyes were glued to her ass when she walked into the living room, I guess that’s why I didn’t see Grandma over in the recliner. Hannah stopped midstride when the creak of the footrest snapping into place sounded

“Well,” Grandma said. “Making house calls, I see?” Her lips laid flat across her face when she glanced over Hannah’s shoulder at me. I know she was probably saying a prayer for God to save the preacher’s daughter’s soul. I didn’t have the best track record.

I stepped around Hannah, trying to hide her from Grandma’s judging eyes. “Her brother ended up down at The Grounds with a bunch of teenagers, and seeing as how he’s my boss’ son, I couldn’t exactly call the cops on ‘em.” I walked over to her recliner, leaned down, and kissed her cheek.

“I hope we didn’t wake you,” Hannah said.

“Oh no, honey. I’m up with the roosters, besides”—she pointed a weathered finger down the hall—“that one sounds like he’s buzz sawing a Redwood.”

I shook my head on my way down the hall to get Bo. I heard Grandma ask Hannah if she was going to church when I ducked through the doorway. Bo was sprawled out on the bed like a damn starfish with a fresh pile of drool on the pillow. “Alright,” I said, clapping my hands. He jumped a little but didn’t wake. “Come on now, Bo.”

Groaning, he flopped over on the bed. “Ugh.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I flipped the light on. “We all have these nights. It’s a rite of passage or some shit.”

He opened one eye, his brow wrinkling. “What the…”

“Ah, blackout drunk.” I held a finger up. “That’s when you know you had a good time.”

“God, I feel like I’m dying.”

“Ah, hell, one bottle of Jack ain’t a death sentence.” I grinned. “Trust me.”

He swatted his hand over his face and attempted to sit up, but immediately sank back to the rickety bed.

“Yep, suck it up, buddy.” I patted his knee. “Your sister’s waiting on you.”

“Hannah?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus, does she want to kill me?”

“Nah, man. You’re actually lucky as shit ‘cause that girl loves you. Don’t even know what you’ve got, do you?” I shook my head. “Come on. Let’s get a move on.”

When I walked back to the living room, Grandma had the photo album open on her lap. “What are you doing?”

Grandma slowly looked up from the old picture album and arched that damn brow. “Showin’ your baby pictures since you don’t ever bring a girl home for me to show, I thought I’d show the preacher’s daughter.” Her brow quirked before she went back to the album. “This is the first time I knew he’d be a smartass, caught him pretending to smoke one of my Marlboros in his Pull-up.” She snickered. “He was a cute stinker, whatn’t he?”

Hannah glanced at me with a grin spread across her face, her eyes twinkling. “You were pretty cute.”

I rolled my eyes and snagged the album from Grandma. “Alright now.”

“Noah Benjamin Greyson,” she scolded.