Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

I hear him reel his line in and look over to see him placing another worm on the hook. His concentration splits when he looks up from his hunched position and nods, encouraging me to keep going. The last thing I want is to be talking about this, but we’re getting to know each other again, and while he might have known about my mama abandoning us—leaving me with a craving to feel loved, needed, and wanted—he has no idea about the news that came long after he left, news that brought the same feelings back, but this time riding shotgun with a whole lot of self-loathing.

“I really don’t want to get into the details, but we found out she had a loose outlook on monogamy. She cheated on my father, a lot, but it wasn’t until Maverick finally came home after retirin’ from ridin’ that he told us what he found out a few years after he joined the professional circuit.” I look back at Tate before continuing. “She had run off chasin’ God knows what the first time and came back pregnant with Maverick. She stuck around for a while, had me, then I guess I was the last straw for her. She left for good shortly after I was born. So, yeah . . . I’m one big jacked-up ball of abandonment issues. Without you, it got worse, and I’m not proud of the person I was. Who knows how long I would have kept dreamin’ of her comin’ back one day and wantin’ us, but Maverick kicked those stupid thoughts to the moon and all I saw when I looked in the mirror was the whore she is staring back at me.”

He grunts, rising from the ground, his newly baited fishing pole tossed carelessly next to his feet. I stand tall, not lookin’ away, and wait. “I’m not even sure where to start, Quinn. It’s only normal that you would want your mama, baby, but don’t you ever compare yourself to her. Never met her, never want to, but even if I did it wouldn’t make a difference in the truth. You aren’t your mama, baby. You felt her void and everything you experienced is somethin’ anyone would feel. You might struggle with the fact of her leavin’, but darlin’ girl, you have to know how much you’re loved by the people that stayed.”

He left. I push the voice in my head to the wayside. I won’t let the fear come back, bringing its lies. He left, but he didn’t do it because he wanted to. He could never be like my mama. He wanted to fight but couldn’t, was helpless to move on in order to save everyone he loved. She didn’t want any of it—the fighting, the protecting: she only cared about herself.

“I’m gettin’ there. Even before you came back I was on my way there. I don’t know what it’s gonna take to finally make it, but I’m workin’ on it.”

“I wish I coulda been here for you,” he says despondently.

“You’re here now.”

He steps closer, running his knuckles from my temple down to my chin before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my forehead. Why that simple gesture feels so intimate, I’ll never know.

“I might not have been one of those people that stayed, darlin’, but I don’t want you to think I wouldn’t have if the situation hadn’t been impossible.”

“I know, Tate. I do.”

“I know I told you I’d tell you anything, but can we just leave it at the knowledge that we both were livin’ the best we could. You know what matters, just as I do—we mighta been livin’, but there was only ever one person that would own that piece of us we kept back.”

I swallow thickly, and nod. I know if I were to open my mouth right now, I would cry big, fat, ugly emotional tears, and I don’t want to look back at this date—our first date as adults—and feel anything negative.

“What do ya say we try and catch us somethin’ good?” He winks, and just like that, the heaviness falls away.

I‘m so content in this moment with him, in comfortable silence as we cast our reels into the sparkling water, that my mind drifts away, and I’m suddenly lost in a memory of our past . . .

- -

Twelve Years Ago

“Just jam the damn thing on, Grease!” Tate bellows from his spot a few yards away from me.

I hear some of the other kids snicker as they overhear us on their way to the watering hole and feel my face instantly flame. Why the hell did I agree to stay behind and fish, of all things? I could have gone with Leigh when she took off ten minutes ago, but nooooo—I let my stupid crush on Tate Montgomery keep me behind. I’m not even sure why I bothered. I could’ve been swinging off the huge rope swing into the cool water right now instead of . . . this.

I look back into the cup of worms and feel bile surging up my throat.

Oh, Jesus Jones. I’m supposed to touch them?

“Grease!” Tate yells impatiently again.

“Kiss my boots, Starch! You gross, nasty boy!”

If he was closer, I’m sure I’d see those blue eyes of his spark. It’s something I’ve noticed a lot lately, even if I don’t understand what it means. I tried to ask my brother, Clay, about it but he just looked at me like he did when I got my period for the first time a few years ago and asked him to go get me some pads. I figure it’s just Tate growing sick of spending time with me. He’s been pulling back this summer, and I can’t understand why.

That’s a lie. I know exactly why. Stupid me had to go open my big ol’ mouth two days ago and tell him I didn’t just want to be friends anymore. I thought he felt the same way, but he just looked at me funny and left. Now the summer is almost over and he’s about to leave here with things all sort of jumbled between us.

“What was that?”

I scream, dropping the fishing pole and the cup of worms, which makes me scream again. I hear Tate’s deep chuckles, even if he is trying to stifle them. Jerking my body around, I narrow my eyes at him.

“You’re jumpy,” he stupidly points out.

“Well, I wouldn’t be if someone wasn’t creepin’ around sneakin’ up on people.”

“Only sneakin’ up on you, Grease,” he retorts, stepping closer to me and leaving a little gap between our bodies.

“Well, that was rude, Starch.”

“You need me to bait your line, darlin’?” he asks, his voice vibrating through my body, making my skin come alive with chills. I shiver, and his eyes do that weird thing again—the blue swirling and becoming almost turquoise.

“N-nope,” I stammer breathlessly.

“You sure about that? Got worms tryin’ to make a break for it as we speak.”

I gurgle a choked squeal and jump, landing against his body with my arms wrapped about his strong neck. When the softness of my chest makes contact with the hardness of his, I feel his arms move only moments before his long fingers grab my ass, urging my legs around his hips.

I feel his erection against the part of me that hasn’t ever felt like it does now at the same moment a loud boom of thunder rocks through the silence around us. My shock-filled eyes bug out when he rocks himself against me. I’m not completely na?ve, so I know the wetness I’m feeling is my body getting turned on, but it’s so foreign . . . and obvious, I can’t help but wonder if he can feel it too.

Rain pelts down from the sky. I didn’t even notice the storm moving in, and now it’s right on top of us. I blink, trying to see through the drops of rain running into my eyes. I’m afraid to move and have this moment broken, but the group we came with will be back soon. No one’s going to stick around the watering hole when there’s a thunderstorm around.