Chapter 9

Polly

Cowboy: I just want you. Only you.

Those six words not only stayed with me throughout my day, but they also fried my brain. At the market, when I carefully selected my favorite organic ingredients for a new recipe idea, I whispered it to each item popped into my string bag. “I just want you, pomegranates. Only you.”

When I stopped to fuel up my beloved Corolla and selected the right type of fuel that had her ancient engine humming like an angel, it slipped out again. “I want you, ultra-premium. Only you.”

The whole thing was ridiculous. Things like this didn’t happen to me. Never before had I been someone’s choice, and honestly, I didn’t know what to do with it.

Maybe because you don’t deserve it.

That thought was a constant, too. And while I may not have felt good enough on the inside, Goddamnit if I wouldn’t look it on the outside.

Though I would never admit to being excited, I called in sick at the restaurant, something I had never done before, and preparations began in earnest. A quick 10k on the treadmill was followed by a semi-grueling arm, tums, and buns workout, followed by the sauna. After that, I hit the showers, deluding myself that icy water would tighten the flab I felt still lingered. Waxing at the salon conveniently located three shops down from the gym came next, and then I was off to see Luna. Besides giving me some of the best head I’d ever experienced—before my cowboy, of course—she also did the best nails. Despite not having any intention to do so, the second I walked into the door, I confessed everything.

“Fuck you, PoI,” she squealed as she wrapped me in her arms and jumped us both up and down. It was so obnoxious. I didn’t smile at all.

“Ughh. Don’t be such a girl.”

“I can’t help it. And I can’t believe you’re seeing that hottie again and not taking me with you.”

“Like you’d take me if the roles were reversed. Besides, don’t you have a date with your own vagina expert?”

One corner of Luna’s mouth curved into a smile that she covered by slapping her hand across it. “Yes, I do,” she mumbled before I snatched it away. “Dr. Mahoney is taking me to The Clam Bar.”

“How apt,” I snorted.

“I know, right? But still. Banging the coach together again would have been fun.”

“And it still will be. But just for me.”

Overzealous words of glee were giggled into my ear as I was ushered to her makeshift nail table, shoved by the shoulders into a wheely chair, and forced to pick a color. The way she smiled during the entirety of the first coat was creepy. As was the lack of blinking while she interrogated me about my plans. “Other than getting railed and then getting the hell out of there, I don’t have any,” I replied.

Looking mighty smug for someone with purple smudges all over their chin, she finished coating my nails with my signature shade of lavender and roughly slid my nails beneath the dryer-laquear setter thingy. “You’re a filthy liar. You like him. You wouldn’t be going to all this trouble if you didn’t.” It was more of an accusation than a question.

“Duh. He’s freaking beautiful, has a massive dick, and could toss me around like a ragdoll. What’s not to like?”

“Well, obviously, there’s that. But good golly, miss Polly. You’ve been with loads of hot dollies, and you’ve never gone back for seconds. Not since Nate—”

I ripped my hand from the dryer and held it before her face. “Stop right now.”

“No!” Luna snapped defiantly. “You are not a Spice Girl, and I refuse to stop, thank you very much. In fact, I will repeat myself. You. Like. Him.” She had leaned closer with every patronizing word, so I pressed my semi-dry index finger into her forehead and pushed her back.

“Did you forget to attach your cochlear this morning? I said, ‘duh,’ which means I agree with the premise. There was no need to bring my past into it. Now, can we please just leave it at that?”

“Only if you admit that there’s more to this than his hotness. There has to be. You’ve found a way to work him into your conversations on the daily. You … like … him.”

Fuck, I hated that she was right. I spent an hour or so with the guy and exchanged a smattering of texts. But there was … something.

“That’s a lie. I admit nothing.”

“Then I will never let this go, and I also won’t finish your nails. Try marking his back with those weak-as-piss naturals and see how you go.”

“Damn you to hell, Luna Watson. Why don’t you worry about your own love life and keep your nose out of mine?”

“Ha! You said love life! Called it! I choose to take that as an admission and now that I am victorious, I will finish.”

After an embarrassing happy dance, she snatched my hand off the chair and shoved it back under the table. “You’ll be able to peel the flesh off his bones by the time I’m done with you.”

It was weird how much that turned me on.

By four that afternoon, I was exhausted but overhyped. In bed but wide awake. As well as my nails, Luna had popped a color through my hair so that the darkest of dark brown was now black as night. Perfectly matching my soul. She then dried and styled it into loose waves that cascaded down my back, coming to rest at the very swell of my ass. Once home, I tried to sneak in a nap, and when sleep eluded me, I refused to acknowledge nerves or excitement over seeing my cowboy as the cause. Instead, I laid the blame squarely at Luna’s perfectly polished feet. How dare she call me out with baseless allegations of … like . Eww. I could hardly say it. It was so ... juvenile and gross.

Like.

I didn’t like anyone. Especially not some random cowboy. Luna was as close as I had to a bestie, and I could barely tolerate her at times. In my past, the only people I had ever really liked were Evie and Nate and look where that got me.

It was still too early to sleep, so I snatched my Kindle from beneath my pillow and returned to the world of Rina Kent, where the line between good and evil was blurry at best and where the villain always got his girl because no one gave a shit about the golden hero.

“Plop. Plop. Honey, you need to get up.”

Pain shot through my neck and down my left arm as my eyelids fluttered open. “Thank god, I thought there was something wrong with you, too.” Waking to find the dark silhouette of my sister looming over me should probably have caused some alarm, but it didn’t. It pissed me off.

“Why can’t you just let me be, Holly? I’m freaking tired.”

“Because you need to pack, Pol. Mum’s had a fall. We need to go home.”

