Page 1 of Every Single Wildflower
Prologue
Ivy
Seven years ago
I punch the green icon for the fourth time in a row, letting the line ring until my soon to be ex boyfriend’s voice comes through the speaker with the voicemail greeting that I’ve been getting more often than not for the last four years.
"Sup. It’s Brady, leave one."
With gritted teeth I glance at the empty parking lot of the Mayson Jar, my aunt’s restaurant that has been closed for over an hour now. She was shorthanded this evening, so I worked a shift, and was supposed to be picked up by Brady when we closed at ten. But here I am, freezing my ass off, because as luck would have it, it’s those rare two weeks that Texas actually has a winter. My eyes roll in annoyance, my anger flaring as I’m obviously forgotten, yet again.
It’s your own fault, Ivy. Put your big girl pants on and end it.
I know I should have months ago. We’d been friends since kindergarten. He was my first kiss. My first boyfriend, and as much as I love Brady, I’m not in love with him. I would have had the hard conversation a couple of years ago, but when his dad died suddenly in a horrible accident, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He needed me during his grief, so I set aside my concerns and was there for him. But now…. it’s becoming plain bullshit.
The vacant parking lot only reminds me that everyone is gone for the night, and I now need to find someone to drop their Friday night plans to accommodate my lack of backbone. My thumb scrolls, about to land on the only other person who could pick me up, when my phone dies.
“Excellent,” I mutter, shoving the useless device into my bag before sliding it over my shoulder.
Luckily the crime rate is particularly low in Mayson Ridge, so it’s the only reason I’m even considering walking these darkened streets alone when it’s nearing midnight. Most of the time on a Friday night downtown would be buzzing, but it’s show season, and for towns like mine it means that everyone is gone north to Ft. Worth. Including my parents and my older brothers, which is why Brady was designated my ride since my car is in the shop.
My aching feet carry me past the Mayson Jar’s neon sign, and past the entrance of the hardware store, until I’m standing next to the small, faded brick building that’s been empty since I’ve been alive. The large picture window would be a perfect spot to display buckets of wildflowers and other floral arrangements. Especially the ones I pick in the pasture at the east end of the ranch.
Lost in my secret daydream, the sound of an engine pulls my attention away and I turn to see a familiar Chevy truck idle up next to me. The driver side door flies open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered cowboy, with a scowl planted on his handsome face that’s barely visible beneath the brim of a black Stetson hat.
“What the fuck, Ivy?” His deep voice rumbles through my chest like a violent earthquake.
Maddox Sheppard, my inconsiderate boyfriend’s older brother stalks toward me, peeling his coat off in the process. “What are you doing out here this late? It’s freezing.”
I blink, my breath stuttering as I watch the man that I’ve known just as long as Brady, completely remove his Cinch jacket before draping it over my shoulders.
“Get in the truck," he commands; his tone hard like it usually is when he’s around me.
But I'm hungry, cold, and have no desire to dig deep enough to muster up the energy to argue. I allow him to usher me to the passenger side, where he opens the door and helps me climb in. When he hops in the driver seat, slamming his door, I finally manage to speak.
“I can’t get a hold of Brady.” I wave my phone between us. "Then my phone died."
His jaw clenches as he grips the steering wheel before peeling one hand off to grab the charger that's hazardously coiled inthe floor of the truck. “He was supposed to pick you up?” He asks as he hands it my way.
“Yeah. We talked about it this morning.” I plug my phone in before dropping it on the bench seat.
His eyes close, his head shaking as he mutters a string of curse words under his breath. The truck shifts into drive, and the cab grows silent.
“You know where he is?” I ask.
I cast a glance at his profile. He and Brady may be brothers, but they only favor in terms of hair color. Maddox has piercing hazel eyes, like their mother, while Brady has light honey brown like their father. You’d have to be diagnosed legally blind not to see that Maddox is as handsome as they come.
“He went to Shreveport with Clay. They left about noon," he finally says, irritation lacing his tone. “Clay has two rides tonight.”
A rodeo. He ditched me for a freaking rodeo he’s not even riding in.
“I don’t know why I even keep doing this," I say aloud.
“There’s no excuse, Ivy," he grits out.
I swallow, knowing he’s right. Maddox never was one to sugarcoat. He meant the things he said, and even though he always seemed pissed off at anyone and everything, I knew deep down it was because he cared.
More than I can say for his brother.
