Farm Girl Has Bad Boy (#3)

Chapter Four

“Cooler?”

“Check.”

“Lunch?”

“Check.”

“Movies?”

“Che- Wait, movies?” Emery says, giving me a strange look.

“I was just seeing if you were actually listening,” I shrug, looking in the trunk of my truck to make sure we have everything. “Turns out you sort of were.”

“I always listen,” Emery smirks as my parents watch us from the front porch. “Ready to go?” I nod my head and climb halfway into the passenger seat so that I’m standing above the door to see the house.

“Drive safe and let us know when you’re heading back! Don’t be too late,” calls my mom, waving as my dad wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“We will,” Emery yells back before shutting his door and starting my truck. I tell my parents goodbye before sitting in my seat and waving as we drive past them.

On the road, Emery plays his music extremely loud as he holds my hand. I stare out my window at the very familiar fields knowing it’s going to be a long drive. Its two hours to Redwood Valley and Emery said roughly around forty minutes to get to his old house from there so almost three hours of music blaring and boring old fields.

By the time we hit Springdale, I’ve turned down the music and start to drift off. It’s only nine in the morning however if there’s nothing else to do, sleep seems like a good idea. I periodically wake up but always fall back into dreamland quickly when I feel Emery’s fingers still intertwined with mine. Emery gently shakes me awake when we leave Redwood and start navigating our way to where he used to live.

I’m not entirely sure why Emery wants to go back to his house. To me, it just seems like it’s full of bad memories he’s relived enough in his dreams. However I think it has to do with the death of his father and I don’t plan to ask if I’m right.

“The road to the town should be up here soon,” Emery mumbles, more to himself rather than to me. I don’t know how long it’s been since he’s been out this way, but I feel like it must be quiet the trip down memory lane. “Ah, there it is.” Emery turns right down a tree-filled road and squeezes my hand. A small sign that says ‘Pinecrest’ quickly passes and another city I’ve never been to opens up entirely. We move along with traffic through the main streets until Emery pulls off into a subdivision road.

Emery slows the truck to half the speed limit, which is unusual for him considering he likes to multiply the number by three. The road seems to be one on the wrong side of the town. The houses are all falling apart and no one walks the streets. Emery looks back and forth across the road at the houses, smiling when he remembers something good and pressing his lips tightly together when he doesn’t. After a few minutes he pulls to a stop outside of a brown-bricked small house. I go to get out of the truck but Emery pulls me back by my arm.

“This isn’t it,” he laughs lightly, looking past me at the lot. “One of my old friends used to live here. See the bricks lining the ditch?” He points towards the edge of the driveway where there’s a two foot drop. “We used to ride our bikes off that when we were little. Once I broke my arm.”

I don’t know what to say so instead I smile at Emery and watch him closely. He’s in a strange mood that I don’t know how to place. It’s almost like longing, but not quite.

He gently steps on the gas and we start to inch down the road. For a few moments Emery just watches the houses, going over memories he chooses not to share out loud. By the time we stop again, I know this time it’s for the reason we came.