63. Kaitlyn
THIS TIME WHEN WE GET TO MY PARENT’S HOUSE, brOCK and Abbey are already there, waiting for us. My mom is sitting on the front porch with Thomas in her lap, a picture book open between them. I can hear him sounding out the words while she gently guides him through it through my open truck window.
As soon as Mook sees him, he starts to wiggle and whine, ready to play with his new friend. “You better hope Molly doesn’t find out you’re cheating on her,” I tell him with a floppy ear ruffle. Hopping out of the truck on my own, I open his car door and he shoots out like a bullet to charge up the porch steps. As soon as Thomas sees Mook, he abandons his book and his grandmother’s lap. Jumping down, he looks at Went, cheeks flushed with excitement. “I asked my dad if I could play with your dog and he said he doesn’t care,” he says. “Is it still okay?”
“It still okay with me,” Went says with a wide grin while he slips a thick, tattooed arm around my waist. “But he belongs to your Aunt Kait, so?—”
“Actually,” I say, leaning into him before looking up with a smile of my own. “He’s your Uncle Went’s dog, not mine. I got him for him a long time ago—I just forgot to tell him.”
Gazing down at me, Went’s smile turns wistful. “You did?”
“I did.” Giving him a nod, I push myself up onto my tiptoes and kiss his jaw. “Fuck Astrid—Mook’s a penthouse dog now.”
“God, I fucking love you,” he says with a laugh before leaning down to brush his mouth against mine.
“I fucking love you too.” Still smiling, I look at Thomas. “Mook’s all yours, kid.”
Letting out a whoop, he streaks across the porch, Mook hot on his heels to run across the yard toward the tire swing our father strung up for Luke when he was about Thomas’s age. As soon as they’re gone, I mount the porch steps, Went beside me, a thick packet of legal documents tucked against my chest.
When my mother sees them her face goes a little pale and she shakes her head. “Kaity?—”
“It’s okay, Mom.” Stopping in front of her, I lean in to press a soft kiss against her cheek. “I’m going to do what’s right.”
“This isn’t what’s right. This is…” Still shaking her head, my mom’s mouth falls into a harsh, unforgiving line. “I told your father that if he insists on following through with this, I’m leaving. I stood by and watched a lot— too much over the years—but won’t stand by and watch while he just cuts you out of?—”
“After Luke died, you and Abbey were the only good things I had until Went came along,” I tell her quietly. “You might not believe it, but I don’t blame you. Not for anything.”
“I should’ve done more,” she says with a stubborn headshake. “I should’ve stood up to him when he?—”
Reaching for her hand, I give it a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay, Mom. I promise.” Letting go of her hand, I leave her on the front porch to lead Went into the house. Traveling the same hallway I did yesterday, this time with Went in tow, I push the door open on my father’s office. Abbey is sitting in the same chair she occupied yesterday, staring at her hands while Brock looms over her like he’s afraid to let her out of his sight. My father is where I left him, sitting behind his desk, glaring at the doorway I just passed through with the same air of arrogant expectation I remember as a child.
When he sees Went filling the doorway behind me, his expression sours even further but he doesn’t say anything, just inclines his head so he can glare up at him. Flicking it in my direction, my father watches me while I ease myself into the already crowded room. “I expect those papers to be signed, Kaitlyn.”
“We’ll get to that,” I say with a bland smile, sitting back in my seat. I can feel Went behind me. Giving me strength. “I have some things to say first.”
My father gives me a disgusted scoff. “You don’t have anything to say that I want to hear,” he says. “Now just?—”
“That’s okay,” I say with another bland smile. “It’s not you I want to say them to…” Turning to look at my little sister, I lean into the space between us. “Abs, I need you to look at me.” She hesitates, but only for a moment before she lifts her gaze to mine. What I see shatters me. Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “Why?” It isn’t a question I planned on asking but suddenly, I need to know. I need to understand. “Why didn’t you let Damien call me to tell me what was happening?” Shaking my head, I feel the corners of my eyes prickle with tears. “Why did you just let him?—”
“Because you would’ve come back,” she answers me quietly. “You would’ve come back and sacrificed everything you loved and worked so hard for to protect me and I couldn’t let you do that. You’d sacrificed enough. It was my turn.”
“Abbey…” Looking away from her on a sigh, I swallow hard against the lump lodged in my throat. “I never wanted this for you. If I’d known?—”
Lifting a hand from her lap, she reaches into the space between us to wrap her fingers around mine. Looking up at her, I see a little bit of the old Abbey in the faint lift of her mouth. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know.”
