Page 4 of Wildest Dreams

“Dixie crashed her car at the top of the ranch, hit the sign...” I mumble off, scrubbing my face with my hand. I'm tired. So damn tired. We have so much going on, we really didn’t need this right now.

“Oh my goodness,” my mom mutters, throwing her hand towel over her shoulder. Dixie is still crouched down and honestly looks like tears are going to shed in her pretty blue eyes.

“I've called Rusty to come and collect her car,” I am still rambling, but my mom isn't listening. She is over helping Dixie up off the floor and dragging the diaper bag with her.

“What do you need love?” my mom's voice is soft, as she ushers Dixie forward and leads her to the living room and I stay still, feet anchored, muddy boots all over my mom's floor.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I slip it out to see Rusty's name flashing.

“Yeah?“

“Just pulling up, come out and give me a hand.” The phone goes silent.

I grab my cowboy hat and place it on my head, turning and walking back out of the door without saying a word. My momwill look after Dixie, and I can go back to my evening and forget this ever happened.

She broke my heart once, I've fixed it, patched it all back up and I'm not about to let the band aids peel away.

I'm not the lovesick teen I was when she left, I am a grown ass man who fixed himself back together again, piece by piece.

Jogging up the dimly lit driveway, I see the bright headlights of Rusty's truck.

Evening is setting in and the sun is getting ready to dip behind the heavy white clouds and all I can think about is my whiskey that I left sitting in the back-room office.

“Tripp,” Rusty's deep southern accent fills the open space as he jumps down from the cab of his truck.

“Rusty,” I tilt my head as I stop in front of him, hands on hips.

“Was the driver okay?” He asks as he presses the button to lower the bed of his truck, the small crane hook swinging.

“Yeah, she's up at the house,” and I see his brows raise.

“Mom is just checking her and her kid over,” I mutter, watching as the hook rests on the dusty floor.

“Out of towner?”

I sigh.

“Yeah.”

Not about to tell him my whole life story. Rusty was in our school, but a couple of years older. Always a nice kid. Never caused any trouble.

He kneels down, hooking the back of the car before he stands.

“Push against that sign as I tow the car up, then you can go about fixing it,” he winks, and a chuckle leaves me. I do as he asks. I round the front of the car and push against the damaged sign that Dixie ran her car into.

The motor kicks in and slowly, the back end of Dixie's car is pulled up before Rusty secures it.

“All good?”

“All good,” he nods, placing the control back in its holder and lifting his hat from his head.

“See you down The Boot tomorrow?” he waits for my answer.

“Maybe, see how things are,” I nod slowly, swallowing the lump that's lodged in my throat. So much is going on that the days are rolling into one.

“Of course, well, thanks for the call. I'll let you know when the car is fixed up. Should be a couple of days if I have the parts… longer if I have to order them,“ he shrugs one shoulder up and turns.

“Sure, thanks.”

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