Happy reading!
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Colt's POV
21 Years Later
"And with all the evidence provided, I rest my case. Miss Aubrey Banks is innocent," I wrap up, feeling pretty good about myself. The jury goes back to discuss what they'll have her plead, but I already know the answer. I walk over to my client.
"We got this is the bag. You'll be out in no time," I smile at her. She nods, almost feeling the freedom at her fingertips.
The jury comes back in not even five minutes later, pleading my client not guilty. The judge wraps up formalities and all the other boring things and sends us home.
"Mr. Roberts, Miss Banks, you just won your case. Congrats," the judge says to us both. I nod at him before turning to my client.
"That was so awesome, Mr. Roberts! Thank you so much!" Miss Banks goes on.
"See?" I smile assuringly. "We had this covered. The prosecutor and her crew left evidence all over the place that the other team just decided not to pick up." I smile down at her and go to leave.
I drive home and swing into my usual parking space. I whistle a cheery tune as I get up and out of my Lexus. I carry the melody up the elevator, and I step out with a bounce in my step. Unlocking the door to my apartment, I see my girl waiting for me by the stove in the kitchen.
"You win your case?" she beams, knowing the whistling is a good sign.
"Like a walk in the park," I drawl out in a 'duh' tone, tossing my keys on the table. She squeals and throws herself onto me. I catch her and spin her around, holding her tightly against my body.
"I'm so proud of you! I love you, Cole!"
"I love you, too, Brooke." She kisses me, and this day just keeps getting better and better. This woman, I swear...
I've known Brooke since I moved up here eight years ago. She was my escape from reality and an amazing change of pace from where I had come from. Although she came from the city, she was hardly like what I was expecting city-folk to be like. She was charming and bubbly and thoughtful. I had become romantically interested in her about a year ago and got the nerve to ask her out 8 months ago at a stupid frat party her brother made us attend. We've been in blissful love since.
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"You all right, babe?" she asks me from the breakfast nook that Sunday morning, two days later.
I look up from my pancakes to her. "Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking about this trip. I wish you could go." Her presence would probably stir up some serious shit, but I still would love a friendly face down there.
"I would totally ditch if that didn't mean digging my own ditch for my grades." She rolls her eyes before sighing., and I know she would if she wasn't so passionate about finishing med school. "And it's just seeing your family to go help them out with legal paperwork, right? How hard could it be? You're a damn attorney." Hard. She doesn't even know half of the real reason I'm going back down South.
"Yeah. You're right. You need to stay up here to focus. I wouldn't wanna distract you too much." I wink, and she rolls her eyes playfully. Brooke was going to school to be a pediatrician, with only one more year of residency left. She loved kids and couldn't wait to settle down with her own, and neither could I.
With her.
"What time does your flight leave?" she asks.
"Soon." I stand up to go to the sink to rinse my plate of the sticky syrup from my pancakes before putting it in the dishwasher. "You sure you'll be okay with house-sitting and watching Johnny Boy?" She comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my middle, her plate in hand. I take it from her gently and put it in the sink.
"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.
Rodney Atkins is right about one thing though. Driving down the back roads I grew up with is like therapy, and I didn't realize how much I truly missed it, though I try not to let myself linger on it for too long. I'm here for one thing.
I get so into the songs that I almost turn to the passenger seat, expecting to see... her...
And there goes the radio. I slam the power button off, sighing. I breathe in and out to steady my thoughts, and I'm back to the cool, steady man that Brooke knows. That I know.
About a half-hour of miserable silence later, I enter the town limits of Oak Bend, my hometown. Jesus, this place hasn't changed a bit. Mill's Store's paint is just as chippy as I remember, even if I was the cause of that. Nobody told me about paint primer when I was asked to repaint the front of the store, okay? I was nine.
Not to mention that everyone looks like they stepped out of hillbilly heaven, and my hopes to blend in and lay low while I'm here fly out the window. There's no way, especially with my "city-slicker" clothes, that I'll pass through discreetly.
