Blissful Vol. 1 (2 page)

Tears stream down my face, and I squeal in
agony, the sound coming from my deepest core. I never knew I had it
in me to cry so hard. Of course, I cried before. I whimpered and
sulked whenever they laughed at me because of my weight, or when
they told me I’d never succeed as a singer. That I was too fat for
the big stage.

But n
othing compares to this emptiness.

The only support I had, Nicole and Ronnie,
was just ripped away. All my life I believed I would be okay, that
I could keep it together, but now I can’t. The only thing I can do
is blubber and wail.

I come up for a breath and notice a photo of
Ronnie and me standing on my cabinet. Wincing, I grab it and take a
good look. His face gives me annoying goose bumps. Looking at him
makes me want to vomit.

I hurl the photograph across the room and it
shatters against the door.

How could they do this to me? How could they
betray me like this? After all I’ve been through? I deserve more
than this.

I take a deep breath and stand up. I walk
to a mirror and look at myself. My face is slathered with mascara,
my once beautiful dress smeared with dirt, and my hair looks like
one giant spider’s nest.

I don’t deserve this. I tell myself again
and again, staring into my own eyes.

I should’ve never have settled for this.
What was I thinking when I thought of having him for a husband? We
don’t have a relationship based on trust. The only reason we stay
together is because that is all we know. We are both afraid to
stop, even though it’s clear as hell Ronnie desires someone else.
Multiple times.

I don’t care that he’s still at the
church, having to explain everything to the people there. It only
makes me smile thinking he gets all the shit now. And I don’t want
to think about Nicole right now … she
is my partner in crime. Our band duo is supposed
to grow big. Well, I don’t give two shits about that anymore. Maybe
I’ll just go solo.

I kick off my shoes and take off the dress
in a fit of rage, almost tearing it apart.
The corset coming loose sets my lungs
free, and I gasp for air. Never do my eyes leave the mirror’s
reflection, always gazing at my body, confronting myself with
reality. This is who I am. Fat, unloved, ditched, and a failure,
but it’s still me. It doesn’t matter if it’s wrong or right. It
doesn’t define my worth. It doesn’t mean that I’m less than anyone
else. It disgusts me that I lower myself to these standards of
having to be thin and successful because of what people say. I
can’t believe they made me think that I am all they told me. That I
could ever believe Ronnie is sweet and that he is right. That he is
all I deserve or that he is the only fish in the sea.

Well not anymore.

I want to be more than what they think I am.
What Ronnie thinks I am. I will show them and him that I can be
more than that. And he will goddamn miss it!

I snort and put on some sweatpants and a
casual top. I
snatch
everything in my closet and stack it together, and then grab a
suitcase to stash it all inside. I sit my big butt on top and close
off the overflowing rim. Lucky my fat butt is useful for some
stuff. I smirk to myself, thinking of all the reasons why I
shouldn’t ever think of returning here. With my head raised high I
say goodbye to my apartment and stride out the door with my
suitcase by my side as my only friend.

Chapter 2

Amy

I’ve been on the road for days now. My
shabby car is rattling, but it still manages to drive somehow. I
feel lucky I still kept this old thing. That was one thing I did
right. Never say goodbye to your old shit if your new shit is
unreliable, or in other words, Ronnie.

I smirk and turn on the radio. The country
songs keep me company and drown out the noise in my head. I’ve been
pretending since I left
;
pretending that I don’t feel anything. I just don’t want to fall
apart right now. I need to get away from my old life, leave
everything behind, and get my mind straight. I know it’s a long
shot, but I’d be so happy if I could feel absolutely nothing, if
only just for a little while.

I peer out the window and enjoy the
scenery. Endless patches of wheat, grass, untilled soil, and barely
sprouted seeds cover the land, stretching to the horizon.
Some grassland has livestock
grazing on it, like cows and sheep. I wonder where the heck I am,
because I’ve not watched the map in hours. There isn’t a house in
sight. Not that it matters. The constant driving keeps my heart
still, so that’s what I’ll do.

Maybe I’ll just drive to the other end of
the world. If that’s what it takes to feel
happy again.

Suddenly the car starts
sputtering
, and I hear
bangs coming from the back of the vehicle. Oh, no, please don’t
quit on me. Not now.

The car shakes, and the more I press the
gas, the less the car
drives forward. Shit, shit, shit!

I can hear the pebbles bounce up against
the metal, and the tires that work their hardest to roll over the
road. The car moves
forward painfully slow, and after a while it comes to a
full stop.

I sigh. Why does this always happen to
me?

I step out of the car and slam the door
shut. Walking to the front, I can already smell a distinct odor. I
open the hood and hold my breath when the stench meets my nose.
Pinching my nostrils together, I wave away the smoke coming from
the engine. I don’t know a thing about cars, but I can tell that is
not a good sign.

The
setting sun is too bright, so I place my hand on my
forehead to block out the light. Peering inside the mechanical
parts of the car, I check if everything is still in
place.

As if
I have any clue what I’m doing.

I roll my eyes and shut the hood again.
This car isn’t going anywhere like this.
The only thing left to do now is call for
help.

After wiping the sweat off my forehead, I
sit down in the driver’s seat and take my cell phone from my
bag.
The screen is
blank. Are you kidding me? The battery has to die on my
now?

I let out an annoyed moan and throw my
cell phone
to the
passenger’s seat.

Seriously, this can’t get any worse. It just
can’t.

I’m so goddamn tired of all this
misfortune or whatever I should to call it. I drop my head on the
steering wheel. Of course I didn’t miss the horn, which blares
loudly into the distance. Well, it’s not as if it’s going to bother
anyone, seeing as I’m the only friggin’ person around.

