The one i left behind, p.1
The One I Left Behind, page 1
The One I Left Behind
Piper Rayne
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2024 by Piper Rayne®
Piper Rayne® registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover Design: By Hang Le
1st Line Editor: Joy Editing
2nd Line Editor: My Brother’s Editor
Proofreader: My Brother’s Editor
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About The One I Left Behind
It’s the classic story—boy goes off into the world to fulfill his dreams and leaves the girl behind.
Not every boy returns home, and I wish Ben Noughton wouldn’t have come back to our small ranching town at all after he retired from playing professional football.
I figure it’s a quick layover for him. He always wanted out of this town and off his family’s ranch. I just have to bide my time until he turns his back on all of us again.
Then he takes on the coaching position for the high school football team and starts milling around too much, bulldozing the protective walls I’ve built around myself. But he goes too far when he takes my son under his wing to help him be the best player he can be. Leaving me to protect not only my own heart but my son’s too.
Because I promised myself a long time ago that I’d never be the girl in the rearview mirror again.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
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About Piper & Rayne
Chapter One
Ben
The sliding doors of the airport open, and it isn’t the Nebraska heat in June that shocks me. Rather, it’s my dad and two brothers sitting in an old black pickup truck with the Plain Daisy Ranch logo peeking out from the splatters of dirt along the side.
“It’s about fucking time!” Emmett shouts, half his body hanging out the open window of the back seat.
There better be air conditioning in that truck.
My dad isn’t an emotional guy, and neither is my older brother, Jude, so I’m surprised they didn’t just send Emmett to pick me up from the airport.
My dad rounds the back of the truck and takes my suitcase, tossing it in the back. No pat on the back or hug. We’re not very affectionate in the Noughton family.
Dad’s presence has a giant red light flashing in my brain. Like those ones above the slot machines to say you won big. Something is wrong. They’re treating me too nicely. What’s happened since they came out to visit me a couple of months ago when I announced my retirement from football?
“I could’ve gotten that,” I say, opening the door Emmett is hanging out of and shooing him to slide over.
He groans as if he’s six and I’m bossing him around, which was a normal occurrence back then. If Jude and I had known that Emmett would grow taller than each of us, maybe we would’ve held off on razzing him so much. Then again, probably not.
“Welcome home.” My dad climbs into the driver’s seat of the truck.
The only time we were allowed to drive him around was when we were working on passing our driver’s exam. Even then, we’d already been driving on the ranch for years before we turned sixteen.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
Excitement isn’t the first word I’d use to describe my feelings about returning to my small town. Do I love where I was raised? Hell yeah. Do I love my family? Without question. And I miss the ranch. The cows, horses, all my cousins and aunts and uncles. It might not be Kansas, but as Dorothy said, there’s no place like home.
But over the years, I got used to my life in San Francisco. The life of a professional football player who got paid nicely—in dollars and women. People would approach me as if I were God everywhere I went even though I was just playing a sport I loved.
“No AC?” I ask.
Jude scowls over his shoulder. “Have you seen gas prices?”
“Last I heard, the ranch was thriving.”
In my fourteen years since leaving the ranch to attend college and go on to play pro, Plain Daisy Ranch turned not so plain. It’s a cattle ranch, but with the help of my aunts, uncles, and cousins, they’ve turned our over five hundred thousand acres into multiple profitable businesses for all.
“It won’t be if we waste our money. It’s only June, wait until July.” Dad glances in the rearview mirror.
He’s still got that rugged rancher look. A little scruff as though he hasn’t shaved in a few days with a sprinkling of gray and a few deep lines around his eyes, but he still has the fit, lean muscular build under his plaid shirt and jeans from working longer than nine-to-five every day.
I lean my head closer to the window, letting the warm wind blow in my face. We drive out of the city, the tall buildings shifting to corn stalks that aren’t quite tall enough to hit your knee. The rolling hills of corn and soybeans lead us toward our town of Willowbrook. I expect to see the rusty old welcome sign with the slogan, “Nothing beats small-town life.”
The truck flies past, and I barely catch my name on the new Welcome to Willowbrook sign.
“Did that?” I thumb toward the sign.
Emmett cracks up laughing.
Jude grunts.
Dad straightens up in his seat. “Yep. New sign. You’re the best thing to come out of this town, so deservingly so.”
I turn to Emmett. “Did it really say home of Ben Noughton, San Francisco Kingsmen?”
