Gone Country

Chapter 8 (Keep On Truckin')

It was so early this morning that it was still dark outside. I was having trouble sleeping thanks to Clay. Every time I closed my eyes I saw his face and heard his words echoing in my ears. It was impossible for him to love me right now, we've hardly been together. I tossed and turned, squeezing my eyes shut in hope of rest. Nothing, that's what I got, absolutely nothing. I'm not one to sneak out the house like a rebellious teenager, but I was so claustrophobic under my comforter and sheet, I finally tossed it off of me and forced myself up out of bed. 

I was extremely tired, so tired that I could barely walk straight. I wobbled over to the desk in the room, scribbling a horribly written note to Avery explaining where I was if she happened to wake without me being here. Sluggishly I walked over to her bed, quietly laying the note on her pillow so I wouldn't disturb her. At least someone is getting some sleep around here.

I wanted that fresh air so badly that I didn't even bother changing out of my hello kitty pajama shorts and matching tank top. I grabbed my black cardigan on my way out, but that was it. In a groggy daze, I made my way down the staircase to the front door where I remember leaving my black boots. Once outside in the chilly morning air, I slipped them on without checking the inside for critters, and headed off up the driveway. 

Lucky for me no bugs or arachnids were in my boots or I probably would've woken everyone with my screams of terror. Cautiously, I watched the ground for snakes unlike how I did yesterday. Thinking of the incident made me think of Brant.  When I came home yesterday and told everyone how Clay had saved me, Brant was more than angry that I had been so careless. He called me some things that struck in my heart like the sharpest of knives.

"You're so stupid, Charlotte!" he had shouted. "Everyone knows that you're suppose to look where your walking and stay alert in the woods! If you're going to be this dense, you need to go back to the city!"

I don't know why, but it hurt like crazy. He has said so many things that I've never taken to heart because I knew he didn't mean them. This time, the way he looked, it was hard to believe that he didn't feel that way about me. I used the sleeve on my cardigan to wipe my tears awa, they were useless anyhow. I couldn't help who I was. Maybe he was right? I'm nothing but a stupid city girl who should've begged her father to let her stay in New York. 

I walked passed the Holt's house, my head hung low and my heart hung lower. Thinking of Clay made me feel guilty. He told me he was falling in love with me and I had no clue as to how I felt about him. I like him in a romantic way, but I'm quite sure it wasn't love yet. 

Once I passed the house, my mind indecisively flickered back to Brant again. Another tear fell, I didn't even bother wiping it away. Why would he say so many hurtful things after everything he had said earlier yesterday at the lake? In frustration I bent down to the ground, picking up a rock among the gravel and throwing it with all my might. Why were guys so hard to understand? Why did I have such terrible luck with them? My best friend hates me, my boyfriend of one week suddenly loves me? What was going on in the freaking universe?

I walked a little further up the road until I started nearing a house. A single light was on in the one story small cottage, a tiny house that gave me déjà vu chills. Slowly I crept closer to it, entering the short white wooden gate that led into the yard. I was quite aware I was trespassing, I just really needed to see this place.

A snort made me stiffen in surprise. My fingers gripped at my chest where I was sure my heart had jumped out of. I looked to my right, my eyes widening when I saw a familiar paint horse grazing on the lawn. There was no mistaking who it belonged to. 

Putting our differences aside, I walked up to the door of the cottage and urgently knocked. Either someone stole Ranger, or... 

The door opened, a confused Brant peeping his head out to see who was visiting at such a time. His eyes found me and he gave a sad smile. "Hey," he quietly greeted. There was no questions as to why I was out late, or why was I out by myself. His guilt filled eyes just looked away from me as he said, "Hurry in, it's a little cold out there."

He pulled me inside the comfortably warm house and closed the door to keep out the drafty air. I looked around the place in awe and remembrance. "My old house," I whispered out. Everything was exactly the same. The same worn tan couch off to the left was sitting in front of that ugly Indian rug my father us to love, and the chestnut coffee table still sat on top of it. Our old twenty inch TV was still hooked up, and even though the walls were bare of the family portraits that use to be present, I knew exactly which ones had been where. 

