3. Lexie

Chapter 3

Lexie

W hen I arrived in Dallas, I realized that the only phone number I had was my sister's, and I was loath to call her. At least not yet.

Instead of calling her from one of the few remaining pay phones in the airport, I went to the gift shop and bought myself one of those prepaid phones. It took nearly the rest of my money, but it would come in handy.

I neglected to buy myself some clothes because it was either the clothes or the phone. By the time I took a very expensive taxi to Wagontown I was sweating, with only a wrinkled five-dollar-bill to my name tucked in my bra.

As the taxi pulled away, I stood in the quiet heart of my hometown, the soft glow of streetlights illuminating the familiar scene. Main Street looked much the same, the old diner's neon sign flickering and the vintage movie theater marquee advertising a double feature. The scent of jasmine from Mrs. Thompson's garden filled the air, mixed with the distant hum of cicadas. Shadows played on the worn facades of the quaint shops, each one a piece of my childhood. Despite the years I'd been gone, it felt like Wagontown had been holding its breath, waiting to welcome me back.

I knew I should call my sister but I didn't know if I could bring myself to do it. Gillian was six years younger than me, and my parents had always favored her.

And why wouldn't they? She was the golden child. She got good grades and did well in sports, while I hid inside books, always escaping to fantasy worlds and getting by with a C average. I had started to work harder from the moment she was born, wanting my parent's affection, aching for it, fighting for it. But it didn't work. Although I was doing better, that was what I was expected to do, so my efforts were often overlooked.

And I resented her for it. I really did. It wasn't fair, but I couldn't help it.

I tucked my new phone into the small pocket of my wedding dress' skirt and started to walk. I didn't know where I was going until the Pig in the Poke came into view.

God, so many memories there. I'd thrown up in that bathroom too many times to count whenever I got too drunk, my friends holding my hair.

Friends that I hadn't talked to in years.

I walked inside and began looking around before I knew what I was doing.

The pool table where Oliver had first kissed me. The end of the bar, where Oliver had ordered us a round of cheap tequila shots and we had almost spit them out. It made me a little sad yet nostalgic at the same time. Some part of me almost expected to see him here, but surely he wouldn't still be around.

I walked up to the bar and chuckled as the bartender's eyes widened.

I knew I looked a mess, my makeup streaking from sweat, my very expensive wedding dress wrinkled and dirty, pieces of my hair sticking out of the braid it was in with tendrils falling over my face.

I huffed the hair out of my face and awkwardly put myself on the bar stool, stuffing my dress beneath me.

"I really need a drink but I only have five bucks. Any way there's a happy hour so I can get a shot?"

The bartender winced and shook her head. "Unfortunately not but I could get you a beer?"

I nodded gratefully and slid her the wrinkled, damp bill that I took out of my purse. "Keep the change. If there is any."

She smiled. "What's your poison?"

"Anything light."

"I'm Brenda," she told me, sliding the beer to me.

I took a long sip, instantly grateful I got beer rather than a shot. I was thirsty, and a shot wouldn't have helped that.

"Lexie," I told her, and it felt strange to say that after having been Alexandra for so long.

"Nice to meet you, Lexie. Where you from? Not around here, I'd wager."

Brenda had long dark hair, a touch of grey around the temples. I guessed her to be in her forties. She was friendly and very attractive. I bet she made great tips.

"You'd be wrong," I said, taking another long sip of my beer. "I'm from Wagontown. But you are not."

"I'm a city gal, myself."

"How did you end up here? It's barely on the map."

She shrugged. "I followed a roughneck here, because of the oil rig."

I nodded slowly. My ex-boyfriend, Oliver, had been a roughneck in high school and college. His father was an oil magnate, and Oliver had been on his way to following in his footsteps. "I've known a few of them myself."

"They're hot," she said with a wink, and I couldn't help but laugh. I had hardly eaten all day and the beer was already going to my head. I was a little bummed when I finished it.

People started to come in, and I looked down at my wedding dress, feeling embarrassed.

Brenda eyed me and then passed me a pair of kitchen scissors.

"Thank you," I whispered, and went to the bathroom to hack up my ten-thousand-dollar dress. By the time I was finished, it barely resembled its original form—no sleeves, the hem hanging just below my knees.

I took a deep breath and headed back out to the bar. Brenda whistled at me and winked, and I couldn't help but smile.

That was one of the great things about Wagontown. There were good people here.

I was about to ask Brenda if I could owe her five bucks for another beer when a man walked up behind me.

"Put whatever she wants on my tab," he said. Grateful, I turned and looked up at him.

My heart stopped in my chest before booming back to life again and beating way too hard. I felt dizzy, as if I'd been taking shots all night instead of nursing one light beer.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. It had to be some fantasy I'd made up because I was stressed about pulling a runaway bride. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to push the fantasy away. But when I opened them seconds later, he was still standing there. Oliver Stanhope, the only man I had ever loved, stood there, looking at Brenda .

Did he recognize me? Or was he just being nice to the crazy lady in the cut up wedding dress?

"Oliver," I whispered, and he looked down at me, frowning, before realization dawned in his soulful brown eyes.

"Shit," he whispered back. "Lex."

He looked good, great, even. Chiseled jaw with a hint of dark stubble across it. Those big brown eyes I used to get lost in were still the same. He was broader across the chest and shoulders than the last time I'd seen him, but of course, it had been years.

