The line, p.6
The Line, page 6
I did the only thing I could think to do. I extended my trembling palm between us, trying to raise the roll of quarters. Only he was too close and the back of my hand brushed the smooth, taut skin of his stomach. My breath caught and my nipples tightened at the contact. My trembling turned into a full-body quiver. God, I wanted to touch this mean man again. Only Cole hissed and stepped back like it had pained him to feel my hand against him. And, just like that, the spell was broken and I remembered that this beautiful beast of a man hated me. That he didn’t trust me, and he definitely didn’t want my touches. It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on my heated body.
I opened my palm between us, showing him the quarters. “I just wanted to bring you some quarters for the cola machine,” I said quietly. I stared at the porch. I didn’t dare look at him. I was embarrassed by my reaction to him, but more, I was horrified by his.
God. He really couldn’t stand me.
“Why?”
I’d heard the question, but I couldn’t quite answer it because there were a million reasons why. Because my younger self had given him her heart years ago. Because I wanted him to like the me I was now. Because I was sorry. Because he’d fed me. Because I was his Peaches and he was my Cowboy.
“Just take it.” I extended the roll of quarters. “Just take it,” I begged. And it reminded me, sending me back to a time when the roles had been reversed. The goodness of those memories settled on my chest like a heavy weight, and it hurt so good.
“Just take it. Do it for me. Peaches, it’s just a meal. Take it. It’ll make me feel better to know you got a hot meal today. Okay?” he pleaded. He was really working me with those sweet puppy-dog eyes. Damn him.
It was weird to take something from someone they were willingly giving me. The craziness of this wasn’t lost on me. I wasn’t used to taking handouts. I was used to stealing. At least, when I stole, I’d earned my meal through being smart and working hard. This? Well, it just seemed wrong. Yep, I was fucked up. Through the years, I’d somehow justified my thievery in my head. But I’d had to. It was the only way I could deal with the guilt of it all.
I stared at the cheeseburger and fries, and they smelled so damn good. It didn’t matter that he had fed me his snacks on the train hours ago; I was still ravenous now. The train had made a stop for an hour and my cowboy had begged me to make a trip to the small diner a couple of blocks over from the station. He didn’t have to beg long. I couldn’t say no to him.
Cole started going on and on about horses. He did this often, and I could tell by the light shining in his eyes and the grin on his face when he talked about them that he loved them.
The waitress placed his cheeseburger and fries in front of him, and he sweetened the deal.
“A chocolate shake for Peaches over here, too,” he said, nodding at me.
“I’ve never ridden a horse. I’ve never even seen one in person,” I said, studying my food.
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Seriously? We gotta do something about that.” He smiled kindly. “Eat up.”
I forced myself to eat one fry at a time. One bite of that delicious burger at a time. And it was pure torture because I was starving and the food tasted amazing. I moaned low after a juicy bite of burger and he laughed. I grinned at him.
“We’re making another memory you can play, Peaches,” he said as the milkshakes arrived.
I frowned, sad because we had to be back to the train in less than an hour and I didn’t need to get back on. I needed to get on the train back to my station. Time was almost up with my cowboy, and soon, all I’d have left were these memories.
“I’ve never had a milkshake before,” I said, staring at the chocolatey iciness in the cup before me.
He stared at me, surprised. “Seriously?”
“As a heart attack,” I said, glancing around the diner. It was cute in the ’50s kind of way, with red, spinning stools lining a white counter and red-and-black booths thrown in the corners. He and I were sitting across from each other in one of them.
Excitedly, he said, “Well, then. Go on. I can’t wait to see if you like it.” He nodded towards the shake.
But I just kept staring at him until he stopped eating and stared at me too. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. I didn’t understand why this man had paid for my train ticket. Bought me food. Wanted to watch me try my first milkshake. If he didn’t want to fuck me, if he didn’t want to hurt me, then why the hell was he helping me? It just didn’t add up.
“Doing what?” he asked. He frowned, and a tiny wrinkle formed between his eyebrows.
“Helping me. Why are you helping me? I don’t get it. What’s in it for you?” I demanded. I was feeling overwhelmed by his kindness—completely bombarded by all of these emotions.
“There’s not a damn thing in it for me. Does everything have to come with strings attached?” he asked. He seemed upset at my questions, but I still didn’t hold back.
“In my experience, yes, Cowboy. Nothing in this life is free, so what gives?” I leaned over and took a sip of my shake. And good God, it was probably the best thing I’d ever tasted in my life.
I couldn’t stop the look of euphoria that crossed my face, and my cowboy couldn’t stop the chuckle that passed his lips at my expression.
Eventually, he stopped laughing. His face got serious, and he leaned back in the booth, sighing. “When I was a kid, we had a really bad house fire. Pretty much lost all of our belongings. We didn’t have anywhere to go. A lot of people helped us, Peaches. And, without those people, I don’t know what my family would have done. So, while hanging out with you tonight is no hardship and I’m having fun doing it, it’s also a way for me to pay it forward and help someone the way people helped my family.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking at my empty plate. And I was sorry because never in a million years had the kind man across from me deserved any bad in his life. He was one of the funniest, sweetest, most generous people I had ever had the pleasure to meet in my life, and I knew I’d never forget our night together. Never.
