Chapter Thirteen
Guilt gnaws on my gut as I stare at the ceiling, the light beyond the window starting to dim as the sun sets, turning the sky into these peaceful dusty blue colors, wispy clouds lit up by fire.
Silas and his children didn’t return after I’d practically run into hiding earlier, and I know they’d changed their plans to come back here for lunch.
I’m not sure where they went, but I knew I’d ruined their afternoon.
I don’t belong here.
I’m not sure where I belong.
It doesn’t matter that I want to stay here.
Even after only a day, it feels like home when it really shouldn’t.
These people have their own lives, and I’m just a momentary visitor.
It’s probably just the sudden freedom that makes me feel like this.
I’ve spent so much time under Cal’s thumb, subjected to his cruelty, that the moment someone shows me even an ounce of kindness, I latch on.
My finger is still tingling from where Silas linked his with mine earlier, a silent anchor that kept my feet on the ground.
I don’t know how I’ll ever repay him for what he’s done for me.
And his kids… Rosie is sweet and lively; the energy she gives out is contagious, impossible to ignore and harder not to match.
She’d made me laugh and smile more in a few hours than I have in years.
Caleb reminds me of Silas: quiet and watchful, though there’s a spark of curiosity in his eyes.
We’d had fewer interactions, but I could already tell he was a good kid.
It had been nice watching Silas work with Dottie.
I’d snuck glances when no one was looking back at Scott Ranch, watched him as he patiently waited for the horse to trust him.
He spent hours at the fence, just stood there, talking softly, and I’d silently cheered when I started to notice the Appaloosa was beginning to trust him.
I’ve never seen someone so in tune with the animals before, like he can sense what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling, and adapt to give them exactly what they need.
There’s a gentleness to Silas I’m not so sure he shows many people, but there’s something else there too, something darker. You can see the ghosts in his eyes, and I’ve watched him enough over the past couple of weeks to see that he is haunted. I don’t know by what, but it’s something.
I guess we all have our secrets and our pasts; some are just more obvious than others.
With a sigh, I push up from the bed and head to the door. They got back twenty minutes ago, and I had yet to pluck up the courage to face them, but hiding from them isn’t an option. I owe them more than that.
When I reach the living room, I find Caleb and Rosie on the floor, pizza boxes spread out before them with sodas and cookies on the coffee table, but Silas is sitting in the kitchen, his laptop open in front of him.
His whiskey eyes lift to me, but there’s no anger or resentment there for my disappearance.
“Did you get any sleep?” He asks, jerking his chin for me to take a chair at the table with him.
“No,” I don’t bother lying.
He chuckles, “I didn’t think so.”
“I’m sorry,” I sigh.
“Don’t be,” he gets up and moves to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water before he hands one to me. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
In the short amount of time I’ve known this man, I’ve figured out how hard he cares. I noticed it the first time I saw him with Dottie. He has the patience of a saint and a soul to match. Reaching down, he pulls a pizza out of the oven that had been left in there to stay warm.
“Do you want any sauces?” He asks as he moves it onto a plate and places it on the table.
“No, thank you,” I wet my lips, “Silas, we need to talk.”
His whiskey eyes meet mine and hold, the gold of them swirling as he unscrews his water bottle and takes a swig. He really is a beautiful man—strong, a quiet, simmering power that vibrates from him, warm eyes, a kind smile.
“We do,” he agrees, flicking his eyes to his kids. “Can it wait until they’re in bed?”
I look toward his children, my body softening, “Of course.”
“I just don’t want them overhearing anything heavy.” His eyes bounce between mine. “They’ve been through so much and…”
“Silas,” I reach for his hand over the table, “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it to me.”
His eyes move to where we are connected, a line appearing between his brows, and I snatch my hand back, covering it by grabbing a slice of too hot pizza to shove into my mouth. It burns immediately.
Silas is running a hand down his face when he returns from the kid’s bedrooms, a tiredness to his shoulders that wasn’t there before. I feel for him, and I doubt I’ve made his life any easier.
I’ve never felt guilt like this.
I’d listened while he’d put Caleb and Rosie to bed.
Caleb was quick, with some reassuring words of encouragement and love, but Rosie had seemed harder.
She argued, asked for more time to watch TV, begged for more milk and more cookies, and peed four times—though I doubt she actually went—in the space of ten minutes.
It’s the age, I’m sure, though I have zero experience when it comes to kids.
