Down to You (The Bad Boys 1)

A little shiver works its way down my spine and lands in the pit of my stomach like a bolt of lightning. I laugh uncomfortably. I can’t tease like he can.

He must know I’m at a loss. He chuckles. “Take care of what you need to. Take your time. Call if you need anything.”

“I will. And thanks, Cash.”

After we hang up, I get a drink from the taco joint inside the student center and then walk back outside to sit on one of the benches and await Ginger. I wonder if I should call Nash. Just to let him know I won’t be in town all weekend. He might want to keep an eye on things.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself. The excuse I use.

“Nash, it’s Olivia,” I say when he answers.

I hear his soft laugh. “I know who you are, Olivia.”

I feel the blush sting my cheeks. I’m glad he can’t see it. “Oh, right. Sorry.” I clear my throat nervously. “So, I’ll be out of town for the weekend. I just wanted you to know in case…well, just in case anybody needed anything.”

Ohmigod, could you sound any more lame?

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Need some time away from my overbearing brother already?”

I know he’s teasing, but I don’t like that he puts Cash down. “He’s not overbearing. And no, it’s nothing like that. I need to go home for the weekend. That’s all.”

The lightness evaporates from his tone, replaced by concern. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. My father broke his leg. He’s fine, it’s just that he was expecting some lambs and he can’t get out with a broken leg to find and check them in, so…”

“Is that something you can do by yourself? Do you need some help?”

“Nah, I grew up on that farm, helping him until I was old enough to do things by myself. I’ll be fine. But thank you for asking.”

What a great guy! Dammit!

“Well, if you need some help, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, but I could never ask you to do that.”

“Olivia, please,” he begins. The way he says my name makes my stomach squeeze. It sounds so much like it did last night. Was it his lips I kissed? His touch I felt? “Ask. If you need help, I want to know.”

“Okay,” I say, already feeling a bit breathless. Too breathless to argue anyway. “I will.”

“Good. I’ll keep an eye on the place until you get back. Give me a call when you arrive.”

“Will do. Thanks, Nash.”

“You bet.”

The brothers alternate taking up space in my head, like they so often do, as I await Ginger. I just don’t know when it will get any easier with them. Or even if it will.

I’m still preoccupied when I hear a horn honking and someone shouting my name at the top of their lungs.

It’s Ginger.

“No effin’ way,” I say under my breath as I make my way to her car. She’s standing in the driver’s seat, hanging out the sunroof. By the time I get to her, she’s smiling like an escaped mental patient.

“Bet you thought I’d get lost, didn’t you?”

I say nothing. I totally thought she’d get lost. In fact, I’d have guaranteed it.

Of course, I’d have been wrong. Maybe that’s my new streak—being wrong. Maybe I’m wrong about a lot of things. Things I’d love to be wrong about.

If only I could be that lucky…

Ginger doesn’t wait long to stir up interesting conversation. “So, did you take the penis challenge?”

“Ginger!”

“Olivia! You better have news for me. And details. It’s been a while for me.”

“Yeah, right. What’s ‘a while’? A week?”

She glances at me, clearly horror-stricken. “Good God no! It’s only been four days. But I’ve got needs.”

“Ginger, I’m pretty sure you’re a freak of nature.”

“Heavy on the freak, sweetie,” she adds cheekily.

I laugh. That’s one thing about Ginger. She doesn’t try to hide who she is or what she likes. She owns her every wart and pimple with pride. And she wears them each flawlessly.

“You would die of boredom in my body.”

“No, I’d take that young thing out for a spin and liven things up a little.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you would. You’d have me screwing my way through greater Atlanta.”

“Breakin’ hearts and blowin’ minds! Or blowin’ something,” she says with a devilish wink.

“Oh Lord!” I shake my head. She’s incorrigible. She’s also practically impossible to insult. Obviously.

“Now, stop changing the subject. Did you do it?”

I can’t hide the smile that tugs at my lips. She’s too observant.

She points animatedly at me. “You did! You did! How was it? Which one was better? And when will the other one be coming to visit me?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I’m not exactly sure which one I slept with.”

I cringe when I see her turn wide, shocked eyes on me. Ginger just also happens to be nearly unshockable. The fact that I’ve managed it can’t possibly be a good sign.

“How does that even happen?”

I go through the story. The short, less detailed version of course. When I’m finished, she starts laughing. Hard.

“Well, you know what you have to do now, right?”

“I’m not asking them, if that’s what you’re about to suggest.”

“Oh, hell no. I was just gonna say you have to sleep with them both now. It’s the only way you’ll be able to tell who owns the enchanted tongue.” Ginger turns a wicked smile on me. “Oh, poor you. Forced to have vagina-exploding sex with hot twins. Oh, please no! Anything but that!”

“If it was just that, it’d be fine, but you know I can’t…I don’t…”

I’m picking at my fingernails, but still, from the corner of my eye, I see Ginger look at me.

“This isn’t about that jackhole, Gabe, is it?”

“You know Gabe has nothing to do with—”

“Bullshit! Liv, you’ve got to get over that. Just because a guy looks or dresses or acts a certain way doesn’t mean he’s just like Gabe. And, by the same token, just because a guy doesn’t look, dress or act like him doesn’t mean he’s not. You can’t judge all books by that emotionally-stunted, dim-witted, tiny-dicked prick’s cover. You can’t stop taking chances in life just because you got burned.”

I think of my earlier decision to take the risk with Cash. But I also think of how amazingly supportive and considerate Nash was when I called. If Ginger’s right, despite their outward appearances, either one could be Gabe all over again. But how will I ever know which one is and which one isn’t?

