Whiskey Lullaby(35)

He’s fucking serious! My heart banged around so hard I was afraid I might literally keel over right there. I’d never even thought of doing anything with music besides singing at Tipsy’s. “Yeah, yeah. Um, I can be there. I can leave in a little bit, it’s just about a four-hour drive.”

“Alright. I’ll text you the address. Looking forward to meeting you.”

I still had the phone pressed to my ear when he hung up. The dial tone eventually rang through the line and I dropped the phone to my side. “No fucking way,” I mumbled before grabbing a shirt from the floor and pulling it over my head. “No way…”

This was my chance to do something worth a shit. To pay Grandma back, to be good enough for Hannah. I glanced down at the phone and pulled up Hannah’s number, sending a quick text for her to call me. She may have needed time or space or a clear head, whatever, but I sure as shit didn’t want her to think I’d just left her. I grabbed a backpack from the closet and threw a few shirts and a pair of jeans in it before snatching up my guitar on the way out the door.

_





Thunder rumbled in the distance. Thick, black clouds rolled in and the wind kicked up while I stood at the lone gas pump of the Bait and Tackle, filling up my truck. Just as I placed the handle back on the pump, John’s truck parked behind me. The unoiled hinges on his door creaked. I twisted the cap to my gas tank. “Hey, John,” I said and waved.

“Hey.” He shoved a hand into his pocket and walked up beside my truck. “You got a minute?”

I nodded and closed the lid on my tank.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, so don’t think I’ve come by this easy, because I haven’t.”

Here we go, I thought. “I appreciate what you’ve done around the farm. You’ve been a mighty big help, but I think it may be best if you started looking for work elsewhere.” I opened my mouth to speak and he held up a hand. “Now, I’m not gonna just put you out, I’ll give you time. I just think it’s best that you and Hannah not be forced to be around each other.”

I gritted my teeth.

“She’s my baby girl, and she’s going through a rough time, what with her momma and all.”

My pulse ticked, ticked, ticked up. The blood that rushed to my face stung like a swarm of bees. I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue.

“She…” he inhaled. “Her heart’s about to be broken enough when she loses her mother, she doesn’t need a broken heart from you to go along with all that.” He nods, the look in his eyes growing stern.

I felt my nostrils flare, and shit, I fought so many words. “I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“I think you’re a good kid, just…” He trailed off. What he meant should have been understood, but I was a stubborn son of a bitch, and I wanted him to say it. I wanted him to see what a hypocrite he was.

“Just, what, John?”

He hung his head and mumbled, “God forgive me. You’re not good enough for her, Noah. You have to know that? She has drive,” John whispered, taking a step toward me. Conflict swirled in his old blue eyes, like he was warring with himself. He knew what he was doing wasn’t exactly right, but he also knew he didn’t want his daughter with a guy like me. “Noah, do you know what kind of reputation you’ll give her? The things I’ve heard about you, and she’s… Hannah’s…” His jaw clenched. “Getting arrested! Spending the night at your house. It’s a small town and people talk. They’re talking about my daughter like she’s some, some…” He swallowed. “Like she’s some girl you’d be with.”

My fingers drew into a fist, his gaze drifted down to my hands and he closed his eyes.

“I don’t doubt you care about her, but if you really care about her, put her first.”

I wasn’t even good enough to love her—just care about her.

I was pissed, but the thing was: he was right. I had known it since I saw her in that church in her knee-length dress. She was the kind of girl I always wanted but could never have.

Girls like her married up, not down.

And if I loved her, wouldn’t I want what’s best for her?

“Yep, I’ll leave her alone.” I grabbed the door to my truck and yanked it open.

“Noah, I—”

“It’s fine. And don’t worry about keeping me on. I don’t need the job anyway.” I climbed into the truck, then turned to glare at him. “You know, I’d expect this from other people, but not you, John.” I exhaled and shook my head before slamming the door. “Not you.”

