Page 17 of Barbed Wire Fences
Rhett always swore that if he ever saw it happen, he’d step in. And even though we were just kids, I believed him. That’s why I did everything I could to hide how bad it really was because I didn’t want Rhett getting hurt too. For a while, I thought I’dpulled it off. But I should’ve known better. Rhett might not have called me out, but his eyes never missed a thing.
“Have you run into anyone since you got back?”
I wonder if Rhett heard about my run in with Owen already or if he’s just guessing. He’s always been able to read me well. So, instead of lying I tell him the truth.
“I ran into Owen at the hardware store,” I say nonchalantly, trying my best to play it off like it isn’t a big deal while I pick at the bed of my nails and avoid eye contact.
He sets his bottle down on the counter, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Oh, so that’s why you were all in your emotions looking at our yearbook.”
“I was notall in my emotions,” I shoot back.
He nods. “Go on. What’d he say? Ask you to go for a ride on the back roads in his truck to look at the cornfields and climb the old water tower? Tell you that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for the last decade and wants to get back together?”
“Shut up.”
He sits patiently, waiting for me to respond, a smirk on his face that’s way too knowing.
I sigh, realizing he isn’t going to drop it. “He invited me to the high school football game on Thursday night. It’s not a big deal.”
“And you said you'd go with him?” he asks, his eyebrows raising in shock, knowing smirk nowhere to be found.
I do a half shrug, half nod as I sip the last of my beer. “Maybe.”
He pauses for just a moment before slamming a flat palm down on the countertop causing me to jump. “All these years later, and he’s still got his fucking claws in you, and you can’t see it.” He stands up, draining the rest of his beer in the sink and tossingthe glass into the trash with a strong shake of his head. “Un-fucking-believable, Jael.”
“Hey! That’s not fair,” I start.
He levels me with a stern look that feels more like a big brother than a guy who used to be my best friend and at one time, knew me better than anyone. “Welp. It’s not my problem anymore. Great seeing you, Jael. Good luck cleaning up the next mess that you get yourself into. And I’m not talking about a simple toilet clog.”
Then he bends down to scoop up his tool bag, grips the back of his neck before shaking his head, and heads out the front door without another word.
Chapter 7 – Rhett
“Come on, Penelope, we’re going to miss kick-off,” I gesture impatiently, urging my date to hurry up but she’s currently focused on fixing her lipstick using the rearview mirror of someone’s truck parked in the high school’s parking lot.
“One second, Rhett!” she calls out sweetly, smacking her lips together then pocketing the tube of lipstick into the front of her short, denim skirt. “Okay. I’m ready.” She hooks her arm through mind as we make the short walk into the stadium.
Penelope and I have been on-again, off-again hook-ups since the day I unclogged the adjoining bathroom in her kindergarten classroom thanks to a toy race car gone rogue. Six months later, here we are. Spending our evening watching high school sports.
She’s rocking a short jean skirt, cowboy boots, and a red tank top. It’s definitely not your standard teacher-at-a-school-event uniform, but that’s Pen. She’s bold like that. Never worried about fitting into anyone’s mold, never pretending to want more than she actually does. She’s fun, easy, and honest about notbeing interested in anything long-term—which, if I’m being real, are exactly the qualities I’ve been looking for.
Our casual relationship, if it could even be labeled as one, has somehow managed to remain discreet in our small town, where gossip flows freely. We had "the talk" right away and agreed on keeping things simple.
No strings attach. No feelings. Not exclusive. Penelope has plans to move to Charlotte in the fall to get her master’s degree at the University of North Carolina, so we both know that our time together has an expiration date. Luckily, we’ve both been fine with that, too.
I hand a five-dollar-bill to the ticket counter for our game entry. “Enjoy the game,” the young boy says as we walk through the gates into the small stadium. The place is filling out now and the cheerleaders are warming up the crowd, and there are only a few open seats.
My hand guides Penelope to the side where we find two open seats among the chaos.
“Will you get me something to eat?” Penelope asks as we take our seats, her big blue eyes pleading. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
I nod. “Sure, no problem. I’ll be right back.”
Heading back toward the concessions area, I scan the options, looking for the shortest line so that I don’t miss too much of the game. I didn’t play football in high school but in Whitewood Creek, there isn’t much to do on an evening in the late summer but watch sports and swim in the creek.
As my eyes scan the crowd, they snag on a familiar face I haven’t seen in weeks.
“Cash Marshall,” I call, lifting a hand toward one of the Marshall brothers.