And, in one night, I’d opened up to him more than I had to anyone ever in my life. My cowboy was something special.
He leaned over, chucking me on the chin with his finger. “Hey, Peaches. It was a long time ago, and there are worse things, right?” he asked, his face kind.
He was right. There were definitely worse things. I knew better than anyone what those worse things were.
The quarters fell to the porch from my palm, snapping me out of my memories and back to the present. I leaned down to pick them up. I faced Cole again head on. He seemed furious.
“I heard you with Ms. Jane,” I said, averting my gaze to the porch again. “You wanted them and—”
“And what, Everly? You thought a roll of fucking quarters was gonna convince me you aren’t a thieving, lying bitch?” he thundered.
I flinched, finally taking him in.
He leaned towards me more, intimidating me with his height and his size. “I know you were in my house today. Leo told me he saw you here. Were you trying to steal from me?” He sneered. “Well, good fucking luck! ’Cause guess what, Everly?” He threw his hand up into the air around him. “There’s nothing left here! Not a Goddamn thing!” Spittle flew from his mouth.
God, my heart broke. My cowboy was so lonely, and he was screaming on the porch because I saw it. I saw his loneliness, his sadness—just like he’d seen mine once—and he hated it.
“I have no one. And nothing, Peaches!” He stepped forward and screamed in my face.
And that name. Peaches. For so many years, I had longed to hear that name from him again. Only now, disgust and hate dripped from it. It pierced like a dagger to the heart. It hurt. So much.
My body jerked, which sent me a step backwards, only my cowboy boot found air instead of the porch. My body swayed back, which almost caused me to tumble down the porch steps. A startled scream built in my chest, nearly ready to release. But, instead, a strong arm grasped my waist and dragged me into a firm, solid chest.
Our breaths came fast and steadily, either from the fight or the header I almost took off the front porch. Cole wrapped his other arm around my waist. I settled in closer to his chest, and he brought his forehead to mine, resting it there.
Seconds turned to minutes as we quietly held each other. Eventually, I couldn’t stand the quiet anymore.
“I’m not that girl anymore, Cole. I know you don’t want to believe it. But I’m just not,” I said, feeling dizzy again at this big man’s close proximity, his huge body all around me, dwarfing mine. His whiskey breath mixed with mine, and my mouth watered with the need to taste it.
He sighed heavily. “Then who are you, Everly Woods?”
His breath ghosted across my lips, and I wanted to freeze time. I wanted to stay right there in that moment with Cole’s muscled arms wrapped around me. His whiskey breath in my hair. His smoke-and-leather smell surrounding me. It felt safe, which was ridiculous, because moments before, he’d been screaming at me.
But I knew he’d never hurt me. No matter his anger. Not matter his drunken state. I knew in my bones he’d never lay a hand on me in anger. I also knew I didn’t have a fucking clue who Everly Woods was. I only knew who she wanted to be.
“I don’t know.”
Fuck. I was a bastard. A mean, drunk bastard. I’d almost knocked Everly off the damn porch in a fit of rage. God. I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I was turning into a monster. Every day, it seemed I lost a little more of myself, and I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t know how to get me back. I’d lost him right along with my son.
Everly’s small, meekly mumbled, “I don’t know,” only made me feel a hundred times worse. This poor, lost girl. I’d been practically torturing her since she’d arrived. It wasn’t even really about her. What was happening was about Marla and her awful games. I knew why I’d been blaming Everly. She’d been another big regret in my life. I hadn’t been able to save her, just like I hadn’t been able to save myself.
I pulled Everly closer to me, cradling her tiny body in my arms and pressing my forehead harder against hers. “I’m sorry,” I said into her honeysuckle-smelling hair. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered across her pink lips.
Everly pulled her forehead from mine and gave me a small grin before burying her head in my neck. Clutching me tightly around the waist, she whispered, “It’s okay, Cowboy.”
And, in an instant, I was transported back to the only other time she had ever hugged me—to the last time she’d called me cowboy.
“Peaches, hop on,” I said, holding my hand out to her from the top of the train steps.
Only she just stood on the sidewalk, her hands firmly in her big coat’s pockets, a small smile on her lips. We’d run back to the train after dinner at the diner with little time to spare. Any minute now, we were going to pull away, and she just stood there, refusing to take my hand.
“Hop the fuck on, Peaches,” I repeated in a growl. I was starting to panic. She wasn’t moving, and soon, the train would be.
Her eyes were bright on mine, and I knew this was goodbye, but I rejected that idea. It couldn’t be. I wanted to help her, to take her back to Joe’s with me. He’d help her just like he’d helped me. He would adore her just like I did. She’d be tough and hard to break, but he would because he was tougher and loved harder. I knew from experience.
“This isn’t my line, Cowboy. It’s time to part ways,” she said, shrugging her shoulders like she didn’t have a care in the world. But it was all a lie. The tears shining in her eyes, the small tremble in her voice—they gave her away.
The train hummed to life, and I had seconds to get her on it. “Give me your hand,” I said, extending my hand farther.