I pull into the post office parking lot, needing her address. I glance at the paperwork sitting next to me before getting out. I ignore the Gossips on the sidewalk benches and roll up my sleeves, having forgotten all about the heat.
The P.O. is empty when I walk in, so I head right up to the counter, and behind it, a girl with too much red lipstick on is filing her nails. I have to physically hold back my gag reflex from her perfume. Oh god, save me.
I clear my throat, hoping to get this done and over with. Quickly.
The girl looks up and does a double take.
"Oh. My. Gawd, Colt Roberts? Is that you?" the woman greets excitedly in the southern drawl I missed oh so much. I peer down at her with my eyebrows raised, trying to remember her, but no bells are dinging. She must see my struggle because she continues. "It's Mary Jo Hamilton! From high school, silly."
Oh. Oh...
She got... thicker.
This woman was Mary Jo Hamilton, a cheerleader who threw herself at every single boy that stepped foot in Oak Bend High, yeah, including me, and got punched quite epically by... her.
"Hey, Mary Jo," I greet awkwardly having no idea what to say. That's okay I guess cause she takes over that, too. I'm not interested in small talk, though. I just want her address.
"Long time, no see! Whatcha been up to? Where've ya been? I see you've lost your accent," she points out, obnoxiously smacking her gum and leaning forward on her elbows.
"Er, yeah. I see you've kept yours. I actually came in cause I need an address." I rub the back of my neck.
Her too-red lips curl in a knowing smile and her eyes glimmer in excitement. She rattles off the address, and my heart pounds when I realize she hasn't moved.
"How long ya in for?" she asks in that southern drawl I used to have.
"A week."
"Ooh. You gonna go to the Sweet Peach festival?"
"We'll see. Listen, thanks for the address. I've gotta run. Nice to see you again." I offer a small smile and wave and turn around to leave.
"Bye, Colt. Good luck," she mumbles under her breath, and I have a feeling she knows something I don't. Perfect.
I climb into the Escape and reverse out of the parking spot. I know exactly where I'm going. How could I forget the first house I ever bought?
My heart thumps louder as I get closer, and a few minutes later, I pull into the drive. I park behind an old blue Ford pickup. I guess she kept that, too. I get out, grabbing the envelope from the passenger seat, and walk to it. It feels like it just got a new coat of paint, but it's still the same dark blue. The hood is a little warm, so I'm assuming she just got home.
I blow out a starting breath and walk up the wrap-around porch steps. I knock on the door, and a dog barks on the other side of it.
"Just a minute!" she calls from the other side. My grip tightens on the folder behind me, and the atmosphere gets a hell of a lot warmer. She mumbles something on the other side before opening the door behind the screen door. I know she can see me clearly before I see her, and my heart jumps to my throat, but I force a calm demeanor.
The screen door creaks open slowly, and I see her for the first time in seven years. She raises a fist to cover her mouth and keeps her grip on the door handle behind her.
"Colt-is that... Colt?" she stammers, tearing up. I want to make a joke to lighten up the atmosphere, but that's something the old me would do.
"Hi, Josie," I greet softly, raising my hand in a small wave. Before I'm aware of what's happening, there's a sting on my cheek, and my head snaps back and to the right, eyes watering. I don't retaliate, knowing I fully deserve it.
"You come back here after eight. years. and all you have to say is 'hi, Josie?!' You have some nerve. I cannot believe the audacity. . .where the hell have you been? Huh?! What have you been doing? You better have cured cancer or some shit cause that's hardly a good enough excuse for running out on me!" Her finger jabs into my chest with each syllable, pushing me back down the steps. And then, again to my surprise before I can even begin to answer, she wraps me in a tight hug.
"I missed you," she confesses against my chest. I can't help but pull her tighter against me, consumed in her clean but peachy scent, so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. She clutches onto me for what seems like dear life. We stay like that for a minute or two before I feel her sigh and slowly release me.
"We all did," she adds, lingering on the 'all.'
"Yeah." I rub the back of my neck. "I know." I look over to the truck, desperate for a change of subject. "You kept it."
