The Bully (Calamity Montana)

THE FIRST ENTRY in Nellie’s diary was the hardest one to read. So I’d made myself read it a hundred times.

The book rested on my chest as I stared at the Winnebago’s ceiling. My bedroom was cast in a dim gray. The lights from the motel and Harry’s porch seeped through the RV’s windows and thin shades.

In the past three days, I’d had a hell of a time sleeping. Not only from the light—I preferred pitch-black—but from the noise in my head. It was four in the morning and I’d popped awake like I’d been asleep for eight hours, not five.

Boredom was a fickle bastard. Retirement had given me too much free time and now my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up. My workouts got a little longer each day. I’d spent more time cooking and cleaning in the past three days than I had in three years. Marcy had let me do laundry in the motel’s utility room and as of this afternoon, besides the clothes on my back, not one article in the closet was dirty.

Straying far from the camper wasn’t appealing, so I’d done my best to stick close and stay busy. Except there’d been too many empty minutes. And when the temptation was overpowering, I’d reach for Nellie’s journal. Another week and I’d be able to recite the entries from memory.

Maybe I should have stolen another diary. While she’d been in the shower the other day and I’d been standing in her living room, my dick still hard, I’d thought about taking one, maybe two more.

But, coward that I was, I’d walked out the door instead. I didn’t need to steal more diaries to know what she’d written. I hadn’t exactly gotten nicer to Nellie as our high school years had progressed. Football had become more and more of a focus each year, but I’d been the same callous prick to her for years.

How could she stand to let me touch her? How could she let me inside her body?

How had I been her first kiss?

She deserved better.

That day was as crystal clear in my memory as yesterday.

Nellie’s dad was working on my parents’ yard, and she’d tagged along that afternoon. It was right after school started our freshman year. Early September. I remembered, not because of the date in her journal, but because football season was going strong and it was the Monday after our first home game.

Dad had bitched at me all weekend because I’d sat on the bench for most of the game. Even though I was better, Coach had played the senior quarterback. It was the guy’s last season and everyone knew he wouldn’t play college ball. But did Dad cut me any slack? No. He blamed me for not being a starter.

Work harder.

Show them you’re the fucking star.

Make them see that you’re the obvious choice.

He’d made me throw two hundred passes that weekend into the net beside the pool. My punishment for not shining bright enough.

I was supposed to do another fifty after I came home from practice. Mom had picked me up from school, and when we got home, I’d gone straight for a football, grabbing it with a wince. My shoulder was dead. She told me that she’d cover with Dad. That she’d lie and tell him I threw for an hour.

Mom lied to Dad a lot on my behalf.

Instead of homework or TV, I went outside and hung beside the pool.

I knew who Nellie was. All of us knew who the scholarship kids were at Benton. They stood out, even with our uniforms. Off-brand shoes. Cheap phones. And they kept their chins down. Mostly they were an afterthought.

Not Nellie.

She was impossible not to notice. There was nothing fake about her. Fresh face. Long, pretty blond hair. Green eyes that saw more than the other fourteen-year-old girls.

She had a book under her arm when she found me beside the pool. She’d been surprised and embarrassed, like she’d been caught trespassing. I probably should have let her walk away, but instead, I told her she could sit with me. She did.

She took the lounge chair beside mine and cracked open her biology textbook.

I was supposed to be studying the same thing, so I leaned in closer. The move hurt the hell out of my shoulder, and I must have cringed or grunted or something.

Nellie asked me what happened.

To this day, I still didn’t know why I told her. But I spilled everything. How my father was a dick. How he expected perfection. How he hadn’t made it to the pros as a quarterback, so he expected me to make up for his shortcomings. How the pressure made me sick at night.

I told her how I wanted to disappoint him just so he’d leave me the fuck alone.

I admitted that I didn’t have the courage to stop.

I confessed that the reason I worked my ass off was not because he wanted me to, but because I was better. Because I was going to show that son of a bitch.

No one knew my truths. Not Mom. Not Pierce. Not my other friends. But I gave them to Nellie.

I dropped my guard and let her in.

To this day I wasn’t sure why.

We talked while the sound of her father’s lawnmower hummed in the background. It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes, but it had been the most important conversation I’d had in a long, long time.

She listened, without judgment. I had money and talent and status. I was a rich kid who had a bright future. She of all people could have thrown it in my face. Instead, she touched my hand and said she was sorry.

That was when I kissed her.