I cranked the engine, shoved the gear into drive, and revved the engine. Gravel flew up behind my tires. A cloud of dust stirred into the air as I floored the accelerator and pulled out onto County Road 2, typing the address Brice had sent into my GPS.



Sixty songs and one-hundred and sixty-five miles later, I pulled off the interstate to make a pit stop and grab some food. I sat at the dirty table in a rundown Krystal’s, scrolling my phone. Hannah hadn’t messaged me back. It was a little after one, which meant Grandma would still be at her weekly lunch with the ladies from church. I dialed her number and waited for the answering machine to pick up. “You’ve reached Doris Mae Greyson, I’m not here right now, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you just as fast as a chicken on a June bug.” Beep.

“Hey Grandma, I, uh, I had something come up, some little singing gig up in Tennessee, so I’ll be gone for a few days. Nothing big, just a little extra money, so… just call me if you need me. I love you.”

I hung up and placed the phone on the table beside the half-empty ketchup bottle. It felt wrong to lie to her like that, but I didn’t want her to get her hopes up. It’s easier to fail when no one knows you have.

My mind was jumbled with thoughts of Hannah, of what her dad said, while I finished my food. After I dumped my tray, I headed to the restroom and then out to the car. I climbed into my truck and cranked the engine. Out of habit, I shoved my hand into my pocket to grab my phone and place it on the console, only my pocket was empty. I glanced around inside the truck for my phone, then opened the door and looked on the ground as I retraced my steps. When I walked back into the restaurant, I realized I never grabbed it from the table. Shit, I thought as I hurried toward the booth—the booth with no phone on the table.

I grabbed the edge of the seat and looked underneath. Nothing. I went to the counter and one of the acne-riddled teens glanced up. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, did anyone grab a phone from that table?” I pointed behind me.

“Uh…” He stepped to the side and grabbed another employee. There was an exchange of words before he turned back. “No, dude. Sorry.”

Tossing my head back, I rubbed my hands down my face. Fate, luck— whatever you called it, was an asshole. “Alright.”

All of my pictures, my contacts where fucking gone! I shoved the door open and stepped out into the hot afternoon sun. As pissed as I was that someone took my phone, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about that in the middle of Bumfuck Alabama. At least I’d put the address in my GPS. Silver lining and all.





33





Hannah





My shift at the ER that night was crazy. There was a pile-up on Highway 280 and the less critical patients were all brought in to us. At least it kept me busy, but once the patients had been transferred to surgery or rooms, the ER calmed down. The rooms were empty, and it was just me and Rachel Thomas. She had been a grade above me in high school. Cheerleader. Pageant queen. We’d said two words to each other our entire lives.

Meg had been texting me all night, checking on me. I told her nothing happened when she picked me up. As always, she knew I was lying. But, for once, I stuck by my lie and told her I just didn’t want to wake Noah, swearing nothing happened.

Why did I do that? Because I didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe she had been right about him. Dear friends… I rolled my eyes thinking about him saying that, then anger flared in my chest. Not at him, but at myself, because as much as I wanted to be mad at him, I couldn’t. He’d never said we were anything. In fact, that night by the airport he called me a friend. Noah was the town heartthrob. He’d had every girl, then he’d had me. He didn’t even know I was a virgin, I mean, my God, I was twenty. I’d dated Max Summers. I was best friends with Meg McKinney, surely he assumed that entire birds of a feather crap… I picked up my phone, staring at the text he’d sent that morning. Sighing, I texted him:

I’ll call you when I get off.





“So,” Rachel said, flicking her strawberry blonde hair over one shoulder as she leaned against the counter. “I heard you and Noah Greyson…” Smiling, she wiggled a brow.

“Oh, um”—heat washed over my face, and I set my phone on the counter—“we’re friends.” I wanted to shrink into the wall.

She rolled a shoulder. “Yeah…” The way she drew at the yeah made me cringe. “I used to be friends with him.” She rolled her eyes. “Charming, isn’t he?”