Page 14
Story: Between the Stars
“He was.”
Ah, yes. Tequila. Morgan’s senior year in high school—drunk out of his mind on tequila—he went streaking on the football field during the homecoming game. Graduation, he drove his truck through the side of the Grady barn, and when he turned twenty-one, he rode a bull buck ass naked while I bet him he couldn’t stay on for 8 seconds.
That ended in a lot of blood and the first time I ever had to “apply pressure” to a guy’s nut sac while he screamed like a bitch. Can’t say that was the best night of my life.
And I’m thinking by the tears in Lillian’s eyes now, the other night wasn’t her best night.
I reach forward and turn on the coffee pot. It hums to life, filling the silence. I turn to face Lillian. “Want me to beat him up?”
“No.” She laughs. “If I really wanted to hurt him, I’d stick Sev on him.”
I grab my chest. “Way to knock me down.”
“I’m just being honest.”
I press my lips together and step toward her, my hands on her shoulders. “I am too when I say he loves you.”
“You don’t know that.” She rolls her eyes and shakes off my hold. I’ve known Lillian since we were kids. And in all that time, Morgan has only had eyes for her. That ring on his finger means nothing. I know that’s a fucked-up thing to say, but it’s the truth.
“I do know that. I’m a guy. I know these things.”
“Uh-huh.” Lillian sits down at her desk.
I lean into the counter as I pull out my cell phone and stare at it, hoping I’ll see a message from Abbi that she’s called off the wedding. “What’s Tennessee have that I don’t?”
Lillian rolls her eyes as she thumbs through invoices. “A heart surgeon that makes six figures.”
I snort. “Money doesn’t mean shit to Abbi. And he’s not a heart surgeon yet. He’s a resident. I looked him up.”
She stops flipping through the invoices and looks up at me. “You looked him up?”
“Yeah, I Instagram stalked him like you do to Carly.”
Her eyes narrow in on mine as the coffee pot lets out a chorus of dings indicating it’s done. “You’re such an asshole. Stay out of my life and my phone. I gave you the passcode in an emergency situation.”
I turn away from her and toward the coffee pot. “I don’t think you can classify you being too drunk to drive and handing me your phone an emergency situation.”
“How was it not an emergency? At least I chose that over a DUI. Unlike you.”
Okay, there’s some truth to that one. I still maintain the breathalyzer wasn’t completely accurate, but it doesn’t change Kurtis Lockett’s opinion of me and me driving drunk with his only daughter in the car. “You got yourself drunk.”
Frowning, Lillian eyes the space on the snowbank I parked my Jeep. “Uh-huh. When was the last time you were sober?”
“Four years ago,” I mumble, tossing a travel-size whiskey bottle I find in my coat pocket at her. Some might call me an alcoholic. Others agree it’s part of the life ’round here. And the reason it’s empty, she’s getting married to someone else. Of course I’m a mess. Give me a break.
Lillian moves out of the way before it hits her in the face. “Regardless of what Griff is, Kurtis approves.”
She’s not wrong. Kurtis Lockett will never approve of me because of my last name. Or because I took his daughter’s virginity. Or the accident. Probably all of the above.
I can hear giggles in the distance and the commotion in the shop. I pour myself another cup of coffee, wishing that bottle of whiskey hadn’t been empty, and then head into the shop. All the while my thoughts are with the one who watermarked her memory on me. It’s been three days since I talked to Abbi, and I haven’t called back. She hasn’t either. And the more I think about her with this doctor dude, the worse I feel. The more incapable I find myself of making a decision. If I did, would it mean anything? Would she actually want this kind of life over the one he can provide?
I’m a farm equipment mechanic. I’ve been working at Bishop Repair since I was sixteen, but longer if you take into consideration I’ve been repairing engines since I was old enough to turn a wrench.
Do I enjoy it? Yeah, I do.
Do I make good money? I still live with my parents. Does that answer your question?
I love what I do though, and I get to work with my friends. That’s enough for me. I might not be able to buy a million-dollar home, but I know what family looks like and having boys who will have your back no matter what.