She shook her head from side to side, her hands still planted in that old coat. I dropped my hand, growling low in my throat.
An engineer motioned for me to get on and take a seat, and I gazed at Peaches, pleading to her with my eyes. My panic was at an all-time high.
Take my hand. Get on the train. Let me help.
She jumped up onto the step, and relief flooded my body. She was coming with me. I’d take her home, Missy would cook for her, and before we would know it, she wouldn’t be so skinny anymore. I’d teach her to ride horses, and Joe would teach her everything about peaches. She’d be taken care of.
She wrapped her arms tight around my waist and stood on tiptoe. “Thank you so much, Cowboy. For everything,” she whispered into my ear.
Leaning back, she stared into my eyes and rubbed the tips of her fingers across the hair on my jaw like she’d been dying to do it all day. I smiled at her, thinking I’d finally won her over. It’d taken all day, but she was finally giving in. She studied every angle of my face, memorizing it, while she continued to stroke my jaw. A frown formed on her chapped lips.
And then it hit me like a sucker-punch to the gut. She wasn’t coming with me; she was saying goodbye. No.
“No,” I said, gripping her waist, holding her to me. “No, let me help you.” I pleaded.
Oh God. She had made her mind up. I saw it in the firm set of her face. In the desolation in her young but wise eyes. Panic and sheer terror for this tiny girl squeezed my heart. I couldn’t let her go.
Her tiny hands cradled my face, and her eyes shined with tears. “You have,” she said. Then she leaned in, placed a long, sweet kiss on my cheek, and hugged me once more, whispering in my ear, “You just did.”
She moved back off the step of the train with a practiced ease that said she had done it a thousand times before. I reached out for her, but it was too late. The train was moving and all I could see was her tiny frame becoming smaller and smaller. With every yard that separated us, my gut churned.
I took my seat in a daze, stunned. I hadn’t expected her to leave. That small girl had done nothing but shock me all damn day, and now, here I sat, baffled and feeling like a failure. I hadn’t helped her, really. I’d given her a hot meal and warmth for a few hours, but what was that in the grand scheme of things? She was out there in the cold now, and tomorrow, she’d be starving again.
It wasn’t until later, when I tried to order a coffee at the food cart on the train, that I noticed I was missing my wallet. At first, it didn’t even occur to me that she’d taken it when she’d hugged me goodbye. I’d trusted her so implicitly. I checked all over for it before recalling her whispered, “You just did,” before stepping off the train.
I smiled at the memory, just like I had when I’d found out she had taken it. My small Peaches, with all the guts of a prize fighter. Her stealing my wallet after the day we had spent together had only proved one thing. My girl was a fighter. I’d taken solace in that. That she could take care of herself on the streets, that she’d live to see another day. And there she was, hugging me tightly again four years later. Fate was a crazy bitch.
I knew I’d been blowing Everly’s betrayal out of proportion, but I was working through my demons. Demons that had nothing to do with Everly and everything to do with Marla.
Fuck, but it was good to hold my Peaches. To know that she was there and safe. That she was healthy and warm and right where she should be. But I couldn’t be her cowboy anymore.
I wasn’t that guy anymore. My head pounded as the effects of the alcohol wore off, but nothing was as bad as the defeat that soured deep in my gut.
“Well, aren’t we a pair?” I said quietly to Everly. “Because I don’t really know who I am anymore, either.” I pulled back and set her away from me.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t save her again. I couldn’t even save myself anymore. Everly would have to figure out who she was all on her own.
“Go back to the big house, Everly,” I said. I couldn’t be trusted. I’d almost knocked her off the damn porch. I’d screamed at her. I was a maniac, and I didn’t need to be around her anymore until I got my shit together.
Her eyebrows pinched together, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “God, Cole. Don’t send me away. Just talk to me. Let me help.” Her eyes pleaded.
I grunted a sarcastic laugh. There was nothing she could do for me. Not a damn thing. I needed to take my ass back into my empty house and sober up so that I could continue to live my empty life.
“You can’t help me,” I muttered under my breath before turning towards my front door and heading inside. I closed the door on a wide-eyed Everly, who was still standing on my front porch.
It reminded me of the night I’d left her on the platform at the train station, only it was worse because it wasn’t just her who was lost anymore. It was me, too.
I slid my drunk ass down the door and sat on the floor, waiting to hear the click clack of her boots making their way off my porch steps. Only I didn’t hear them retreating. They came closer until I knew she was standing right on the other side of the door. She knocked tentatively at first, barely loud enough to hear. I ignored her because I’d had all I could take for one night, and eventually, her light knocks became pounds.
“Goddamn it. I wasn’t done talking to you, Cole,” she said, still hammering at my door like a maniac.
The knocking stopped, and I heard her soft voice through the door.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Cole. Okay? I’m sorry for stealing from you. It wasn’t right after all you did for me.” She got quiet for a minute. “God, just open up, so I can do this to your face.” Her voice was slightly louder, and then I heard a quiet, “Jesus Christ,” which I didn’t think was meant for my ears.
I grinned at her tenacious antics. Maybe Everly didn’t need me anymore, after all. She seemed pretty damn strong all on her own.