Or maybe they both are.

Go with your gut. Go with what you know. Nash is the good guy. Cash is the bad boy. Bad boys don’t change their spots.

But Nash is taken.

Cash is not.

Nash is offering me nothing.

Cash wants to be honest and give me what he’s capable of.

Is it worth it to have either of them in my life? Or would I be better off to turn my back on both of them? And run.

Sensing my mood, Ginger changes the subject to a much less upsetting one—sex toys.

Oh, Ginger!

********

I’m pretty shocked when I walk through the front door and see a hospital bed in the living room. My heart drops onto the hardwoods with a thud only I can hear.

When I see my father sitting in his favorite old green recliner with his white casted leg resting on a pillow, I feel minimally relieved, albeit still confused. The cast is not on the lower half of his leg, like I expected. It goes all the way up to his hip.

My father broke his femur. And no one told me.

Damn it to hell!

I drop my bags in the floor and go straight to him, hands on hips, fully armed with righteous indignation.

“And you couldn’t have called to tell me? You let me find out days later from Ginger of all people?”

I can see by the look in his hazel eyes that he’s slipping into feather-soothing mode. It’s that desire to avoid confrontation that eventually drove my mother to leave and find greener, stronger pastures. And richer pastures. And more successful pastures. Basically any other pasture than the one she was grazing in. The cow!

Sometimes it’s all I can do not to hate her.

“Now, punk,” he begins, using my childhood pet name, the one that always turns me to putty in his hands. “You know I’d never keep something from you unless I knew it was best for you. You’ve got so much on your plate with this new job and with your last year of school and living with your cousin, I would never want to add to your load. Try to see it from my perspective,” he finishes sweetly.

It’s impossible to be mad when he does this. I must admit it can be very frustrating, though.

I drop to my knees at his feet. “Dad, you should’ve called.”

“Liv, there’s nothing you could’ve done. Except worry. And now you’re missing work. Because of me.”

“It’s not a big deal. Ginger mentioned the lambs. I’ll get them squared away and be back to work in no time.”

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, rolling it back and forth over the headrest in exasperation. He says nothing for a few seconds, effectively ending this portion of the conversation.

It’s another frustrating habit of his. He just stops. Stops talking, stops discussing. Just… stops.

I notice a few more gray hairs at his temples than last I’d seen. And it seems the brackets that frame his mouth are deeper. Today, he looks so much older than his forty-six years. His hard, disappointing life has always taken a toll. And now it’s showing.

“What can I do to help, Dad? I’m here so you might as well put me to work. How are the books?”

He doesn’t look at me, but he answers. “The books are fine. I’ve been having Jolene help me with them in between your visits.”

I grit my teeth. Jolene thinks she’s an accountant. Only she’s not. Not by a long shot. I’m sure there’s a mess to clean up. I feel a sigh coming on, so I change the subject.

“What about the house? Is there anything that needs doing around here?”

Finally, he raises his head and looks at me. There’s humor in his eyes. “I’m a grown man, Liv. I know how to make do without my daughter here to take care of me.”

I roll my eyes. “I know that, Dad. That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”

He reaches forward and grabs a chunk of hair near my ear. He tugs on it, just like he used to tug on my pig tails when I was little. “I knew what you meant. But I also know you think you have to take care of me, especially since your mother left. But you don’t, Hon. It would kill me to see you put your life on hold to come back here. Go find a better life somewhere else. That’s what would make me happy.”

“But Dad, I don’t—”

“I know you, Olivia Renee. I raised you. I know what you’re planning and how you think. And I’m asking you not to do this. Just leave me be in this life. There’s something different out there for you. Something better.”

“Dad, I love these sheep and this farm. You know that.”

“I’m not saying you don’t. And we’ll always be here for you to come visit. And one day, when I’m gone, this will all be yours, to do with as you like. But for now, it’s mine. My problem, my life, my worry. Not yours. Your worry is to graduate and get a good job so you can buy your old man out ten times over. Then maybe I’ll think about letting you come back home. How’s that sound?”

I know what he’s doing, what he’s getting at. And I understand it. I understand guilt. But when I nod my head and smile in agreement, it’s only for his benefit. What he doesn’t know is that I will never leave him like she did. Never. I’ll never choose a cushy life of means over the people I love. Never.

“Now, since you’re already here, I have a favor. Well, two actually.”

“Name it.”

“I’ve got all the fixin’s for chuckwagon beans. Will you put some on for supper?”

“They’re your favorite. Of course I will.”

“Good girl.”

He smiles at me for a few seconds then turns his attention back to the show he was watching on television.

“Dad?”

“Huh?” he asks, looking back at me, eyebrows raised.

“What was the second favor?”

He frowns for a second then his face lights up. “Oh! Oh, right. Ginger and Tad are wanting you to come by tonight for your belated farewell party.”

I start shaking my head. “I’m not leaving you to go to a—”

“Yes, you are. The game comes on tonight. I’d like to watch it in peace while you have some laughs with your friends. Is that too much for a wounded old man to ask of his daughter?”

I snort. “Like I’m gonna say no after you put it that way.”

Again, I know what he’s doing. And why. But I’ll go along with this one, only because I know how much he loves football and he genuinely probably wants to watch it by himself, without me fussing about his blood pressure when he gets all worked up and yells at the screen.

His smile is satisfied when he turns back to the television a second time. This time, I leave him to go start supper.

********

A series of whistles greet me as I walk through the door at Tad’s, making me tug self-consciously at my skirt. That’s the bad thing about not having time to pack a bag. It leaves me stuck with the clothes in my closet at home, clothes I outgrew a couple years ago.