My eyes traveled to the right to the chestnut colored dining table and chairs that I remember always eating at when I came home from school, unless I was at the Young family's of course. Towards the back of the house was the dainty kitchen that had a dish washer sized stove, a small sink my mother use to wash dishes in, and the chest height refrigerator my dad always complained about when it broke down. 

"Charlotte? Are you okay, Char?"

Numbly, I nodded to Brant's question. I was too dumbfounded to speak, everything was that surreal to me at that moment. I had missed this place without even realizing it. "I don't know how, but you knew I needed you here," he said as he suddenly grabbed my hand in his. 

I didn't protest when he led me to the kitchen, I was still a little stunned by seeing my old house again to even form words with my voice. We walked into the light yellow and white themed kitchen, here he made me a cup of coffee with a coffee maker that hadn't been here before. Whatever was on his mind seemed urgent. "Do you remember the house?" he asked, avoiding the real topic he wanted to discuss.

"I do," I responded, adding a thank you when he handed me the freshly brewed cup of joe. I took a sip, my lips curling at the bitter taste. He grabbed some creamer and extra sugar, loading my cup down with it until I was able to drink it with a straight face. 

"Charlotte..." He took the coffee from me, setting it down on the counter to to free my hands. His arms slipped around my waist, pulling me into his hard, but surprisingly comfortable, chest.  He smelt of what he always smelt. It was a relaxing scent of things I couldn't describe. It was like he was covered in mints and cinnamon.  I couldn't help but nuzzle my face into his chest and inhale.  

His fingers ran through through my hair tenderly, consoling me as he murmured, "You've been crying," into the top of my head. How does everyone know when I've been crying? "I'm sorry for what I said, Charlotte. I didn't mean any of it, you just scared me is all."

And he had scared me with how serious he had been.  I found myself hugging him back, a smile pulling up onto my lips at our embrace. "You better be glad you're my best friend," I said in a sassy tone. 

"Oh shut up..." he softly laughed. "Or I'll tease you about your pajamas."

Knowing that he would do exactly that, I shoved him away from me and grabbed the cup of coffee that was calling my name again. I brought it up to my lips, taking a sip of the bittersweet brown liquid that had the heavenliest aroma and a kick to it. "I wonder if Clay knew we were here alone if he would be jealous or not," Brant randomly brought up.

I shrugged. "Maybe. He told me that he was falling in love with me..."

"What!!!" Brant hissed. He stole my coffee, forcing it down the kitchen sink so I wouldn't be distracted. I squeaked when he pulled me away to the living room, making me sit down while he just paced back and forth in front of me. He shook his head, muttering things under his breath about killing someone, preferably Clay.

I sat there staring up at him, watching him walk back and forth in a different state of mind. I've never seen Brant so out of his mind before. "Do you love him, Charlotte?" He stopped pacing and took a breath. 

"We've only been dating a week..."

He turned to me with a slight smile. For some reason, he seemed extremely happy about my answer. He plopped down next to me, sighing in relief when he stretched out across the couch and rested his head onto my lap. "To be honest, Char, I don't want you to ever love him. There's just something in my gut that's telling me this is wrong. It's not my life, and if you want to date him, fine. Please be careful."

I nodded in agreement. Brant seemed to feel strongly about this odd feeling in his stomach about Clay and I, it made me anxious and worried me. To me Clay was a good guy who clearly would do anything for me. He threw himself in the way of a snake yesterday for my sake. Brant knew one side, I knew one side, but who was Clay Holt really? 

"Brant?" I looked down into his blue eyes, curiously running my fingers through his short soft brunette strands. "Why do you hate Clay so much?"

It's been over a week and I still don't know the cause of the reason why Brant is so bitter against Clay. He didn't seem too keen on telling me, but it wasn't because he didn't want to talk about it, I would've seen that in his eyes. "Charlotte, it's a long, rough, story."

