15. Romy
15
romy
C huck was still in the kitchen of the big house sipping his morning coffee when I walked in. The room smelled like bacon and freshly brewed French roast. He stood at the large center island, his hat on the counter waiting to be donned for the day.
“Taking off?” he asked, his bushy, brown brows raised.
“I have to get back for work,” I said, setting my purse on the counter.
“Want a cup before you hit the road?”
Caffeine was exactly what I needed. After Jude said good night, I thought my body would succumb to the sheets, exhausted from the foreplay, but instead, all I felt was Jude’s heavy presence around me … and his absence.
I realized I hadn’t slept well in a while. I was exhausted.
Chuck pushed a large, terracotta mug across the counter, setting cream and sugar before me with a spoon.
I made up my coffee, stirring in the sugar.
“Should we expect you back?” he asked.
I shrugged. I had planned on returning, but now I didn’t know. Everything just seemed so hard right now. Finding answers wasn’t coming easily.
“Does Jude know?”
I took a sip of coffee, avoiding Chuck’s gaze.
“He will soon enough,” I told him.
“You know that won’t sit well with him.”
I chanced a glance at him. He was frowning at me, and the last thing I wanted was Chuck disappointed in me. If I was honest, he’d been more of a father figure than my own dad ever was. Always including me in ranch activities while Hazel ran loops around barrels. He knew I hid out here when Mom was sick, and he never once asked me how I was doing—just knew that I needed something to occupy my aching heart.
Guilt lashed through me. Not just because I wasn’t saying goodbye to Jude, but because I was leaving Chuck and the ranch when they needed the help. This was my chance to repay him for all the years he took me under his wing. And what was I doing? Abandoning him.
But this time, I wouldn’t disappear.
“Can you give my number to the investigator or lawyers if they ask for it? I want to be able to help where I can.”
I didn’t know if I should tell him—or anyone—about the box in Bronte’s stall. It may be best if Jude and I kept that to ourselves for now. I had a feeling it would only hurt my sister’s case, and I was still wrestling with the need to protect her, even though I was pissed at her.
“Of course. Can I share it with Jude, too?” There was a mischievous glint to his eyes.
I scoffed, despite the pang of sadness. “If he asks for it.” But I didn’t want to talk about Jude; there was something I still needed to know. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“It’s just that I’ve been out of Hazel’s life for so long, I feel as if I don’t know my sister anymore. I need to know about her and Jesse.”
Chuck gave me a sympathetic tilt to his lips. “You know they were together, right?”
“I mean, I kind of figured.”
Chuck nodded. “I hired Jesse to help with the cattle and break in some horses. He was great with the animals—a hard worker and energy for days. And you know Hazel and her big, type A personality.” He let out a short laugh.
“Yeah, Willows’s own shining star,” I agreed.
“Our pride and joy. I suppose they matched each other in intensity and work ethic. I knew they would either hit it off or clash. From the very beginning, they made this ranch operate like a well-oiled machine—Hazel oversaw training and the stables, and Jesse managed the cattle and the hired hands. I don’t know what I would have done without them while I helped my dad transition to assisted living. Did you know that applying for Medicaid is like a second job?” He chuckled, but there was no humor in it.
I smiled hearing him laugh.
“I relied heavily on them. I suppose I should have checked in more, but I was absorbed in my dad’s shit. Pardon my language.”
I shook my head, excusing his curse, waiting for him to continue.
He took a big gulp of his coffee. “I’ll tell you what I told the investigators. They had one of those intense relationships where they were either near inseparable or yelling at each other. Some of my ranch hands complained, and I did talk to them about it. But Jesse kind of just brushed me off. Hazel, on the other hand, since she knew how much I relied on her—I mean, I see her like another daughter—she took it seriously. I know she tried to set boundaries between her relationship and her job, but when you live on a ranch, that makes it kind of difficult.”
“Did it get better?” I wet my lips with my mug.
“For a time, but … I think it was a couple months before all this happened. Hazel just didn’t seem like herself. She was quiet and reserved, still doing her job with the same grit, but just letting Jesse boss her around. Whatever boundaries she had set, she just allowed him to walk all over them.”
“That doesn’t sound like Hazel,” I commented.
“No, it doesn’t. I tried to talk to Jesse again. I asked him if she was okay. He just dismissed me and said, ‘Yeah, she’s fine.’ I should have talked to Hazel about it. That’s my one regret. I guess I thought whatever it was would just blow over. I didn’t want to get in the middle of their business. I’m sorry, Romy. If I had, maybe I could have stopped this.” His deep frown pulled down the sides of his mustache.
“I know, Chuck. None of this was your fault.” I heaved a deep sigh.
I was more convinced now that Hazel had done this. But something must have forced her hand. I still had so many questions. I thought I knew my sister well enough. Had she hit her breaking point and thought killing Jesse was her only means of escape? How bad did it have to get before someone snapped like that?
Part of my anger dissipated at the thought of her having no other choice.
“I know you want answers, Romy. I think we all do.”