It was fast. Chaste. Sweet. I kissed her the way a nice girl should be kissed. Just a brush of my lips to hers.

Her first.

Damn.

I never told anyone about that kiss, not even Pierce. He knew the rest, my broken relationship with Dad and the reasons I pushed myself to the extreme. But that had come later in high school, when the two of us would get drunk at a house party and spill our guts. Maybe I’d had the courage to tell Pierce because I’d already told Nellie.

Because she’d seen the real me first.

After the kiss, she blushed and smiled. I remember thinking I wanted to do it again. Over and over again, just for that smile. But then the lawnmower stopped, she swept up her book and raced away.

What would have happened if I’d stayed in my chair?

Maybe I would have asked her out on a date at school the next day. Maybe I would have made her my girlfriend. Maybe I would have ruined her.

Maybe her hate was always destined to be the outcome.

Still, I wished I would have stayed in my chair beside the pool.

I was just about to round the corner of the house when I heard her dad talking. He was giving her a lecture.

Stay away from Cal. He’s trouble, honey. These people are not like us. They can be cruel, and you are too good for a kid like that.

I’d never officially met Darius Rivera, just seen him in passing. Guess it didn’t matter. He’d formed his opinion. I couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, Darius knew my father.

The fucking worst part? He was right. He was so goddamn right.

But it wasn’t his words that cut deep. It was Nellie’s.

Don’t worry, Daddy. He’s just a dumb jock. I hate him just like all the other rich kids.

It was hard for me to look at her and not hear those words. Decades later and I could picture them coming from her lips. I could feel the blade plunging into my spine. I’d confided in her and all she saw was a dumb jock. Someone to hate.

According to this diary, she’d lied to Darius.

Had she? I wanted those words to be a lie.

I needed them to be a lie, even if the damage was done.

The next day, I did what other teenage boys did to girls who bruised their egos—I got even. Phoebe and I were in the library for English class. I watched Nellie walk through the door and disappear into the stacks. About the time she was checking out her books, I grabbed Phoebe’s hand and snuck her into the hallway.

Then I kissed her. I knew Nellie saw us. I made sure she saw us.

I made sure I was cruel. I made sure I was a dumb jock. And from that day forward, I kept my distance.

Until that night in Charlotte.

The lines between us had blurred that night. There was a constant hate simmering beneath the surface. Attraction was its constant companion. And fuck, but we were hot together.

We’d sparked, and there was no chance of stopping. Like three days ago in her living room. I blamed that on her lipstick. The tube had been rolling around on the floor of my car, and when I’d stopped to pick it up, the red color had made me hard as a rock.

I’d wanted that red on my skin.

A smile tugged at my mouth. I’d had that red all over my lips when I’d come home. Nellie had even left a mark on my neck. It was nearly faded now but I lifted my hand, still picturing the hickey.

Sex with Nellie was laced with desperation. A fear that it might be the last time. So we never held back. We never went easy.

Picturing her naked and hoisted against that wall, I stiffened. “Fuck it.”

With her image in my mind, I set the diary aside and went to the cramped shower in the Winnebago. My release was shallow. There was an edge that only Nellie’s tight body would erase. But I’d be damned if I went to her again.

Now it was her turn to initiate the next round.

Would she? We’d spent years going back and forth. It was a game, one we’d played from a distance. How would this work with us in the same town? When there weren’t thousands of miles keeping us apart?

Would she come to me?

What if she didn’t?

I dressed in a pair of charcoal sweats and matching hoodie. The RV felt too cramped, so I slipped outside, took a seat in my green camp chair and tipped my head back to study the stars.

“Pretty night.”

“What the—” I flew out of my chair, my hand slamming against my racing heart. “Jesus, Harry. Make a fucking noise next time. You scared the piss out of me.”

She plopped down in her chair.

“Are you going to at least apologize?” I asked, staring down at her.

“Nope.”

“Nice,” I muttered and resumed my seat. “What are you doing up?”

“You first.”

No way I was going to explain the reason for my sleeplessness.

“That’s what I thought.” Even in the dark I could see the smirk on her face.

I sighed, giving my heart a few minutes to return to its normal pace, then tilted my gaze back to the sky.

Harry did the same, sitting in her superior chair, her legs crossed at the ankles. I hadn’t seen her since the day she’d brought that chair over. Every time I left and returned, I wondered if she would have snatched it away. But it had been sitting beside mine for days.

She wore flannel pajamas, the print different blocks of red and black. The top matched the pants and on her feet were a pair of yellow clogs, the kind of shoes you’d leave by the door if you just needed to pop outside for a minute.

