Say You'll Stay (17 page)

I gasp while shaking my head. “I never wanted to hate you.”

“But you do, and I can take it. I spent enough years hating myself. Just remember what I said.”

There’s no way we can go back. I’m not the girl I once was. I appreciate his gesture, whether it was sincere or spawned from guilt. But when it comes to me, there’s a line he’s not welcome to cross. I don’t know that I can be friends with someone I loved—love—so much.

T
HERE’S A STACK OF PAPERS
sitting on my desk that need to be handled. I head to the office where Cooper sits in a chair with his hat over his face. I creep over and jump, making a loud
bang
. He leaps out of his seat ready to fight. I burst out laughing as he glares at me.

“So not funny.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

He slaps the dirt off his leg and sits back down. “Revenge is a sport I’m a champion of.”

I know this all too well. Cooper and I had full-out wars throughout our childhood and adolescence. Mama was always warning us she’d paddle our asses. One time, I took all of Coop’s clothes, put them in a garbage bag, and buried them. He wore the same nasty pants and shirt for four days, then Daddy threatened to sell my horse if I didn’t tell him where it was.

“I’m not exactly a loser either, dear brother.”

“Ha! You’ll never beat me.”

“Whatever.” I dismiss his antics. “What brings you to the office?”

Cooper and Wyatt never have time to stop here during the day. I honestly don’t know how they were managing anything before. Since I’ve gotten here, I’ve been able to make sense of their nonexistent filing system. My mother has been doing her best to help, but when my father retired, so did she. Instead of Cooper finding someone to run the office, he pretended the problem wasn’t there.

“No one is here nagging me.”

“Ahh.” I smirk. “Mama and Daddy are at it again?”

They want more grandbabies. They want my brother to get married. And when they can corner him, they let him have it.

“She’s trying to set me up with some girl a few towns over.”

“She pretty?” His face says it all. “Okay, then.”

“Anyway, I’m here because the boys want to go camping and explore. I thought I’d take them out for a three-day ride. You good with that?”

I’ve been on these rides. They’re not easy. “Why don’t you start with a one-day camp out?”

“Because they’re going to be men. Stop babying them.”

“I don’t baby them.”

“Sure, you don’t.” His exasperation is clear in his tone. “Look, we’ll ask them. If they want to go, which they will because I’m pretty fucking fun, then you let them.”

All of the dangers flood my brain. I went on a hundred of these trips, but I knew how to shoot a coyote. I was aware of what to watch for. Logan and Cayden have never gone camping. Todd didn’t like being outside in the wilderness, and I never pushed. I was happy with our vacationing to major cities and staying in hotels. Todd’s idea of roughing it was a hotel with no room service.

“I don’t know . . .”

“Go ahead, Pres. Raise a bunch of pussies. They’ll do great when they start school in a month. You want to send them to school not knowing how to bait a hook?”

Asshole has a point. “Fine. We’ll ask them.” Wyatt clears his throat from the door. “Let me guess . . . you think this is a good idea?”

“Cowgirl, it
was
my idea.”

I should’ve known.

As Cooper had predicted, the boys were ecstatic. They ran out of my room and were throwing things in bags before I even said yes. I made Cooper promise me a few things before I was fully on board. First, they take experienced horses. Those boys haven’t ridden, and we don’t know the personalities of their new horses. Second, either my father or Wyatt had to go with them too.

My father agreed to ride out, but he said he was too old to sleep out there with the “youngins.” Wyatt said he had plans, but Trent was off this weekend and would be happy to go. When I shot that down, they pointed out he was the sheriff. And my argument was lost. It’s like they’ve all forgotten the stories about Trent.

They left about an hour ago, and Mama left to go play cards with Mrs. Hennington and Mrs. Rooney, which I know she does when she tells Daddy she’s going to practice singing for the church choir. Those women haven’t practiced in thirty years.

