Page 58 of The True-Blue Romance

Oh fuck. I have to make all these decisions. I fucking hate this.

“Right.” Because that’s the only word I know to say.

“There are going to be a lot of decisions you’re going to have to make. How about you take some time to think about it, then give me a call back. Or better yet, drop by the facility when you have a chance.”

“Okay. Thank you. Sorry.”

Maisie laughs lightly, then sighs. “There’s nothing to say sorry for, Mister Bradley. I’ll speak to you soon. Enjoy your night.”

Right. Enjoy my night. Ugh. The worst, darkest part of me thinks I should just let my dad die as payback for all the shit he put me through growing up. But I’ve never been one for payback. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad orchestrated this situation somehow just to put me through more shit. I’m torn between sobbing and screaming, which isn’t a good combination at the current moment.

Storm clouds gather to the south for a typical summer storm. The guys in the field wave and run toward their trucks. But I just stand there, unable to move my legs, unable to move at all, unable to barely think.

Life was certainly going too well, wasn’t it?

Lightning forms branches as it lights up the sky in the distance. The thunder that follows rocks through me. Goose pimples cover my arms just as the raindrops start to fall and the cool wind blows. I tip my head back to feel the raindrops falling on my cheeks, my lips, and I lick them away just to try to feel something.

I don’t know how long I stand there in the storm. The lightning gets closer, the thunder louder, and the whooshing of the wind fills my ears. But I can’t move. I can’t even breathe.

Air only returns to my lungs when strong hands grab my arms and curses rend the air louder than the cracks of thunder. I can smell the earth shaking loose with the rain—the warm, damp scent that reminds me of my childhood hiding in the orange groves. Hiding from my father. Hiding from my friends who felt love in a way I never had.

“Damn it, Lee.”

I blink and I’m in the cab of my truck, shivering in the cool air. The rain falls hard against the windshield, like glass crashing against glass. The air grows thick when Joey joins me in the cab, his chest heaving with having pulled me out of the storm’s path.

“What were you thinking!”

I wince at his shout. “I wasn’t thinkin’.”

Joey rubs a hand over his face, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It was just terrifying to look out into the field to see your head tipped back like you were askin’ for the storm to take you with it.”

Maybe I was, I almost say. But I know it’ll just terrify Joey. Instead, I sit there quietly and rub my hands over the wet jeans that cling to my thighs. Joey sighs tiredly, starts the truck, and points us toward the farm. He doesn’t stop at the front office though, just keeps driving away, and away, toward home I suppose.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you away for the weekend,” Joey answers without missing a beat. “I had it all planned before seeing you out there hoping a lightning strike would steal you from me.”

“Hey, you’re being a little dramatic.”

Joey tosses a scathing look my way. “You gotta think about more than yourself now. You gotta think about me and Savannah too. No reckless shit, even if it’s stuff you’ve spent your entire life doing. You understand me?”

Oh.

“I understand you.”

“I love you,” Joey says gruffly, but he sounds angry about it.

Which for some reason makes me laugh.

I can’t stop laughing.

I press the heel of my palm to my forehead and laugh until every emotion is bled out of me. Joey looks a little concerned, but I can’t speak to anything else right now. So, I just lean my temple against the fogged passenger window and watch the scenery pass by. The storm doesn’t stop because it’s a tried-and-true summer storm. It’ll pass by evening, leaving us with a stellar sunset that reminds us all why we live in this godforsaken state. Joey pulls up under the awning at my house and jumps out, shaking his head hard enough for water to fly from his curls. I kind of like it when he’s mad at me—I always have—because he’s less gentle and more willing to treat me like he does everyone else.

I follow him into the house with my shoulders up to my ears. But before I can even utter a word, Joey’s got me wrapped in his arms, cheek pressed against mine.

“I love you so much but that was stupid as hell. Don’t do that anymore.”

“I promise.”