Page 44

CHAPTER 44

COWBOYS CRY TOO (WITH NOAH KAHAN) BY KELSEA BALLERINI

February

Brianne Archer:

I wait in line at the club alone, irritated with how long it’s taken for me to even approach the bouncer. It’s freezing out here and in perfect Brianne fashion of course I’m not wearing enough to keep me warm. But Bellamy didn’t mind when I left. He said I looked pretty and that’s a step forward for my brother. It’s just about the only step forward he’s made in the past month since he won the championship but it’s something.

I’ve been making an effort to try and make plans with him. Sometimes they work but mostly they don’t. He’s busy. I get it. I’m not dumb. I know it’s not only because he’s busy. It’s also because he’s not even partially my brother anymore the way he was. The way we used to be is never going to happen again. I’ve come to terms with that even though it’s been insanely hard to swallow. But I’m trying.

I’ve already had some to drink tonight. I Ubered here alone in hopes of an escape. I don’t feel that yet. I approach the bouncer and hand him my fake ID and he looks at me instantly giving me a sinking feeling. He doesn’t say a word but he holds his hand out, waiting for mine. I hand it to him and he draws a big X on my hand and I scoff.

“Get a better fake sweetheart,” he mumbles but still lets me in.

Not that it matters anymore considering I’m a walking red flag now. I walk in feeling defeated even though I just got here. I sit at the bar, covering my hand in hopes the X isn’t as noticeable. I wanted to feel. I wanted to drink and feel and I can’t do that. I scour the place for another vice. Another guy. Another thing to occupy my mind. I prop myself up on the side of the bar, looking, and waiting until I’m approached by just the person I wanted to come. The guy I had been looking at for the past few minutes.

He’s got darker skin, but it’s reflecting every neon electric light that’s bouncing around the dark club. His eyes are dark and all of his features are so precise I swear it doesn’t even look like he’s real. He’s clean-cut. Perfect. Definitely not my type for that reason alone. But he’s undeniably hot so he’ll do.

“You look lonely,” he says, taking his place next to me.

“Wanna fix that?” I ask him. His smirk is hard to miss.

“What’s your name?” he asks. Small talk, my favorite.

“Brianne, and you?” I ask.

“Jackson,” he tells me and I nod.

“Nice to meet you, Jackson.”

The back and forth is so simple I want to scream.

“What brings you here then, Bri?”

He jumps straight into a nickname and I don’t know why I hate it so much, hearing the nickname instead of my full name. But then flashes of Parker hit my head and I know exactly why and instantly want to be rid of those thoughts.

“Someone like you,” I lie, choking down the urge to cry or scream or just run away.

He’s gotten closer and closer within the last few minutes and I decide to just make the jump instead of waiting for him, wishing for relief and reprieve from my own mind.

He kisses me back and his lips are perfect. Just like I had expected. But they feel wrong. I did everything as I was supposed to. Like I’ve done before. I leaned in, I touched him, I kissed him and it feels wrong. It’s lacking warmth. Instead of fire, there’s chill and there’s not a single spark that hits my head, my heart, or my body. I don’t need a spark… But I want one. And there’s not one. He breaks away from me and I almost gasp at the lack of feeling. I tuck my hair behind my ear, wearing it down because that’s always what people tell me looks best.

“Is that an X? How old are you?” he asks, almost disgusted.

“I’m 19,” I tell him truthfully.

“I’m too old for you,” he tells me, and I know he’s still in college.

He doesn’t look older than 23 but he's probably right. And I’m an idiot for even being here. Slightly intoxicated, and have no way to get more. Jackson walks away from me, not interested slightly and part of me is thankful because I obviously wasn’t interested either. But I still feel hollow. I still feel sinking in my chest. I still feel like I want something… Anything. I go to the bathroom and directly to the sink. I scrub. The soap and hot water burn my hands. I scrub until the back of my hand is raw and sore and I feel tears in my eyes. I don’t need an Uber. I don’t need to kiss someone. I need to go home, but I have no one.

