Being in love is being vulnerable, open, committed. It takes every part of the person that you are and requires every second of devotion and adoration to a point where every breath you take and every thought that crosses your mind reminds you of the person you love. Love isn't living for yourself anymore, it's living for the other person and wanting to do everything just to please the other. No longer is being alive a solo mission; being in love takes your independence and connects it to another person's independence, making you both independently dependent on the other.

Ashley, being married for almost ten years, knew this. She knew deep inside of her core that she lived and breathed for her husband-her best friend. And even after ten years of marriage, love didn't begin to cover how she felt about the man of her dreams. It was almost as if the being in love stage never wore off, even after all that time. Every time he walked into a room, her eyes would follow his every movement, the way his broad shoulders rolled slightly when he walked, the way his blue eyes would flicker to hers, knowing that she was watching him. The way that the right corner of his mouth would curve into a half-smirk. And when they were alone, those same blue eyes would reflect the love and adoration that she felt deep inside of her, love that she knew showed in her eyes just as his eyes did.

When Ashley first got married, back in 2004, she believed that her love would conquer every obstacle in her life. She knew that no matter what, her husband would be the man she would fall back on when life got too tough to handle alone. And ten years later, at twenty-eight, she still believed that her love was the one thing in the world that would carry her through the remainder of her days.

****

February 23, 2003

Ashley sat in the diner-Mama Edna's "First-Class" Diner-located right in the heart of Cumberland City, Tennessee. She was sixteen, sipping coffee from a big, white cup with the words "Official Coffee Cup" written on the side of it in a faded black text. She'd been coming to this Diner every day for a year now. She moved here in the summer of 2002, transferred to the Cumberland City Middle School, made no friends, and moved onto high school. In her school, she was considered a freak-no mother, no father, just a couple of grandparents who owned a farm on the river. She wore overalls, cowboy boots, plaid shirts, and a hat to top it off. Most of her clothes were from her grandpa so they fit her well, almost too well. Most of the time, the clothes were falling off of her body, but she didn't mind much. She believed for a long time that she was hiding in those clothes, hoped that her clothes, being so big, would shift their eyes from her face to her fashion sense.

It didn't really help much. The girls at school still talked about the way her hair was braided in a weird way, or her green eyes were too small for her face, her petite nose was too sharp, or her cheekbones were too high. She had too many freckles and her hair was too blonde-strawberry blond. She was too short, too. Nothing she had and nothing she did was ever good enough for the girls at school.

Mama Edna, the owner of the diner, was the grandmother of one of the shyer girls at school. On her first day, the girl invited her to come to the diner to get some homework done, Ashley stuck around, but Gabrielle made friends with the other girls at school who talked too much about how nothing about Ashley was good enough. Her grandmother stayed nice enough, though.

So, every day after school, Ashley would come to the Diner, eat a cup of soup and drink a cup of coffee and read a book, a different one every week. When she got home at six, she'd finish her homework and go to bed. Her grandparents didn't say much to her, anyway. They never complained when she came home and went right to sleep.

    But February 23, 2003 was like itwas most days. Every day was exactly the same, she'd sit in her booth and mindher business, but on this specificday, there was a change in the air. Normally the same customers walked in, tooka seat in their normal booths and spoke in hushed whispers about the gossiparound town. Ashley kept up with the town secrets, asking Mama Edna if sheheard a name she didn't recognize. That day, she heard a name: Brian Tannen.When she asked, she found out about a father, worked on a farm downriver whohomeschooled his son so he could work on the farm without much interferencefrom the other townspeople. He'd had two other daughters—older now—moved away without looking back. They hadno mother, she'd been killed in some freak accident, the people didn't saywhat.

But almost as if on cue, a boy, a teenager, walked into the diner, wearing a black Stetson hat and a pair of black boots. The spurs on his boots rattled when he walked in, giving Ashley the chills she only received from Old Westerns her grandfather sometimes played when she did her homework. When he reached the counter, he took off his hat, revealing a full head of jet black hair. He pulled it back with one hand and said in a smooth voice, "Just one, please."

The hostess, shocked, took a second to recover from the eye-candy in front of her, grabbed a menu and led him to a table in the middle of the diner, the table right next to Ashley's booth. Over the top of Ashley's book, she watched the boy move, how his hips popped out when he walked, how his shoulders seemed way too small for the flannel shirt he was wearing. After he was seated, the hostess waited for a small second, seeming to work up the courage to say something nice, eventually, her courage was nowhere to be found, so she walked away and stared from across the Diner, smiling to herself.

