Call Me Michigan
Authors: Sam Destiny
CALL ME MICHIGAN
AMAZON EDITION
First published in Germany in 2016
Copyright © 2016 by Sam Destiny
Cover Artwork by MGbookcovers (https://www.facebook.com/groups/1011716275555896/)
Formatting by Ready, Set, Edit
Editing by Jenny Sims of Editing4Indies (http://www.editing4indies.com)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Also available in paperback.
All rights reserved. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
www.samdestiny.com
Sometimes your first love is your only love.
Hold onto it.
Morningstar Series
Contemporary Romance
Call Me Michigan
Mason Stiles watched as his best friend pulled up in a truck and parked it right next to his black pickup. Though no one could see inside the darkened windows of the bar, Mason could clearly see the apprehension on his best friend’s youthful face. Brad pushed the Stetson off his black hair, scratching his forehead before lowering the hat back into place. Mason downed his shot of whiskey and then signaled the bartender for another, adding a beer to mix up the flavor.
The run-down bar was really a hole in the wall with mirrored windows from the outside, a door with peeling moss-green-colored paint, and a brass handle. Inside, the oak bar, some tables, and a run-down pool table in the back had seen better days. The floor was imitation wood, but the excessive foot traffic had made the original color indistinguishable. The chairs were simple oak, no padding, and the barstools were leather-covered, even though not one was still intact. The walls were painted a muddy brown, making Mason think that bars often were designed to put you down even more. It was probably a tactic to get you to buy more alcohol. Left of the bar was a hardware store and to the right, a hairdresser. The only windows were the ones across from the bar, on each side of the door. It made the whole room even gloomier; especially since the green glass-covered lamps didn’t do shit for lighting up the room.
“Gimme your car keys, Mase,” Brad demanded the moment he stood next to his barstool. He held out a calloused hand, showing traces of hard work.
“Nope,” Mason replied, making the ‘p’ pop. With surprise, he noticed that his words had lost their edge. How many of those honey-colored shots had vanished behind his lips?
“Yes! And then you’ll pay your tab and get in the truck with me. You need to see Taylor before she leaves,” Brad ordered, already patting him down.
“I didn’t know you swung that way, buddy. I could’ve made ya happy a long time ago.” Mason grinned, chuckling as Brad rolled his eyes while pulling the keys from his best friend’s pocket.
“Taylor. Now,” he repeated, and Mason shook his head.
“No. Collins made sure I knew she didn’t want to see me anymore,” Mason protested, his heart hurting with the truth behind those words.
“That girl just turned eighteen and finished high school. She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Brad insisted, waving over the bartender. “How much does his drunken ass owe you?” he wanted to know, and Mason saw the old man smile in sympathy.
“There ain’t no way to pay for a broken heart,” he rasped out, his voice hoarse from too many cigarettes and whiskey. His gnarly hands moved a rag over the polished top in an easy rhythm of habit. Especially since he didn’t need to look down in order to wipe around glasses or bowls that adorned the wood.
Mason stumbled off his barstool, snorting. “I ain’t got no broken heart,” he slurred, seeing Brad and the bartender exchange a glance.
“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, son, and you’re done. Totally and absolutely drunk. A woman is the only reason a man gets that wasted. And young Taylor is a pretty reason, too,” the bartender remarked, going from cleaning the bar to polishing some glasses.
“But –”
“No ‘buts’ or ‘maybes,’ Mason. We are gonna go and see your girl now. In your current state, you might be brave enough to actually open that stubborn mouth of yours,” Brad announced, reaching for him. It was a hard feat to get back to Brad’s truck since the world kept tilting on its axis and sometimes even moved in waves just to spite Mason. Additionally, the falling rain made him think the ground had holes where there was none.
“I really love her.” That statement didn’t surprise him or Brad, but still, it cut deep. God, it was so true. He loved everything about Taylor Collins and had since the first day she entered high school, bringing the sunshine with her.
“I know.” Brad’s tone was somber, clearly stating how bad he felt for his friend.
“I’m twenty-one. I feel like my life’s over. I don’t know where to go from here. I could see it, Brad. Me and Collins on the farm, our children running around while I kiss her nose and tell her she’s still as beautiful as she was when she was sixteen.” Shaking his head, he wondered why the world hated him so much.
Brad started his truck, staying silent. Then again, what was there to say? The drive to the Greyhound station didn’t take longer than five minutes, but the weather had taken a turn for the worse; black clouds rolled in and brought thunder and heavy rain. Still, Mason spotted Taylor as if she were a beacon in the darkness. Standing between two silver buses, she had just handed her one suitcase to a bus driver to be stored and therefore start her new adventure.
The moment Mason had heard that she planned to leave Sunburn, his whole life had been turned upside down. He had watched her for two years, being only her friend. He decided to give her time, make her experiences, always telling himself to give her just one more year until he told her that he loved her. She was sweet, charming, smart, and beautiful; so naturally, guys had swarmed her, but she still hung with him and his friends if she had the choice. A million and one parties had happened, yet he never had found the courage to take it one step further. His plan had been to watch her kiss a lot of frogs until sweeping in and making her see that he was her one and only prince.
“Get her to stay,” Brad urged, almost pushing him out of the parked truck, and Mason moved, still having a hard time keeping himself upright.
The rain was soaking through his jeans and button-down as he approached Taylor. She was perfect in his eyes: brown leather boots that complemented her long legs, a yellow dress that ended mid-thigh, long blonde waves spilling down her shoulders, wild as the girl who wore them. She had her denim jacket in her hand, just pulling it over as he reached her side.
Her eyes had widened in surprise before they narrowed in fury. He deserved that look, too, and he knew it. At the news of her leaving, he had felt as if it had been a personal decision against him, so he wanted to hurt her back, having thrown a private party for him and Patricia, the girl Taylor hated most in the entire county. Of course, a small town had no secrets, and Taylor had basically found out the second Patricia walked out of his door.
“I don’t need a good-bye from you, Stiles,” she spat, her voice dripping with anger. She wanted to turn away from him, but he grabbed her arm, breathing in the rainy air to clear his drunken haze. Facing her buzzed was the worst idea Brad and he had ever had, and their track record of stupid ideas was long.
“Stay,” he pleaded, keeping his voice low to maybe hide his physical state.
“Are you drunk?” she asked in utter disbelief, catching on to him instantly. After all, she knew him inside out.
“Stay,” Mason simply repeated, and she stepped forward. He knew she was going to smell his breath, but that wasn’t what he had in mind. Instead, he grabbed her shoulders, and then he was kissing her. His lips pressed against hers until she opened them with a gasp and he invaded her mouth with his tongue. She was soft, warm, and tasted of strawberry chewing gum. He knew it was a comfort thing for her, and she chewed it when she needed mental strength. He had always loved the scent on her breath, and now, he loved the taste of her on his tongue even more. For a few seconds, he even imagined she was kissing him back, her lips moving against his, almost compliant, but then …
“Fuck, Mason,” she cursed, pushing away from him. “Fuck you thirty ways to hell!” She stepped back, her eyes on his face, pain twisting her features.
“Taylor, wait,” he called after her, but she just shook her head, turning away. He took a step to follow her, but his own foot got caught on his jeans, and he stumbled to the ground. Closing his eyes, he wondered if getting up would change anything. He felt as if his world had come crashing down and he was sitting in the ruins with no way to ever rebuild it.
The bus passed him, and he looked up, letting the rain pelt down on him until eventually Brad pulled him back toward his truck. Mason didn’t care; his heart had just left this town on a damn Greyhound bus.