“There’s a good chance she did this on purpose, Holly. She’s been at me for years to come home, and now she’s suddenly geriatric, falling downstairs and smashing her hip, just as I have a date—shit.” I pulled my lips between my teeth and closed my eyes. Please don’t let her hear that.

“You have a date!”

I did have a date, and at any moment, my Cowboy would beckon me to his bed. The right thing to do would have been to call or at least send a message to inform him about the family emergency. But once again, my resolve fell short. I couldn’t stand the thought of letting him down, so I decided it was better to wait and hope he cancelled on me first.

I didn’t want my sister to know that, though.

“Holly. I’m disgusted. I just accused Mum of self-harm to prompt a guilt visit, and all you picked up on was that I may or may not have had a date.”

“That’s right, little sis. Now spill.”

“Nope. Sorry. I’m blinded by my concern over poor Mum and utter disappointment in you.”

The car briefly veered into the gravel as her giggles forced Holly’s eyes to close. “Cut the crap, Plop. Just tell me or when Mum wakes up, I’ll tell her about your planned night of sin and debauchery.”

It was my turn to laugh, and I did. “That’s fucking low. Especially since your daughter’s in the back seat.”

Again, we swerved as Holly’s head pinged back and forth over her shoulder. “Shit. I forgot she was here.”

“Huh, and I’m the bad one.”

Jokes concerning sex revelations, and an invalid mother were fine, but one self-deprecating crack killed the mood. An uncomfortable silence settled over us. My sister tried to break it, but she seemed unsure of how to approach it. She stopped and started, ummed and ahed. It was fucking annoying and dragged on for hours until we pulled into the private yard at the back of my parents’ pub. “Polly. I just want to say this before we go in. You know how mum used to, and still kind of does, paint me as the good one and you as the—”

“Devil?” I finished.

“No. As not the good one. You know it’s a load of crap, don’t you? I’m not good. You’re not bad.”

“Aren’t I, though? I think most people would disagree with you.”

“Most people can get bent. They don’t know you like I do, and they forget that when hurt, good people, even Mum, can do—”

“Some fucked up shit?”

“Polly!” Holly snapped, her hands gripping the pleather steering wheel. “You have to stop putting yourself down all the time.” Thankfully, her lecture was cut short by Dad’s heavy footprints crunching on the gravel drive and blinding security lights cutting through the dreary pre-dawn sky.

White fingertips, palms, and a smiling but weary face pressed against the fogged glass. “Is that my girls?”

“Poppy!” Freshly awake, Piper’s sleepy voice called out to her beloved Pa. In a flash, he’d whipped open the rear door and pulled her from her car seat.

“My darling. Look how big you are! What is your mummy feeding you?” Propping Piper on his hip, he opened Holly’s door and hustled around to mine. My bare feet had barely touched the cold ground before I joined Piper, trapped in his warm embrace. My dad, Murray, was the living embodiment of joy. He smiled constantly, laughed freely, and loved wholeheartedly. How he ended up with a piece of work like Constance Giannopoulos was one of life’s great mysteries.

“We didn’t expect you to be up, Dad,” I mumbled into the warmth of his burly chest. Dad was a big man—tall but round like one of the kegs of beer he taught me to tap when I was still in kindergarten.

“Can’t sleep without your mother here. She might be a royal pain in the ass, but she is my pain in the ass.”

“Aww. That’s what Reece says about me,” Holly chuckled as she joined in on the cuddle and breathed in Dad’s familiar scent, just like I was.

As one, we waddled our way into the family house that sat within spitting distance of the pub. Separating as we entered the kitchen, we shuffled down the long hall, into the lounge and, flopped into what had to be the world’s comfiest sofa. Nothing in the tiny little house had changed. It was a living, breathing time machine that smelled amazing, even with the odd combination of beer, lavender, and Dad’s perennial favorite, Old Spice. The carpet, though replaced over the years, remained the same poo brown Holly and I had always hated, and the ugly creme drapes Mum had proudly made herself lined the windows.

I’d grown up here, worked here, and for a good chunk of time, felt I’d never leave. In truth, if I hadn’t made the decisions I had, I probably wouldn’t have.

Holly grabbed a pillow and tucked her feet under her bum. “Is Mum doing okay? Are they still doing the surgery?”

“First thing tomorrow,” Dad whispered as Piper snuggled under her poppy’s chin, already snoozing. “They’re placing a pin, or screws, in to hold the bone together while it heals. She’s going to be off her feet for a while.” As much as he could with a small human attached to him, he then turned to me, and I knew what was coming. “Could do with your help behind the bar, Plop. Your old man can’t do it by himself anymore.”

Perhaps sensing an awkward conversation, Holly tossed the cushion, rose to her feet, and motioned to Dad to hand over the child. “I’m going to take Pip to bed. Fingers crossed she can sleep again.”

Dad waited for a heartbeat, at which time I checked my phone, still no message, then continued. “I know you left under trying circumstances, but time has passed. No one cares what happened four years ago.”

I slapped my thigh in mock jest. “Get out of town. Ya think? Mum seems to and reminds me of it daily.”

“She does, yes, but only because she loves you so much and wants the best for you. Her faith dictates—”

“That every decision I’ve ever made is wrong. That I am inherently wrong.”

“No.”

“Yes, Dad. You know it. I know it, and I am at peace with it. Really. You don’t need to defend her. It’s not necessary, and of course, I’ll stay to help. But I tell you now, the minute she is up, and on her feet, I’m gone. There is nothing here for me anymore.”

Dad leaned into my side and placed a big, wet kiss on my temple. “This is your home, my darling girl. There will always be something here for you.”