Chapter 7 #3
I’ll never forget the way Amelia pressed her palm to the side of my face and brushed her lips against mine, vowing to love me forever, vowing to take care of me and our baby until the end of time.
I made the same vow back, and I’ll be damned if I don’t honor it. I’ll be damned if her parents take my child.
I don’t bother knocking when I reach Tatum and Love’s back door, my chest burning, eyes stinging with unshed tears.
Bursting inside, Love startles, jumping up from the kitchen island where a mug of tea sits partially drank, next to a plate with half-eaten toast and some eggs.
Across from her, Tatum stands holding his mug, his own Cattleman on his head, blond hair sticking out everywhere.
In jeans and a white T-shirt just like me, he’s dressed for a day of stable repairs, which is what I had planned.
Only now…
“Landry,” Love breathes, eyes wide, her hand draped over her chest. “What’s going on?”
Tate lowers his coffee to the counter without taking his eyes off of me. “What happened?” Love motions to the papers in my hand, wrinkled from the intensity of my grip. “What are those?”
I shake my head as a single tear breaks free. I don’t acknowledge it as I pass Love the papers and lock eyes with my lifelong best friend. “They’re trying to take Sadie.”
“Who?” Tate asks, his voice lined with concern as he tugs his hat off, glancing at his wife.
“The Montgomerys,” she answers, her eyes working over the information much faster than I did. She turns a page, then another, and I confirm.
“Amelia’s parents,” I tell Tate. “They think they can take better care of Sadie. They know about the debt. The loans. They think Sadie would be better off with them, and they’re pursuing custody.”
Love abandons the papers to wrap her small arms around me, placing her cheek against my chest as she attempts to rope me into a hug. “It’s going to be okay, Landry. You’re a wonderful daddy, okay, and we’re gonna figure this out.”
Tate paces as Love shoves me onto a barstool and forces a mug of tea into my hands. The hot mug stings the open sores on my palms, but I sip the dirty water to appease her, wishin’ it were more coffee. Or better yet, booze.
“I think I have a plan,” Tate announces after ten minutes of stress pacing and throwing out terrible ideas, the first of which was a double-murder plot. Though I think he was joking. Maybe.
“Stability,” he announces, bracing his hands on his hips. “That’s all you gotta prove to a judge or a court. You ain’t got to prove anything else about your life to the Montgomerys, but if they take you to court to pursue this, stability will save you.”
I nod my head. “Okay. You got a hundred grand I can borrow?”
He shakes his head. “Okay, so the first step of the stability plan is… you gotta win the rodeo, Landry.”
I roll my eyes. “Why in the hell do you think I entered? To humiliate my old ass in a failed comeback and not win the money?” I shake my head, frustrated and stressed.
“I know I need to win.” Sadie flashes through my mind, those Elsa jammies and her little stompin’ foot. “I will win,” I amend, and I mean it.
Damn it, do I ever mean it.
“Okay, but… how do we get you stable?” Love asks, peeling the wax paper from a fresh blueberry muffin. “Eat this now, I know you didn’t eat this morning and with news like this, you’ll be sick if you don’t.”
She’s not wrong. I don’t normally skip breakfast, but ever since Quinn arrived to make this movie, the reality of my situation has really unfolded, and deep down, I’m goddamn nervous. Too nervous to eat in the morning.
“Well, for financial stability, you gotta win,” Tate says.
“I will,” I grumble. “I thought we moved past that.”
“Okay, well, next up, family stability.”
I swallow a mouthful of tea to wash down the muffin. “It’s an insult, you know?” The backs of my eyes sting. “I love my daughter more than anything in the world, and I’m a good daddy. I take good care of her.”
“We know you do, honey,” Love says, her voice so syrupy and sad that I’m liable to burst into tears right here.
But I straighten my spine and set my focus on my best friend, because he’s gonna help me figure this out.
That’s why I came here. That’s why he’s my best friend.
It’s why we planned to raise our families together and work together.
Because he’s a good man, and that’s what you want by your side through life, and on the ranch.
“So the sidin’ is bad and the AC doesn't work, hell, I know I need to get those things fixed, but… it doesn’t mean I don’t love Sadie, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a great life.
” I refuse to second-guess my child’s happiness.
Sadie loves everything about life. “She would be miserable out of the county, in the city, with them.”
“Yes, she would,” Tate agrees. “And this ain’t about what’s best for Sadie, same way it was never about what Amelia wanted, either, all those times they tried to get her to leave.”
The three of us are silent for a few moments after the mention of Amelia. Pain stretches through my chest and climbs into my limbs, and I bring my hand to my face and scrub, taking a deep breath.
“None of that matters. Right now, you just need… family stability. That’s what they’re basically saying they’re offering that you can’t give.”
“How do I obtain that?” I point the question at Tate.
He answers easily. “Get married.”
“No.” My response is immediate. “I’m not even— I don’t date. I’m not puttin’ Sadie through me marrying some woman to pretend we’re a family. That sounds… awful.”
“As awful as losing Sadie?” Love’s question is poignant, delivered in her soft tone.
“Look, remarrying is the most obvious solution. Small-town judges favor traditional setups in custody cases.”
“That’s… crazy. Who would agree to marry me anyway, if we ain’t in love and I’m poorer than dirt?”
Love pats my hand. “You won’t be poor forever. This is a season. You’re gonna get through it.”
“You've been sayin’ that for years,” I sigh, but I know she’s right. I have to believe she’s right, because without hope for better, what else is left?
“You gotta get married. Play real happy and lovey with someone until you win the rodeo, pay off your debt, and get the Montgomerys off your back.” Tate stops pacing and plops his hat back on his head. “That’s the plan. That’s what you gotta do.”
I scratch the side of my unshaved jaw, realizing it’s been too long since I’ve shaved clean. A week and a half, maybe? “Who might I marry in this grand plan?”
Tate shrugs and looks at Love. Love taps her chin. “I don’t have an answer for that just yet, but give me a day or two, okay?”
I push away from the kitchen island, and though it’s only been a handful of minutes since I shoved in here with a crisis on my hands and tears in my eyes, I do feel a bit better.
I don’t like the idea of a fake, disingenuous relationship, but I’d die if I lost my girl. I would. My heart just… wouldn't beat without her.
I’m sure of it.
As I trudge back to my place to lock these papers away and get started on a long day of hard work under the sun, I spot Quinn in the pasture, lying on her back, snagging footage of the summer sun drifting through the gauzy clouds.
I don’t want my fake relationship to be part of her film, to discredit her and devalue the honest story she’s trying to tell.
It hurts me to think that I’ll hurt her work with this lie once I get it in place and it inevitably gets out later.
Once my fake relationship or marriage or whatever is over, the world will know, and they’ll wonder if Quinn knew too.
But then I look at the boots stacked against the house on the porch. The ones that Sadie wore for years but no longer fit. I can’t bring myself to get rid of ’em, because I’m a sentimental sap in blue jeans.
Those little boots are the reminder I need.
I don’t want to hurt Quinn Farley or her career, but I have to keep my baby girl. At all costs.