Chapter Twenty-One
OAKLEY
Once again, I've made a mess of things.
I slam my hands against the steering wheel, sobbing violently as I sit in the driveway. There's no way I can go inside like this, but I can't put this off forever.
The thought of explaining what happened to my parents makes me burst into a fresh wave of tears.
All of this is my fault. I'm impulsive and rash and I didn't give Jamie a chance to explain before I went off on him. He's not the reason our relationship fell apart. I am.
I keep pushing Jamie away, and he hit the nail on the head as to why. I've never done anything to really stand up to my family about how they see Jamie, and it's been poisoning our future. My complacency has been slowly eating away at the foundation of the life Jamie and I were trying to build together, and I've done nothing but turn a blind eye to it.
I can't keep doing this. Everything was easier in high school, but this is real life. This is my future that I'm watching slip away.
I won't let it go without a fight.
I kill the engine, yank the keys from the transmission, and grab the papers in my fist. There's no use trying to wipe the tears from my face.
All I can do right now is try to clear this whole thing up. I'm going to get some real answers from my dad, the whole story from start to finish. I'm going to get him to change his mind about Jamie. I refuse to live my life without him, and I refuse to lose my family over it.
I don't bother to kick the snow off my shoes before heading inside, too keyed up to stop until I reach the kitchen. My mom turns around in surprise at the sound of my footsteps, her brows rising in shock when I slam the papers down on the table. I'm sure I look a mess, tears on my face and determination in my eyes, but I don't care.
“Where's Daddy?”
My mom hesitates, looking like she wants to ask a million questions, but she nods her head towards the back door.
“In the barn,” she says. “Want me to go get him for you?”
“Please.”
I've always appreciated my mom’s ability to know when to ask questions and when to let me explode. I got my temper from my dad, but I learned how to control it from her. I take as many deep, calming breaths as I can while I wait for her to come back. The papers are a mess, so I focus on smoothing them out and organizing them.
Two sets of footsteps sound up the steps, and the door swings open moments later.
“Oakley?” my dad asks, rushing in with a look of panic on his face. “Are you alright, kiddo?”
I stop him from pulling me into a hug, holding his arms as tight as I can with shaking hands.
“I need you to explain all this, Daddy.”
He glances back at my mom in confusion, but all she can offer him is a shrug. I take a step back and reach for the tissues on the table.
“What is all this, Oakley?” he asks slowly, looking between me and the papers.
“That's what I'm asking you.” I dab at the streaks of mascara under my eyes, smudging the tears away. “I need to know what happened between you and Greg Walker. I won't take no for an answer.”
The air in the room goes heavy and still, and the worry on my dad’s face is replaced with frustration. He grits his teeth, huffing out an exasperated sigh.
“This paperwork makes it look like he blackmailed you,” I say, shoving the stack closer to him. “I need to know what happened, Daddy.”
The bubbling anger shifts into confusion, then, and my dad finally actually looks at the papers. His brows knit together as he leafs through them, and he does the last thing I expect.
He laughs .
“Oakley, where'd you get all of this?” he asks, baffled.
“Please just tell me what's going on, Daddy,” I insist. “Was Greg blackmailing you? Were you trying to sue him?”
“I—Jesus, no, I wasn't suing him,” he says, laughing awkwardly. “I haven't even seen these chats in years. How did you get into my old email? Are these your notes?”
I'm confused beyond words at the sudden change in his demeanor, glancing between him and my mom in shock. She shakes her head in exasperation, rolling her eyes as she heads back into the kitchen to finish with the dishes.
“What? No, I got these from Shane,” I say. “He said his aunt Tammy was a lawyer, that these were from a case she was putting together for you a long time ago.”
My mom turns, concern written across her face.
“Shane?” she asks. “Your coworker?”
“I—yes. Why does that matter?”
She shoots a look at my dad, but he’s too busy poring over the papers to catch it.
“What did you say his last name was?” she asks carefully.
I stare at her, my mouth dropped open in confusion and annoyance. There are more important things to talk about than Shane, for fuck’s sake. Why does everyone keep bringing him up?
“Wallace, I think?”
My dad’s head swings up at that, and the confusion on his face shifts to anger. He and my mom share a look that holds the weight of a million words.
“You said Shane’s aunt was named Tammy, right?” he says slowly.
I nod.
“I think we need to have a conversation with your friend .” His voice is caustic, his face screwed up in a scowl. “Did he tell you he’s the nephew of the financial advisor I fired when you were young?”
