Intertwined

Fourteen

Houston

I had planned everything for Cassidy, and I wanted this first date to be perfect. Before knowing Cassidy, I was never the romantic type of guy who planned elaborate dates and treated the girl like she should be, which was most likely the reason why I got cheated on.

In a sick, demented way, something had to go wrong before the date even started. Despite my dad already having two heart attacks, the thought of losing him forever kept me from enjoying the date and Cassidy's company properly. Life started to turn out well for me, but everything tends to end for me.

The date and everything I had planned was cut short, as I drove the sixty miles back to Plainview with a sleeping Cassidy in the passenger seat, and the unwilling feeling to pull out a smoke. It's been two years since I even touched a cigarette, but the sudden urge was too much especially when my thoughts always brought me back to the dooming gray cloud in my head.

I found the silver cigarette lighter that I stashed in the glove box and began flicking it back off. I let the flame ignite and then flicked the lighter off, repeating the same process. Flicking the lighter on and off restrained the sudden craving I had, as I anxiously waited for the ranch to come into view.

The woman in the passenger seat finally woke up, and whispered in a hoarse voice, "What are you doing with the lighter?"

"Huh?" I flicked off the lighter and turned toward Cassidy, who was rubbing at her eyes. "I'm just nervous."

Cassidy asked, looking more attentive than when she first woke up, "Are you nervous about your dad?"

"Something like that," I muttered as I turned on the dirt road to the ranch, flicking on the lighter and watching the flame flicker. "You know, when my grandpa died, he gave me this lighter and I've always kept it with me. Sometimes I wish that if my siblings and I were closer, then it would get better whenever something serious happened."

Cassidy inferred as I stopped in front of the house, "You're worried about seeing the rest of your family."

Even though Cassidy expected a reply, I was too focused on the car in front - a classic black 1965 Chevy Impala - and I knew who waited for me inside. I should've known he would've been here, based on the phone call I had. Dallas always seemed to follow me everywhere he went, like the devil on my shoulder. 

I stuffed the lighter in my pocket and got out of my truck, approaching my brother who sat on the hood of his car like the douchebag he was. With crossed arms and a smoldering look, he seemingly had women falling to his feet, spending one night alone with him, and then leaving them run and dry before anyone even noticed what he did.

I gestured for Cassidy to meet me in the house, as I took care of my brother who was the last person I wanted to see. I exclaimed angrily, "I told you I never wanted to see you again."

"I'm not here to pester you, Houston," Dallas said coolly, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms. "I'm here to convince you to come home. Dad's not doing too well."

"You told me he had a stroke over the phone," I replied dryly. "This didn't have to warrant you driving two hours to the middle of nowhere. I can decide on my own to visit Dad."

Dallas ignored my tone of voice, as he attempted to change the subject, "I met the Mitchells. They're a wonderful family, and I'm guessing this girl you've been so hungover for is Cassidy. She's wonderful."

"Don't even think about her," I said, my voice rising in anger and feeling suddenly defensive for Cassidy. "I know that you string girls along with pleasantries, and then leave them hanging dry like every other guy we've known as friends."