Bring the Rain (11 page)

“Well, you know my parents are divorced. They have a custody agreement, but I didn’t know it existed until last week. The agreement grants my father a week a year with me, but he never visited me for more than a weekend. There were the weekly calls, then monthly and a lot of boring emails and tags on cute kitten and puppy photos. Those sorts of things.” I shrug, wanting to tell him about my last goodbye to him on the ranch, screaming
Daddy
as Mom drove away. I didn’t understand it then.

But now, thanks to that word infidelity, I’m starting to.

I don’t tell him that part though. That’s Dad’s secret to share. I peer into the trough. Flies hover about the still water. I slide my hand underneath, inspecting for future cracks.

“I’m sorry, Autumn,” Colt says, his hand touching my shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

“It’s worse. He wants me to stay.”

“Stay?”

“It’s another aspect of the custody agreement. I get to chose who I’ll live with after my seventeenth birthday. So, come September first, I have to make a choice.”

“Your Mom or Dad?”

“Yup. Paris or Oklahoma.”

“But you live in Manhattan?”

“I did, but my mother moved to Paris when I came here for the summer. I thought I was staying in Oklahoma while Mom took a few months to get settled, but it was a cover up for the custody agreement. My dad gets my sixteenth summer. That’s why after he lost the appeal to the initial custody case, he put the rest of the ranch’s emergency savings into the kitchen and bought me the truck. He told me he wanted to make a place I’d love as much as New York City.”

“It is a sweet ride.”

I shrug. “He’s trying to buy my love. So I’ll choose him over my mom.”

“You’re locked between a rock and a hard place.”

“No. I’m stuck between some dried-up mud hole and freaking
Paris
. I have to go there. A year in Paris? Who can pass that up?”

“I dunno.” He opens the truck door for me. I climb up and reach out to pull the door closed, but he won’t let me. “The ranch may seem dull, but it’s not that bad here. It’s not like Paris is going anywhere. You could always study abroad there after spending time to get to know your father more.” He closes my door before climbing in his side and starting the ignition.

“But why? I’ll only have to leave again for college. Goodbyes suck. I can’t do that.” The air conditioner coughs to life. “It’ll be easier to keep up the emailing, maybe expand to seeing one another on holidays.”

Colt nods as I speak. “That would be easier, but just because something’s easy doesn’t make it right.”

Great, so Colt’s a therapist now.

“So you’re leaving after your birthday?” He asks as he pulls up to the next trough. He shifts in his seat for a second then gives me a sideways glance.

“Yes, right after my birthday.” It’s impossible not to be distracted with the sound of him clinking the keys together in his palm. “You okay?”

He takes a deep breath then finally turns to face me. “Well, listen, since you’re here now, how about you let me take you out. On a real date.”

Before I know it, I’ve jumped from the truck. These water troughs need to be assessed, stat. Colt’s southern chuckle follows my steps. He may have been nervous to ask me, but now that it’s out there, he seems as cocky as hell. “How about it? A real date.”

I place my hand under the trough, feeling for weakness. He stands there, hands on his belt, waiting for my response.

“Colt, I’m going to be honest. I’m pretty sure we tried that a couple nights ago. I wouldn’t say it end well.”

“No, ma’am. That wasn’t a date. Our hormones skipped all the talking and eating that’s supposed to happen on a date.”

“Can you blame them?” The words slip from my lips before I realize what they reveal about me: how I still want him.

Colt reaches down and touches my hand. Every nerve tingles and tries to weld our hands together.

“How about dinner?”

“Absolutely not.” I untangle my fingers from his. “I’m leaving soon and you’re too serious. Our dreams don’t mesh. You want a wife. I want a summer fling. We’re not compatible.”

“No,” he slaps his leg. “
Someday
, I want to find a wife. I’m only talking about dinner. Come on. It’ll give me practice for when I meet the right gal, ya know?”

I shake my head as we inspect another full water trough.

“All right, how about we grab a burger together, as friends? You did just tell your Dad we’re friends. Prove it.”

“Okay,” I say. “Friends I can do. It’ll be nice to get into town again.”

“Friends hold hands,” Colt suggests, touching his hand to mine once more.

Another chortle escapes my lips. “In your dreams, Colt.”

He nudges me then. “What’s with the goose noise anyway?” 

He imitates me on the walk back to the truck, flapping his arms. I shove him into the door, nice and hard, like a true friend would do.

Gina bounces
on the edge of my bed. “Colt Rodick?” She squeals. “He’s like the sexiest guy. Total A-List!”

“Sure,” I say.

She giggles. “But for real, he’s nice too and stuff.”

I hide my laugh about her use of the term
A-List
. It’s a whole different categorization in Manhattan. We’re talking top celebrities at top clubs. Not cowboys with cute grins.

