3. Brandy

3

Brandy

“ Y ou think you can get a tow truck to pick it up this morning?”

I heard shuffling through the phone before Wyatt, Bell Buckle’s local mechanic, said, “He can probably squeeze you in around noon.”

“And he can bring it to my house, right?”

Wyatt was quiet a moment, the only noise through the line a faint static. “You want me to work on it at your house?”

“I think it’s just the radiator, which can easily be fixed here. I’m going to try to do it myself, but I may need you to come by if it’s giving me a hard time.” Truthfully, I just wanted my car at my house. I didn’t like being here without a method of transportation, regardless of it being driveable or not. Feeling stuck was not my idea of a fun time.

“Alright. I’m not free until tomorrow, so if you can check it out today and let me know what I might need to bring, that’d be great.” He mumbled something under his breath about the tools being in his shop, but he meant no ill will by it. Wyatt owned North State Auto and never hesitated to drop everything for anyone.

I’d called him about the tow truck because I didn’t trust some random guy messing with my Bronco. They had to take care of it the way I did—like it was their most precious belonging.

I treated it better than a lot of people treated their vehicles because it did the same for me. Through all I had to endure with my father, working on that old car was my safe space when I needed to get out of the house but couldn’t go to the Bronsons’ ranch or see Lettie. Training horses was my true passion, which was why I did it full-time for the Bronsons’ horse rescue and ranch, but working on that car was a different sort of therapy. Something about dealing with the intricate parts of a vehicle made you drown out the noise of the world and focus on that one task in front of you. I wasn’t a mechanic by any means—I only knew how to work on certain parts.

“Tomorrow will work. I’ll keep you posted. Thank you.”

“Yep. Just give them a call in the next hour or so, pay the fee, and they’ll pick it up.” He read off the number for the tow company before we hung up.

I called right away to get it taken care of, thankful it was only a couple hundred bucks.

I had no way of going to the ranch to work some horses, and I didn’t want to inconvenience Lettie or call my mother, so I decided to grab my pruning shears from the workbench in my one-car garage to clean up the rose bushes out front.

Years ago, I planted six of them—my lucky number—and ever since, they’ve somehow stayed alive. My last name was Rose by nature, but my mom named me Brandy because of the brandy rose. It was her favorite flower, so naturally, it was mine as well, if I even had a choice in the matter—I was named after the plant. But she always told me she knew that I’d grow up to be beautiful and strong, but keep that bite to me, like the thorns sprouting from the stems. Beauty couldn’t come without a little pain.

I reckoned that’s why I grew up in the household I did.

The roses were a perfect light shade of peach, popping against the dark green leaves of the bush. I wasn’t a gardener by any means. If I was being honest, I killed every house plant I tried to own. But these rose bushes grew strong every year, getting so out of control that I’d spend hours trimming the unruly branches.

I’d picked up a lot of hobbies growing up as an excuse to get out of the house. Being locked inside with an alcoholic father who liked to hit things when he was drunk—or sober—wasn’t my idea of a great time.

People say to fall in love with the little things in life, not to dwell on the bad. So that’s what I did. I fell in love with the roses, my Bronco, and training horses.

I lost track of time as I pruned the bushes, snipping away the sprouting leaves to reshape the plant. I wasn’t sure if it was hours or minutes that passed when the sound of the tow truck coming up my driveway pulled my attention away from my task. I moved to get up, but in my hurry, my hand caught on one of the thorns, the sharp point tearing my skin from the fatty part of my hand to about halfway up my thumb. I cursed as blood trickled from the spot and headed for the garage to grab a few paper towels. It wasn’t deep, as far as I could tell, but it was a bleeder.

“How’s it goin’?” I asked the tow truck driver as he hopped out of the cab.

“Another day, another dollar,” he replied blandly, moving to unhook the Bronco while barely sparing me a glance.

I held pressure on the cut, and by the time he’d unhooked and lowered my car, the bleeding had stopped.

He gave me some papers to sign, I tipped him the money Reed had left on my doorstep, and then he was off, leaving me staring at my problematic beauty of a vehicle.

I opened the passenger door to grab the bubble gum I always left in the glove compartment and popped a few pieces in my mouth. If the videos I watched last night were right, this may temporarily fix the problem.

After snagging the spare water bottle off the seat, I walked around the vehicle and pulled the hood up. Pouring the water into the radiator to check for any other holes, I watched as the liquid instantly starting leaking out of gaping one. Once the water leaked out enough, I grabbed the chewed bubblegum from my mouth and smoothed it over the hole. With the bottle now empty, I grabbed coolant from the garage and poured it in. None of it got past the gum, so I set the jug in the dirt and came around the side, getting in the driver’s seat to start the car. As soon as it rumbled to life, I slid out to inspect the radiator.

I shouldn’t have been the least bit surprised when I found the coolant leaking out immediately. I guess the gum wasn’t strong enough.

