Like He Never Left

Chapter 1: The Asshole Returns

"Gee I hope so," she giggles. "You'll only be gone a week, back on Monday. I think I can handle dusting down the place and feeding Johnny."

I turn around and pull her closer to me. "That's good to know. Think you can handle being without me for so long?" I love seeing the love shining in her eyes. The love she has for me.

She nods silently, and I take that as my cue to swoop in for a kiss. She kisses me back sweetly. I pull her tighter and stay happily in the moment. She pulls away, leaving me breathless.

"I've gotta go or I'll be late. I love you, Cole. Be safe and careful, okay? I'll be back to feed and let out Johnny after class. I honestly might just stay here." I nod. She blows me a kiss.

"Brooke?" She turns and stops in the doorway. "I love you more." She grins at me and closes the door.

My smile fades as I look at the orange folder on the counter under a heap of other documents. One thing. One thing I'm going down there for. Then I'm coming up and marrying the love of my life.

I haven't seen her in seven years, and she's still the only one who makes me this nervous. And I'm a defense attorney. And dating another girl.

I sigh and run my hands down my face. I glance at the clock, noting I should leave for the airport soon. I walk upstairs, petting Johnny, my seven-year-old Catahoula Leopard dog, as I pass the couch where he's perched.

I change into a white, long-sleeved button-down, blue jeans, and tan suede boat shoes. I head back downstairs and grab my suitcase by the door. I scan the place, seeing if there's anything I forgot. With the giant orange packet envelope and suitcase in hand, I open the door.

"You're the man of the house while I'm gone, Johnny. Don't be stupid, and have those party animals from the dog park home before 2. Got it?" He perks his ears up in response, and I point my finger at him with purpose.

Good enough. I close the door behind me, making sure the spare house key is underneath the flower pot for Brooke. Not that she doesn't have one, but just in case.

I want to fall asleep as soon as I sit down in my seat on the plane, but I'm too nervous. What the hell am I going to say?

"Oh yeah, it's sure nice to see you after seven years—yeah seven years, not eight—because..." I shake my head. I feel the back of my neck get a little damp, and it only increases my nerves. I should not be this jittery.

It's okay. She'll understand. As far as she knows, it's been eight years. She'll understand. She's amazing like that.

Who am I kidding? I'm screwed. She's gonna rip me a new asshole.

I end up worrying myself to sleep 15 minutes after takeoff, though it's not a peaceful slumber. A little more than two hours later, we touch down, and it's official.

I'm in Georgia again.

After grabbing my luggage and a rental car, I make my way back to my hometown.

I turn on the radio, and every channel is country or country-pop except for one rock station, and I'm not ready to listen to that station yet.

I left all that crap behind me when I left, but it's the first thing to greet me as I return.

I flick back to one of the country stations. I go to turn it off after the mind-numbingly repetitive country-pop song's chorus, but right as I touch the button, the country-pop song changes, and a familiar tune flows through the Ford Escape's speakers.

Damn you, Rodney Atkins. "Take A Back Road" starts just as I hit said back roads, and I roll my eyes at the corniness but leave it on.

His song acts as a gateway to others because pretty soon, I'm tapping my fingers along to the beat of each and every song, whether I recognize it or not.