I nodded. “It’s still just so surreal. I’m still processing everything. You’ll call me if you hear anything, right?”
“Of course. Here, let’s get that to go for you.” Chuck reached for my coffee.
“Thank you.”
He pulled a thermos from one of the cupboards, pouring it over the sink. “I should probably tell you … Jude may be returning to Vegas.”
My heart plummeted, my lungs constricting. “What? Is he thinking about fighting again?”
That call this morning.
Chuck grunted, handing me the thermos. “Seems our boy isn’t quite ready to hang up the gloves.”
What the fuck, Jude? That selfish bastard. He’s going to leave his uncle to tend the ranch on his own? Not to mention, there apparently needed to be a buffer between Lina and the new guy.
What was he thinking? Apparently, winning belts and making money with blood on his fists was a bigger priority than sticking around to help his family. Who gives a fuck that his uncle needed him? Or risking more than just a busted-up knee?
“Bullheaded jackass,” I muttered, throwing my purse across my shoulder.
“They don’t call him ‘The Bull’ for no reason.” Chuck followed me out to the car.
“Well, good luck to him.” And good riddance.
I suppose having his tongue inside me didn’t equate to him sharing his plans.
Chuck sighed, opening my car door for me. “Unfortunately, he comes by it honestly.”
I turned to give Chuck a soft smile. “You at least know when to ask for help.”
“Took years to swallow that pill. He’ll figure it out.”
The crunch of tires rolling across the gravel drive made my throat clench. Shit! Here we go. Didn’t think I was getting away that easily for a second.
I turned toward the driveway as an old, blue Jeep Wagoneer pulled up. I knew that SUV. My pulse ratcheted up. Spent many rodeo circuits in the back seat following my sister around.
“Shit! Thought I could come and leave before word got to him,” I muttered.
“You didn’t call him?” Chuck asked, stepping away from my car, giving me easy access to hop in and take off before my father cut the engine.
“Nope.”
“He must have heard you were in town.”
“Hazel.” Shit, sis. You couldn’t not tell him?
I crossed my arms, shielding myself, preparing for whatever emotionally manipulative bullshit he was about to spout.
I would much rather face Jude right now than Frank Miller.
He slammed the car into park, hopping out as soon as the engine shut off.
“So you weren’t going to answer any of your old man’s calls?” he demanded before his boots even hit the driveway.
Frank Miller looked as though he had aged thirty years since I last saw him. Where his hair was once blond like mine, it was now gray. No longer the clean-shaven, impeccably dressed man I once knew, he now had a bushy, peppered beard, jeans that looked two sizes too big on him, and an old Harley shirt hanging off his shoulders. According to Frank Miller, life did this to him, not his own poor choices or the empty beer cans that most likely littered his kitchen counter. Oh no, of course Frank was never to blame. He was always the victim.
“I’m just leaving,” I told him, leaning in to put my purse and the thermos in the car.
“You’re going to leave me and your sister alone to deal with all this shit? I raised you better than that, Romy May.”
“No, Dad,” I scoffed. “Mom raised me. You were too busy being a rodeo dad to Hazel to take notice of me.”
“Oh, don’t give me that old bullshit. That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“If I learned anything from you, it was that the only person I can rely on is myself. So you can do what you’ve always done … wallow in Hazel’s drama. How could she do this to you?” I rolled my eyes.
His already ruddy face—he more than likely drank his breakfast—turned beet red. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”
“Oh, I dare. Do me a favor, Frank. Lose my number this time? And don’t try to track me down again.”
Frank stumbled slightly as he stepped forward. “What the fuck is this ‘Frank’ shit? I’m your father, and you’ll show me some respect.”
With a calm and steady voice, I stared directly at him to make sure he heard my words. “Both how I refer to you and the respect you think you deserve are earned, not freely given.”
I turned to Chuck, whose face had drained of color, his lips pinched firmly as if in restraint. “Bye, Chuck. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Take care, darlin’,” he said, holding the door again as I got in the car.
“You ungrateful, little bitch,” I heard Frank say, right as Chuck closed my door.
Oh, no, he didn’t . Nothing ever changed with him.
I was just about ready to get back out when Chuck gave the roof of the Hyundai a firm pat, as if to assure me he was taking care of it.
I needed to get out of here before Willows sucked me dry.
Turning on the car and shifting in reverse, I started backing out of the driveway just as I saw Jude’s truck fly around the corner. His eyes were wide and wild—desperate—as he watched my car roll away. Then he glanced back at Frank, who was still red-faced and spitting his words, while Chuck tried to direct him back to his car.
My eyes connected with Jude’s through the car window. Hurt etched his brow, and his jaw was clenched. He gave me a quick nod before heading over to where Frank and Chuck were going at it.
He would put an end to this.
Now it truly was time for me to leave. I told myself I’d feel some relief once I was headed back down the Pass and returning to San Jose.
Then why did it feel like I was being gutted? Like my heart was being cleaved from my chest with each passing mile marker?