If I call my brother I’ll be in deeper shit. If I call Dakota he won't pick up. I wouldn’t pick up if I was him either. Leah is… She’s someone I trust. I could call her. But there’s a single person who has always told me to call them when I need them. And besides the fact that I should probably never call him again, especially when I’ve had something to drink… He’s the only person I want to be around right now. So I take his advice, and I call Parker.

* * *

Parker Thompson:

I’ve never driven faster in my life. Mostly out of fear. Panic. Absolute shock. When her name popped up on my phone I almost fell out of my bed. That’s where I’ve spent the past month. Every day after class. After everything, I’ve gone home. I haven’t celebrated my championship win much at all. Mostly because Bellamy will be there and I can’t expose myself to his potential anger or glares or hatred. It’s warranted. But we still managed to work together and win the championship. I hate being in my apartment because Dakota’s there and it’s a constant reminder just how awful Brianne is really doing despite how much she’s trying to fake it.

She hasn’t spoken to him since the beginning of January. He’s hurt. He’s not happy. And I can’t talk to him about it because I’ll feel all of that and more. I understand him though. He doesn’t want to reach out to her out of fear of her pushing him further away. I’ve felt the same. But I also don’t want to diminish or deter any progress she’s made with Bellamy and rekindle their relationship. I can’t be the reason for that again.

I pull up to a nightclub, a bad feeling sinking into my chest when I see her. She looks… frail. Her hair is down. I love it when she wears her hair down but it’s hard to focus on how pretty she looks when she looks this sad. She gets into my car without a word. Her scent hits me like a brick wall. Fresh and clean. Like honey and citrus. I try my hardest not to lose it. Not to ask her a million questions or panic like I want to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as I pull away.

“Never apologize,” I tell her and I mean that. I’d rather her call me. Anytime she needs me. I told her that months ago, and together or not, I meant that… Even if seeing her this way hurts.

“I don’t want to go home,” she admits.

“I have to take you home,” I tell her, wishing it wasn’t true.

“I’d rather be anywhere else,” she whispers and I hate this.

I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish I trusted myself enough to take her to my apartment. To let her be there. But with Dakota. With our past. With Bellamy. I don’t think it’s smart. So I fight the urge to say yes.

“I’m glad you called me. I mean I… I told you to call me, anytime. But why did you… why did you call me and not anyone else?” I ask.

“You’re the only person that I can call who doesn’t hate me right now,” she whispers, not even looking at me.

“No one hates you. Dakota misses you. And Bellamy doesn’t hate you… You guys are… You’re better? No?” I ask and she makes a noise that I think is a laugh but I quickly realize is a cry. A sob. My heart cracks open, my chest breaks and I clench my jaw, trying not to let my emotions flow.

“Bellamy barely looks at me. I can’t try. I can barely look at him either because I’m embarrassed. I hurt him and… He’s just busy. Always. And I want my brother back,” she admits to me.

I know it’s hard for her to do that too. Because we wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for how much she loved her brother. I could reach over and wipe her tears. I could pull her into me. I could crush her body to mine right now if it wasn’t for how fiercely she loves Bellamy.

“It takes time. I’m sorry Brianne…” I apologize, feeling like all of this is my fault.

Like I tried to do everything right and managed to do everything wrong. I ruined her strongest relationship. The only familial relationship she had left. And I’m an ass for that.

“That’s why I called you… If you want me to be honest, that was why I called you tonight,” she tells me. I look at her, glancing with confusion toward her.

“I wanted to hear you say my name. I… I missed you. I kissed someone. And it felt wrong. Like acid in my mouth and I… and it wasn’t you and it hurts,” she admits and it looks like it pains her to say it.

I feel tears in my eyes. I haven’t cried. I haven’t let myself. But seeing her like this. Hearing her admit that to me breaks me in two. I just know it was hard for her to admit it. I know how hard it was for her to say it. But I also know she feels like she has nothing to lose right now.