A befuddled, shocked laugh falls from my lips. Why would Shane have any connection to my family at all? Peter Wallace is a scumbag who got chased out of town for embezzling money from several people. His lawyer wife covered his tracks. But Wallace isn’t that uncommon of a last name, right? It’s just a coincidence.
“His uncle is why we almost went bankrupt, Oakley,” my mom says, her voice dark and heavy. “Whatever he’s trying to do, it’s nothing good.”
Understanding falls like a sack of bricks when I remember how my parents met Peter Wallace in the first place. His best friend is Mark Ward, another man who used to spend a lot of time—and money—at the rodeo.
Mark Ward, Savannah Ward’s fucking father.
Oh, that wretched little bitch .
Was she even trying to go after Jamie, or was she just trying to break us up so Shane would have a shot with me? Rage fills me like fire, and I have to bite down harshly on my tongue to stop myself from screaming.
There’s still other things to figure out.
“But what about these?” I ask, clawing for something that I can actually understand.
“These are just old emails between Greg and I,” my dad says, sitting down at the table to look at the pages more closely. “Half of them aren't even in here, but I never tried to sue him. He may be an asshole, but he never did anything illegal.”
“So what even happened?” I ask, annoyed and desperate for a real answer. “You and Greg Walker have been at each other's throats since I was a kid. If it wasn't blackmail, what was it?”
My dad puts the papers down, sighing heavily. He won't meet my eyes, and he's tapping his knuckles over the table the way he always does when he's anxious.
“You tell her or I will,” my mom says bluntly, not turning around from where she's drying plates.
He blows out a breath and scratches at the back of his head, but he finally answers me.
“We made a bet,” he says, waving his hand in the air in annoyance. “I lost a lot of money. He would never admit that he rigged it, and we fell out.”
“A bet ?” I swear to God, if we've been playing this family feud game for so long over something stupid, I'm fit to walk right out. “What was it even about?”
My dad waves the question off, pushing up from the table. He has the papers in his hand, and I stand, following him as he heads into the kitchen.
“Look, Oakley, it was a long time ago.” He pulls a bottle of whiskey down from the cabinet, and my suspicion piques immediately. “It's not important.”
I snag the bottle from his hand and take several steps back holding it out of his reach. I'm getting answers one way or another.
“That's enough!” My mom’s voice rings out sharply, and both my dad and I jump as she slaps her palm down on the counter. “This whole thing has been absolutely ridiculous, and I'm done entertaining the charade.”
My dad’s face flushes and he glances off to the side. She waits a beat before sighing and turning to me.
“Your father and Greg used to make bets on the circuit, back when Greg trained a lot of the riders,” she says. “You know Chuckles?”
I blink in confusion, slowly nodding my head. Everyone in town knows Chuckles. He's an old drunk that performs as a clown during rodeo season and drinks his liver half to death for the rest of the year. To be fair, if I had been hit by bulls as many times as he had, I'd probably drink, too.
But what does a rodeo clown have to do with any of this?
“Your father bet Greg that Chuckles would get hit by a bull, like usual. Bet him five grand, even though I told him not to,” she adds, glaring at my dad. “It was the only show that Chuckles managed to get out of the ring in time. He wasn't drunk for once, and he jumped the fence.”
I stare at her in absolute shock, trying to wrap my mind around this.
A clown. My dad has been a dick to Jamie this whole time over a fucking clown ?
“The fucker rigged it,” my dad says with a scoff. “He told Chuckles not to drink that night so he could win the bet.”
“He offered to give you your money back!” my mom argued, throwing her hands in the air. “You're just too damn prideful to admit you lost.”
My dad goes to respond to her, and I can tell they've had this conversation a million times, but I hold a shaking hand up to stop them. My whole world is spinning off center right now. I have to be misunderstanding something.
“Your issues with Jamie’s dad are because of a bet that you lost about Chuckles?” My voice scrapes up my throat, raw and disbelieving. “You spent years trying to discourage my relationship with Jamie because of a fucking clown! Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? I love Jamie! I love him like you love mom, and I’ve been so scared that I’ll have to choose between him and you one day. You have to understand how this affects me, too!”
I'm shouting by the end of it, my hands balled into fists at my sides. I've harbored so many doubts, so many worries about if the relationship between our families can ever be fixed so Jamie and I can be together.
“Now, listen Oakley?—”
“No!” I shout. “You listen! You figure out a way to fix this, now ! Apologize to Greg, go have a beer and refuse to talk about your feelings, I don't care! I know you're a prideful man, Daddy, and I know you don't like to lose. But you have to fix this, or the next thing you lose will be me.”