Ah, yes. Tequila. Morgan’s senior year in high school—drunk out of his mind on tequila—he went streaking on the football field during the homecoming game. Graduation, he drove his truck through the side of the Grady barn, and when he turned twenty-one, he rode a bull buck ass naked while I bet him he couldn’t stay on for 8 seconds.
That ended in a lot of blood and the first time I ever had to “apply pressure” to a guy’s nut sac while he screamed like a bitch. Can’t say that was the best night of my life.
And I’m thinking by the tears in Lillian’s eyes now, the other night wasn’t her best night.
I reach forward and turn on the coffee pot. It hums to life, filling the silence. I turn to face Lillian. “Want me to beat him up?”
“No.” She laughs. “If I really wanted to hurt him, I’d stick Sev on him.”
I grab my chest. “Way to knock me down.”
“I’m just being honest.”
I press my lips together and step toward her, my hands on her shoulders. “I am too when I say he loves you.”
“You don’t know that.” She rolls her eyes and shakes off my hold. I’ve known Lillian since we were kids. And in all that time, Morgan has only had eyes for her. That ring on his finger means nothing. I know that’s a fucked-up thing to say, but it’s the truth.
“I do know that. I’m a guy. I know these things.”
“Uh-huh.” Lillian sits down at her desk.
I lean into the counter as I pull out my cell phone and stare at it, hoping I’ll see a message from Abbi that she’s called off the wedding. “What’s Tennessee have that I don’t?”
Lillian rolls her eyes as she thumbs through invoices. “A heart surgeon that makes six figures.”
I snort. “Money doesn’t mean shit to Abbi. And he’s not a heart surgeon yet. He’s a resident. I looked him up.”
She stops flipping through the invoices and looks up at me. “You looked him up?”
“Yeah, I Instagram stalked him like you do to Carly.”
Her eyes narrow in on mine as the coffee pot lets out a chorus of dings indicating it’s done. “You’re such an asshole. Stay out of my life and my phone. I gave you the passcode in an emergency situation.”
I turn away from her and toward the coffee pot. “I don’t think you can classify you being too drunk to drive and handing me your phone an emergency situation.”
“How was it not an emergency? At least I chose that over a DUI. Unlike you.”
Okay, there’s some truth to that one. I still maintain the breathalyzer wasn’t completely accurate, but it doesn’t change Kurtis Lockett’s opinion of me and me driving drunk with his only daughter in the car. “You got yourself drunk.”
Frowning, Lillian eyes the space on the snowbank I parked my Jeep. “Uh-huh. When was the last time you were sober?”
“Four years ago,” I mumble, tossing a travel-size whiskey bottle I find in my coat pocket at her. Some might call me an alcoholic. Others agree it’s part of the life ’round here. And the reason it’s empty, she’s getting married to someone else. Of course I’m a mess. Give me a break.
Lillian moves out of the way before it hits her in the face. “Regardless of what Griff is, Kurtis approves.”
She’s not wrong. Kurtis Lockett will never approve of me because of my last name. Or because I took his daughter’s virginity. Or the accident. Probably all of the above.
I can hear giggles in the distance and the commotion in the shop. I pour myself another cup of coffee, wishing that bottle of whiskey hadn’t been empty, and then head into the shop. All the while my thoughts are with the one who watermarked her memory on me. It’s been three days since I talked to Abbi, and I haven’t called back. She hasn’t either. And the more I think about her with this doctor dude, the worse I feel. The more incapable I find myself of making a decision. If I did, would it mean anything? Would she actually want this kind of life over the one he can provide?
I’m a farm equipment mechanic. I’ve been working at Bishop Repair since I was sixteen, but longer if you take into consideration I’ve been repairing engines since I was old enough to turn a wrench.
Do I enjoy it? Yeah, I do.
Do I make good money? I still live with my parents. Does that answer your question?
I love what I do though, and I get to work with my friends. That’s enough for me. I might not be able to buy a million-dollar home, but I know what family looks like and having boys who will have your back no matter what.
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