I wake up the next morning on Granny’s sofa with a sore back and a killer headache. I kick the blanket off and head to the kitchen for a glass of water where Granny is standing cooking bacon and eggs.
“Mornin’,” I mumble.
“Was I an ass last night?” I sigh. She never calls me Luke unless I’m in serious trouble.
“No. I just thought you wanted to be called Luke now since that’s what you told the pretty little blonde to call you,” she says, making me cringe at the sound of my name.
“I did?” I ask, trying to remember what else I said. The last thing I remember is doing shots with James.
“Mhm. You even let her drive your truck.”
“What?” I ask, choking on my water and running outside to look over my truck. Everything looks just as it was last night, except my hat is on the floor, and there’s a faint smell of perfume.
I sigh in relief and head back inside.
“Amelia seemed nice,” Granny comments as she makes up two plates of food.
“Sure.” I shrug in agreement.
“You should ask her on a date,” she says, sliding me the larger plate, and I snort.
“No thanks.”
“Tag, you haven’t seen Susie in three years. Just sign the damn papers and move on.”
“Not till she gives me an explanation,” I answer, trying to stay calm.
“Even if you don’t sign the papers, just go on a date,” she counters.
“Not until I’m divorced,” I tell her for the millionth time.
Even though me and Susie aren’t together, we’re still married, and I just can’t bring myself to see anyone else.
“You’re nothing like your father if that’s what you’re worried about,” Granny says, and my insides begin boiling.
“I’m going for a ride,” I snap, pushing my plate away from me, no longer hungry.
I storm out to the barn and saddle up Sid as fast as I can before taking off into the pastures.
I ride for hours thinking about Susie.
When we were kids playing together with James and Sissy in these very pastures. In high school when we fell in love. Getting married at nineteen.
Walking in on her fucking Billy Cole, the fucking pastor’s son. Her packing her bags and leaving.
By the time I get back to the barn, I’m more pissed than I was when I left. I should just sign the damn papers and be done with it. But I need to know why she cheated.
I thought we were happy. We were even talking about having kids. Thank fuck we didn’t. She probably would’ve taken them too.
I stomp around the farm doing what needs to be done—letting the horses out, feeding the chickens, moving cows.
I work until two before deciding to head into town for a late lunch. I go to the only decent place to eat in town.
Helio’s Diner.
The place is pretty dead. There’s a teenage couple sitting by the window looking at each other and blushing, and a group of old ladies in the middle.
I spot Granny in the middle of the ladies, laughing with Mrs. Smith. No doubt Granny will tell me all the gossip at dinner tonight. I'll pretend to be interested, but I couldn’t give two shits.
Granny catches my eye and summons me over with a hand.
“Hi, Granny.” I smile, kissing her cheek. “Ladies.” I nod, taking off my cowboy hat.
“Hi, Tag.” Mrs. Smith smiles widely at me. I’ve always hated her. She acts like she’s above everyone else and we’re all dog shit on the bottom of her shoe.
“Are you just having lunch now?” Granny asks, a line appearing between her eyebrows.
“I worked through. Just have to put the horses away,” I reassure her.
“Oh, Tag, you have to meet the new waitress, she’s just the sweetest. She and Mark would be perfect together,” Mrs. Smith interrupts, talking about her grandson, and I catch Granny rolling her eyes.
“I’m sure I will, ma’am.” I smile.
“There she is now.” Granny smirks, nodding behind me.
I turn my head slightly only to see Amelia walking toward the table.
“Would anyone like more sweet tea?” She smiles kindly, holding up the jug of tea in her hands. The ladies all nod their heads and thank her.
“Amelia.” I nod when she steps up next to me to pour Granny’s tea.
“Tag.” She smiles. I step forward and let her past to go to Mrs. Smith.
“Y’all already meet?” She frowns, looking between us.
“Yes, ma’am.” I smile.
“Oh, Barbra, I forgot to mention she came home with Tag last night,” Granny says, snapping her fingers together, and I have to bite back my laugh.
“Hmm,” she hums in disapproval.
“I’ll see you for dinner. Wear something pretty for me.” I wink to Granny before placing a kiss on her cheek and heading to the long bar by the register.
“Would you like tea?” Amelia asks, holding up the jug to me as she slides behind the counter.
“No thanks,” I reply, screwing my nose up.
“You don’t like sweet tea?” she asks, putting the jug down.
“Not that crap. Only Granny’s.” I smile. She probably thinks I’m a real granny’s boy, but she’d be right.
“Coffee?” she suggests, and I nod.
“Why are you working here?” I ask as she pours the coffee into a mug.
“Well, you see, in order to live, you need this thing called money, which you get from working,” she replies with a cheeky smile, making me laugh.
“Two jobs?” I ask, taking a sip of the hot coffee. Her light eyes darken at my question.
“No milk?” she says, changing the subject.
“Not for me,” I answer.
“Thanks for taking me home last night,” I say. “And for not crashing my truck,” I add, making her laugh.
“I guess once a pretty girl gets me drunk, I’ll let her drive it,” I joke, making her blush. Was I flirting? I shouldn’t have said that.
