“Really? What would you want to hear? What do you listen to?” I said as I pulled onto the road and headed back to town.
“Hell, I don’t know. I like all of the songs, I’m just sick of these. Just something new, I guess.”
I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really that versed in country music. I’d always been more of a rock or alternative person.
“I have an iPod dock at home,” I offered.
“Nah, that’s okay. Just get out here.”
That sounded better to me, too.
We hung up as I passed my house, and for a fleeting moment I thought about all of the things I could be doing instead of grabbing beer and going to Johnston’s Chute, which I was only guessing was a fishing place? But none of the things I was putting off couldn’t keep until tomorrow.
I wanted to see her tonight. To talk to her, get to know her more.
I was sure she’d already heard—at least in part—some of what had happened between Rachelle and me.
If she was interested—and I was hoping she was since she’d not only called me back, but seemed to want to hang out—then I’d want to tell her what actually happened.
I wasn’t naive. It was a small town, and I was the new guy. A new guy, who’d come to town with a girlfriend looking at a house, and then moved there single.
I hadn’t talked about it much with anyone, except Dr. Carver, but I didn’t really think it was anyone else’s business.
However, when it came to O’Fallon, I wanted her to know I wasn’t pining away waiting for a woman, hoping she’d just show up.
She wasn’t going to show up, and I was fine with that.
Had I been shocked? Yes.
Hurt? Yes.
Pissed? Definitely.
Who doesn’t feel those kinds of things when they find out their girlfriend, who they were planning on proposing to at their new house, had been sleeping with a guy they called a friend?
Shit. I’d even introduced Rachelle to Brad and his wife. Yeah, that’s right. His wife, who Rachelle had explained the last time we spoke, he was leaving.
What a mess.
I was hurt and pissed and all of those things. But, after a few days with my thoughts in a new place, I realized I’d dodged a huge bullet.
True, that was only a month ago, and hell if I didn’t think that this was a little soon to feel interested in another woman, but when someone you thought you loved cheats on you, for as long as she did, if you’re anything like me, you’re done. Like done-done. All of the love you thought you had for them dies.
Then after that, you feel lonely.
And, being in a new town, it was only amplified.
So fucking sue me. O’Fallon was fun and kind. A little on the tomboy side, but I found that endearing. She was so different than any other woman I’d encountered. She could take care of herself. She didn’t wait around for someone to make plans. She lived her life every day how she wanted to. She was smart. And damn was she beautiful.
Even though she put off this kind of tough exterior, I had to wonder, if deep down, she wasn’t lonely too?
I wasn’t sure how old she was—I guessed maybe twenty-five or twenty-six. Most people our age, especially in Wynne, were already paired off.
Married.
Had kids.
Not her.
O’Fallon was sweet and thoughtful, which was a giant contrast to Rachelle. Would Rachelle ever have just stopped to help a stranger on her day off? Fuck no. That’s the answer to that. A big, conclusive fuck no.
She would have thought, “Not my problem,” if I knew her at all. And in hindsight, maybe I didn’t.
I pulled into the truck stop, hoping whoever was working was just as friendly as everyone else, because I had a few questions.
“Hey there. How ya doin’?” asked the older man from behind the counter as I walked in.
“Pretty good, thanks,” I answered as I strolled toward the cooler in the back. “How are you?”
“Oh, I can’t complain. Wouldn’t help if I did, would it?”
I chuckled, everyone here had some quip or anecdote for everything. “Probably not.”
“Whatcha huntin’ for?”
“I need a few beers. I’m headed down to Johnston’s Chute. You know where that is?”
He seemed nice enough to ask. I didn’t have many options.
“Yeah, I know where it is. What kind of beer do you want?”
“I was thinking about grabbing a twenty of Bud Light.” I figured he was just making small talk, but when I looked at his face as I reached into the cooler for the beer, there was something off about it. “Why? Is there something wrong with the Bud Light?”
“No. Hell no. There’s nothing wrong with it. I was just thinking, if you’re headed down to the Chute, I think you might enjoy Newcastle.”
I liked Newcastle. Hell, I liked most beers, so I took his suggestion and exchanged the blue box for the tan and red one. It didn’t sound too bad, to be honest.
As I approached the counter, I looked for a nametag. Usually, attendants wore them, but I was learning that kind of thing wasn’t necessary in Wynne, and he didn’t wear one.