He leans in closer, lowering his voice as if Jude and our dad could even hear him over the whooshing wind screaming in through the open windows. “Just wait.”
“For?” My eyebrows rise, and he laughs again, shaking his head.
I know better than to ask him twice. This fucker isn’t gonna tell me shit.
Other than the sign, nothing has changed. It’s still a lot of farms, barns, and fencing with small family homes that have been passed down from one generation to the next. I’m the anomaly of this town. One of the rare ones who got out. The typical story of the country kid who made something of himself.
The farms grow smaller the closer we drive toward our small downtown. And it’s not until we reach the outer limits that my body feels as though I’m sinking into quicksand. A slow realization dawns on me when I look at the road ahead. If I thought the sign was bad, this is so much worse.
Dad honks the horn.
Emmett pumps his fist out the window.
Jude shakes his head.
Families are camped out on the sides of the street, chairs, and blankets laid out as if there’s a parade. I mentally go through the calendar, hoping for some other option—but it’s not the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, or Labor Day. Then I spot it. Mrs. Webster holding up a Welcome Home sign, handwritten with stars that match the cut-outs of her blue-ribbon blueberry pie.
“What the fu—”
Emmett laughs uncontrollably. “It’s your welcome home parade!”
I sit up, leaning my head in between Jude and my dad. “A parade?”
“The town wanted to show you how proud they are of you.” My dad’s grin says he had something to do with this. Probably my aunts—his sisters—too.
“Dad.” I whine like I did when I was fifteen and I found my English teacher in the kitchen one morning, wearing my dad’s shirt.
“Come on. You’re the biggest thing ever to come out of this town. They want to celebrate your accomplishments. What’s so bad about that?” Dad parks in the lot of the local grocery store, The Farm Fresh, which always seemed wrong to me since if you really wanted farm fresh, you could visit any of the actual farms in this town.
There are floats and convertibles and flags and giant signs. All with the scarlet red and metallic gold of the Kingsmen.
I groan and sink down in my seat.
Dad turns off the ignition, and he and Jude climb out. My dad immediately strikes up a conversation with someone about the drive to and from the airport.
“Stop acting like a child and get the fuck out of the truck.” Jude hits his hand on the door.
Emmett follows suit, and I’m the only one left in the truck until three cheerleaders pop up in front of my window. I startle back and stare at them wide-eyed.
“It’s him,” the blonde with a giant bow on her head says.
The brunette rolls her eyes. “He’s in the truc k for Plain Daisy, of course it’s him.”
The red-haired one creepily stares at me with unblinking eyes.
“Um… hello?” I give them a wan smile.
“I’m Kait.” The blonde waves her fingers, grinning.
“And I’m Rey.” The brunette takes out her lip gloss, coating her lips before puckering them into a kiss.
Kait points at the red-haired girl. “That’s Colette. She’s shy.”
Colette says nothing.
This is not a good look for me. Three young, impressionable girls corralled around my window as if I’m the only bull on the ranch.
I slide to the other side of the truck. “Nice to meet you all. I gotta go.”
I flee the truck before I’m posted on the Canary Wall down at The Hidden Cave. Just when I think I’m free, I run smack dab into Brooks Watson. At least I’m pretty sure it’s him. He’s changed a lot since he was the quarterback of my high school football team.
“I heard the rumors, but…” I inch back, taking in what I would’ve imagined to be a Halloween costume before seeing it on him.
He rests his thumbs in his holster belt. Tattoos and tan skin peek out from under his dark sleeves. “I’m stuck here to make sure your sorry ass doesn’t get mauled. Must be tough being a pretty boy now.”
His deep chuckle spurs laughter from me because anyone else and I’d probably haul off and hit him, but not Brooks.
I put my hand between us. “It’s been a long time.”
His hand wraps around mine since we’re practically the same size. “Well, you never came back.”
We shake hands, and I pocket my hands in my jeans. “I’ve been back a few times.”
I try not to wince at the memory of returning during one Christmas break in college. I’d be lying if I said she hasn’t been floating around in my mind more and more lately, knowing I was returning.
“I can still read you like a book.” He nods his head to start walking, and I step in line with him. Thankfully, we’re not in the thick of Willowbrook residents just yet, so I can catch up with my old friend.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but Jesus, Watson, a damn parade?”
“Cry me a fucking river. You’re king for a day. They’ll probably declare today to be Ben Noughton Day.” He laughs again, and I’m thankful there’s no resentment in his voice.
