Risk (Gentry Boys #2) (21 page)

Truly

He was gone early but I knew he would be.   The night was too short.  Sometimes we slept lightly in each other’s arms.  Other times we’d turn to one another half in a dream and make love in a sweet, unhurried way.  Once I awoke to the feel of him entering me hard and then using me even harder.  Still, he didn’t finish until he felt me come. 

There was a desperate quality to it all and I had wanted so badly to tell him what was in my heart.  But words weren’t what Creed needed from me just then.  He needed my body.  He needed my arms around him.  He needed the silent reassurance that I would be waiting for his return. 

Creedence held my hand one last time, bringing it to his lips before he turned and walked out.  He didn’t say goodbye.  I was glad he didn’t. 

I’ve never been a praying sort.   Mama certainly wasn’t interested in anything having to do with a church.  My childhood was all over the place and the most basic thing we’d been taught was how to scrape by off the goodwill of others.   All I knew of religion I’d learned back when that well meaning neighbor lugged the four of us to Sunday morning services.  As I listened to the sound of my lover’s exit, I wished some of it had stuck with me.  It would have been nice to have something to turn to in an hour of such grim uncertainty.  I’d never had that, not from my earliest days of awareness.  I’d always known Laura Lee wasn’t up to the task she’d brought upon herself. 

I sat up in bed, frowning, thinking of something Carrie had said.  My little sister told me that my own mother saw me as a rival from the minute I hit puberty.  That had been true for all of us, on some level.  But I was the oldest, the first to grow a woman’s body that just couldn’t be hidden. 

Mason Montgomery. 

The name was always there.  I just refused to think about it most of the time.  He wasn’t the only one of my mother’s many men who had given me a look I could already recognize as lust.  By the time Mason came around I was halfway through my junior year of high school in a muggy rural nowhere and wondering what the hell was supposed to come next.  Although I’d already been pawed by all kinds of boys who always turned out to be worse than they seemed, I’d never let one get between my legs. My reason was simple.  I couldn’t tolerate ending up like my mother; carelessly pregnant as a teenager, shrugging over each mistake after that, and then dragging a line of children through a life she never wanted. 

No, I was a hell of a lot smarter than Laura Lee had ever been.  At least I was until Mason Montgomery got me on my back in the bed of his dirty pickup. 

He’d had been around for about a month by that point, always showing up full of flattery and other lies.  Mason figured out where I took my long walks and he was suddenly there too, pretending it was just chance.  I knew it wasn’t but I was thrilled anyway.  Mason wasn’t an acne-ridden
boy
.  He was a
man
.  He was ruggedly bearded, smelling of gasoline and tobacco.

Mason had a powerful sexuality.  And I had just the right mix of willful naivety to believe him when he said he wasn’t screwing my mother.  He said they were friends, that he picked Laura and her red heels up three nights a week for chaste fun like miniature golfing because he felt sorry for her. 

At first we just kissed a lot.  Then I took off my shirt and he pushed his hard organ into my hand until he came with an explosive groan.  But Mason wasn’t satisfied with the games of boys for long.  He wanted inside.  May the devil help me, but that man had me under such a spell that I didn’t care about risks or consequences.  I just wanted something done about the throbbing between my legs and he knew just how to solve that problem. 

I never caught wind of how Laura found out.  Mason was already gone, having skipped town not twenty four hours after I told him the penalty for our crazy gamble.  I shouldn’t have been surprised but it stung anyway.  Laura went into a tailspin and that was strange for her.  Usually she moved on to a new man with ease.  But after Mason abandoned her without a word she played sad country ballads and cried until her nose bled.  That was how I understood Mason had lied to me as much as I’d lied to myself. 

One early spring evening Laura came through the front door of our sagging rented bungalow and stalked right over to where I was crouched over homework.  She backhanded me hard as my sisters gasped.  The things she said to me were not things a mother ever ought to say to her child.  I answered with things a daughter should never even
think
about her own mother.  That night was the end of the Lee girls.  Even though Mason had already taken the innocence of my body, it was right then I started to lose the innocence of my heart.  It’s what needed to happen though.  Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to give a piece of myself away to the arms of strangers. 

“Truly?”  Stephanie was softly knocking on my door.

“You need something?” I called, a bit harshly. 

“I can hear you sobbing through the walls.” 

I tried to catch my breath.  I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying so hard. 

You’re falling to pieces Truly Lee. 

“Sorry,” I told her through the closed door.  “I got a splinter.” 

She laughed.  “Is that what you Southern girls call it?”

I jumped out of bed and started pulling on some clothes. “Sometimes, although not in the case of Creed Gentry.” 

I could practically hear my roommate shuffling with discomfort.  She was trying to be a friend, no matter how unnaturally it came to her.  “You want to talk about it, Truly?”

“Not right now.”  I closed my jeans and opened the door. 

Stephanie was leaning against the frame.  She gave me a strange look, close to pity. 

“I heard some rumors,” she said in a low voice. 

Given Stephanie’s line of work, I could guess what the rumors were.  “Is that so?  You want to share the gossip?”

She slumped against the far wall and leaned her head back.  “I thought the Gentry name sounded familiar.  I never took bets on those underground fights.  It’s just a little too brutal for my appetite.”  She smiled faintly.  “I do have some standards.” 

I crossed my arms.  “But you know something about it.” 

She lost her smile.  “Yes.” 

“And you know about Creed?”

“Yes.  I hoped it wasn’t true.  There’s a guy I know, a friend of my father’s.  He’s out of Vegas but makes it down to Phoenix now and again.  I acted like I might be getting interested in these fights I kept hearing about but I was really only looking for the odds.” 

“And what are they?”