Ashley watched him look over the menu. His head was down so she looked on, raising an eyebrow after a minute of watching. The gossip in the diner stopped as everyone watched the boy. After a minute, he looked up. His eyes caught Ashley's and stayed there. She was too afraid to look away now. His eyes were a piercing blue, bluer than the sky, or the ocean. They called to her like a lighthouse at sea, calling a lost sailor. He stared back with the same intensity, watching the way her eyelashes framed her green eyes like curtains do a window. It was so hard for him to stop looking. He'd lived in this town his whole life, had seen every face this place had to offer. Not this one. This one was different.

After a few more minutes of staring, he stood up, wandered over to where she was sitting and smiled down at her. "Er, hi."

She blinked. Sure, the common response would be to reply with a greeting, but for some reason, she couldn't think of anything to say. She couldn't even fathom that someone would walk up to her at all and say "hello". No one had done it before.

He tried to hide a smile, "Are you expecting someone?"

There he went again, speaking, saying more words to her. This couldn't be a dream, could it?

She shook her head, not trusting her voice to produce any valuable sounds. This time, he didn't try to hide his smile. "Do you mind if I join you, then? I could use the company."

"I'm not sure you'll find the kind of company you're looking for by sitting with me," her voice rang out, high as a bell and the most southern accent that he'd ever heard. Her father and grandparents were from Georgia. She picked up their dialect more than the other people she had contact with-which was very few.

He smiled, "Don't be silly." He sat down, sinking easily into the booth. "So, what's your name. I ain't seen you around before."

"Well, I've been here every day. Maybe you weren't looking hard enough."

"Nah," he shook his head, "That ain't it. I mean I ain't even seen you in church."

She shrugged, "I don't go."

He furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to speak when the hostess came back over, her eyes glaring at Ashley. "Is she bothering you, sir?"

He looked up at the hostess and read her nametag: Darlene. "No, ma'am. If anything, I'm bothering her." He glanced at his menu and then raised his eyes back to Darlene, "Would you mind sending the waitress our way? I'm rather hungry."

Darlene muttered an "Of course," and walked in the back of the diner, probably to complain about them. Ashley didn't seem to be bothered, she hadn't scared him off yet, so one could say that she was in a pretty good mood.

"I still didn't get that name."

Ashley put the book down, "That's 'cause I didn't say it."

He nodded and set the menu down, "Alright. Fair enough." His eyes bored into Ashley's in a way that made her think that he was reading her every thought, right down to the one where she secretly watched his shoulders, the way they bulged out from behind his shirt in a most uncomfortable way. She almost wanted the shirt gone.

She cut the thought off before she got ahead of herself.

"Anyway," the boy said, leaning back into the booth. "I'm Braden."

Braden. She shifted the name around in her head over and over until she knew that she would never forget it. Certainly not a name she'd heard too many times, if at all, in her life before. She nodded once, "Ashley."

The waitress showed up: Vikki. She was the notorious bitch in this part of town-senior in high school, on top of the world. When she saw the way Braden's jawbone flexed, showing off a five-o-clock shadow not many his age could accomplish. Good genes? Who knew?

"Howdy. What I can I get you to drink?"

"I want a coffee, please. Black. And I want a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. Would you bring out some syrup too?"

Vikki rolled her eyes and walked away, sneaking a glance at Ashley, who was too focused on Braden to actually notice.

"So, Ashley," he began, "Where're you from?"

"Kentucky."

He pursed his lips. "You don't sound like you're from Kentucky."

"Where're you from?"

He beamed, "Tennessee born and proud."

She shrugged, "You don't sound like you're from Tennessee."

He blinked a few times, pondering whether or not she was actually serious. She sniffled and took a bite of her soup, chewing the noodles thoroughly. After a few minutes of silence, Braden leaned closer, "I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't. I was just showing you how dumb that sounded." She took a nonchalant sip of coffee, her eyes never leaving Braden. What was it about this boy that made her heart sputter in her chest when he smiled? And the way that he spoke, how easy it was for him to make conversation. He seemed so confident about himself, a trait not found commonly in most of the boys in school. He was different, special. But what stunned her the most was that he was actually sitting in this diner, speaking to her. Her! It was crazy, almost as if she had written it in a book and it came true.

"What part of Tennessee?"

