That Blue-Eyed Boy

16. JEALOUSY

POV:  BEAU

"What time are you planning on being home, darlin'?" John asks as he picks up his ringing cell phone while we're munching on cereal at the breakfast table. It hasn't quite been a month since Stella and I ended things, but John seemed to take it pretty well – even if he thought we belonged together even more than I did. "No, no that's fine. I'm sending Beau up to Lyons to check on Mr. Sheldon and see if he's ready to sell off the last bit of his stock to me."

I glance at my own phone, at a text from Colt telling me about some insane wedding reception everyone's invited to tonight, and quickly press the back button to avoid seeing Stella's thread that I can't bring myself to delete. Sometimes when I really miss her at night, I'll just sit there and read through them, trying to remember how happy I was then. Anymore, all I feel is pain and despair when I think about love. The thought of going to a wedding reception tonight actually makes me want to throw up when I remember the stupid promise ring that is sitting on my dresser. Some promise it kept.

"Okay, yes. That's fine, pumpkin. Okay, we'll see y'all soon. Drive safe. Love you!" He calls into the phone, and I roll my eyes.

"Was that a story to keep me from seeing Stella or are you actually sending me up to Lyons to see about Mr. Sheldon?" I ask, picking up my bowl and guzzling the milk left behind.

"A little bit of both. I didn't figure you'd want to be here when she shows up with some other guy." John explains, and my gut wrenches at the thought of her already bringing another guy home. It hasn't even been a month!

"Some other guy?" I ask, sure my voice isn't more audible than a mouse squeak.

"Yeah she said some guy named Connor is coming with her." John shrugs, and I think that felt more like running into a brick wall. Maybe my suspicion about them was right all along if she's already bringing him home to meet her dad.

The longer I sit and think about the two of them, the angrier I get. By the time I'm able to pull my boots on and slam the door of my truck, I'm seething, and I know my face is beet red. I'm sure that if cartoons where steam comes out of ears and a train whistle blows were real, then that'd be me right now. I know it's dumb, and that I have no claim to her anymore, but for some reason I feel betrayed and like the last year didn't mean as much to her as it did to me.

Mentally, I know that I shouldn't be driving right now because I'm so angry, but I want to put as much distance between myself and this place as I possibly can over the next few hours. Pointing my truck out of the driveway, I try my best to avoid flooring it and throwing rocks everywhere, but a few rocks flew anyway. The drive to Lyons is a little over two hours, and I'm nearly calmed back down when I stop in front of the old, gray farmhouse that this little hundred-year old man still lives in and manages all by himself. He's walking towards the house from the barn when I pull in.

"Hey Mr. Sheldon!" I holler, slamming the door to my truck and hurrying to his side.

"Mr. Morris! It's good to see you again, young man. How is that daughter of John's treating ya these days?" He asks, grabbing onto the side rail to help him up the three steps to the house. I take a deep breath to keep myself from returning to the anger pit I was earlier.

"Well, she's not. We kind of ended our relationship last month." I explain, holding the door for him before following him inside.

"Well ain't that the shits. I always said women were no good." Mr. Sheldon grumbles, and I glance at the photo hanging on his wall of his wife, Nancy, who passed away almost 20 years ago.

"Right." I laugh, glancing at the picture beside the one of his wife to that of his 9 children – 7 of whom are still alive, and grand kids and great grandkids. And then the picture beside that one has an even younger great, great grand kid generation in it. "You wouldn't have had this amazing family had it not been for a woman, Mr. Sheldon."