I bump my head into the horn a couple more
times and then let it rest on the steering wheel. My eyes are
getting watery
, and I
sniff. Luck is not my middle name. My head feels heavy and my
breath is slow. I feel so tired. Even the loud country music can
barely make me feel alive. Somehow, tears make their way down my
cheeks, even though I never gave them permission to run freely. I
can’t stop them now. They just keep coming.

Then I hear something tap on my window.

I jolt up in my seat and gape outside. At
first all I see is muscle. Pure muscle. Raw
and visible through the thin fabric
covering it up. I blink a couple of times and gasp. There’s a hand
knocking on my window. Am I dreaming?

He bends over and suddenly there’s a face
attached to that delicious body. And oh my god, it’s the kind of
face that makes my heart stop. Tanned skin, chiseled jaw, fine
creases showing a bit of worry on his forehead. His dark eyes and
thick lashes are hidden behind a curtain of brown hair. But I can
tell those dreamy brown eyes are staring into mine.

A smile appears on his face, one that
makes my belly flutter. “Need some help?” His voice is soft but
low, and it makes me quiver.

And then I realize I’ve been gaping at him
all this time, saying nothing, doing nothing.

I panic and use my sleeve to wipe my muggy
face.
Smiling, I say,
“Yeah” quite loudly, hoping he can hear it through the window. I
open the door, and he moves back a little, making room for me to
step out. When I’m face to face with him, I can barely look at him.
He’s just that handsome.

My eyes dwindle back and forth from his face
to the road ahead, because I’m too shy to keep my focus on him. I
notice he isn’t actually naked, even though my mind is telling me
that’s all I see. He’s wearing some ragged jeans and a thin hem
that could easily be ripped apart.

Dear god, I take back everything I said
before about being unlucky.

“You okay?” he says.

My mouth drops open, but I don’t know what
to say. Why is he asking if I’m okay? Then I realize I was crying
just now. I must look hideous.

“
Ah … yeah, I’m fine,” I say.

He chuckles. “Good to know, ‘cause I was
starting to think you’re sick or something, looking at those rosy
cheeks of yours.”

My eyes widen. I crush my lips together. Am
I blushing that much? Shit, I feel caught.

“Let me take a look at that beauty of
yours,” he says.

He walks toward the front of the car, and
I tiptoe behind him.
He
opens the hood and waves away the smoke emanating from the engine.
He coughs a couple of times and messes around with some cables and
tubes. I don’t understand what he’s doing, but I’m hoping he’s not
breaking any more parts.

“Well … your engine looks busted. Not much I
can do about it here.”

“Oh …” is all I manage to say. God, I feel
like a mumbling teenager. C’mon Amy, get it together!

He pokes around some more, and then shuts
the hood. He sets his gorgeous eyes on me, which makes it hard for
me not to break out into sweat.

“
Well, I can take her up to my place; see
if I have the tools to fix her. I’m not promising anything, but
there’s not much else to try at this point. The nearest shop is
hours away.”

“If you could do that, it’d be wonderful.” I
try to throw in a casual smile.

“
Sure can.” He throws me a
w
ink that sets my heart
on fire. He holds out his hand, and I take it. “Jack
McCallister.”

His hand is firm
, and mine locks easily into his. Like the perfect
fit. “Amy Brooks.”

When he lets go of me it leaves a warm
mark on my skin that tingles and gives me goose bumps. He walks off
to his truck standing a few
yards away from my car. It’s loaded with buckets, sacks of
grain, a shovel, and a pitchfork. He rummages through the trunk and
fetches a thick chain. The sight of him turning around, walking
back to me, sends chills up my spine. His stride is masculine, and
his big boots catch the mud from the road. His body is rigid,
strong, like a rock, unwavering. Just looking at him makes me feel
grounded.

I swallow away the nerves when he comes back
and wraps the chain somewhere under the front of my car.

“
I’ll have to tow it back to my place with
my truck. Hold on a sec,
I’ll attach the chain,” Jack says.

He runs back to his truck in a funny pace
that makes me giggle. I move out of the way as he drives his truck
to the front of my car. He jumps out again and attaches the chain
to his truck. I watch him work from the side. After he’s done, he
pulls up his shirt and wipes the sweat off his forehead. I gulp,
seeing the taut muscles on his back. Dear god, what I’d do to be
able to touch those.

Oh,
Amy, get a hold of yourself!

As he lowers his shirt, he turns around to
look at me. I realize my mouth hangs open and I shut it
immediately. A coy smile appears on his face. “All done. Let’s
go.”

Jack
walks to the passenger side of the truck and opens the
door, and then he just stands there waiting. He looks at me with
his eyebrows raised and points at the seat. “Are you getting in or
should I just drop your car off here tomorrow?”

“
Oh, sorry, yeah,” I say
, and I hurry over to him.

He’s casually leaning on the door now, his
fingers swaying back and forth. His dark eyes are still fixed upon
me, staring me down as I get near. It’s making me nervous. The
closer I get, the more I get the feeling to run.
The scent of hay and manly sweat passes my
nose and I know it’s him. It’s somehow relaxing to smell and pulls
me in.

I hesitate to move closer. Jack’s standing
right in front of me, and I need to get inside, but he’s too close
for comfort. So close I could almost touch him. I want
to.

I gulp. I should stop thinking about these
things.

I take a deep breath and pass him, sinking
into the car. He smirks, shakes his head, and closes the door
before running to the other side. He gets in and shuts the door
with a smack. I don’t think he meant it to be that rough. He seems
like the type of guy to be unaware of his own strength.

Jack starts the car
, and I put my seatbelt on while trying to
ignore the bloated feeling I have. I don’t know why I’m acting this
way. I never had this with Ronnie. Sure, he was sweet and made me
laugh, but this … this is way more. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just
lusting over this hunkalicious.