"Oak Grove."

He nodded, "I have an uncle who lived up in Fort Campbell. He was in the Army awhile and my dad took me and my sisters up there to visit before he was deployed." He frowned slightly shaking his head, "I guess I'm saying I'm familiar with the area."

She nodded back, not really listening to what he was saying, but more focusing on the way that his mouth moved around the words. She was hypnotized by his lips, the way the words sounded. He raised an eyebrow. "Ashley?"

She snapped back to attention and furrowed her brow, "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

He smiled, "Nothing, really."

The two of them sat there again in silence. Ashley took a long sip of her coffee, thinking about what she should say next.

"Why'd you move to Cumberland City?" he asked before she could say something else.

She blinked. That was a personal question, wasn't it? He was practically asking her to tell him her life story. She wasn't sure that she even wanted to tell him, or if there was a polite way to tell him to fuck off.

She'd heard her father say that once. It didn't feel so good in her head. She shook the thought away and shrugged, "It's a long story."

He leaned forward more, concern evident in his bright-blue eyes. "I've got time."

Ashley took a deep breath and glanced around the diner to see if anyone was actually listening. She noticed that every person in the whole Diner seemed to be leaning in, watching them, waiting to hear what she had to say.

"I moved here July 4th, 2002. My dad and I lived in Oak Grove my whole life. One day, there was an accident and I moved down here to be with my grandparents. That's really the whole story."

His eyes flickered when she said "accident". "What kind of accident?"

Great, he was asking too. Now, Ashley hated talking about herself. It made it worse when she was talking about things that she should feel sad about but was actually mildly indifferent. And a part of her believed that the only reason he was asking was to get information out of her. There was no way that someone so beautiful could be so perfect. He had to have a flaw somewhere. A girlfriend, maybe? She wouldn't doubt it.

"Yeah, um, my father-"

The waitress set the plate down in front of Braden, but her eyes were trained on Ashley. She hadn't talked to anyone about what happened in Oak Grove. Only her grandparents knew the truth, but they hid it from everybody, saying that there was just an accident and Ashley had to live with them for a while. In a way, they were protecting her from all of the bullies around town who would take advantage of the poor girl who lost both of her parents.

Of course, them not knowing didn't help her much anyway. They still picked on her and called her "freak".

Braden smiled at the waitress, "Thank you." He brushed her off, his eyes focused back on Ashley. Vikki hesitated for a minute, then scowled and returned to behind the counter, still watching Ashley.

Braden hadn't touched his food for a few minutes. He was too intently listening to Ashley's story.

"My father had fallen into alcoholism after my mother left when I was nine months old. He drank a lot..." she wanted to kick herself. Why was she telling a random stranger her business? But there was something about the boy in front of her, making her think that he was different than the other boys at school-the ones who snickered as she walked down the hall, tripped her when she got too close to them. She almost felt the need to tell someone her story, and right now, Braden was her favorite person in the whole city, even though she'd just meet him thirty minutes ago.

"Did he ever beat you?" his voice was low and his eyes were serious. He looked slightly pissed off.

She smiled, making the truth a little harder to bear, "Yeah. But, it's alright."

"No, it's not." He started to stand up, but Ashley moved her hand over his, "Braden, stop. There's nothing that can be done anymore. He died on July 3rd, 2002."

He stared at her in a way that she was familiar with: pity. Everyone felt so sorry for the little girl without parents. The school teachers, the staff at the diner, her grandparents; everyone expressed their sorrows and apologies enough for a lifetime. She was done with their false sympathy.

"Don't do that."

"What?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

"Don't look at me the way that everyone else does. They all feel sorry for me because I'm the orphan girl who lives in the heart of the smallest town on earth. Look," she leaned in a lowered her voice, "Trust me, with the things that Charlie had done to me, a car accident wasn't nearly deserving enough."

She took her hand off of his and leaned back, her soup looking less and less appetizing the more she thought about her past.

He blinked, "What'd he do?"

"You're one blunt son-of-a-gun."

He smirked and sank back into his seat across from her, glancing back down at his pancakes, "Guilty." He took his knife and cut the two large pancakes into strips and folded the strips in half once before dipping it in the side of syrup to the right of his plate. He took a few bites and set his fork down. His eyes met hers once more.

"What's your story?"

He scoffed, "I don't have a better story to tell you."

