Chapter 34 #3
"I want to take care of you," I say, taking a step closer, desperate to bridge the distance she's put between us. I want to hold her in my arms, kiss away all the pain I caused, smooth her hair back from her face the way I used to. If she'd just let me hold her, half the battle would be won.
"I know you do," she says before averting her gaze to Trigg, who stands rigid, thoroughly engrossed with whatever is on his phone across the table. "Where are you sitting? "
"I suppose here," I say, lifting my hand from the chair it's resting on.
"Okay, then I'll sit here." She pulls out the chair beside mine, its legs scraping against the brick patio.
"You're going to sit next to me?" The surprise in my voice is filled with cautious hope.
With the distance she's put between us lately, this closeness is both welcomed and disorienting. I don't know where her head is. Is she ready to let go and move forward, or is this something else entirely?
She looks over her shoulder, at my father plating the wings beside the grill, before finally giving me her eyes. "I figure I should be sitting next to you when we tell your father I'm pregnant."
"Oh," I say, unable to hide my disappointment.
She doesn't want to sit next to me because it's me.
It's business. Strategic positioning for the conversation that will change everything.
When I went to lunch earlier, Trigg filled me in on her plan for tonight.
Our baby will be a reason to add an heir to the land title.
If Dad talks to his brother about adding his grandchild, then Baylor can also add Trigger.
"And I want to sit next to you," she says, stepping into me to slide between our chairs and stealing the breath from my lungs. Her proximity is intoxicating.
God, she has no idea what that admission just did to me.
My goal tonight was always clear: get my girl back.
Watching her walk across the lawn, I thought maybe I'd disillusioned myself with the ease of the task.
I'd make it happen regardless, because I know this is all my fault, and winning her back won't be easy.
It's not the first time she's put me in the doghouse for getting shit wrong, but I'm grateful she's tossing me a bone, because I'm done with safe distances and cautious steps.
Hearing her say she wants to be close, feeling the gravitational pull between us that she's finally stopped fighting, changes everything.
I'm not chasing her anymore. We're moving toward something together .
"Laney—" I start, only to be cut off as my father and Anastasia join us at the table.
"Is everyone ready to eat?" my dad says as he sets the tray full of wings beside the burgers in the center of the table.
"Yeah," I say, flustered. I didn't get the chance to say more to Laney, but the night is young. Pulling out my chair, my eyes fall on Trigg, who's sliding a chair out across the table. "Dad…" I pull in an unsteady breath as I take another leap. "This is Trigger Ha?—"
"I know who he is." He waves his hand as he takes his seat. "You think I wouldn't recognize my own nephew?" he says as Trigg and I share a wide-eyed, bemused expression.
"Wait, you know who I am?" Trigg asks cautiously.
"Yes." My dad puts his napkin in his lap, as if this conversation isn't anything of significance, unaware that Trigg and I have been discussing ways to introduce him to my father and bring up making an addendum to the property title for months.
"How long have you known about me?" Trigg sits forward in his chair, elbows on the table, wholly invested in this conversation.
"I suppose as long as your father," my dad answers, peering down the table. "Anastasia, do you mind pulling an ale out of that bucket in front of you?"
"Sure." Laney's mother twists the bottle from the ice and passes it down. Laney's fingers brush over mine, her soft skin divine against my callused hands. I linger a second longer than necessary before passing the beer to my father.
He's just twisted the top off when Trigg asks, "Do you know why I'm here?"
My father leans back in his chair, taking a long pull off his ice-cold beer, before answering. "Since you're asking, I'm guessing it's not to get to know your uncle."
"No," comes out easily before he's tripping over his words. His eyebrows rise. "I mean, yes…" He pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Well, which is it?" my father prompts.
"It's both. I didn't expect this kind of reception. I was expecting to meet resistance, not acceptance," Trigg answers honestly.