He smelled good, too, like sandalwood and soap. God, I still wanted him. I swallowed hard and looked up at him.

"God, it's been a long time," I babbled, not sure what else to say. I felt like my knees would buckle if I tried to stand up.

Oliver slid onto the bar stool next to me. "What are you doing back in town?" He eyed my outfit with one dark brow lifted in inquiry.

I reflected that this was one of the things I had always liked about him. He didn't panic or make a big to-do about anything. Even running into his ex in what was left of her wedding gown with sticks in her hair.

I gestured down to my wedding dress. "Running," I admitted ruefully, one corner of my mouth lifted a little. Suddenly, I felt tears prickling in my eyes, and I looked away from him. What was wrong with me?

He chuckled. "You were always good at that."

I frowned, but Oliver didn't seem angry. Maybe he'd forgiven me after all this time. I'd forgiven him, not that this was the time or the place to say so.

"No hard feelings?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"I guess there's no hard feelings," he admitted. "Are you back or just passing through?" He gave my outfit another significant glance.

He was looking at me curiously, and I wondered if he was being honest about not having hard feelings or if he was just saving face.

The last time we'd seen each other we'd both been screaming and highly emotional. It seemed strange now that everything appeared to be okay.

I guess people could change. I guess time changed things too. Time had made me foolish, apparently, and time had made him wise. I sighed.

I hailed Brenda for another beer and Oliver ordered himself one too. I took a long sip before speaking again.

"Yeah. Wanted to look up my parents."

"I hate to tell you this, Lex, but they moved away. East coast, somewhere."

I swallowed hard. "Damn."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that. Why wouldn't they have at least called to tell me? I guess that just further proved what a black sheep I was.

"I take it you haven't kept in touch with them or Gilly?"

I shook my head. "Just... drifted apart, I guess."

"Your sister still lives in town. You can look her up."

Shit . That was what I was hoping I wouldn't have to do. As much as I loved my baby sister, she got everything handed to her that I had to work so hard for. It was tough to be around that all the time. I almost wanted to cry again.

"I guess so."

"Do you want a ride?" Oliver asked, and I blinked at him.

"You'd give me a ride to my sister's place?" I stared at him for a long moment. Why was he being so nice to me after everything that happened between us ?

He shrugged. "If that's what you want."

I looked up at him curiously. "What's the alternative?"

Oliver gave me a small smile, showing a dimple in his cheek that I used to love.

"You could go to a hotel. We could catch up, wings and beer, like we used to."

"You want to catch up?"

He shrugged again. "We said no hard feelings, didn't we?" But there was something in his eyes that I couldn't quite name, something hot and resentful.

"I don't know," I mused. "I don't have a cent to my name."

"I'll spot you the cash," Oliver said, adding, "what are friends for?"

"Come on," Brenda said from behind the bar. "He's gorgeous."

"Thank you, Brenda," Oliver replied, and she winked at us. I suppose Oliver did come to the Pig every now and again, they seemed to know each other.

But then again, everyone knew each other in Wagontown.

I gave him a once-over. He clearly still worked out. His biceps and pecs bulged slightly in the t-shirt he wore. Oliver had always had money, but he dressed casually. He wasn't a suit person, even though he looked great in one.

He now wore his brown hair a little past his collar, and I wondered briefly what it would be like to run my fingers through it again.

I cleared my throat. "I'd love to, thank you," I muttered. Even though I had my issues with Oliver and how things had ended, I needed this. I needed to let loose, and as much as I was loath to admit it, his presence gave me a sense of security .

I didn't want to talk about Dick and why I was back in Wagontown with nothing to my name in my torn-up wedding dress. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and a little traumatic if I really delved into how I was feeling. Oliver didn't even ask, instead leading me to a nearby table and ordering from the waitress.

"Can I ask where you moved to?"

"New York City," I told him.

He whistled. "Big city girl. You always wanted to get out of Wagontown."

I hummed. That wasn't exactly true. I'd always wanted to get away from my family but never away from Oliver. Sure, I'd had dreams that Oliver and I would get married and settle down in another city, another state. But Oliver had always wanted to stay right where he was born—in Wagontown.

"It wasn't all it's cracked up to be. The big apple is kind of rotten if you know what I mean."

He laughed, nodding. "I've been there. It's a lot different than out here under the open sky."

"What about you?" I asked, looking over at him. "Have you always stayed in Wagontown?"

"Yep," he said easily. "Built myself a house and settled in."

I wondered why he had chosen to say, 'settled in' and not 'settled down.' Did that mean that he wasn't married?

"I'm not surprised."

"I never wanted to get out the way you did."

"I know," I said gently, thinking about our second to last fight which had been about me applying to graduate school at New York University.

As I looked around the Pig, I realized that I didn't know I was homesick until right then .

Not that I wanted to move back. I should have visited more though.

"Miss it?" he asked me, his gaze perceptive.

I swallowed hard. Yes. "Not really," I lied, but then I started crying for real. So much for what was left of my makeup.

"Liar," he said to me. He didn't pull me in for the hug I would have liked to have, but he did pass me some napkins off the bar.

"I feel so stupid," I sniffled. "I did everything right."

He winged a brow at me. "Right? What does that mean? There's not really rights and wrongs when it comes to life."

I just shook my head. I had always thought there were. Until recently, that is.

I couldn't help but wonder if this was fate, bringing us back together.