She didn’t balk.  “Not good, Truly.  Not good at all.  There’s too much green betting that he never gets up again at all.”

I sat down on the floor.  Stephanie sat down next to me.  I couldn’t think about how I would cope with such a loss.  I just had to reach into the place where people found their faith and believe that I wouldn’t have to. 

“You want an omelet?” I asked my roommate.  “I feel like cooking.” 

“Truly.” 

“I don’t know if we have any cheese left.  If not I’ll jazz them up somehow.” 

Steph nodded slowly.  “I’d like an omelet.” 

“Good.”   I worked quickly and tried not to remember the last time I’d been in front of the stove early in the morning.  Creedence had been lured out of bed by the sound of my singing.  He’d stood there in the doorway shamelessly naked, watching and listening. 

Stephanie picked Dolly up and sat at the table while I flipped an omelet. 

“That’s some gift,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the sewing machine.  It was still in the living room. 

It was indeed.  I paused in my cooking long enough to peer around the corner.  I’d never been more stunned than when I came home yesterday to find it sitting there.   I couldn’t guess where he’d found it or how he even understood what to look for.  I’d only mentioned Granny June’s treadle machine once but Creed must have remembered every word because he’d gotten it exactly right.  Of all the things I’d received from men over the years, none ever meant so much as this. 

Stephanie gobbled up her omelet and then looked at the clock.  “Shit,” she grumbled.  “I’ve got to get to class.” 

I took a sip of my coffee even though to me it was as tasteless as everything else was today.  “How are you, Steph?  I haven’t asked as much as I should.” 

She grimaced slightly.  “I’ll be okay.  I mean, I can handle it.” 

“You still haven’t told me what it is exactly you’re handling.” 

“No,” she agreed wryly, “I haven’t.”  For once she took her plate to the sink and washed it off.  I watched her as she carefully dried it and set it back in the cabinet.  She pointed to my shoulder. “What happened there anyway?”

“Paper cut,” I answered, glancing down at the shoulder in question. There was still a bandage covering my fresh tattoo.  Creed hadn’t asked about it. 

I waited until Stephanie was gone before I slowly peeled the bandage off.  Cord had done a beautiful job with the artwork.  The magnolia petals had an ethereal quality to them.  I stared at the carefully inscribed date.  Why hadn’t I told Cord to include the year?

Because it isn’t just one year.  It’s every year.  It’ll never end. 

In all my long, rambling monologues to Creedence about my life, my girlhood, my sisters, I hadn’t breathed a word about the most important story of my past. I didn’t know what kind of answer he would give to that news.  Would he have continued to hold me, patiently listening?  Would it change the way he saw me?

I pulled a chair over to the sewing table.  The time was barely eleven am.  One way or another I would know the outcome of the fight before another turn of the calendar.  I thought about it for a minute and realized I’d never hated any day as much as I hated today. 

After pulling my old sewing basket out of my closet and finding a tiny bottle of oil, I set about tending to the machine.  It had been well cared for over its many decades of life.  Once I had threaded the bobbin and needle I began working the treadle.  It gave me a good amount of satisfaction, watching the thread zigzag across the fabric. 

I stopped when I thought I heard a faint knock on the door.  Then I heard it again, a little more insistent.  When I opened it, Saylor was standing on the other side. 

“Figured you could use come company,” she told me, sinking into the couch with a sigh. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

She grinned.  “Aren’t
you
?”  She noticed the sewing machine in the living room.  “Are you keeping it there?”

“You knew he was getting it?”

Saylor paused.  “Yes.” 

I sat next to her on the couch.  “So how are things in Gentry Land?”

“Pretty grim, Tallulah.  I’m not very good at artificial cheer.”  She rested her elbows on her knees and sighed.  “Cord went to work and Chase went to class but they’ll both be back before five.  Creed and Declan took off together, probably to go get keyed up at the gym.”  She turned her sad green eyes on me.  “How are you?”

I exhaled shakily.  “I’ve been better, sugar.” 

“He was here last night, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love him, Truly?”

“I don’t know.”

Liar.

Saylor gave me a shrewd look.  “It’s not a calculus question, sweetie.  You don’t have to tell me, but you definitely know.” 

“How did you know?  With Cord?”

She shrugged as if she thought the question was strange.  “I just did.” 

“But it was so soon with you guys.” 

“It was,” she smiled.  “Cynics would argue it was
too
soon.”

“Would you argue back?”

“No.  I would keep my mouth shut and pity the shit out of them.  Cynicism has no place in love. Its existence doesn’t need to be examined by people who are too lost to recognize it.”

I gave a short laugh.  “That’s some flowery prose there, Miss McCann.” 

“You are correct. I should write it down and somehow insert it into my book.  Do you have a pen?”

Saylor was a good friend.  She stayed by my side for hours and we were able to laugh together even when the world was nuts.  I was reminded of a particular childhood Christmas.  There nothing waiting for the four of us when we awoke that morning and Laura felt bad.  Then she suddenly grinned wide and started tickling each of us.  We began laughing and tickling each other, rolling around on the floor and howling with laughter, completely forgetting our disappointment.  Laura looked at us with satisfaction and loudly proclaimed that there was no better gift than laughter.  It was one of the only useful things she had ever said.  It seemed she just forgot her own words somewhere along the way. 

Saylor’s mood changed when she got ready to leave.  “You coming over tonight?”  She pushed her long hair behind her ears.  “They’re leaving about eight.  Cord won’t let me go. Bray and Millie are coming over so we can watch the clock together.” 

“No,” I shook my head.  “Think I’ll watch the clock from here.” 

Saylor hugged me.  “It’ll be okay, Truly.  I just know it.  It has to be.”