She glances at the Ford and looks back up to meet my gaze, nodding.
"I kept a lot of things. The truck, the dog, the house..." She steels and looks me square in the eye. "Hope." She turns around and marches back up the stairs, putting her hand on the screen doorknob and looking at me. "You comin' in?" I grip the envelope behind my back tightly and nod.
I walk up the steps and follow behind her, though she seems to have trouble moving past our—her dog.
"Move, Jake, or you can forget about your dinner," she grunts, pushing the eager dog in with her foot and leg. My ears perk up at the dog's name.
"Jake?" I question, praying that what I think happened didn't. Her eyes snap to mine.
"Uh, yeah. Jake." I walk in through the door she held open for me, looking at the dog. It's a Leopard dog, but not Johnny. His darker spots are all wrong, in all the wrong places. The brown of his muzzle is too light, and not to mention, he has a blue eye.
"But, Johnny—" I cut myself off, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.
"Johnny passed away three years ago from natural causes. Jake is his legacy. Aren't ya glad Johnny had a lot of Leopard lady friends?" she asks, trying to lighten my mood, but it does nothing. Our good, sweet dog died. Three years ago. And I just found out about it today.
But I shovel all the emotions back down. I left him too when I left, knowing I'd probably never come back. I have no right to care.
"Listen, Colt. A lot of things happened, changed here. I know it doesn't look like it from a glance, but they did. Things changed," she explains as her dog sniffs me.
I look at her, really look at her. I take notice of how good she looks. Twenty-six suits her. Her blonde hair got longer and blonder. Probably cause it's the end of summer, beginning of fall and that's always the result during this time of year. She looks like she finally grew into her body. Not that she wasn't gorgeous before, but her hips got wider, making her waist look smaller. She's not not skinny, but she isn't the same. And she's wearing scrubs.
But she still has the same freckles on her forehead and a light dusting across her nose. The same beauty mark on her wrist, and her eyes are still that same deep, beautiful blue that I used to get so lost in. Her clean, peachy scent still threatening to ensnare me once more.
"You look good," I point out, voicing my thoughts. She lifts her gaze from the dog, who's now on the couch, to me.
"Yeah? So do you. Look at you. No accent, nice clothes, and are those boat shoes? You look like a real city slicker. I should be ashamed to have you in my house," she laughs. I can't help but chuckle with her. She's so contagious.
"I guess Harvard does that to ya."
Her eyes widen. "Harvard? Harvard Law?" I nod. "Damn, congratulations! I knew you smart but this is a whole new level. Do they all sound like that up there?"
"Yeah, and dress like it, too," I attempt to joke, keeping the air light, but it's lame. I can't think straight with her.
"Your girlfriend, too?" I keep the smile on my face and nod, picturing Brooke in her cute dresses.
And then I realize what she said. Oh god.
I clear my throat and rub my neck raw.
"For being a lawyer, you aren't as slick as you'd like to be yet. I still know your tells, and I know what comes in those envelopes. They don't happen 'round here much, but I know. You wouldn't come back after eight years carrying just that if you were coming home to stay." She gestures to the folder in my hands.
She always manages to see right through me. And I always manage to forget about that.
"Josie, I—she came into my life when I had no idea what I was doing with it." Her brows raise with a million questions. "I should have come home sooner, I know."
You have absolutely no tact, Colt Michael, I can hear her telling me when we were teenagers. Years later, and she's still right.
She sits down next to her dog on the couch, and John—Jake puts his head on her lap. She leans her elbows on her knees with her chin in her hands, peering down at her dog, and thinks for a minute. When she comes to a conclusion, her blue eyes come up to meet mine.
"Does she make you happy?"
I blink.
She raises her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
"Yeah," I sigh, not bothering to sugarcoat it. "Yes, she does." She blows out a heavy breath, running her hands up her face then back to under her chin. If I didn't know her, I'd think nothing of the action. But I do, and I know that she was inconspicuously wiping her tears away. I pretend not to notice though. I pretend not to notice how her eyes start to brim with tears, how red they become.
