Page 106 of Falling Back to You

“Never have.”

Reluctantly pulling myself from the warmth of her embrace, I hopped into my pants and pulled on my T-shirt. “I’ll see you tonight for our date. Until then…” I rummaged under the covers, finding her honey pot just as I’d left it last night, wet and ready for me. Sinking my fingers deep inside, I lured her to orgasm with the come-hither curl of my digits. When her back levitated off the bed and she called me baby nice and slow, I knew my job was done.

I licked her juices from my hand. Dial’s pussy was the most important meal of the day. I thought it must appear on the food pyramid right above the fruits and vegetables.

“I love ya, Dial Birch.”

Her eyes sparkled, then dulled slightly to conceal her affection. “I feel similarly.”

Work dragged when you had someone waiting for you. I only caught every other word in the meetings, occasionally nodding to feign attention. Right before quitting time, I fed my horses their third meal of the day. For the remainder of my shift, I worked on a draft outlining all the reasons relocating to Texas was not beneficial. Did I think my father was going to let me get through this list uninterrupted? No. I was steeling myself for the verbal assault and the real possibility that shit could turn physical, with my father shoving me around or smacking me in the mouth.

You didn’t go against Big Ern without consequences. The expectation was that my father gave the orders and I followed them. No clarifying questions, no pushback, just yes, sir. And for much of my adult life, I’d gone along with that. I wanted to go to college; my dad told me it was a waste of time, so I declined the offer. I wanted to marry Dial, but my father told me I was too young to know what I wanted, so I hid the ring and never spoke about it again.

And when things went south with us, my father said, “Son, you sure as hell dodged a bullet. That Dial is like a hot horse, acting all nervous and spooked.” That was the one and only time I’d punched my father. He hit me back, and then I plowed into him, knocking him to the ground. I was on top, just pummeling him, and my momma was yelling. As quickly as the fight started, it ended. I knew then that I was stronger than my dad, and it was only fear and the thought of disappointing him that had kept me in check.

Texas wasn’t in the cards for me, and I just needed to spit it out and tell him exactly that. But I knew my dissent would be followed by a guilt trip. Statements like I’ve worked hard to give you a future and you spit in my face. This is the family business; you’re either in or you’re out. He’d threaten me. You think you could make a living without this ranch, be my guest. And maybe, in the end, I’d capitulate like I always did.

Performing a few final tasks, I swept the remnants of grass from the walkways before taking the water buckets outside for a quick scrub. The work went faster with a good podcast and right now I was listening to Gangland a show about organized crime. My routine and podcast were interrupted by an incoming text.

Fancy

Are we still on for tonight?

Ozzie

Yes.

Fancy

Tell Dial I’m wearing pink, and if she wants we could do matchy-matchy.

Ozzie

I don’t think Dial owns anything that’s pink.

Fancy

That’s fine, she could wear red and we’d still be a vibe.

Ozzie

Why don’t you text her this shit?

Fancy

Dial is a horrible texter. She constantly leaves me on read.

Ozzie

Take the hint.

Fancy

Dial and I have been forging a friendship. She loves me.

Ozzie

…