Page 91 of Rough
She punished us for pissing off her de facto mom by shutting her bedroom door in our faces three nights in a row. One night symbolically for each of us. We played paper, scissors, rock for the single guest bedroom every night, which I won two out of the three nights, while the other two stretched out in the living room.
I’m the one that earned our way back into her bed, because when she shut us out of her room, she also shut us out in every other way imaginable. On that fourth night, I followed her upstairs and stopped the door with my hand just before it closed.
“Clyde. You need to remove your hand or I’m gonna introduce your balls to my knee.”
Smirking, I push the door open further and step closer. “You talk a big talk, Country, but I won’t back down. Not again. Our place is right in here next to you.” I jerk my chin toward her bed and when she rolls her eyes, I get heated.
“Ya’ll can handle a bit of a break. Besides, you need to know you can’t always get what you want with a snap of your fingers. You already got to enjoy my body,” she says, running her hand down her hip in a way to draw my eyes. “A little break will do you some good.”
“You’re my country, right?” I ask her, and she’s silent, confused by what I’m askin’.
“Yes,” she drawls.
“Well,” I say, stepping closer and pulling my shirt over my head. “Lovin’ the country isn’t a matter of just enjoyin’ it from time to time. It’s a way of life. I need to breathe it in every day to fuel my soul.” I drop my shirt on the floor, then start unbuckling my belt. “And today is part of that every day. Now, take your clothes off, Country. Let me love you.”
She fights a smile but doesn’t do as she’s told. “You with your fancy words and pretty sayin’s. Why don’t you use your OWN words with me, Clyde?”
I let my pants fall to the ground before working on her clothes. She doesn’t fight me, but stays still, ensuring that her clothing removal is more difficult than it should be.
“You’re my Country,” I tell her, pausing when I’m halfway down her shirt, meeting her eyes. “You’re my peace. I love you more than anythin’ for that. Now, let me show you.”
The rest of the night was filled with all of us promising her the world and wearing her out until she could only babble how much she loves us. I don’t think she’ll ever realize just how gone we are for her, but at least for now, she understands that we’re never leaving again.
Tonight, we got everything done early since the boys from the school all showed up, so we decided to treat our girl to a night out drinking and dancing. The dancing part isn’t something I’m looking forward to, but if she insists, I’ll take her for a turn around the room.
As soon as we pour out of Remy’s truck, Betsy runs toward me and jumps onto my back, bumping my hat so far forward that I scramble to catch it. “Damn it, Country. Why you always tryin’ to ruin my ‘Son?”
Her giggle makes me smile. Wrapping her legs around my waist and arms around my neck, she presses a kiss just over my pulse. “I wish you’d stop hidin’ underneath it. Everyone should see how pretty you are.” She pauses, then mumbles, “Nevermind. I take it back. I don’t want any heifers lookin’ at you thinkin’ they got a chance.” Straightening my hat for me, she taps the top until the brim is digging into my brows. “There. Stay hidden, Billy. Fuck those girls.”
As we walk in, I immediately start hearing people calling for our attention, but the four of us ignore them and make our way to the bar, Betsy still clinging to my back. The bartender smirks, asking, “Pitcher? Or ya’ll want me to make ya drinks?”
By now, the rumors around town have come and gone. Everyone knows this girl is ours and most don’t seem to mind a bit. Apparently, we’d always been seen as a unit, so no one was too surprised.
“A couple of pitchers,” Wilder says, then points at an empty table on the other side of the bar. “We’re gonna plant our asses over there. Can you keep ‘em comin’ for us?”
Nodding, he pours from the tap, and we weave between bodies to the empty table. Leaning my body to the side, I let her slide from me and plant her ass in the chair. Hovering over her, I press a kiss to her lips, then trail them over to her ear. “You keep your ass right here, Country. You hear me? I don’t feel much like fightin’ any of these boys tonight, so let me drink a few before I have to deal with you dancin’ the night away.”
She hums in agreement, then chuckles. “I’ll do my best and try to restrain myself. Just don’t let anyone play the good songs until you’re ready to dance with me.” Wilder pushes me away and sits in the empty seat next to her, throwing an arm over the back of her chair.
As soon as we have our beer, Remy pours, and we spend the next half an hour talking about future plans and clinking glasses. A slow song starts, and Betsy sits up straight, looking directly at Remy with a serious expression. “Dance with me?”
I’m not sure what’s going on between the two of them, but Remy swallows hard and nods, holding a hand out for her to lead her to the floor. It’s a song that’s been on the radio for a while about dancing in a parking lot. Wilder and I meet each other’s eyes, and we both know that this song must mean something special to the two of them.
We watch them as Remy pulls her against his body and they start swaying together, eyes locked on one another. “Whatcha think that’s about?” Wilder asks, leaning toward me to be heard over the noise.
Shrugging, I take a sip of my beer and keep watch. “No idea, but I’m gonna ask.”
When the song comes to an end, Wilder smacks me on the shoulder and steps in to take over dancing with our girl and Remy swaggers back to the table, a knowing grin on his face.
“What’s got you lookin’ like that?” I ask, tipping my cup in his direction.
He can’t take his eyes off our girl as Wilder picks her up and dances for the two of them, keeping her wrapped around his body. She’s buried her face in his neck, and he moves them around not letting her feet touch the ground.
“Prom night,” Remy tells me, forcing me to drag my eyes away from her playful smile. “The one when she had that shitty date. I drove her home, and she was upset. Like,reallyfuckin’ upset. Told me all she wanted to do was slow dance ‘cuz she’d never done it before. I pulled the truck over and that song was playin’. We danced for a while on the side of the road. Almost kissed her that night but held back since I was datin’ Tara at the time.”
I tilt my head in thought. “You never told us about that.”
“It was a moment we had. Wish I’d kissed her, though. Makes me wonder if things wouldn’t have been different if I had.”
