Chapter Eleven
Eleven
Tally wanted to comfort Marshall, but even an hour after his family had cleared out, she didn’t know how to reach through the wall around him. He was going through the motions of finishing up with the horses, putting them back into the main barn.
So much had happened in such a short time, her world felt off-kilter. She’d couldn’t imagine how he must feel.
After cleaning away the last of the untouched food—no one had felt much like eating after the announcement about Brea—Tally closed the refrigerator and sagged back to rest against the stainless steel.
Why would Breanna pretend to be someone else and keep her identity from the family? It didn’t make sense. They’d loved her. She’d loved them. Where had she been all these years?
So many torturous questions and too few answers.
And in the middle of it all, Tally had a dilemma of her own.
Her father had been a part of whatever happened all those years ago with the plane crash.
Even if his part had been unintentional, the crash had happened—and not in the way people believed.
If knowing about her father’s role that day could somehow shed even a hint of light on what happened, Tally couldn’t hold it back from the family anymore.
As much as she ached to give Marshall space to come to grips with what he’d learned, what if delaying further gave Milla/Brea more time to fade away? Whatever her reason for doing so?
Guilt knotted Tally’s gut over not having come clean sooner. She’d been selfish, thinking only of holding on to Marshall and what they shared for as long as possible.
She was falling for him. Hard. And even if she hadn’t, she owed him the truth. All of it.
Her insides quivering with nerves and yes, fear, she sat at the table and waited for him to return. Eyes glued on the front door, she popped a pen cap on and off. Set the pen down on the table. Picked it up again as if routine and ritual alone would make her conversation easier. Manageable.
Wind bellowed, whipping through the house as Marshall finally crossed the threshold. Snow clung to his wispy dark hair and clothes. Wordlessly, he peeled off his coat and boots. The air still retained a biting cold. A cold that nipped at the pit of Tally’s stomach.
He made his way into the kitchen, socks muffling his footfalls. He barely glanced at the kitchen island. Went straight to the stainless steel refrigerator. With the weight of the world in his eyes, he pulled out a water bottle. “What a long damn day.”
It wasn’t that long ago that he’d been there for her—supporting her wordlessly after she’d had a hellish day. She wished she could return that favor now, and hated that she was about to complicate matters more.
The pen cap wore a groove in her thumb as she continued to push the cap on and off. Deciding to tell him didn’t make it any easier. “Um, yes, it has been. Did you get the horses all secure for the night?”
“They’re all bedded down.” To Tally’s eye, Marshall seemed to be searching.
Trying to locate something in his kitchen that kept eluding him.
He touched the stones on the island for a moment, walked across the room to open a cabinet.
Tally’s throat felt bone-dry. “I should probably call it a day, too. Are you coming up?”
She clutched the edges of the table. “I need to tell you something.”
“That sounds ominous. I’m not sure I have it in me for more shocks today,” he said with a half smile.
She wanted to wait, to steal one more night with him, but that wouldn’t be fair to anyone. “It’s...difficult. And I should have told you sooner. Could you please sit down?”
Frowning, he sank into a chair beside her, his water bottle in one hand. “I’m listening.”
“It’s about what happened to your mother and your sister.”
He sat up straighter, setting the bottle aside. “What do you mean?”
“My father was an airplane mechanic. His drinking got worse because he felt responsible for a fatal crash.” She swallowed hard. “He was the mechanic responsible for the aircraft that went down with your mother and sister on board.”
The truth hurt her as she spoke it. She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain it caused him.
He studied her through narrowed eyes. “You’ve known this since you came to work here?”
His words came out slowly, carefully.
She nodded. “I was hoping to find some kind of closure to what caused my father to take his life. I came here with the intent to tell you, when the time was right. And I’ve finally realized there could never be a perfect time to share this.”
Shock in his eyes, he stared at her, his body still. “And even when I told you there was some kind of question about whether or not my sister survived, you didn’t think it might be worth mentioning?”
“I didn’t want to cause you further stress, which I know sounds like a cop-out now,” she rushed to add, “but it made sense at the time.”