He sat up on the couch, running a tired hand through his hair to show his frustration. I wrapped my arms around his right arm, giving him my best begging look. Was it so wrong to want to know what my boyfriend did to upset my best friend so much? "I'm a good listener, and I don't care how long of a story it is." 

His eyes found mine, a sudden smile pulling up on his lips when he saw my begger's face. I smiled back at him when his hand came up to my face, his finger tips brushing my bangs carefully to the side. The contact to my hair made me realize that it probably looked a mess. Great, that's exactly what I need him to see. Well, it's not like he hasn't seen it before, and he hasn't teased me about it yet so that's a plus.

"It started after Caroline left," he softly began. "I was miserable after hearing the news from her parents, and decided to go talk to Clay. I walked into his house unannounced like always, we had been best friends after all and I had gotten use to making myself at home. It was then I overheard him talking to Caroline on the phone assuring her that he didn't tell me that she was leaving or that they had...."

I shook him by his arm, not wanting him to stop. What had they done?!? He got a distant look in his eye, his jaw clenching tight at the thought. "Charlotte..." I nodded in anticipation, willing him to go on. "They had sex together."

Words couldn't describe how flabbergasted and floored I was to hear it. Everything made sense. The girl he loved, didn't actually love him. Caroline loved his neighbor, and that hurt reflected in Brant's eyes. He hated Clay for it, he hated that Clay took advantage of Caroline's feelings for him instead of rejecting her like how he should've done. I was dating the guy who slept with Brant's girlfriend! 

The question was, what do I do now?

"I'm sorry, Brant" I whispered. He shook his head and pulled me into a tight embrace. I held him, rubbing his back in comfort and trying to keep myself in check when I felt two water droplets drip onto my neck. 

I didn't want to embarrass him by looking at him while he cried. I wrapped my arms tighter around him to let him know that I was there. I could feel my own heart break. He did this to Brant. How could I be with someone who hurts my best friend every time he's around? "I know what you're thinking Charlotte, and it's not fair to you," he murmured against my skin. "I shouldn't have told you because you would give anything up for me. I know everything about you, I know exactly what you're thinking."

I let my face bury into his shoulder in reply. "What I do is none of your business, Brant Alex Young." 

He didn't say anything, just tightened his arms around me and laid down on the couch. Since he was holding me, automatically I had to lay down next to him. He sadly smiled at me, stroking my hair in order to make me feel better, even if he was the one upset. "It's not fair to you Charlotte, he's your first boyfriend. You deserve a long first relationship, and he seems to care for you."

Whether Clay was a changed man or not, I couldn't date him knowing that he slept with my best friend's girl. There's a such thing as boy-girl code. Number twelve, section B of the code's handbook clearly states that you should not date the guy who slept with your guy best friend's girlfriend. It was as simple as that. 

"You're a girl Charlotte, so tell me.." he spoke. I hit him because he was stating the obvious. For a split second he cracked a grin, but it fell when he continued. "Why would she cheat on me? If she liked Clay, why did she even bother with me?"

Why did I have to have all the hard questions? I intently thought on my answer as he played with my hair. "Well," I murmured. "Maybe she didn't realize she liked Clay at first? It probably started off with some flirting that she didn't even know that was happening. I know for a fact that when Clay Holt tells you you're beautiful that it's pretty dang distracting. That's probably what hooked her...." His head lowered at the thought. "But you're the greatest guy I know, Brant," I added. "Growing up, Clay wasn't the one who made me feel beautiful, you did. I didn't even know he existed."

He smiled at the thought. Seeing his smile reminded me exactly of our childhood. We'd play cowboys and outlaws, and I of course was the damsel in distress thanks to the imaginary outlaws that had raided the town. Every time Brant would save me from the dastardly deeds that the outlaws did, which was normally tie me up in the middle of the barn to a pole, Brant saved me with a smile. I remembered like it was yesterday how he would always run in, shoot the bad guys with his pop gun pistol, and run over to me to make sure I was alright. Every single time he smiled when he told me I was safe, that he wouldn't let anyone harm me because I was his damsel. You couldn't blame me for crushing on the boy when I was six.