Taking my mother’s, well, everyone’s unsolicited advice, I called Grace for a girls’ night. Thanks to my stress, I’ve lost a ton of weight and can wear some pretty cute things. I’d gone online and ordered some clothes that are a little more form fitting than I’ve been able to wear since having twins. Those kids destroyed my body.

Once in my black shorts and one-shoulder shirt, I head over to the mirror and look myself over. Staring at my reflection, I smile and let out a deep breath. I feel beautiful. More than that, I feel like a woman. My curves are smooth, my hair hangs in soft curls, my eyes are bright green thanks to my makeup, and my ass looks fantastic. At least one good thing has come of this. I throw on my cowboy boots and head to the porch.

“You got a hot date or somethin’?” Grace calls from the window of the car.

“You know it.” I laugh and climb in.

She demanded that she drive so I could relax for a little bit. It’s insane for her to think I’m going to need a designated driver, but I’m tired of fighting everyone and everything, so I go with it. That’s my plan for tonight . . . let loose and smile.

Grace puts the car in drive, practically bouncing in her seat. “I’m so glad you called. I needed to get out. Since I ended things with Trent, I haven’t been out.”

I’ve wondered about that. “What happened?”

She snorts. “You know better than anyone about dating a Hennington.”

“I’m sorry, Gracie.”

She grips my hand. “Please, I’m over it. He’s hot and all, but I’m not going to beg a man to love me.”

Grace has had her eyes on that man since we were kids. He was by far the hottest of the three, but he knew it. Looking at him now, he’s definitely not the sexiest anymore. At least not to me. He’s still built and in shape, but there’s something missing. Why couldn’t they be ugly? Have one of their nuts missing or something? Instead, they’re all perfect in their own ways. Wyatt’s humor makes him more attractive, plus his job keeps him fit. Zach has only gotten better with age, plus his heart is still huge. And Trent’s authority is damn right sinful. Stupid Hennington boys.

We park in front of the local bar and my head falls back. “Not here, Grace.”

“Zach isn’t going to be here. And it’s easy if we both drink too much.”

How she knows Zach won’t be here is beyond me. But I look around the parking lot and don’t see his truck. “Let me guess.” I smirk as I think I figure it out. “Another guy will be?”

“Trent is with your boys, isn’t he?” she asks.

“I didn’t say Trent.”

She groans. “Look, there’s a guy I like, but he won’t talk to me when Trent is around. Bastard made it like he owns me or something. So, you can be my wingman-girl-whatever.”

It’s been a really long time since I’ve done this. But if there’s anyone I want to still be close with, it’s Grace. She’s not once pried or made me feel uncomfortable. She’s been here for me without pushing, which is a damn gift in this town.

“Fine, let’s go snag us some country boys.”

We exit the car, and I try to tug my shorts down. “Does this make me look slutty?” I ask her.

Grace lets out a giggle before covering her mouth. “Honey, any shorter and those are panties.”

“Oh, my God.” I start to head toward the car, but she grabs my arm.

“You look amazing, Presley. I was kidding,” she tries to reassure me. “I mean it. I only wish I had your body . . . and I never had kids.”

“Now you’re just lying.”

“Never. Please,” she begs, “if he’s not here we can drive to another town.”

Grace’s pouty face reminds me of the boys. One day I’ll stop being a sucker. “Fine.”

We head in where everyone is hanging around. Grace grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd. Thankfully there aren’t a lot of people I recognize. We find a spot at the bar and grab our beers. It’s funny how since Todd is gone, I remember things I used to like. When he was alive, I drank wine or vodka, now I’m grabbing beer and whiskey. I hated wearing boots or anything tight, yet here I am in both. I don’t know if it was him that I changed for, or if I was fighting so hard to not be the country girl I am.

Morphing into something else didn’t hide who I really am.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” I hear Felicia’s unpleasant voice from behind me.

I turn with a scowl. “Hi there, Felicia.”

Grace side eyes me.

“Good to see you,” Felicia says.

“I thought you and Zach were in Nashville,” Grace tacks on.

