Chapter 2 #2
"Yes, ma'am," I reply, my heart aching for the only mother I've ever known. When I left the Cartwright ranch, I had no clue how much I would miss the entire family.
"Willow! Did you fall?" she frets.
"I'm fine," Willow claims as she tries to push away from me but slides again.
I tighten my arm around her, scolding, "Careful."
She lifts her face, and her blues slash me like knives. There's no warning and no mercy. It's just the two of us in a war zone, and she's already decided I'm the only target to strike.
I say through gritted teeth, "Get inside before you seriously hurt yourself."
Her glare intensifies, but she lets me help her onto the porch before wiggling out of my grasp and disappearing into the house.
Ruby holds her arms out. "It's been too long, Wyatt."
"Yes, ma'am, it has," I agree. I embrace her, then retreat. "Best to get inside. It's wild out here."
Jagger opens the door, and Ruby steps inside. We follow.
Where did Willow go?
I glance around, but the hallway and staircase are both empty.
"Jacob! You'll never guess who's here!" Ruby shouts.
As I stomp my boots on the rug, Jacob appears.
His deep voice has the same authority as when I was younger, but it's comforting. "Wyatt." He holds out his hand.
We shake, and he leans in and pats me on the back. "Son, what are you doing in town?"
My gut sinks.
There's the million-dollar question.
I open my mouth and then shut it.
Jacob arches his eyebrows, waiting.
I gather my thoughts, then stand taller, admitting, "I'm not sure, sir."
With a confused expression, he demands, "Meaning?"
"Don't grill him in the hallway, Jacob. Wyatt, have you had any dinner?" Ruby says, stepping between us.
My stomach growls, and I realize I don't know when I last ate.
Ruby laughs. "Come on. Let me reheat some dinner for you."
"Thank you," I reply and follow her into the kitchen, relieved to get a moment to try to figure out how to explain things to Jacob.
She opens the fridge and pulls out containers, nonchalantly asking, "How did you get that shiner?"
I touch my cheek and wince. I state, "Couldn't ever get anything past you."
Jagger interjects, "Nope. Never will. It's like she has a crystal ball and can see everything."
Ruby grins. "Don't forget it, my dear child." She pulls a plate out of the cabinet.
I grunt.
Jacob grabs three bottles of beer out of the fridge and opens one. He hands it to me and then sits across the table.
Jagger takes the seat on my right.
Circling back to the topic I'm dreading, Jacob prods, "Are you going to tell me what you meant when you said you don't know why you're back home?"
Home.
The place I couldn't bring myself to come back to.
My stomach curls, tying into thick knots that won't be easily undone. I sit back in my chair, taking in the Christmas decorations, scratched wooden floors Ruby gave up trying to keep perfectly stained, and mahogany cabinets.
The last thing I want to do is admit to Jacob my faults and failures, but I also won't lie to him. I did that when I slept with his daughter. And the day I left the ranch, I vowed I wouldn't ever deceive the Cartwrights again.
So I take a mouthful of beer, swallow it, and confess, "Kingy Altmonte broke his wrist. My agent wanted me to take his spot on the team for Whispering Junction's Boots, Bucks & Mistletoe Rodeo."
"You're a Texan. You shouldn't be competing on any other state team," Jagger grumbles.
I shrug. "I go where the money is, and that purse is huge." I don't add that Willow's riders represent Texas. There's no way she's ever letting me ride for her team.
Jacob leans closer. "So if you're supposed to be riding, why aren't you sure why you're here?"
My mouth goes dry, so I take another swig.
The last forty-eight hours collide into me like a wrecking ball.
Every second replays in my head, tearing me like paper until there's a pile of shreds in front of me, along with Jacob's unnerving stare.
Every stupid decision I made and everything I've lost, including Willow, is in that pile, with no way to make it whole again.
Jacob crosses his arms, waiting.
Ruby sets a plate of hot food in front of me, scolding, "Let him eat, Jacob."
Jacob glances at her, then rises. He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Eat your Christmas dinner. We'll discuss things later."
Relief and dread fill me. I'd rather get it over with, but I don't know where to start. All I know is I've royally screwed things up, and Jacob isn't going to be too proud when he hears the truth.
"Eat," Ruby orders.
I focus on the steam drifting from the plate and then cut into the prime rib. I slide it through mashed potatoes and gravy before shoving it into my mouth. The concoction tastes like heaven, and as soon as I chew and swallow, I put a huge forkful of sweet potato casserole in my mouth.
I groan, wash it down with my beer, and say, "You don't know how much I missed your cooking."
She beams and pats my shoulder.
I finish two plates, and Jacob returns as soon as I take my last bite. It's like the old man could see me eating through the thick wooden door.
He cracks open more beers, distributes them, and sits back down.
Ruby sets down a plate full of pie—slices of pecan, pumpkin, and apple covered in homemade whipped cream. "I'll let you three talk." She throws another motherly smile my way and says, "It's so good to have you home, Wyatt."
My chest tightens. "Thank you, ma'am."
She disappears, and the claw in my gut reappears.
Jacob says nothing.
Time to pay the piper.
I blurt out, "I'm not going to lie to you, sir. I did some stupid things."
His face hardens.
I clear my throat. "Actually, I did a lot of stupid things over the last few months. My agent and I haven't been getting along too well. My sponsors dropped me, and he fired me."
"Oh shit," Jagger mutters.
I don't move. The ticking clock and my uncontrollable heartbeat pound between my ears.
Jacob doesn't flinch and he asks, "And what happened at The Buck and Bruise?"
The man always knows everything.
"I'm sure they had it coming," Jagger states, rushing to my defense.
Jacob pins his eyes on him, warning him not to speak with just a look.
Jagger shifts in his seat and takes a swig of beer.
Jacob returns his steely gaze to me.
Don't bullshit him.
The air thickens. I take a deep breath and admit, "I might have worked my anger out the wrong way."
He studies me with growing paternal authority that roots me to my chair.
My heart races as I wait him out.
He finally asks, "What do you plan to do to get your life back on track, son?"
I squeeze the bottle harder, wondering how to answer him. But I can't. So I admit, "Sir, I don't know."
Another cold stare lances through me, weaving around my lungs until I can't breathe.
I wanted to make Jacob proud when I finally came back.
I've failed miserably.
He rises, asserting, "Take a few days and figure it out. Let me know when you have some answers."
"Yes, sir."
He steps to the side of me and puts his hand on the table.
I force myself to meet his gaze.
His voice drops two octaves when he says, "Wyatt, you will pay my daughter back. Every last cent. Understand?" There's no room for arguing, not that I would. His words hang like a warning.
I nod. "Yes, sir. I already told her that."
He keeps his gaze on mine for another moment, then squeezes my shoulder. "Good to have you home, son."