Only With Me (Sugarland Creek #4)

Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Harlow

A fter Natalie thoroughly cusses me out for ignoring her messages and reminding me about country drives being serial killer territory, she makes me tell her every little detail during our next Thursday night hang out session—although I skipped the details, but she doesn’t need to know that. She enjoyed gloating about how she knew it. After the sheriff busted us, I texted and thanked her for so kindly sending the sheriff to come interrupt us, but I appreciated the sentiment that she was worried about me.

But then, my dad found out and he was less than happy. The sheriff’s wife works at the same hospital as my mom who mentioned it to her and then she told my father.

Even though I’m an adult, he will always see me as a little girl. He’s not used to me being interested in dating or staying out late. Although he goes to bed early, he often wakes up with pain a couple times throughout the night, so when I quietly walked into the house after midnight, it was unusual for him to see me coming in from a night out with Waylon.

It’s not so much that Waylon dated Delilah, but my parents are concerned he’s too old for me and will push me into marriage and having babies before I’m ready. Waylon isn’t pushy like that, considering how respectful he’s been of my boundaries and always asks if I’m comfortable doing certain things, he’s not the type.

But I’m hoping they’ll warm up to him the more they get to know him again and see how happy I am and that they have nothing to worry about.

Now, I just have to find a way to tell my sister before she finds out on her own.

But that day won’t be now because Waylon planned a whole Saturday to take me and my dad out to an elite equine center for premier riders an hour and a half away. Waylon bought a carrier attachment for the back of his truck so he can drive us and make sure Dad has everything he needs.

It took a little convincing for my dad to agree to come along but once Mom talked to him, he changed his mind. I know it’s not easy for him with his anxiety and chronic pain, but I hope getting him out of the house will be good for his mental state.

He’s been struggling more lately, which I think is somewhat due to being in the middle of the winter season, but this place has heated lounges for comfortable viewing of the arena. Better yet, everything’s handicapped accessible, so he should have no issues being in his power chair.

I’m also excited to watch the show horse jumpers. They’re professionals who’ve been riding for two decades or more and they do some intense courses and high jumps.

By ten, I’m ready to go and waiting in the living room for dad to finish. As I play on my phone, I’m reminded that I need to remove the CowboyMatch app. But first I need to delete my profile.

Except when I go to my most recent messages, I see an unread one from Emery. I know how it feels to be stood up and ghosted, so I’d like to give him the courtesy of telling him I’m no longer interested.

Emery: Hey gorgeous, I was hoping we could set up a second date. Are you busy Saturday?

He sent that three days ago.

Harlow: Hi Emery. I’m so sorry for not replying sooner. Honestly, I forgot to check my messages on here. I’m actually seeing someone now and will be deleting my profile, but I wanted to tell you so you weren’t left wondering.

I think that sounds okay, right? I’m being direct and honest, and if he gets mad about that, then that’s his problem.

Emery: Oh too bad. But I appreciate you telling me. Maybe I’ll see ya around your store sometime. Have a good one!

Before I can reply, his profile disappears.

Did he just block me?

How strange.

I delete my profile and then delete the app for good.

Waylon: I’m on my way, baby. Be there in 15.

I’ll never get over him calling me that.

In person when his hands are all over me, when we’re video chatting casually about our day, or in a text. It sends butterflies to my stomach within seconds.

“Hey, Daddy? Are you almost ready?” I call out through his bedroom door.

When no one answers, I knock a few times, then twist the knob.

“Daddy?”

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his one foot on the floor, still dressed in his comfy clothes. His head’s bowed down and he’s shaking his stump.

I walk in and rest a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He startles at my voice as if he didn’t hear me calling his name or knocking on the door.

“Oh, hi, sweetheart.” He looks up at me with sad eyes, and I notice that expression. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go today.”

“You don’t wanna get outta the house and see some horses?” I ask gently.

“The pain is bad today. The weather changes are messin’ with me and makin’ it worse.”