“Do you think you’ll kiss him?” She tosses my pillow, nailing me on the back. “Or more?”

I roll my eyes playfully at her in the mirror as I brush on lash lengthening mascara. “We’re going out as friends. Nothing more.”

“But it could be!”

“Trust me. It’s not happening.”

“Why not?”

I lie. “He’s not my type. The artsy intellectual man is for me. Colt is more…”

“Down to earth?” she suggests.

I laugh, that’s the last way I’d categorize his dreams. “No. Actually, I was going to say out of this world.”

“Yeah, out of this world HOT!”

I whip my pillow back at her. I haven’t told her about kissing him at the party, our horseback ride, or the evening in his bed. Not to mention the crappy side-ways proposal. I usually keep most guy stuff to myself. Gina knows about my summer with the guy living across the hall, but that’s about it.

“How’s everything with Peter?” I ask while I search for my eyeliner in my desk drawer. I find it under an old pink notebook. Oh, wow. I can’t believe this is still here. I’d forgotten about it. It’s where I used to store all my “dreams.” My fingers play with the cover, but the thought of exploring these pages seems too painful. After mom’s saddle, her boots, my unchanged room, and my swimming pool, I’ve taken enough strolls down memory lane. I toss it into the trashcan. It’s probably only filled with magazine photos of horses anyway. 

“Pete’s old news.” Gina rolls her eyes.

“What happened?”

“Well,” she scrunches up her face. “He wasn’t very good at
it
. I gave him a few chances but… just too robotic.”

“I thought you liked him? You wouldn’t stop talking about how sweet and smart he was before I arrived.”

“He was.” Her voice has this edge that is so Gina. Thankfully, it’s not aimed at me. I’ve been on that side once before, and it’s not fun.

“What happened?” I ask with a smile, careful to make sure she knows I’m not judging.

“Nothing. He’s still sweet, I guess.” She slides off the corner of the bed to the floor.

“If you really like him, the sex can get better.” I think? I don’t know. It’s the advice they say in the magazines. “Communicate. It’ll improve.”

She curls her lower lip in for a moment and that’s when I know this isn’t about the sex.

“Gina, then what’s the problem with Peter?”

“I just… I can’t get stuck here. Next year, I’m out of this place. NYU or Boston. I don’t want to feel chained down.”

“Where does he want to go to school?”

“Oklahoma State.” She picks at the carpet. “Better now than later, right?”

“I get that.”

“I knew you would. That’s what makes you the best. Mom thinks I’m crazy, but when I visit you in New York I feel like the world is at my fingertips. And here… my days are stuck on repeat. When’s Paris?”

“I checked out flights last night. I’m thinking of booking September third.”

“That late?”

I haven’t told her about the custody agreement either and my choice. There hasn’t been enough time to dive into anything with her lately. “Yeah.” I tug at the bottom of my shirt, repositioning it. “Mom’s got business-work in Greece in August. I’ll stick around here until she’s resettled.”

“Your Dad has cable, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. You’ll survive it then, but barely. Plus, who knows, maybe Colt can make the summer much more entertaining?” She winks at me with a goofy, exaggerated nod. “Yes?”

No wonder we’re best friends. Our hormones think too much alike.

“No.”

“Yes.” She says, still nodding. “Colt’ll be better than cable.”

My lip twitches as I remember his soft kiss. She’s right. He is.

“All right, I’m out. Ice cream shop tonight.” She grabs her keys and diamond-studded cell off the nightstand. “Have fun,” she slaps my butt. I rub the stinging spot while I hear the front door creak open and closed.

A quick review of the cash in my purse, and I’m ready to go. Friends don’t pay for one another’s dinner. At most, they split it. I throw on my favorite gloss, and then stall, remaking my bed. 

I can’t deny the obvious any longer. I brush my hair out of my face and my arms feel like a racetrack, each cell and nerve throttling through every move I make. I can’t believe I’m actually nervous about tonight. I didn’t feel like this the evening we went riding. Hell, I’ve never felt like this before a date.

It’s not a date though, is it?

I grab the edge of my bed. I’ve got to get control. I’m going out for a burger with a friend. I’ve done this many times before with guy friends in Manhattan. There will be talking, laughing, and joking—like friends.

Oh my gosh. I’m ridiculous.

I snatch my purse. I can’t be alone right now or I’ll end up in an endless cycle of nerves.

Dad and Todd sit at the kitchen counter, hovering over laptops, papers, maps, and excel documents. I eye the hand drawn map, recognizing my great grandpa’s artwork. It used to hang above our couch in the living room and I’d pass winters tracing those lines. Dad’s finger rests on the outline of the pond Howdy and I like to escape to. The edges of the map are surrounded with fresh card stock, thick pen grooves carved into them. Has the ranch expanded this much? There’s so much more to lose than I knew.