I wait to respond. Driving quietly, thinking through everything I can, deciphering what the best option is. Brianne cries silently in my passenger seat. I feel anger. Anger at Bellamy. At her brother who claims to care about protecting her, but is letting her feel like this. Unloved. Uncared for. Immensely sad on a level I can’t understand. I’m angry at her and I’m realizing that now. Not at her specifically but the situation. That the one person I’ve ever truly loved can’t choose or love me. That she actively told me she wouldn’t. It’s a pain I’ve experienced, but not on this level. And I’m so damn mad that she’s in this situation at all. I’m mad at myself that I care more about how she feels right now than myself.

“I just feel like I’m spending my life missing everyone instead of living. Because somehow I feel like everyone is leaving or gone.” She admits. Her parents. Those are the first people that come to mind. Her brother. Dakota. Me. I pause at the thought. I still don’t speak as I pull up to her apartment. My chest feels empty at the thought. Leaving her here when she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid the rest of the night. Shower. Rest… You look tired.” I tell her.

“I am tired.” She admits quietly. The talkative, sunshiney girl is gone. She’s there when she’s in a room or a crowd. I’ve seen her in passing. I’ve seen her posts on social media. She’s really good at pretending but I’m seeing right through all of it. Especially now. She’s a glass window. I turn my body to her and she pulls her knees up, looking at me, facing me.

“I miss you too,” I tell her, knowing it’s not a good idea, but feeling wrong keeping it to myself.

I’ve never been one to think like that. That saying what I feel is better than not. But with her, I can’t help it. I watch tears spill down her made-up cheeks. Streaks now through the blush and foundation. I wish she wasn’t wearing any of that so I could see her freckles again. She hesitates. Then she leans into me, kissing me, and my instinct kicks in. The muscle memory I have of her, where to place my hands, where to touch her back it all settles.

But feeling the wetness of her cheeks and the timidness of her kiss brings me right back to this. To what we are. I reluctantly pull away from her.

“Brianne…” I mumble, tilting my head down. I want to kiss her. God do I want to kiss this girl again, but I can’t.

“I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I want to kiss you, but I can’t do it in secret. Not anymore. Not again. And not like this. With you like this,” I tell her. “I won't take advantage of how sad you are right now.”

“You’re not taking advantage of—”

“If I kissed you the way I want to then yes, I would. You’re not thinking… and Bellamy is right upstairs. You… you can’t have me and him both. Unless something has changed,” I tell her.

“I choose my brother,” she tells me again and my chest burns with anger once again toward him. With hurt toward her and everyone else in my life for not choosing me.

“And I’m trying to respect that choice. I can’t…” I tell her.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” she mumbles.

“I’ll do it again and again… But you have to promise me you’ll be careful. Going to clubs alone and—”

“Save the lecture, Parker. I know,” she cuts me off and gets out of my car, leaving me alone.

I drive home in silence. No music because even that hurts now. One song, any song I have on my phone reminds me of Brianne Archer and right now especially, it’s too much for me. I go through the motions of going upstairs. I go into my apartment. All of my roommates and Dakota are sitting in my living room, waiting up for me. All of them are aware of what I was just doing.

“Is she okay?” Dakota is the first to ask.

“No. But physically, she’s home and safe,” I tell them.

I feel the tears in my eyes. I feel the hurt that I’ve harbored over all of this in my chest.

“What happened?” Xander asks.

“She’s hurt, sad, and alone. And no one cares. I mean, no one that can care, no one in her life right now is actively giving a shit,” I tell them.

“Let me guess… She called you because she misses you?” Dakota asks, knowing her just as well as I do.

I hesitate before I nod, not wanting to spill the details. I wipe under my eye feeling a tear pool over. I clear my throat and shake my head.

“I’m just going to go to bed. Thanks for waiting,” I mumble and don’t give them a chance to respond before going back into my room and locking the door behind me.

For the first time in all of this, I cry. I stay silent. I don’t do anything but watch the wall in front of me and let myself be sad over losing the love of my life over someone and something so fucking trivial.