She glanced around the diner again, wondering about the things that they were saying. Something about a man who lost his wife in an accident had a son-she didn't know how old the son was, no one was very specific. She wondered if he was the same boy that everyone was talking about, and if he was, why didn't he join his sisters and get the hell out of dodge the first chance he got?

She felt her heart sink, what if he was going to leave? What if this was the only time she'd ever have anyone who actually wanted to sit down and speak to her, listen to her?

She panicked, but took a deep breath and calmed down before saying, "But I told you my story."

"Not all of it..." he nodded and took a bite of his pancakes. She hadn't realized how interesting of a choice that was. It was the middle of the day and he was eating breakfast. Did he not eat anything all morning?

"What do you want to know?"

"What happened to your mother?"

Ashley frowned, "I told you, she left. I always assumed that she was dead. She never came back for me."

"Is it easier? Thinking that she's dead?"

She pondered the question for a little bit, wondering about it herself. She shook her head finally, "No, it's not easier. For the most part, I tell myself that she's dead because of who she was when she left. But sometimes I wonder if she's still out there, looking for me. And I pray to God she never finds me."

"Who was she?"

"She had been addicted to heroin; a real bitch. She met and married my father in Woodstock, Georgia. Before I was born, they moved to Oak Grove and settled down. I came in the picture a few years later."

His eyes bored into hers. He didn't say anything for a little while, just thinking about everything that she had told him. For a moment, she wondered if she had said too much, or had said the wrong thing. Normally, whenever she tried to tell anyone, they got uncomfortable and dropped the conversation. They never really knew what to say to her when she talked about her past.

"You're a shitty person," he admitted finally. "Wishing that your mom is dead."

She blinked. Had he really just said that to her? She scoffed, "Well, if you knew what happened to me after she left, you'd wish she was dead, too." She stood up and grabbed her bag and hat. She threw a ten dollar bill on the table and looked back at Braden, "You're a shitty person too, judging me without even knowing my whole story." She turned around and left the diner without another word, not caring anymore if she never saw him again.

****

February 24, 2003

Ashley sat in the same diner, eating the same crappy bowl of chicken noodle soup and drinking the same crappy coffee as the day before and the day before that. Today, she had her math homework sitting in front of her, solving the problems easily. She hadn't noticed that the doorbell jingled as a tall, handsome cowboy walked in. He smiled at the hostess, the same girl who was working yesterday. He gestured to the booth that Ashley was sitting at, "I'm just going to join her if that's alright." The hostess rolled her eyes and shrugged, turning back to the podium, seemingly disinterested.

Braden removed his hat as he approached, watching curiously as Ashley scribbled in a notebook. When he reached where she was sitting, he cleared his throat and waited for her to look up. Her eyes met his immediately, but she said nothing for a long while.

He smiled, "May I join you?"

She shrugged, "I suppose."

Ashley set her pencil down and took a drink of her coffee, never breaking eye contact from the man sitting in front of her. She wanted to ask him why he was here, but the question seemed evident: it was her. After that conclusion had been drawn, her next question was "Why her"? Why was it that he was back here again, just for her? After storming out yesterday, she would have thought that she was too emotional or too sensitive to want to see again, but he came back, just to see her.

She thought about the conversation that they had yesterday, and she lost the smile on her lips, she finally asked, "Why're you here?"

"I can't sit with you?"

"I don't think you should."

He pursed his lips and remembered yesterday too, how he had called her a horrible person for what she was thinking and feeling. He felt bad about it, too. He didn't know the whole story. But even after all of the shitty things that his dad had done to him, he'd never wish for him to be dead.

"Look, I'm really sorry about the things that I said to you yesterday. I was out of line and it won't happen again."

She nodded, "No, it won't."

Their eyes met again. She glanced down at her homework and picked up her pencil again, filling out the rest of the problems and shutting her book. The waitress came over, sensed the tension between the two of them and asked politely if there was anything that anyone needed.

"I'll take the check, please, Vikki," Ashley said, her eyes on Braden. "I've suddenly lost my appetite."

Ashley saw the smirk on Vikki's face as she walked away.

"Can I tell you something?"

"What? Going to judge me some more?"

He took a deep breath, ignored her question, looked her right in the eyes and spoke with a soft voice, "My mother hung herself when I was six years old." Ashley stopped packing her things to look at Braden. His face was blank as if he were reliving the memory behind his eyes, watching everything happening in front of him, just several years back. "My father was working out in the fields, my nanny was watching my sisters, and my mother was inside, making dinner for everyone. The night before, I remember them fighting about money and my dad was insistent that she didn't work, promising that he was going to provide for her. She told him that she was unhappy, how she thought that she needed to go to a doctor, something was wrong." He took a shallow breath, "I found out later that she had Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. She admitted to my father that night how she thought all the time about how much easier it would be to be a mother if she only had two girls, not a boy.

