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Grief. It’s a funny and horrible thing. Like your lungs, it expands and contracts.
I pick up another glass, wiping it down as I stare at one of the neon signs above the bar that says, “Never Stop Lovin’ Cowboys.” Kind of a funny sign if you ask me, considering people love the idea of cowboys but usually not the cowboy themselves. Or they think a cowboy is the kind they read about in romance novels or see on TV, when in fact there’s only a small percentage that make the kind of living people who come to this bar expect. In reality, being a cowboy is hard fucking work, and most of us are broke.
Another day, another hangover. If I wrote a story about my life, I think that’s what I’d call it. Or How to Fuck Up 101.
“Wow! My name and a please. What did I do to deserve this?” Kade runs a thumb over his stubbled cheek, his eyes locked on mine. “I guess you’ve been a good girl.”
“I dare you to spank me, Kade.” A smile overtakes my lips, causing the dimples on my cheeks to form. I tuck a stray strand of frizzy blonde-and-violet hair behind her ear. “Then get over my knees, Lemon. Let me teach you how to be a good girl.”
“Lemon,” he says gently. “Look at me.” I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that what I’m feeling doesn’t show before I turn my head to him. He shifts his arm under my chest so I’m more supported, the small movement doing nothing to help keep my emotions at bay. “Feel whatever you need to feel. Let me take care of you.”
“Put your ass up for me a bit, Lemon darlin’. I need better access to that dripping pussy.”
“Kade, I’m not a good dancer. You have other options.” He stops and turns to face me. “I don’t want other options.”
“I’d go against all the rules for you, if it makes you smile like that.”
“I want to know everything about you.” She rolls her eyes. “You can be really cheesy sometimes.” “You haven’t seen anything yet, Lemon darlin’. Stick around long enough, and there’ll be so much cheese, you can make nachos.”
“You’re not replaceable. You’re remarkable.” She bites her lip at my words but continues to look at me. “Believe me when I say that. There’s a reason you stand out—and it’s not because of your hair and tattoos. It’s because you’re you. I know it may not mean a lot coming from a fuckup like me, but believe it. The people who don’t see that, they’re the replaceable ones.”
You know that feeling you get when something is going so well that you’re waiting for it to blow up in your face? That’s how I feel right now, but I’ve been trying to ignore it because I want to bask in the excitement of things finally going right after so long.
“Careful, City Girl.” “Or what?” I ask, his lips hovering near mine. “Or I’ll turn you into a cowgirl.” I close the distance between us and kiss his lips with a short peck. “Is that a promise?” “It’s a fact.”
“I’m going to undress you. Then I’m going to do a chest and waist harness.”
“You look perfect like this, Presley. Your body was made for my ropes.”
“Are you going to just watch me all night, or do you want me to fuck that sweet pussy of yours?”
I used to think the day Dad died had broken me somehow, but in the time since my accident, I’ve started to see that I’ve always been broken. I’ve always had an endless dark pit inside me that could only be managed and numbed with vices on the outside or with anger. But now—
“I’ve been dealing with some depression and, um, alcoholism.” The words feel thick on my tongue. Being angry or snide made it easier to admit these things—I could almost pretend they were a joke, even though I was being serious. But now that I’m taking things more seriously and getting help, it feels harder to admit that I’m struggling, that I have a problem.
SAEM
I want to say since my dad died, but that isn’t exactly the truth. “I had my first drink when I was fourteen.”
Also same lol
“And the depression, I think I’ve struggled with that for a long time. It’s gotten worse after my accident.”
“Don’t make me put you over my knee and spank you.”
“A thong and assless chaps, Lemon? You’re spoiling me.”
