trvisfletcherâ:
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If Travis hadnât recklessly decided to bite the bullet for his baby brother, he felt like he too wouldâve been far from Cassle by now. Heâd actually gotten accepted into some fancy California college that he now forgot the name of after all these yearsâ he couldnât even tell you what his major was going to be. Now that he was out of prison, he felt like Cassle was where he needed to be until he caught up with life again. When he left, everyone was just kidsâ now they were all grown up making it in the real world. He had to catch up with them.
âWhatâre you here for?â He asked, a small smirk creeping up at the corner of his mouth before slinging a dirty rag over his shoulder and hiding under the hood of the car in front of him. Marley was the kind of girl where if she was coming back into town, everyone would be talking about it. And Travis just also happened to be that kind of guy. Trouble and gossip seemed to follow the two everywhere, which was what made him so interested in her return.Â
Marley seemed to have left so suddenly as soon as she was able, and while they werenât exactly close growing up, it stunned Travis because he thought everyone who lived in Cassle just wanted to stay here for the rest of their lives. That was what the adults he was around growing up had done, anyway.Â
âYeah, I guess youâd qualify as Friends and Family.â He snickered, âReally, donât worry about itâ Davie wonât mind if I shave off a few bucks out of the labor. Anything for a fellow Cassle local. Weâre all family.â Travis shrugged. âUh, if youâre not in town long⌠would you want to catch a drink? Iâve got five more minutes then I can be out of here.â
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And there it was. The question that would shift the tone of the conversation. Simple small talk would turn to condolences, and there was no coming back from there. From hearing the pity in a personâs voice. From watching their head tilt and their face shift to that poor you look--sometimes mixed with something else. Smugness, or thinly veiled disgust. To practically hear their thoughts: that Helen, and Marley by association, had been trailer trash anyways. Nothing more than a junkie who actually managed to fulfill one expectation that was had for her: the way she died.Â
She couldnât do it again. Couldnât stand to have Helen be the center of yet another conversation. Heâd hear it from someone else, eventually--if heâd managed to go this long without, then maybe he could hold out just a little longer, until Marley was gone and Cassel was truly left in the past. And if not...then at least Marley didnât have to be the one to say it.
âBusiness.â She answered eventually, the shrug to her shoulders brushing it off, as if it wasnât a big deal. It wasnât a complete lie, and she hoped the nonchalance of it would deter him from asking more. She was grateful for his attention to have fallen back to the engine, her eyes roaming the slope of his shoulders, his back...he was thinner than she remembered.
And funnier. Weâre all family. Marley couldnât help but snort, the soft laugh that passed her lips anything but humorous. She recognized that he was doing a nice thing--that he didnât have to, and so she was quick to fix her face, a more genuine, albeit small, smile on her lips. âThank you.â
She didnât expect what came next. Her eyes blinked once, twice--as if sheâd misheard him, and her brain needed a second to unscramble the words. But as the stunned silence fell between them, the realization bringing a stunned grin to her lips. The laugh that passed through it was less bitter than the one prior, though her head shook in both disbelief and amusement. In all her years, never had she imagined getting a drink with Travis Fletcher.
Realizing her laughter wasnât exactly an answer, Marley cleared her throat, trying to reign in her amusement. âI donât really drink.â Another slight lie. All sheâd wanted to do since she arrived was drink, but something didnât feel right about doing so.











