Chapter 29
ANGER AND OTHER EMOTIONS
“You look like you were rode hard and put away drippin’ wet,” Tate says, slapping a hand over my back the moment my feet hit the landing. I rub my eyes and peer out the back door, where Quinn, Love, and the girls are outside playing.
“Why are y’all here so early?” And why didn’t Quinn wake me, I wonder. Tate’s laughter makes my head ache, and I drag my ass across the house to the kitchen, about to get coffee started when I see half a pot left, still warm.
“It’s nearly ten in the morning, Landry.”
I almost drop the pot. “What?” My eyes dart to the rooster clock on the wall where I discover that he is not pulling my leg. “Quinn let you sleep in. After what y’all went through yesterday, she said you could use the rest.”
I shake my head. “She needs it as much as I do, I’m not the one doin’ all this and making a film.”
My eyes catch on her outside, wearing those damn cute overalls, her feet bare. She’s got a bandana wrapped around her head, blonde locks secured in a ponytail. Sadie has her hand in Quinn’s pocket, and the two of them are headed to the coop.
“Started the chickens on the right poultry feed this morning. The good stuff. Expect those eggs to turn around and be sellable again,” Tate says, and I turn away from the window and face my best friend and outstretch my hand. “Elena’s gift.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Tate nods. We’re good at saying what we mean and meaning what we say without an emotional breakdown. After yesterday, having to prove my worth as a father in court, I’m not sure I could muster any big emotions.
“After they feed the chickens, Quinn said she’s gotta get a few hours of editing in, and asked if you weren’t up whether Sadie could come play.
I see you’re up,” he says, taking in my disheveled and shirtless state, then adds, “but can Sadie come anyway? I was thinking of taking the four-wheeler to the wishin’ well to let Love make a wish for the new baby.
And finally let the girls take Snickerdoodle out there.
” He scratches the back of his head. “And they want Big Bertha to come out there, too.”
“Is her husband coming, too?” I ask, and Tate snorts. “We already had to separate them. I got a call into Mabel to come pick his ass up. He’s…”
“A prick,” I offer, because I’m familiar with McCharger’s antics.
“The lawyer said she isn’t gonna charge you until after the final hearing, post-rodeo, too, by the way,” he adds, smacking down a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, those exact words scribbled across it. “I was on phone duty while you slept.”
“Jesus, I only slept in a few hours but it feels weird.”
Tate adjusts the hat on his head and moves toward the back door, pausing before he leaves. “Wouldn’t it be wild if I was all, ‘you were asleep for ten years’?” he says, wiggling his fingers, adding a ghostly, “Wooooo.”
I roll my eyes. “Send Sadie in for Bertha’s meds.”
Tate smirks. “Already gave ’em to her. You slept through that, too.”
I hadn’t intended on training today, and with Quinn working and Sadie next door, I decide to take Daisy out for a long ride.
It’s been ages since I’ve taken a ride for leisure, just me and the Vaughn land.
The sun is extra unforgiving today, but it’s beautiful out here, with the grass shining and the birds singing.
Yesterday, the motion was in my favor, because Sadie being with me is what’s best for Sadie. In a few more days, I’ll know my fate. Either keeping my girl and my ranch, or losing them. And it’s all up to me.
It’s all on my shoulders.
When the sun drops in the sky, and the vibrant yellow starts to turn into cool orange, I ride back and treat Daisy to some hay and a quick brush-down. Making my way back toward the house, I notice the glow from the porch. Quinn must still be editing.
I hang my hat outside and step into the old porch, carefully closing the screen door behind me.
She twists beneath her blanket, blinking at me with tired eyes, laptop screen glowing brightly from her legs.
“Oh, hi.” She looks at her computer quickly then me again.
“I didn’t know it was so late. I didn’t fix anything for dinner. ”
I wave her off and sink onto the couch next to her.
“I wouldn’t want you to quit working. I’ll fix us something to eat.
” I glance over her shoulder to her computer screen, an image of me and Sadie frozen there.
I know this documentary is about me, which still feels strange, but I’ll never get used to seeing my girl on the screen.
“What’s, uh, what’s that?” I ask, trying to make out the surroundings, but the frame is kind of blurry, stopped at a moment of action, I’m sure.
She nods. “Oh, here,” she says, sliding her fingers over the mouse pad. “Let me show you.” She resumes playing the clip, and it takes me a moment to register what I’m looking at, mostly because I had no idea she had her camera yesterday.