“I’ll remember that,” she says, biting her bottom lip slightly, making my dick twitch again.
“I hope he didn’t talk too much crap about me.” I cringe, trying to distract myself.
“Well, I found out everyone around here calls you Tag, and he has no idea what your actual name is. Luke,” she says, raising her eyebrows as if to challenge me.
“He doesn’t even know my name?” I gasp, grabbing a hold of my chest.
“He also said you are probably one of the safest men to be around in this town, and you would never hit on me.”
“He’s right.” I nod in agreement. Although I would love to see what’s underneath her clothes, I’m still a married man.
“Because you’re gay?” she asks.
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“You’re gay, right?” she asks, glancing over my shoulder toward the old ladies.
“I’m not gay.” I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m married,” I tell her.
“Separated,” Granny corrects from behind me.
“Still married.” I grumble.
“Hush,” she tells me, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Barbra wants to know if you can take Mary riding after church tomorrow?” Granny asks me.
“Young Mary or Old Mary?” I ask.
“Young Mary,” she answers, and I start groaning.
“I hate taking her. All she does is yap on and on about Susie and sex,” I whine as Granny puts a large smile on her face but narrows her eyes.
“You are taking her riding tomorrow after church,” she says through her teeth.
“Yes, ma’am,” I grumble, my bad mood coming back.
“Would you like to go too, Amelia?” Granny asks her. “Amelia said she’s never ridden before and would love to try,” Granny tells me.
“If that’s okay?” she asks, fighting back a smile.
“Of course it is,” Granny smiles, walking off.
“You don’t mind?” she asks almost nervously.
“Naw, it’s fine,” I tell her.
“As long as I don’t talk about Susie and sex, right?” she asks through a smirk.
“Right,” I agree with a laugh.
Saturday nights at the bar are never as busy as Fridays. Most people are at home because if you show up to church hungover, you’re immediately labeled an alcoholic, and the next week there would be an intervention.
I’m currently playing pool with James, Will, and Bugs. Thankfully, I’m teamed with Will because the other two fucking suck.
“Amelia thought I was gay,” I tell Will as James lines up a shot.
“What?” James laughs, bumping the ball and missing his shot completely.
“Apparently it was somethin’ this asshole said,” I say, nodding toward Will who’s lining up his shot.
“All I said was that you were a good guy, and you wouldn’t hit on her or any other girl,” he says before a look of realization crosses his face.
“She also said you don’t even know what my actual name is.” I chuckle as all three of my buddies frown like they’re trying to remember.
“Do you know what mine is?” Bugs asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Bruce,” I answer, and he nods.
“Are you goin’ ridin’ tomorrow?” James asks as Bugs actually gets his shot.
“Granny’s making me take Young Mary.” I groan, leaning against my pool cue.
“That girl can do wonders with her mouth,” Will sighs happily.
“So she says.” I roll my eyes as Amelia walks over carrying a tray with four beers.
“Hey, Amelia, what do you think Tag’s name is?” James asks, and she scrunches her face up. “His real name. None of us can remember, but I’m thinking it’s Jack,” he explains.
“No, it’s John,” Bugs shakes his head.
“Naw, you’re both wrong, I’m pretty sure it’s Robert,” Will states.
“Then he’d be called RJ or Junior.” James shakes his head.
“Mike?” Bugs suggests.
“Hmm,” she hums, looking at my face like she’s studying it. “I think he looks like a Luke.” She smiles, and my heart picks up when she says my name.
“Nah. It’s Harry,” James says while I smile at Amelia, sending her a quick wink before moving around the pool table to take my shot.
Just as I’m about to hit the ball, the whole bar falls silent, which has only happened twice in the last fifty years, allegedly.
I stand up and crane my head to see what everyone is looking at when I see the tight black curls I haven’t seen in three years.
“Hey, y’all.” Susie’s voice floats through the bar, making my heart clench.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, wondering how fast I can sneak through the back door.
“Just lookin’ for my husband.” She laughs nervously.
“He ain’t here,” Old Mary grunts from behind the bar.
“I’m guessing y’all know what happened?” Her voice comes out sad and defeated, and for some reason, I feel guilty.
“He ain’t told us shit. All we know is you left,” Henry the old drunk pipes up.
“He was unfaithful.” Susie sighs, and my blood begins to boil with anger. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
“No fucking way Tag would be unfaithful,” Henry growls, standing up for me. “We all know his story, and for you to come in here and say shit we all know ain’t true makes you a bigger bi—”
“Thanks, sir,” I cut him off, stepping forward.
“No problem, son.” He grunts, sitting back down.
“What do you want?” I ask my wife.
Her light-brown skin still looks smooth and perfect, her hair styled neatly. The only thing I can say that’s changed about her is her clothes. She usually wore jeans and a shirt, now she’s dressed all businesslike.
“I want a divorce,” she states, sticking her chest out.
“Tell me what I want first,” I reply straight back.
“You know I’m not going to,” she says, sticking her nose up slightly.
“Then no divorce,” I state, going back to my friends.