“Fucking hell. Those stupid hack videos never work.”

I turned the car off and yanked my phone out of my jeans to dial Lettie.

“Are you calling to give me shit about Reed? Because I wasn’t the only one behind the idea,” she said as soon as she answered.

I ran a hand through my hair, letting the pieces fan out around my face as they fell. “I need a ride to the ranch. And do not offer up Reed.”

“Okay, okay. I can be there in ten?”

That was enough time for me to put everything back in the garage. “That’s fine. No rush.”

“See you soon.”

I hung up, pocketing my phone, then grabbed the coolant and shears to put them away. I grabbed one of the plastic buckets from the side of the garage to fill with the clippings from the rose bushes. I’d only gotten through four of them, but I could tackle the other two another day.

After the branches were piled in the bucket, I set it beside the garage to deal with later, closed the door, and headed inside my house to call Wyatt.

“Yello,” he answered.

“It needs a new radiator,” I told him. “I tried the bubblegum trick and it didn’t work.”

He let out a small chuckle through the line.

“What?”

“Bubblegum never works, Brandy.”

I rolled my eyes, heading down the hall to my bedroom after throwing away the blood-smeared paper towel. “Well, I tried.”

“Appreciate the effort. I’ll bring one over tomorrow afternoon. I should be done at the shop around two.”

“I’ll be here,” I said dully.

“Wouldn’t think you’d be anywhere else. See ya.” Then the line went dead.

Tossing the phone on my bed, I changed out of my tank top, opting for a gray hole-filled Coors Banquet t-shirt. Outside, a horn beeped twice, indicating Lettie was already here. I didn’t live very far from the Bronsons, the perfect distance between their house and my mother’s. This house was perfect for that very reason, giving me the solitude I wanted with hardly any neighbors, and a few minutes drive to see the people I loved.

I pocketed my phone, then headed outside, locking the front door behind me. I got in Lettie’s car and buckled myself. The action made me freeze, remembering when Reed had reached across me to grab the seat belt in his truck. I’d wanted to slap him in that moment. Reed and I, we weren’t push and pull. It was constantly push. He’d decided that night all those years ago to act like he owned me, and I’d never forgive him for it. But for some fucking reason, last night, I was a little less mad at him and more so irate at the situation my friends had put me in.

They knew we didn’t get along, though they didn’t know the reasons. But regardless of what those may be, they shouldn’t have meddled in that aspect of my life. I’d date other guys all day, any fucking day of the year, if they wanted me to date so badly, but not him.

Reed and I would send a building up in flames if we had to spend more than a few hours together, and that fact would never fucking change.

I crossed my arms, bits of my tan skin peeking out from the holes of my shirt. I should’ve opted for a neutral colored bra, but instead, I’d left my neon pink one on. No one on that ranch was looking anyway.

“You’re scaring me,” Lettie said, hesitating in my driveway.

“Good,” I clipped. I felt betrayed.

“Brandy, if anything, it was a joke,” she started.

I whirled on her. “A joke ? You don’t play around like that, Lettie. You know how I feel about him.”

Her face turned sympathetic, her foot plastered to the brake pedal. “I don’t understand why.”

“You don’t need to!” My voice was rising, and I needed to get it under control. I wouldn’t yell, especially not at my best friend. I wasn’t a yeller. I grew up with it, and I wouldn’t turn into the same person as my parents. “What happened is in the past.”

She was quiet for a moment, then asked softly, “Then why can’t you leave it in the past?”

I looked out the window at my Bronco, my mind somewhere else. Seven years was a long time, but I remembered it like it happened days ago. “I just can’t.”

The blood. The crunching sounds. The shouts. It all rang through my ears. But what I remembered most vividly was the leather of his passenger seat under my bare legs.

Though Lettie and I grew up together and told each other everything, this was one thing that I kept to myself.

She finally eased off the brake, heading down my driveway to the main road.

“How’s everything going with the wedding?” I asked. She and her fiancé, Bailey Cooper, were having their wedding in just a couple weeks, and I was beyond excited for it.

“Absolutely hectic,” she replied. We were both back to our normal selves now. That’s what I loved most about us—we never fought. And if on rare occasion we did, we made up within minutes. “Everything is being pushed so close to the date, I’m nervous it all won’t be ready in time.”

“It will,” I assured her. She deserved her perfect day. “If you need help with anything, just call, okay? I’ll drop everything for you. You know I will.”

While I’d helped plan some pieces of her wedding, she and Bailey had really taken the reins on it, the two of them somehow growing closer in the process, despite having grown up together.

She aimed a smile at me before bringing her eyes back to the road. “I know. I love you all the more for it.”

Being an only child from a broken household, the Bronsons had come to feel like a second family to me. Lettie and I had been best friends since kindergarten, rarely apart for more than a day until she went to college. If anyone asked, we were practically sisters.

They made the pieces of my life that had fallen apart feel a little less broken.

And a little more loved.