Nodding my head, I squeeze her hand, holding on to her as tight as I can so she doesn’t slip away. “It’s over now, okay?” Still nodding, I lift the packet of papers from my lap and set it on the desk in front of me. “I’m going to fix it.”
Sensing he’s losing control over the situation, Brock reaches for Abbey, intent on pulling her out of her seat with a disgusted snort. “I don’t know what the hell the two of you are?—”
“You so much as breathe on her, I’m going to pick you up and put you through the goddamned wall,” Went growls at him, the menace in his tone enough to stop Brock in his tracks.
“Now just you wait a goddamned minute,” my father bellows, red-faced, as he lunges out of his chair. “Who the hell?—”
“I’d sit down and shut the fuck up, if I were you, Mr. Barrett,” Went growls, lifting a finger to jab it at his face. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because I love your daughter and I’ve decided to let the cancer kill you, but if you disrespect her one more fucking time, I’m going to change my mind.” Dropping his hand on my shoulder, he gives it a squeeze. “Let’s finish this, Sunshine. I want to go home.”
Reaching up to cover Went’s hand with mine, I give him a nod. He’s right.
It’s time to finish this.
“This is my counteroffer.” Letting go of his hand, I slide forward in my seat. Pushing the packet of papers across the desk to my father. “Went and I had our attorney draw up a new agreement. Everything in it is the same—I’ll sign away my claim to the ranch and I’ll give you what you want, Dad. I’ll erase myself from the Barrett family line. Even if something happens to Abbey, neither I nor any of my descendants will be able to assume stewardship of the trust.” Lifting my hand off the papers, I sit back in my seat. “I’ll be dead to you—just the way you want it.” When I say it, Abbey lets out a small gasp, the sound of it letting me know she had no idea just how far my father wanted to take things. “But I have conditions of my own.”
“Alright.” Flicking a quick look at Went, my father waits a beat before he continues. “Let’s hear them.”
“Damien is hired back as ranch manager,” I say, not at all surprised when Brock doesn’t object. Damien is leverage. A weapon he can wield to control my sister. The look on his face tells me he’s absolutely giddy at the prospect of having another puppet to play with. My father on the other hand, feels differently.
“There’s no room for disloyalty on my ranch,” he barks, repeating what he said to me yesterday.
“This isn’t your ranch anymore,” I remind him. “It’s my ranch and Damien was loyal to me . He earned his place here and if he wants it back, he’s going to get it.”
“Fine.” Waving a dismissive hand in my direction, my father scoffs. “Is that it?”
I give him a smile that tells him I’m just getting started. “I retain stewardship of the upper valley,” I tell him. “The house. The lake—all of it. Abbey can have the ranch but Northpoint is mine.”
Glaring at me, he gives me a curt nod. “What else?”
“If something happens to Abbey or if her family line dies out, you named the Morrises as next in line for stewardship.”
Jaw flexing, my father looks at me. “I did.”
“That doesn’t work for me,” I tell him with a firm head shake. “This is Barrett land and it’s going to stay that way. If something happens to Abbey, stewardship passes to your cousin Gene in Texas. If he’s gone, then his first-born child, and so on.”
“Now wait just a damn minute—” Brock shouts, unable to stop himself. “That’s not what we agreed to, Tom.”
“The deal wasn’t his to make,” I remind him, staring up at him with a cool smile. “Maybe it was six years ago but not anymore. I’m past the age of assumption—the ranch is technically under my stewardship and there’s no way in hell I’m letting your family get their hands on it.”
“Fuck this.” Throwing caution to the wind, Brock wraps a rough hand around Abbey’s arm to jerk her out of her seat. “You might have to take this shit but?—”
Before he can even get her lifted, Went charges him, knocking him back into the wall so hard with his fist, it buckles under the weight of them. “You don’t fuckin’ listen do you?” Hand clamped around Brock’s throat, Went pulls him back before ramming him into the wall a second time before dropping him into a crumpled heap at his feet. “Next time you lose a fuckin’ arm.”
“She’s my wife…” Brock says, staggering to his feet on a sick laugh. Lifting a hand, he swipes at the blood dribbling off his chin. “I’m gonna touch her any way I fucking want.”
Not for long…
“I’m so glad you said that,” I say, my attention focused on Abbey. “I don’t sign any of it unless Abbey divorces Brock.”
When I say it, Abbey’s gaze jerks up and finds mine, her mouth open like she’s sure she heard me wrong while Brock practically vibrates with rage, Went wedged between the two of them.
