“Yeah, cause we all know the story of how Maggie whoop-de-dooed in her Subaru and nine months later…”
I hadn’t heard Cyan come up behind me, but once he gets in range, I elbow him hard in the side, rewarded with his groan of pain as he grabs his side. “That wasn’t funny the first five-thousand times and it’s even less funny now that Terry is three years old, dumbass.”
“Ouch! Stop, that hurts! Mama, Maggie called me a name.”
“That’s because you are being a dumbass. I don’t need no grandchild named Subaru. Though, you could have named him Cross, dear.”
I grunt, not really replying, but letting it be known, yet again, that I don’t like the idea at all.
“Poor Bryant,” Mom says under her breath. I’m not sure anyone can hear her but me since she’s right in front of me. When I hear her, however, guilt begins to bubble inside of me. “You really need to make an honest man of that boy, and actually make it work this time,” she mutters.
“Like you have with Jansen?” I snap, immediately defensive.
“Pfft, at our age, we’re just celebrating the miracle that we’re both still even interested.”
“There sure is a lot of celebrating going on around here, specifically in the kitchen,” Cyan says, and from the look on his face, I don’t even want to know what he saw.
“Praise Jesus,” Mom says, giving me a wink.
As if Jansen knows we’re all discussing him, he comes ambling up the front steps in that easy gate he has. I love that man more than words could describe. He’s been a father to me—more so than my own dad was. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it.
“Lovey, that damn cow got out again,” Jansen growls, sliding onto the edge of the porch, sitting down, and letting his legs hang over the side. He spits out his tobacco and Cyan hands him a beer.
“Hamburger just wants his freedom, Jan,” Mom defends.
“Some creatures are just meant to be free,” I mutter, and I can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. I act like it doesn’t bother me, though.
Mom looks at me and our gazes meet. I see something in her eyes and I just know she understands. My heart beats faster in my chest and I wonder if my mom has even more secrets than the ones I already know.
“If he don’t stop breaking my fence, I’ll give him his freedom. I’ll make sure he gets his ticket to the green pastures in the sky,” Jan grumbles. Mom ignores him, probably because she knows it’s an empty threat. She gives me a smile though and I return it. I don’t think it’s my imagination that I see sadness in hers. I have a funny feeling the same sadness is in mine.
1
Bryant
Present Day
I look down at the phone number that flashes across the screen of my vehicle, announcing who is calling. Simultaneously, a feeling of joy and regret hit me.
Of course, that’s what always happens when it comes to that woman.
Magnolia Lucas and I have been in each other’s life for what is essentially forever. We met in kindergarten, dated in high school, married right after, divorced a couple of years later, and occasionally scratch itches that we probably shouldn’t have with one another.
Our relationship is complicated and yet simple. I don’t know if you would call us friends, so I’m not sure friends with benefits would sum us up at all. Then again, we’re not enemies, either.
We’re raising our son, Terry—who will turn six in a few days—together and we’ve done that without any issues. Hell, we rock co-parenting. We make sense on paper, but the two years I was married to her were both the happiest and saddest in my life.
Still, there’s always been this tangible electricity between us. If we are alone together, clothes are going to come off. It just happens. That’s how Terry was conceived. Hell, I’m thirty-six and Maggie is the only woman I’ve been with. She’s the only one I’ve ever wanted and as lame as that sounds, that has remained constant.
Maggie and I did everything wrong. We got married before she was even finished with high school. I did it because I loved her. She loved me too, but I’m pretty sure she would have waited if she wasn’t pregnant. When we lost our daughter, a piece of us died, too. Maggie was miserable and I was helpless because I had no idea how to fix any of it. I was too young to sort through all of the shit and find a way out.
I thought after Maggie got pregnant with Terry we might find our way back to one another, but it didn’t quite work out that way…
“Hello,” I finally answer, pushing thoughts of the past out of my mind.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to pick Terry up, Bryant?” Maggie asks—for the third time.
“I told you I would the first two times you asked. What’s up with you today?”
“I’m just nervous,” she mutters. “I should be home in the morning. If I’m not, just take Terry over to Mom’s and I’ll grab him there.”
“Mags is there something going on I should know about?” I ask, feeling like she’s keeping something from me.
“We’re not together anymore, Bryant. You don’t have to know everything about me,” she snaps, and I frown. Maggie can be plain-spoken and come off bitchy but never out of the blue. Plus, when she is, it’s usually because she’s scared.
“Mags,” I respond, my tone even. She takes an audible breath, much like she usually does when I quietly call her on her shit.
“I know. I’m sorry, Bry. I’m just frazzled. I really wasn’t expecting to have to be out of town today. I hate that you have to watch Terry at the last minute,” she sighs.
“You know I love watching our boy, honey. I’m worried about you right now.”
“Bry,” she responds, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling she’s in trouble.
“Talk to me, Mags.”
“I’m just tired, Bryant. I promise. I just need a nap.”
“And a massage,” I add, a ghost of smile on my face even though she can’t see it.
“And a massage,” she agrees, sounding a little less lost.
“You know, Maggie May, I’ve been told I’ve got good hands,” I flirt.
“And who told you that?” she laughs.
“Some crazy Lucas girl.”
“I’d take you up on it, but you and I seem unable to stop at just a back rub,” she responds, and she’s not wrong.
“Bring a bag and I’ll fix dinner for us tomorrow night.”
“But—”
“That new movie is streaming that Terry’s been wanting to watch and I’ll make your favorite.”
“Damn, you’re pulling out the big guns making pasta,” she murmurs.
“If you’re a good girl, I’ll bring out an even bigger gun after Terry goes to bed,” I promise.
“I shouldn’t…”
“Dinner’s served at seven, Maggie May,” I respond, clicking the phone off.
2
Maggie