She sniffs quietly and wipes her nose.
"Then that's that." She stands up, holding out her hand. I blink, not believing what I just heard.
"Colt. She makes you happy. That's all that matters to me," she smiles at me with a soft, kind voice.
"Josie—" She shakes her head, and I shut up.
"Don't," she tells me as she gently takes the folder out of my hand. I pretend not to hear the pleading in her voice and comply. She leaves for another room, the kitchen, to get a pen. It leaves me time to see what she's done with the place.
It looks great. When we bought it, it looked like a dump. We were so busy working to pay for it that we never got around to fixing it up to make it a home. She went with a rustic design to really add to the homey, southern feel, and there are pictures of her with various people everywhere. On the coffee table, the shelves, on top of the bookcase. Though only one really catches my attention, tucked into a corner. It's a photograph of her and me on our old dingy fishing boat in the lake right down the road. She's holding the rod and smiling brightly at me, facing the camera, and I have my arms wrapped around her waist and face buried in her neck. We couldn't have been older than 17. I look closer to see our dog, Johnny, sitting on the bow, tongue hanging out and staring at the fish down below.
"Oh, Johnny," I murmur.
"He was a great dog." Startled, I whip around to see Josie leaning on the foyer, arms crossed, pen in hand, documents in the other. She looks more put together, as well.
"The best." I agree.
"I have photographs of you and him if you want them. In our—" She clears her throat. "—in my room," she offers.
"I'm going to be here all week. Can I grab them later?" I realize it is a low blow after I said it, but I can't take the words back. I can't stand to reminisce with my first love, who I am divorcing, about my second love, who I just learned died today. I won't.
She swallows and nods.
"Let's get those papers signed, yeah?"
It amazes me how she hardly lets her emotions show at all. If she had an opinion, you could bet your ass you'd know about it. But I guess after the bombshell I dropped on her... well, I'm proud of her.
After both of us signed the documents, she walks me to my car. Jake follows us, chasing after a rabbit.
"He looks just like him but his spots on his body." She nods. "I have my own Johnny. Up in Massachusetts, I mean. I missed him so much, I bought a Catahoula and brought him home with me." She nods, not moving her gaze from Jake, but I don't press for more of a reaction. I pretend not to see how she slightly flinches when I call Massachusetts home, and I take the hint and get in the car, leaving one leg out with the door open.
"You said you're here for a week. Would you wanna come back over and have some coffee? Maybe? Catch up?" she asks out of the blue and unsure of herself. I hate how she sounds so small and delicate. This is not the Josie May I knew.
"I'd love to, Josie." She nods. I sigh and swing out of the car again. I pull her in for a tight hug, which she doesn't resist, and savor the feel of her pressed against me for the last time. We hold each other close, knowing it'll be the last time this happens. She buries her head in my chest, right on top of my heart, and I breathe in her sweet scent.
She pulls back a moment too soon, probably for the best, and sniffles discreetly. She wasn't crying, but she was close.
"You should go. I don't think you've seen your daddy yet. He'd have called me about it already," she tells me lightly or attempts to, but it comes out really breathy.
"Yeah. Was my next stop." I get back in the car, and she closes the door for me. She whistles for her dog, who comes bounding up behind the car to her side.
I reverse out of the driveway, and when I'm a ways down the road, I glance in the rearview to see her with her back against the rear tire, like she slid down the truck, with her hands holding her head, shoulders shaking.
My knuckles turn white from how hard I grip the wheel, and it takes all that I have not to go back. I glance at the papers in the passenger seat, wondering if her pain is worth it.
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So how we feeling? First chapter and diving right in. For me, I had butterflies in my stomach when Colt or Cole or whatever the hell he wants to be called was driving to see Josie, but that's just me because I'm already attached to my characters lol. . .yikes
Divorces suck. Just saying.
I hope y'all enjoyed!
Don't forget to comment and vote if you enjoyed!
XX Blondie XX