The temperatures have been jumping all over the place for the past couple weeks. It’ll be in the low thirties one day and high fifties the next. Not great for those who don’t suffer with chronic pain.

“Can I do anythin’?” I ask, knowing there isn’t, but I offer anyway.

I’m disappointed he can’t go but I understand.

“No, no. You and Waylon go and have fun. I’m gonna take a sleepin’ pill and lie down.”

“Please be careful with that,” I remind him.

It sucks he has to be dependent on medication to help him sleep through the pain, but I mostly worry when it’s this intense and he takes so much of it.

“Don’t worry about me. Mom will be home in an hour.”

Since she’s off work today, she went grocery shopping and to pick up his monthly meds at the pharmacy.

“Waylon and I can wait until she’s home,” I tell him.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

I kiss his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Before I shut the bedroom door, I call in my mom’s two dogs to go inside. They love snuggling on the bed with him and it gives me some comfort that he’s not alone.

Moose follows me into my room and sits on the bed with me while I text Waylon.

Harlow: Hey, change of plans. My dad’s unable to go today. He’s in a lot of pain, so he’s going to bed. My mom’s out running errands so I told him we’d wait to leave until she returns.

It can be hard for some people who don’t live with chronic pain or aren’t disabled—or live with someone who is—to truly understand that it’s not as easy as jumping in the car and going whenever we want. You don’t recognize what a privilege it is to have mobile freedom until it’s taken away or realize how many public places aren’t handicapped accessible. Between Dad losing his leg and me having two broken legs a year later, I can hardly remember a time in my childhood when we didn’t have to think twice about leaving the house and making sure there was a wheelchair ramp, an accessible bathroom, and wide enough doors for him to get through.

There’s been several times over the years where we’d go somewhere and then quickly find out how inaccessible it was, even when they claimed they were. Doorways too small, aisles between tables and chairs too tight, and only one or two handicapped parking spaces. I think his bad experiences worsened his feelings about being a burden and added to his anxiety to the point where he stopped wanting to go anywhere.

Waylon: No worries. We can even hang out until he wakes up and then see if he wants to play a board game or do a puzzle. Or even watch TV.

Harlow: You’d spend your only day off sitting in my house and playing games?

Waylon: Of course. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.

Gah, he’s sweet.

When he arrives five minutes later, I throw myself into his arms and kiss the hell out of him.

“What was that for?” he asks when I finally let him breathe. “Not that I’m complainin’ but I was gonna limit the PDA around your folks.”

Laughing, I grab his hand and lead him into the hallway where we keep the games. “It’s just us for now.”

When I open the closet, his eyes widen in surprise. “Wow, you have a lot of options.”

“Yep, and I can probably whip your ass in most of ‘em.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were one of those.”

“One of what?”

“A competitive game freak.”

“Excuse you?” I push him with my hip. “It was all I could do being in a half-body cast.”

“Alright, fair enough. So what do ya wanna play?”

“You’re the guest, so you choose.”

He steps closer, looking through all the games. “I’ve not played this in years, but I remember Noah always tried to cheat.”

I grin when he grabs the Clue box. “That’s one of my favorites. I’m gonna crush you.”

“You sound awfully confident.” His taunting voice makes me giggle.

“Well, let’s play and see.”

“You’re cheating!” I exclaim when Waylon reveals the final card from the envelope.

This is the fourth game in a row he’s won. Or rather, cheated .

His eyes crinkle as he bellows out a laugh. “How can I cheat when you’re right there?”

“Forgive her, we let her win so much as a child, she thinks we cheat if she loses,” my dad says, sitting next to me and suddenly on Waylon’s side.

“You did not let me win!” I argue. “I had good intuition!”

“Sweetie, you always guessed the same person,” Mom interjects. “So we made sure that card was always in the envelope so you had a better chance at guessin’ right.”

My jaw falls to the floor. “You’re tellin’ me for seven years y’all let me think I was winnin’ on my own?”

“You were the baby of the family, and we felt bad. You could barely walk,” Mom explains.