She’d eventually settled when Silas read to her, his deep voice soothing, and I’d found myself entranced by it.
At one point, I’d crept closer to try to hear him better, but then I’d heard him move and I panicked.
The run back to the couch had left me with a sore toe after I’d stubbed it on the coffee table in my haste to pretend I wasn’t about to press my ear up to the door to listen.
“Are you okay?” He stops when he spots me, my foot in hand, trying to ease the throb in my toe.
“Fine,” I squeak.
“You sure?” He crosses over to the kitchen and reaches for the top shelf, pulling down two crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
“I’m okay.”
“You want one?” He asks, holding up the whiskey. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to experience the burn from before.
“Do you have anything sweeter?”
His mouth tips up into a full, wide grin, showing teeth. It’s the first time I’ve really noticed that his canines are slightly elongated, the tips pointed to look like small fangs. “I do. Give me just a minute.”
I watch in fascination as he starts pulling different liquids out: orange juice, cherry liqueur and vermouth, lining them up with the whiskey before he starts to pour it all into a cocktail shaker with ice. He shakes it and then strains it into the glass; the drink coming out a shocking red color.
“What is that?” I take it from him when he offers it over.
“It’s called a Blood and Sand,” Silas says, turning back to pour himself a small serving of the same whiskey he used in my drink. “Try it.”
On the first sip, I get hit with the smoky notes of the whiskey, though it doesn’t burn like it did before.
That’s quickly replaced by both a spicy note and something sweet, the flavors all working together on my tongue.
I swallow it down and rush to take another, letting the taste wash through my mouth. “That’s good.”
“Glad you like it,” Silas lowers onto the couch on the opposite side to me, “How are you feeling?”
I spin the glass in my hand and stare down into the red liquid. Everything in me wants to lie, but starting whatever this is—a new life? A new beginning?—on lies isn’t how I want to begin.
“Guilty,” I admit.
His head tilts just a touch. “Why?”
“Because I’ve come here and messed up your life.”
A small chuckle shakes his shoulders. “My life was already fucked to begin with, Honeybee. You’ve done nothing of the sort.”
The way he says honeybee… almost affectionately, and though I want to pry, figure out why he’s calling me that, I choose not to. I can’t get attached to Silas.
“I need to find work,” I tell him, twisting my glass, the condensation running down the edges wetting my fingertips. “Get some money together.”
“Okay,” he nods, “What do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure what I can do,” I admit. “I have little experience. But I want to start afresh somewhere. Just me and a world of possibilities. I had it all taken from me by Cal, so I don’t know what that might look like now, but I want to try.”
“I can help you find work.” He lifts his glass and takes a sip. “Probably on this ranch if you’re up for it. I can also speak to Niamh; she owns a bar in town and summer is pretty busy so she might have something available. You plan on leaving Sunstone?”
“Montana,” Even just saying it out loud has nerves rattling through me.
I’ve never left the state, never traveled further than the little town where I lived with Cal.
It’s how I was so easily trapped with him.
No experience. No broader look at the world.
I can see that for what it is and being away now, even if it’s only been a couple of days, has shown me a snippet of what life could be like.
Silas’s brows lift, “Where?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, “Maybe travel a bit, see something more than fields and mountains.”
He nods as he runs a finger along his bottom lip, cogs in his brain working. “You’re good with horses.” It isn’t a question, just a statement based on observation.
“Not as good as you are, but I do okay.”
“You can work with me. I’ll pay a salary plus benefits.”
“So, you’ll be my boss?”
“I guess,” he shifts in his chair.
“Okay,” I agree, “Do you know of any places I can rent in town?”
“Rent? Why?” His head snaps back.
“Well, I can’t stay here forever,” I feel my mouth tip up into a small smile, amused by the look on his face.
“I told you, you could,” He blinks at me.
“But if I’m working for you—”
“Benefits,” He cuts me off.
“A work benefit is me living with my boss?”
“Sure,” He pushes up from the table but doesn’t go far, as if sitting still was physically paining him and he needed to move, “Why not?”
“Rent then,” I say, watching him fidget.
“No.”
“Silas.”
“No.” He places his glass in the sink. “That room is yours. Rent free. I will put together a contract regarding work and speak to Niamh for you.”
I watch him start from the room, his shoulders sitting high as tension vibrates through him.
“Silas?” I call after him.
“Good night, Juni.” Is the last thing I hear from him before his bedroom door clicks shut, and the house falls silent.