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As much as I want to know what she’s been up to, what’s been happening in her heart and mind and life, I want to shove her up against the wall and fuck her raw and hard. Not the sweet way we used to when we were in love, but there’s something to be said for hate fucking. Maybe that would get her out of my system? Because as much as I want her, I don’t want to want her.
“Tell me about your life now,” she commands. “How’re your mom and dad?” She smiles as she says it and I know she has no idea. No concept of how crazy my whole life went after high school. I’d need a damn 4×4 truck with mud tires to show her just how off-path everything went.
“Small talk? That’s what we’re doing?” I say bitterly, tilting my head. Allyson blinks those baby blues that used to own me, waiting patiently, and I press my lips together, trying to decide whether I want to attempt to explain what my family’s gone through in the last few years.
I sigh, planting my laced hands on the table. “Fine. Shortly after I graduated, Mom got sick. It was fast, it was hard. Cancer’s a bitch.”
Allyson’s jaw drops open in horror and she shakes her head. “Bruce! I had no idea.” Her hands reach across the table to cover mine. “I am so sorry. Mrs. Martha was such a great woman. She always welcomed me with open arms, and I have so many happy memories about her.”
My eyes are locked on her hands on mine, the searing heat of her flesh touching me. I can’t stop my thumb from brushing over her finger, feeling the softness of her skin, and she retreats, pulling back sharply.
“Me too. She was a great woman, a great mom,” I say, picking up my bottle for another drink because I’m not sure what to do with my hands now that they’re not touching hers. “Dad took it real hard, basically disappeared on us, but Brody and Shay took over running the farm. Bobby and I work the fields, and we did okay for a long while.”
It’s weird to put so much into so few words, but honestly, it’s not something I’ve ever talked about with anyone. And it doesn’t seem like the time to get verbose.
“And now?” Allyson asks, mirroring my action and taking a drink. Does she even know that she’s doing that or is it unconscious?
The waitress interrupts, setting our plates down. The pork chop and cinnamon apples smell delicious, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to taste a thing with how badly I want to taste Allyson. Even with the uncomfortable conversation and simmering resentment low in my gut.
I pull my hat off and run my hand through my hair as I sigh. “Look, you want the short story? Fine . . .” I slam my hat back down and my mouth gets away from me. “Mom died. Dad died. We lost the farm because Dad gambled it away, had to sell to the Bennetts. And now we’re like the bass-ackward, country redneck version of the Brady Bunch with Louise Bennett as the leader of our twisted motley crew of a family. The Bennett boys all have women, one of which is my fucking sister. And us Tannens are just trying to keep our heads down and work because that’s all we’ve got.”
I pick up my fork and knife and slice a big chunk of pork chop, shoving it in my mouth and chewing pointedly so she doesn’t ask more questions.
The truth is a jagged pill to swallow. I’ve adjusted to not owning our family farm anymore and have sent enough curses to the sky hoping that Dad can hear them. And I appreciate the Bennetts’ hospitality and problem solving by letting us stay on as workers so we didn’t lose everything at once. But though my day in, day out life hasn’t changed much and I still work in the same fields I have since I was a kid, I know the bottom line.
I’m unsettled. No wife. No kids. No land. No prospects. No future. I’m just doing what I’ve always done, one foot in front of the other, and one day, I’m afraid I’m going to look up and find that I’ve never gone anywhere or done anything permanent. Crops are transient. My life’s work is disposable.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, and I thought I’d made my peace years ago with the direction my life had taken, but seeing Allyson brings back all the dreams of what it was supposed to be.
I force the too-big bite down and flip the tables on her, barking out, “You? What’s your story?”
Her eyes drop first, then her chin, and though I can’t see her hands, I get the distinct impression that she’s twisting her napkin in her lap. “Uhm, got married, had Cooper, got divorced. Moved back to Great Falls a few years ago.”