“Oh my gosh! A pity win? Unbelievable.”

“If it makes ya feel better, I’ll never let you win on purpose.” Waylon beams.

“You know what”—I point my finger at him—“You’re banned from game night.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Dad says. “You just need more practice.”

I glare at him for being part of the reason I apparently suck at this game.

“Fine.” I force a smile. “How about Uno? Did y’all let me win at Uno?”

The room goes silent.

“Oh my God!” I throw up my arms in disbelief and then smack my forehead against the table. “I’m a fraud.”

“We can play Monopoly. You rarely wanted to play that because of how long it lasted, so most times, we never even finished a game,” Mom says.

I lift my head and burst out laughing at this whole situation with my parents letting me win and the fact that Waylon is here on a Saturday night playing games with me and my parents. And he looks like he’s genuinely having a good time.

“Are you good at that one?” I ask him, playfully narrowing my eyes at him.

“I’ve only played a handful of times back in high school, so we’ll be on equal playin’ ground.”

“Alright, it’s on.”

Mom puts a pizza in the oven while Dad and I set up the game board. We put him in charge of the money and then I organize the cards. Waylon reading over the instructions has me giggling.

“What? I wanna make sure when I beat you, it’s fair and square.”

“Very funny,” I mock. “Hope you’re ready to embarrass yourself in front of my parents when I win.”

My dad turns and looks at Waylon. “Now you know why we let her win.”

Three hours and landing on Waylon’s multiple houses and hotels later, I finally surrender when I go bankrupt.

“What was that about me being embarrassed?” He cups his ear as if he’s waiting for me to admit I was wrong.

“Ya know, it’s not very gentlemanly to gloat .”

He smirks, helping my mom clean up the table.

“If you want, I can teach you how to better strategize so you don’t lose all your money before you’re able to make investments.” The way he emphasizes that word as a subtle hint has me squeezing my legs.

Well played, cowboy.

At seven, Dad’s ready for bed and Mom has an early shift in the morning, so she calls it a night too.

“It was nice of you to stay,” Dad tells Waylon, and my heart beats with happiness. Even though Dad’s day started out rough, I think having company and staying distracted helped him manage his pain.

“It was my pleasure, sir. Thank you for havin’ me.”

Dad’s chair maneuvers around the table until he’s next to me. “I like him.”

I can’t help grinning as I look at Waylon out of the corner of my eyes. “Yeah, I like him too.”

“Now don’t scare him off with your overcompetitiveness.”

I roll my eyes. “Who’s fault is that now?”

Dad shrugs, chuckling. “He’s good for you. Doesn’t let you win out of pity.”

He’s not even trying to speak quietly, so I know Waylon hears him but it fills me with pride to get his approval.

“Love you, Daddy.” I lean in and kiss his cheek, then he heads toward his room.

Mom says goodnight next and thanks Waylon for spending time with them.

“Thank you for dinner,” Waylon says.

Mom blushes, waving him off. “Oh, it was nothin’.”

She comes around and hugs me, then leans into my ear. “Have fun. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t, love you.”

Once she’s out of view, I walk over to Waylon and sit on his lap, then press my lips to his.

“It meant a lot that you stayed and hung out with us.”

“I had fun…especially kickin’ your ass.”

I elbow him in the chest. “Okay, you can stop sayin’ that now.”

He chuckles, gripping my chin and pulling me in for another kiss. “I will always let you win first when we play in private.”

“Is that so? I think you might haveta prove that to me…”

He reveals a cocky smirk. “Take me to your room and I will.”

“With my parents here?” I whisper.

I’ve never had a boy in my room before, and I’m not so sure what they’d think if they found him in there.

He leans in and seductively presses his mouth to my ear. “You’re gonna haveta be quiet. Think you can do that?”

When he kisses my neck, I inhale sharply at how good it feels when he touches me. “That’s so not fair.”

“Not complainin’ about my skills now, are ya?”

Definitely not.