When I first got accepted to Clemson on a full-ride scholarship, a few of my teammates were upset, wanting their shot. Brooks always stuck up for me, and how did I repay him? By not keeping in touch all these years. Great friend I am.
He puts out his arms when a group of boys try to approach me. “Give Mr. Noughton some space. He’s got to go sit on his throne. Autographs afterward.”
The boys stare slack-jawed at me, and I shoot them an apologetic smile.
I shake my head. “Hell, Brooks.”
“I have to take my job seriously. Protecting Willowbrook’s golden boy isn’t for the weak.”
“Can we cut the crap?”
We end up at a float with a chair that does indeed look like a throne. My dad is huddled nearby with his friends, a huge smile on his face, while Emmett’s showing off his dimples to three women. Jude is nowhere to be seen.
“This has to be a joke,” I mumble.
“Your chariot awaits.” Brooks smacks me on the back.
His booming voice and laughter grab everyone’s attention, and the clapping starts, followed by the whistles and hollers and screams.
I can only imagine how red my face is, and it’s not because of the sun beating down on me.
“Climb up, son.” Dad raises his arm, pointing the way.
Emmett pumps his fist and chants “Ben” over and over. Sure enough, the crowd follows suit, and I have no choice but to climb onto the damn float.
I step onto the wobbly trailer frame, the same one that’s used to announce the homecoming king and queen. The same one I’ve sat on before for that exact purpose, except Gillian was in the chair right next to me. For a second, I’m there again. Her shooting me her soft smile that made my heart soar. Me reassuring her I’d never let her get hurt. I sure broke my promise on that one.
When I sit in the chair, the few people in charge stare at me with accomplished, proud smiles. The truck pulls my trailer behind the marching band playing the high school fight song, heading toward the parade route I know by heart. My eyes look around downtown Willowbrook, with memories at every corner. Right before we hit the crowds, hairs stand up on my arms, and I glance to my left.
She’s standing between two trucks in a parking lot. Our eyes catch for the briefest of moments. Her blue eyes capture my complete attention and I lift my arm to wave, but she strips her gaze from mine, turning and disappearing through the parking lot of trucks.
My suspicions were right—this town isn’t big enough for the both of us. She can run today, but one day we’re going to have to face one another.
Chapter Two
Gillian
I slide through the back door, slowly shutting it behind me.
“You just couldn’t listen to me, huh?”
I turn to find Laurel leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised above her dark-framed glasses, disappointment lining her face.
“I’m sorry.”
She turns to head back into the storefront of her bakery. “I told you that you should’ve fled town for the day.”
I follow her and sit on one of the stools. The bakery and coffeehouse are completely desolate due to the King of Willowbrook’s arrival. “I just wanted to catch a glimpse of him. In person.”
“And cause yourself more heartbreak?” She puts a smiley face cookie on a plate and slides it over to me.
“The last thing I need is sugar.” I push the plate away, but I’m fooling myself. I’m going to eat the cookie and probably a cupcake too.
“Sugar makes the heart hurt less.” She rearranges her case of baked goods.
“You should put that on the window.” She gives me a look, and I relent. “I’m not heartbroken. It’s been a long time.”
She peeks at me under her glasses through the glass case. “But you snuck out to catch a sighting of him?”
“I’m not sixteen sneaking out of my bedroom window. I’m a grown woman who just wanted to see what her ex-boyfriend looked like. It’s not that weird.”
“Except most women’s high school sweethearts weren’t professional football players they could watch every Sunday for more than a decade. Not to mention, with this new invention called the internet, you can actually search him.” She closes the glass case and puts some cookies in a box that I guarantee she’s going to tell me to take home to Clayton.
“Nowadays you can google anyone. I just…”
There’s no explanation as to why I didn’t stay holed up in Laurel’s bakery. I told myself a thousand times to ignore all the hype surrounding Ben’s return. That I’d moved on. I told myself I didn’t care. They’re all lies, though, because I do care.
I swear, the minute his dad’s truck rolled past the county line, my throat closed up, and those butterflies I thought had died reemerged. Ben rarely returns to Willowbrook, and the small number of times he has, he has never left their ranch. I’d hear one of his cousins or brothers remark casually about how he’d been home and always in the past tense. Eventually, I became numb to the pain when I realized I wasn’t important enough on Ben’s list to see. Then again, I can’t blame him. Not after all that went down between us.
“Do you think he googled you?” Laurel’s eyes light up so bright, my next words almost kill me.
“Have you seen the women he’s dated?”