"He told her that she was being silly, that they would go to the doctor that weekend and see if they could get some medication or a therapist referral, something to help her out. But that day, she was quiet, calm. She had constantly looked at me and smiled, telling me that she loved me. I just thought then that she was sad about not working. After dinner, the girls went outside with the nanny to play, my father ran out to the store for some milk for breakfast and my mother and I were alone. She sat me down in front of the radio and told me she would be back, she wanted to run in the basement for a game to play." He swallowed and looked away, wiping something from his eyes, "I found her hanging in the basement and screamed. The nanny called the police, but my mother was dead."

Ashley stared, not knowing what to say. She had her fair share of horror stories and shit that happened to her that she wished she could change, but nothing like that. Nothing so traumatizing and emotionally scarring. His hands were on the table, and all Ashley could think to do was grab one of them and hold it. She squeezed it tightly, hoping to bring him back to where he was right now. He looked at her and smiled slightly, "Sorry. It's just, what you told me yesterday upset me, I wanted you to know that I apologize for speaking to you that way, but I needed you to know why I did."

"I'm not mad. I'm sorry, too."

"Good."

They sat there for a minute and Vikki returned, her eyebrow raised in interest. Ashley let go of his hand and took the bill, from her, thanking her dismissively, hoping that she would go away.

"Can I get you something, hon?" she asked Braden.

He smiled, "No thanks, not hungry."

She huffed and left without saying anything else. Ashley looked at Braden, who was staring down at his hands. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, not sure if she should.

He glanced up at her and apologized, "That was a lot to take in, wasn't it?"

She nodded, "Yeah."

"You're one of the only people who know that story."

"Why'd you tell me?"

He thought about it for a second and then replied, "Because I wanted you to know it. Look, I know we don't really know each other that well, but you're one of the most interesting people I've ever met. You're not like the rest of the people in this shit town."

"I feel the same about you."

He stood up and held out his hand, "I'm Braden Tannen, I didn't properly introduce myself yesterday."

She took his hand and stood with him, "Ashley Geller."

"Nice to meet you." He stood there for a minute then glanced at the door, "I drove here, want a ride home?"

She shrugged, "I'm normally not home until after dark."

He beamed, "Then what do you say we kill a little time?"

Ashley glanced at the door. She wanted to go with him, but she wasn't sure what was going to happen if she did go. She bit her lip, pondering it.

If she went, she would be spending a lot of time alone with him. What would that include? For a second, it didn't matter, she just wanted to be with him, spend time with him, get to know him. But she wasn't sure that it was the best idea

On the other hand, she couldn't find a reason not to go. She was done here, and the only other option would be to go home to her grandparents. She'd go home, probably watch one western with her grandfather, and go to bed early-she never ate dinner anyway-and everything would be perfectly normal. Except, perhaps tomorrow when she came back here, and the same question was asked: did she want to kill time with him?

She glanced around at the people at the diner. No one was paying any attention to them. She took a deep breath and nodded, "Sure."

He held out his hand, put his hat on his head, and smiled brighter than before. "We could use a pick-me-up after that conversation. How does paintball sound?"

She grabbed her bag and her hat and took his hand carefully. They exited the diner, not looking back to see if anyone was watching them.

"That's not really my scene."

He laughed, "Well, we can do anything you want to do. Is there anything you've been wanting to do?"

She shrugged. He led them to his truck, a beat-up 1993 Ford F-250, pickup truck. It was black with a white strip along the bottom. There were only two doors and the bed of the truck. It was ten years old, and well-used in those ten years. He smiled, "She's, uh, nothing special but she gets me where I need to be. The whole engine was redone, though, so she's really reliable. Don't worry," he looked down at Ashley, "It'll keep you safe."

She nodded and walked around to the passenger door, threw it open, and climbed inside. She settled into the cloth seats and glanced around. There was an air freshener in the shape of a tree hanging from the rear-view mirror, making the inside smell like the woods. She smiled. In a way, the truck reminded her of her grandfather.

Braden climbed in the front of the truck and started the engine. She sounded great. "So, where to?"