“Hello, Autumn,” Todd looks up from the spreadsheet in front of him. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.”

“Do you need something, Bug?” Dad’s still staring down at the map, pulling at his hair. I doubt he even realizes that he called me Bug again.

“Nope. I’m just grabbing some water before Colt picks me up.”

Now that gets his attention. “Colt?” He says, swinging the stool around to face me.

“We’re getting a burger. As friends,” I clarify.

He rubs his temples. “Todd? Do you mind giving us a minute?”

Crap. I don’t remember doing anything wrong. Did Colt tell him about how I threw myself at him? There’s no way he’d do that. At least, I hope not.

Todd, never one for many words, nods and heads out the back door. I like Todd’s silence. It’s more genuine than those who senselessly babble and I swear, if I ever fit into that category, I’ll cut my tongue off.

“Autumn,” Dad hands me a glass of water. “Listen, I need to apologize.”

Apologize?

He nods towards the maps and laptop open with numbers. “My intention for the summer was for me to be the one bringing you out to grab the burgers. I didn’t want to get caught up in this. How about we grab dinner tomorrow night? I don’t want you to feel abandoned.”

Once again, a wave of nausea overcomes me. Is he saying this because he genuinely wants to spend time with me or because he’s trying to prove I should pick him over Mom? I hate how everything he does can be interpreted in two ways, and it's not fair how I'm expected to answer. “I don’t feel abandoned. I’m enjoying myself,” I say, opting for the safe, distant route.

“Really?” his eyes brighten. “Could this have anything to do with Colt?”

“No, we are just friends. He’s someone to hang out with, ya know?”

Dad’s face tells with a flick of his right cheek. I know that one too well. It’s my tell too. He’s in pain.

“Not that I don’t want to be with you,” I explain. Wait… why am I trying to make him feel better? He cheated on us. He hurt us. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to process that.

“It’s fine.” Dad pats the counter. “I understand, but I need you to know I'm working on balancing our life, okay? I want to spend time with you. Riding, cooking… that sort of thing.”

“I know.”

“No, Autumn, I don’t think you do. I’ve looked forward to this summer for seven years.” He taps his head. “Seven years of wanting to be with you, all planned and jammed into twelve weeks. Please, understand, how much I wish this summer was different so I could spend more time with you.”

We look at one another, and I want to take the leap and tell him I do know what it’s like. Those seven years of plans? I’ve had them too. He should have driven me to my first dance and given the guys an evil glare. He should’ve been there the day I sprained my shoulder during Volleyball. He should’ve been there to scold me the day I lost control in eighth grade, slapping that innocent seventh grader around simply because I could. I gasp, hating how I was that girl, but it was his fault I went down that path for a while. Thankfully, I had a good mom who pulled me out. No, I can’t tell Dad I know what it’s like to miss someone that much because I don’t know if he really gets it either.

The patio door squeaks as Todd slides it open, walking back in. “Ya’ll right?” he asks both of us. Todd doesn’t play dumb. Never has.

“Yes, just talking to Autumn about spending more time together, and thanks for reminding me how I’ve got to oil down that door.”

“I’m glad you’re talking about it-- I like having you around, Autumn. You brighten up the place.” He smiles, then simply picks up his spread sheet again and places his red pen between his teeth.

The doorbell dings and Dad gives me a sideways smile. “Have a nice time with your
friend
,” he says.

“I’ll try.” I down the glass of water, placing it in the sink. The doorbell rings again.

Todd chuckles on my way out of the kitchen. “Persistent lad, huh?” I only hear Dad’s muffled mumble as a response. Colt’s outline is tall and angled thanks to the fog glass. As I open the door, I’m blasted with one hundred degree heat.

“Hey, there.” Colt looks the part of a cowboy movie star, dressed in a white button down shirt, dark washed jeans, and cowboy boots.

“Friends don’t ring the door bell,” I say as I brush past him.

“Oh, you want me to walk right on in and yell hello?” He rests his hand on the middle of my back and leads me down the stairs. Ugh, friends don’t do that either. I step sideways, escaping his warm touch. There, much better. He opens his truck door for me and I climb in.

“Friends text,” I say. “Just send me a text the next time you arrive.”

“Next time?” he says as the ignition roars to life.

“Now, hold on cowboy.” He needs to be set straight. “I agreed to go out as friends. As friends, we can get together again, but only if tonight isn’t a complete disaster. Do you understand?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t imagine anything more.” He winks at me and I throw him a dirty look. This friend thing totally isn’t going to work.