“Did I wake you up?” I asked.

“No. Sleep isn’t always easy.”

She didn’t offer an explanation as to why. I didn’t ask for one. We simply sat in our chairs, shrouded by the cool night air, and watched the curtain of darkness fade.

By the time the sun broke across the horizon, I decided there wasn’t a person in Calamity I wanted to live beside other than Harry. Few could offer quiet company.

“Suppose I’d better get some breakfast,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Breakfast sounds good.” She shoved to her feet. “You’re buying.”

“I was going to eat here.”

“Because you’re cheap or . . .” The corner of her mouth turned up as her sentence trailed off.

“I’m not cheap.” I’d bought at Jane’s the other night, hadn’t I? “I don’t like public spaces.”

“So you’ll just hide out here forever.”

“No, I’m building a house. Once it’s done, I’ll hide out there forever.”

She laughed, a throaty, rich sound of a woman who didn’t laugh often. “You can hide out tomorrow. Get your wallet.”

I huffed but stood and followed orders, grabbing my wallet and a hat from the counter inside. Then together, we walked downtown. Me in sweats. Harry in pajamas.

It was early enough that the shops and offices were closed. There were a few cars outside the coffee shop and a handful in front of the café, but otherwise the sidewalks were quiet. A man walked on the opposite side of First. When he glanced our direction, I pulled my hat lower.

“That’s Grayson,” Harry said. “He’s a deputy at the sheriff’s department. Good kid.”

I shrugged and kept walking. We were a block from the White Oak where breakfast and the privacy of a booth awaited.

Harry pointed down the block to where a woman was walking her labradoodle our way. “That’s Carlee. She’s been Marcy’s best friend since sixth grade.”

“Okay,” I drawled and flipped up my hood.

Harry scoffed. “What exactly do you think is going to happen if you show your face?”

“I’ll probably get hassled.”

“You will.” She nodded. “If you keep yourself apart, you’ll always be a novelty. Do you think Lucy Ross gets hassled every time she comes downtown?”

“I don’t know. Does she?”

“No. Because she’s one of us. This is her home.”

“What about tourists?”

“I’m sure some ask her for an autograph from time to time. But if I saw Lucy with a crowd of people and she looked uncomfortable, what do you think I’d do? What do you think any of us would do?”

“Come to her rescue.”

“You’re smarter than you look.” Harry tapped her temple. “But I don’t know if I’d rescue you.”

“Fine.” I flipped my hood off and raised the brim of my hat. “Better?”

She answered with a smug grin, then waited for me to open the door to the White Oak.

The scent of bacon and cinnamon rolls made my stomach growl as we stepped inside. Harry didn’t stop at the hostess station. She plucked two menus from the stack and set off for a table. Did she pick the booth tucked into the corner? No, she chose the table that was directly in the middle of the restaurant.

I sat in the chair across from hers and buried my face in the menu.

“Morning, Harry.” The waitress appeared with a carafe of coffee and two ceramic mugs.

“Morning, Marcy.”

The name had me looking up.

“Two Marcys in Calamity. My daughter,” Harry explained. “And Marcy Davis.”

“Ah.”

Harry kicked me under the table.

“What?” I gritted, rubbing my shin.

She jerked her chin to Marcy.

“Oh.” I sighed and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Marcy. I’m Cal.”

“You’ve been in a few times.” She shook my hand. “Welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll give you guys a few minutes,” Marcy said, then disappeared.

Harry poured coffee for us both. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” I said, lifting my cup. It was nearly scalding, but I sipped it anyway.

The door opened and a woman breezed inside wearing charcoal slacks and a sleeveless black blouse. Her hair was twisted into a knot, showcasing the long line of her neck. A neck I’d kissed just days ago.

Nellie.

Christ, but she was beautiful. My body responded instantly, like it always did. A thump of my heart. A breath I had to force myself to take. A spike of heat.

Would I ever stop craving her?

Harry followed my gaze, twisting to peer over her shoulder. By the time she faced forward, my eyes were already locked on the menu again. She did me a favor by reading hers too.

I risked another glance toward the door and found Nellie’s green eyes waiting. They widened, just slightly. Then she squared her shoulders and walked toward a booth.

It wasn’t empty.

No, sitting across from her was another man.

He stood and kissed her cheek before she could sit.

That was my fucking cheek.

Except it wasn’t. Because Nellie was here on a date.