I get it. Being dumped on Baylor's doorstep left me completely out of my depth. He was a stranger who shared my blood but nothing else. I had every reason to expect the cold shoulder, not a warm welcome. After all, if I'd never heard of him, there was probably a damn good reason why.
"And the resistance… I suppose you believe I wouldn't willingly acknowledge another heir on the lease?" He rests his beer on the table.
This time, I cut in. "Can you blame him? Not once in my eighteen years did you mention anything about having a brother. If you've known about Trigg all this time, why isn't he already on the lease? You had over twenty years to make that happen."
"My brother never asked," he says, his tone even.
My eyebrows rise. That tracks. They don't talk, but damn. I would have never expected that my father would have it in him to hold a grudge and sacrifice a relationship with his blood. It's not the man I know.
"Okay, back up. How do you know all this?" I start with that question before I ask the harder one. I lean into Laney and say, "Can you pass me a beer?"
It's a natural move, having her at my side again, and it doesn't go unnoticed how easily we fall back in step.
Just being next to each other fills the space.
It fills it because neither of us wants it.
I know this is killing her as much as it is me.
I know she feels me in every cell. Her love for me runs through her veins the same way it does me.
She passes me the pale ale, knowing it's my favorite, before pulling another out of the bucket and silently offering one to Trigg, who happily takes it.
"As you are now aware, Baylor and I run the family business together.
He tends to the horses, and I handle the books and our online presence.
However, since my brother refuses to communicate directly, preferring to nurse old grievances, I'm forced to get most of my information secondhand through Rupert Downs. "
"So, you're saying my father is the only one refusing to let bygones be bygones?
" Trigg's voice cuts through the evening air, irritation sharpening each word.
"Your son has been living at Hale Ranch for the past six years, and you only made one call, and in the twenty years I've lived there, you haven't visited once.
You're an heir. It's your land too. You grew up on that dirt.
You came from it, but you refuse to return to it.
" He leans forward, firelight dancing across his face.
"You can't tell me that's all because of my dad. "
My father drains half his beer in one long pull, flames from the table's fire feature reflecting in his distant eyes.
When he finally speaks, his voice carries the weight of decades.
"You're not wrong—phones, planes, and automobiles work both ways.
" His gaze finds mine, raw and unguarded.
"I never wanted to be a stranger to him.
But he gave me no choice, and maybe...maybe I'm just built wrong.
When I love someone, I convince myself I'm poison in their lives, that they're better off without me contaminating their happiness.
" His laugh is bitter, hollow. "But perhaps I should have fought instead.
If you truly love something, it's worth bleeding for. And I love my brother."
His gaze drops back to the table, and I know those words were true for him, but they were also for me. He's not just talking about Baylor. He knows exactly what I sacrificed for the woman beside me. How I walked away believing she deserved better than the truth I couldn't keep if I stayed.
"What happened between you and Baylor?" Laney's fingers find mine, and electricity shoots up my arm.
"Why did you stop talking?" Her touch is gentle but deliberate.
She can sense the old wound my father's words have torn open, and she's anchoring me, reassuring me that no matter where we are, she's here for me, ready to pull me back from the edge if I need her.
"That is the question…" He nods toward the bucket of beers, and Anastasia passes another one down the table.
"Growing up, we were as thick as thieves.
" His voice carries over the chorus of crickets.
"Growing up on that ranch is a little boy's haven.
We had en dless adventures—creeks that ran cold even in August, lakes where we'd skip stones until our arms ached, and animals that knew us by name.
We had it made." His eyes grow distant and unfocused, as if he's watching those memories play out in the dancing flames of the fire.
"In high school, everything changed my senior year.
I met London's mother, and she stole all my time—every spare moment, every breath.
" He rolls the cold bottle between his palms, the label peeling under his thumb.
"But that's expected when you're in love, isn't it?
It's natural to want to be with your person when you find them, to orbit around them like they're the only source of light in your world. "
Anastasia passes a bowl of salad around the table, and Laney scoops some onto both our plates.