“You touch her—I touch you,” Went growls out a reminder. “That’s how this works.” Advancing on him, Went drops his tone. “And then I’ll buy your daddy’s ranch—from what I can tell, he’s a pretty sharp businessman. I’m sure he’ll see reason if I showed him enough zeros.”
Blanching slightly, Brock jogs his gaze past him to look at my father. “Tom?—”
“He hurts her, Dad,” I say, talking over him. “Show him, Abbey,” I plead with her. “Show him your stomach.” When she doesn’t move, when all she does is sit there and stare at me, I want to scream. “Abs, please—it’s over now. He can’t hurt you anymore, just—” Turning away from her, I plead with the last person I’d ever expect to help me. “I know you didn’t care when it was me, but this is Abbey. You love her. You have to love her more than you hate me, Dad. Please?—”
“Abigail,” my father says her name softly, his face crumpling like an old piece of paper. “Do what your sister says.”
Standing slowly, Abbey lifts her shirt with shaking hands to reveal what I already know is there—large fist-size bruises, one layered on top of the other in a sickening array of purples and greens.
“Motherfucker,” Went growls it, his entire body vibrating with rage, sinister black glare stabbed into Brock’s face. “You sick?—”
“Get him out of my house,” my father says quietly, not bothering to look at Went when he issues the order. Instead of arguing, Went makes a low, angry sound of approval in his throat.
“With fucking pleasure.” Before Brock can offer up any sort of protest, Went fists his hand around his throat again and throws him through the open door. A few seconds later, I hear the screen door bang shut followed by the sound of something falling down the porch steps. Not long after that, a truck engine roars to life and speeds away, gravel spraying against the side of the house like buckshot. Brock’s gone.
For now.
“Kaity—” Lowering her shirt, Abbey looks at me, her eyes wide. She’s scared. I understand why—Brock will be back. He won’t give up that easily. He never does.
“It’s going to be okay, Abs,” I reassure her quietly before looking at our father. “It’s over. Dad’s going to agree to my terms, I’m going to sign these papers and you and Thomas are going to come home where you belong, right, Dad?”
“Yes.” Looking at me, my father gives me a jerky, shellshocked nod. “Your sister’s going to sign the ranch over to you and you and Thomas will come home,” he tells her. “Where it’s safe.”
I don’t know how true that is—I’m not sure Abbey will ever be safe as long as Brock’s around but I don’t dispute him. That’s another problem for another day. “Why don’t you let Dad and I finish up here while you go check on Thomas.” I know he’s still here. Went would’ve killed Brock before letting him leave with Abbey’s son.
“Okay…” Still dazed by everything that’s happened in the last few minutes, Abbey turns on wobbly legs to make her way out the door. As soon as she’s gone, I look at my dad.
“I didn’t know.” Shaking his head, he looks at me. “I didn’t know the kind of?—”
“Yes you did.” I cut him off before he can lie to either of us. “You knew exactly what kind of man Brock was. That’s why you were going to force me to marry him. You knew he hurt me —you just didn’t care.” Reaching for the packet of papers on the desk between us, I pull them closer. “You thought I deserved it,” I tell him. “And for a very long time, so did I.” Picking a pen out of the jar on his desk, I flip through the packet, initialing and signing my rights away to the ranch that was my home for the first twenty years of my life.
Swiping a final signature across the last page, I close the packet and look up at him. “I want you to take a good look at me, Dad, and I want you to know that you failed.” Standing up from my seat, I drop my pen back in the jar. “I’m happy. I’m loved . I have a life. I have a family and a man who would walk through hell for me.” Pushing the packet across the desk. “I let you punish me for the first twenty years of my life for things that weren’t my fault but all you did was make me stronger.” Turning away from him without waiting for him to answer me, I walk out the door and down the hall.
Pushing my way through the screen door on a tired sigh, I find Went waiting for me on the front porch. As soon as I see him, I start to shake, the tough shell I used to keep myself together, crumbling to dust under a torrent of tears.
Pulling me into his arms, Went holds me while I cry, telling me how proud he is of me. How strong and brave I am. How much he loves me until I’m all cried out. Until I’m dry and hollow and ready to move on.
Leaning down, Went frames my face with his big warm hands, wiping at my tear-stained cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Where to, Sunshine?” he asks with a crooked grin.
“Home.” Turning, I aim my gaze across the yard to watch Thomas and Mook chase each other across the grass while my sister sits on a bench with our mother, their arms wrapped around each other while they talk quietly. It’s going to take time but she’s going to be okay. They both will. Turning to look at Went, I give him a smile because I know, for the first time in a very long time, that I’m going to be okay too. “Let’s get your dog and go home.”