“Is that from yesterday?” I ask, but I know the answer. Because I see the courthouse steps in the background, and I spot Love’s boots, too.
Quinn nods, beaming at the screen proudly as the clip of me falling to a crouch and gathering Sadie against my chest plays. “Yeah. Isn’t it so sweet?”
The back of my neck suddenly feels itchy, so overrun with discomfort that I find myself getting to my feet. Quinn peers up at me, eyes wide. “Why’d you get up?”
I shake my head, and motion toward the computer. “I didn’t know you filmed yesterday.”
She shrugs. “I gave my camera to Mabel and told her to capture any moments she could. This is the only one she got, but my god, Landry, it’s beautiful. You’re—”
I really don’t give a good goddamn what compliment is about to come out of her mouth. I interrupt, surprised by the volume of my voice. “I don’t want that in there, Quinn.”
She looks between me and the screen, almost like she doesn’t understand what I’m referring to, and the tiny little stall only furthers the rage surging through my veins. “No,” I say again, “I don’t give you permission to put that in there.”
“Mabel didn’t mean any harm by it, Landry. I told her to. Don’t get angry at Mabel,” she says, tossing the blanket off her legs. I feel my heartbeat in my temples.
“It’s not Mabel that I’m angry at.”
She looks slapped when I say those words. She brings her hand to her chest, surprise ringing in her every movement. “You’re angry with me?”
“What happened yesterday was humiliating, and it had nothing to do with the film you’re making,” I tell her, trying as hard as I can to keep my voice steady.
But she argues, shaking her head, hands balling into fists at her sides. “The entire reason you’re making a comeback is for the money! And the money is all to keep Vaughn Ranch, to keep Sadie! It’s all one story, Landry, and I’m just—”
I slice my hand through the air. “Stop! This is my life! And I don’t want all the worst parts of it sensationalized by a documentary that’s going to haunt me forever!"
Quinn blinks at me, her eyes growing glassy, chest heaving, my own heart racing. “You told me to make the best film that I possibly could. And I know it’s uncomfortable seeing these hard moments but—”
“Do you? Do you know? Because from where I’m standing, I’m the one having all my sore and sour shit torn open and spread out for the world to see.
I’m the one who is trying to save my family’s ranch, keep my daughter in the house she’s meant to grow up in, keep my animals, help you make a good film, and be a rodeo star to boot!
” I shout, so frustrated it feels like my body is on fire.
A tear breaks past her lashes and slips down her cheek, and it almost breaks me, but I’m so tired, and I’m so angry. “I don’t want that clip in there, Quinn.”
She swipes beneath her eye with her sleeve pulled over her hand, the tip of her nose pink. “People need to see the stakes of your comeback,” she says quietly, still fighting. But if I can get back on the proverbial horse at my age, I still have fight in me, too.
I shake my head. “It’s a comeback story, not a sob story.”
“It heightens the emotion. It makes the audience love you that much more when you do win.” She steps closer and I don’t move, but all of me wants to step back.
“You keep holding back, and I don’t know how to break that last wall down, Landry.
I can’t get close to you if there’s always something I don’t know, always a reason standing between us. ”
I shake my head. “That’s not what this is. I’m not trying to put space between us,” I tell her, but as I say those words and have all this nameless anger surging through me, I have to wonder if she’s right. If this isn’t just fear wearing an angry mask. “I don’t want that clip in the movie.”
“I heard you,” she says, her eyes no longer glassy.
“But, Landry, you didn’t even tell me why or how you got into debt, and I’d been living here, sleeping with you for months.
” She reaches for my hands, and I let her wrap hers around mine.
“Trust me. This is good for the film, and if it’s good for the film, it’s good for us. ”
I don’t like feeling how I feel. I want Quinn, and I want her to stay, and I want her film to do well. But when I glance at the screen again, seeing that same clip playing on a loop, I can’t see anything I want or need. All I can see is anger.
“It’s good for your film, which is good for you, and good for Devin. Right? You want to impress him after what happened.” I don’t even really think that’s her motive, but still, I say the words, each one punctuated and powerful.
Her hands fall away from me, and her eyes widen, mouth parting. “What?”
She wants the world to see a moment private and important, but ever since I lost Amelia, I’ve learned to hold on to moments like those with both hands.
Keep them locked up inside me so I have something to cherish forever.
Something of mine, no matter what happens. Showing the world would cheapen that.