Caleb killsthe engine of his truck in front of my house. “You got that look on your face again.”
“What look?” I ask innocently, bracing myself on my guitar case.
He lifts his trucker hat and tugs at the roots of his shaggy blond hair. “The same one you get each Thursday night when I give you a ride home from your gig at the Coal Bucket. Every time you touch that guitar, it’s like an ancient curse comes over you.”
I shrug. “You’re imagining things.”
The alcohol in my blood makes it easier to hide the pain wrapping around my heart like barbed wire.
Playing country covers at the local watering hole ain’t the big stage I dreamed of, but I wasn’t good enough for more anyway. I admit coming back to an empty home is far from what I imagined my life to be at thirty-two years old. But whenever I hear Tally on the radio, whenever she smiles down at me from a billboard, I know that my sacrifice was worth it.
Her happiness was worth losing her.
Caleb blows out a heavy breath. “Sure, I’m imagining things. Like that time I found you sittin’ in your F150 with an empty bottle of bourbon in your hand and tears in your eyes.” He gestures at the dark barn where I keep my old truck.
Silence stretches.
“What about that night I barely stopped you from drivin’ to Nashville with your loaded shotgun to kill Tally’s new boyfriend? I had to tie you to a kitchen chair! And let me tell ya, that wasn’t easy! You’re a big, strong fella, Rust!”
“That’s why I stay away from news about her now!” I cut in.
Good thing he only caught me wallerin’ around in my misery twice and he doesn’t know I carry her wedding ring in my wallet like a lucky charm. If my best friend knew how often I indulge in my heartbreak, he’d have me institutionalized. He wouldn’t be wrong, either.
My obsession with Tally is unhealthy, but I like it that way. I call it undying devotion. Loyalty.
I really do avoid any news about her, though. That one time I saw a picture of her on the arm of some smug city boy turned country singer was already too much. Since then, I prefer to drown myself in memories of her.
“One day, you’re gonna have to talk to me about her. About what happened,” Caleb mutters.
I give him a crooked smirk. “Yeah, one day. Try again in another decade or so.”
His jaw works. “Hell, Tally was like my sister. Now I know you always did right by her, so I reckon she had a damn good reason for leavin’. Don’t you think it’s time to come clean?”
I give Caleb a sidelong glance. It’s unusual for him toask about Tally and press the issue, but maybe I seem more miserable than usual lately.
I shake my head. “Sorry. I wish I could, but I can’t. Made a promise.”
“To her?” he asks.
My lips pinch. Not a soul knows what happened between Tally and me in Vegas. That truth is my cross to bear because I made a dark pact I can’t break—for her sake. If I did, she’d be the one to pay the price.
I twist the tarnished golden band on my left ring finger. Sometimes I look down at myself, surprised there ain’t a crater in the center of my chest where my heart is supposed to be.
When it hurts too bad, I drink a little too much. Sleep a little longer, so I can dream of her. It’s the best I can do to dull the pain, but it never goes away.
Caleb smacks the wheel. “Alright, then riddle me this: Why do you keep playin’ and singin’ if it makes you feel like shit?”
“Cause I can’t quit. It’s in my blood. Living without her is bad enough and I can’t lose the music, too.”
He laughs. “Bullshit. I think you get off on tormentin’ yourself.”
“It’s calledart. Wouldn’t expect you to understand.” I playfully punch his shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, man.”
“Anytime. Don’t want to find you dead in a ditch cause I let you get behind the wheel drunk off your ass.”
“You’re a good friend, Cal. I’ll see you bright and early on Saturday morning. Deputy George said the catfish are biting especially well.”
He hums. “Sure. My turn to bring the beer this time.”