“We were, but Wyatt called sayin’ there was some emergency at the farm. You know how it is with our farm.”

Our
? Grace grabs my arm before I can say anything. “We’re having a girls’ night, so we’ll catch you later.” She whisks me away.

“What the hell?”

“She’s delusional, and you don’t need to worry about the crap she shits out of her mouth.”

I laugh at the visual she paints. “Do you see the cowboy you have your eyes on?” If she doesn’t, we’re leaving.

“Yup, I do!” Grace practically bounces. “How do I look?”

I give her a once over, fluff her hair, and pull one sleeve off her shoulder. She always was beautiful. Her hair is woven to a side braid and her deep blue eyes pop with the dark liner. “You look perfect.”

“Trent—” She starts to say something and then stops, shaking her head. “No, I’m not thinking about that man. He had his chance. I’m over him.”

The Hennington boys don’t seem to think their hold runs out though.

I glance around her, trying to see who the cowboy she set her sights on could be, but my eyes land on Zach. Dammit.

“Grace, he’s here.”

Her breath catches. “Who? Trent?”

“No, Zach.”

“So what? You’re not with him. You don’t even like him.”

I know Grace and she knows me. I may not like him. I may not want even a second of time with him, but there’s no denying how we still look at each other. We both try to fight the rope that binds us, but the knots are too tight.

“Right. Not a big deal.” I try to play it off, but the slight lift of her lip tells me she doesn’t buy it. “Shut up.”

Her hands rise. “I didn’t say a word.”

She turns her head and lets out a heavy sigh. “What is it?” I ask.

“I need a shot. I’m being a chicken.”

I shake my head. She’s always been shy. It was always one of us pushing her out of her comfort zone. Good to see some things are still like I remember. “Okay, shots it is.”

Nothing like some liquid courage.

Grace gets a Buttery Nipple whereas I get Jameson on the rocks from the bartender, Brett. He graduated high school with us and was always the one throwing parties. Funny that he chose this line of work. He hands us the drinks with a smile and lingering eyes.

“No fair that I’m the only one doing shots!” Grace complains.

“Wanna trade?” I offer her, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff anyway.”

“Bottoms up!” I raise my glass.

We clink, and she chugs. I sip my whiskey, looking around and enjoying the music. She stares at the dance floor looking forlorn. I feel bad that she’s unhappy, so I quickly finish my glass and order us another round. Grace’s mood perks up as we keep drinking.

Two more glasses down, and somehow Grace gets me to do a few of her nasty shots. I’m feeling light and free. It’s like floating . . . albeit with cement blocks on my feet.

Zach and Felicia slow dance, and it takes everything within me not to pitch a fit. The feeling I was enjoying dissipates. I hate her. Self-righteous bitch. I hate him. Reckless boy. I hate men because they’re assholes who break your heart and then make you live a life you didn’t want.

I chug the remnants of my Jameson and thank God for the one man who always keeps me feeling good.

Then I look over at Zach, who smiles.
Fuck you and your dumb smile. I hate you.
I fake smile back and then turn toward Grace with a grimace.

“Why the long f-face?” Grace stutters.

I close my eyes so I don’t have to see them. “I hate her. I really hate her. And she’s ugly.”

Grace looks over and laughs. “Inside and out.”

“Right.” I giggle. “Whatever, I don’t want him anyway. He can keep his stupid girlfriend with her stupid hair and her stupid lips. I don’t even like him.”

“Suuure,” she slurs while falling off the chair. “Crap!”

We burst out in loud fits. Shit, I’m drunk as hell. “How much have we drank?”

“Not enough! Bartendeeeeer!” Grace slams her hand on the bartop. “Get my girl and me another round.”

We take another round of shots, which some very nice man at the end of the bar pays for. Grace and I are now completely blitzed. “Let’s dance!” she yells, or at least I think she does.

Bouncing to the dance floor, we hold on to each other as we do what I think are the right steps. I’ve been doing this my whole life. I’m functioning solely on muscle memory.