She could see him closing down, shutting her out. The spark that used to be visible in his eyes when he looked at her was gone. It was too much for him—the barn, his sister. He should be celebrating that she might be alive, and instead Tally was heaping this on him.
She’d let him down by not telling him sooner. And they were both paying the price in her timing now.
He eased back in his chair. “I want to believe you. But there’s also a part of me that’s wondering if you’re telling me now because you think since my sister is alive it doesn’t matter.”
“That’s not it at all.” She reached out to touch his wrist, wishing she could reclaim this pain between them. Lessen it, at least. He flinched, but didn’t pull away. “The time was never...”
She searched for the right words and realized there were none. She had no justification. “Fine. You’re right. I have no excuse. I came here for the job, hoping to get ahead while making peace with my past.”
She’d been selfish, wrong.
And she saw the betrayal burning in his eyes.
Tally eased her hand away from him. “I’ll pack my things and leave.”
“No,” he said tightly, standing. “You were hired to do a job. I’m not going to penalize my family for our mistakes. See the fund-raiser event through, and then you can consider your employment complete.”
She couldn’t stop herself from making a last-ditch effort. “Can we talk about this?”
“There’s nothing more to say.” He picked up his coat. “I’m going to sleep in the bunkhouse to watch over the horses.”
Turning on his heel, she saw his guard go all the way up as his muscled back tensed. He moved toward the door, deadly silent. Tally watched him sling on his coat and boots.
A low whistle called Nugget from slumber. The little dog kept close to his human, though the pup gave a backward glance before the door shut. Marshall left her alone.
Just like that.
A world, a future, everything gone.
He shut her out, becoming as impossibly distant as an island far away from shore. She had no boat, no oar, nothing to reach him with.
She felt the gulf between them, felt alone in the world again, too. Quicker than the fire that claimed his old barn, she’d torched any tender feelings between them forever. Tally set the pen down atop her to-do list.
Neatly. Precisely. She adjusted the angle. Her world was spinning out of control. And all she could do to hold on was her job, prepare for the fund-raiser, then pack her few things.
Salty tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to release a deluge of hurricane proportions. Throat bobbing, she put a hand to her forehead, hoping to stay the tears.
She had no more words. Nothing she could say could intervene now. Peace was nowhere to be found.
This fairy tale had come to an abrupt end. The bond—that connection—was snipped forever.
Lingering scents of fire and ash still permeated the bunk room. Or perhaps they still clung to his jacket. Destruction all around him in little and profound ways.
Nugget ran around the bunk room, tail wagging. A sad smile pulled his cheek muscles upward. He wished for the dog’s unbridled ease.
Stripping down to a white T-shirt and boxers, Marshall crawled into bed. Nugget jumped on the mattress after him, circling three times before settling against Marshall’s left side.
Absently, his eyes flitted around the bunk room, catching on the sturdy exposed wood. With a deep inhale, his nostrils were filled with memories. Scents of Tally permeated the sheets.
His hold on sobriety was teetering on the edge. He was one breath away from four years down the tubes. He’d thought he could tackle giving a future with Tally a try, but he’d been wrong on so many levels. His feelings for her overwhelmed him, as if he’d become addicted.
The chilly air rasped in his throat. Burned his lungs. His head throbbed as if he suffered from a hangover after hitting rock bottom. He felt the pit of his addiction roil beneath the surface.
Weeks ago, he’d been fine on his own. Managed this whole place alone. Kept the world at bay. Then Tally came into his life with a literal splash.
Moving through the days with her had been so damn easy, like they’d known each other for far longer. His fingers ached for the now-familiar feeling of her soft skin.
Only, everything they’d shared together had been based on a lie.
Hell yes, he was raw from knowing she’d lied to him from the start of working here, but there was more to it than that.
He hadn’t seen it. He’d been 100 percent blind when it came to her.
Now? How could he possibly trust himself or his judgment?
Sure, he’d been a man battling addiction when Tally had shown up.
But at least he’d been keeping his head above water, dealing with it.