Chapter 1 Scarlett #2
Dropping my bag to the floor, my eyes snag on a picture, one that has every available bit of oxygen snuffed clear out of my lungs.
My hand shakes as I reach for the frame.
I can’t be more than nine here, which would make him eleven.
We’re standing on either side of Moolan, both with huge smiles on our faces.
The only difference is that I’m looking at the camera, and he’s looking at me.
I run my finger over his chubby face, a crack tearing through my heart as I breathe his name for the first time in more than a decade. “Lucas.”
As if this picture were a button on a remote, his nervous, uneven laugh floats through my mind. I can see his face, the way his cheeks would turn pink, and he’d hide his mouth behind his hand, embarrassed by some kid who told him he looked ugly when he laughed because he was missing teeth.
I softly place the frame down, slide off my shoes, and flop backward on the bed. I try my hardest to follow a single fan blade around, but lose it after two or three rotations.
Part of me doesn’t believe I’m actually here. It’s surreal for everything to be so different, yet the feeling I get here is the same as I remember. So much of who I am, well, who I wanted to be was built, molded, and refined in this house.
I hope Nana's proud of me, coming out here like some angry super villain, ready to slay everyone who dares get in the way of me and Little Bird Ranch.
There are a lot of unknowns, ones that won't get answered today, but Miller said I wasn’t too late, and I trust that man with my life. So for tonight, I’ll relax as much as I can.
I jerk upright at the sound of a door clicking shut.
I must have dozed off, one look at the clock confirms my “doze” was a full blown nap because it’s now after five in the afternoon.
How my legs aren’t asleep from hanging off the bed this whole time, I don’t know.
My stomach picks that moment to rumble, and I push my self off the bed letting myself have one more parting glance at the picture sitting at my bedside. Maybe in a different life.
Rounding the corner to the kitchen, I see an envelope sitting on the counter.
I pick it up, feeling the key through the smooth, tan paper.
A note sits inside, “This place has always been yours, Lettie. But a lot has changed. We’ve done what we could to keep this place running.
I called the lawyer, and he was shocked to find you here claiming ownership.
Expect a call from your father. Here's the info for the old ranch Lawyer your Nana used. Call him before you talk to anyone. Welcome home, Little Bird.”
There’s an email under the phone number, so I type in the address.
As if he had a freaking direct line to my thoughts, my phone buzzes on the counter.
“Papi” flashes on the screen, I immediately silence it and walk further into the kitchen.
The protein powder I always used to beg Nana for is stocked, sitting right next to my favorite fruity electrolyte packs.
Some things may have changed, others clearly have not.
Putting some strawberries, milk, and protein into the blender, I braid my hair over my shoulder, watching the trees sway through the window. The light of the sun illuminates the corral where I learned to ride horses all those years ago.
Maybe I’ll ask Miller if Stella is still around. She was Nana’s last rescue, at least she was the last time I was here.
Again, my phone lights up, and when I don’t answer, the texts start coming in.
Papi: Where are you?
Not today, Satan.
Papi: Get home. NOW Scarlett.
Screw off, old man.
Papi: You don’t know what you’ve just done.
Scarlett: I did something for myself for once in my life. Screw you for hiding this from me.
Papi: You will come home now, forget all about that decrepit ranch, and do what you're told.
Scarlett: No.
I was raised to be obedient and quiet, the image of a perfect daughter. I played the part for so long that I almost forgot I ever wanted anything else. My father took the parts of me I loved most and turned them into weapons to keep me compliant. And I have never hated him more than I do right now.
Like fireworks on the fourth of July, my phone explodes. I turn it off and leave it on the counter as I walk toward the back door.
“Come on, Nutter.” A deep voice that I don’t recognize carries through the air, wrapping around the side of the house until it reaches me through the cracked window. “It’s time to go inside. Sleepy sleep, night night.”
I cringe at the tone he’s using, but then again, Nana used to do the same thing. She’d say, “These animals are my babies, and I’ll talk to them as such.” I let out a soft chuckle as I walk toward the back door, sipping my shake as I go.
“Listen, Butter went inside without throwing a fit today, so if you could just follow in his footsteps, I’d really like to go home sometime this century.” Nutter and Butter? Who in their right mind named these animals?
A heavy-laden sigh comes from the man. “You’re as stubborn as a mule,” he whines.
The neck of the animal hides his face, so I can’t see him fully, but he’s clearly struggling to get the poor thing to move. I wonder who’s in charge of hiring these days. I bring my drink to my lips, taking a large sip before asking, “First day on the job?”
He yelps, whipping to stand up so quickly that he pulls the reins, making the stubborn animal back up with him. I take my time drinking in the absolute man that is standing in front of me.
His hands flex as he pulls himself upright. Tight, sinewy forearms decked out in ink that beg me to trace over each design for hours. A blonde beard, neatly trimmed, sits on his perfectly chiseled face. His lips are full, lush, and currently pulled into a smirk.
Wait, why is he smirking? How long have I been staring at him? Oh God, the mortification. My eyes shoot to his, desperate to end this awkward encounter, but those eyes, it can’t be.
My drink falls from my hand when my gaze hits the scar slicing through his left eyebrow, and the world drops out from under me. Suddenly, I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“Hey, Lettie Girl.” My name spoken in his deep timbre of a voice rips through me. It’s never sounded so good coming from someone’s lips, and every carefully constructed wall I’ve built over the years threatens to collapse in an instant.
My heart remembers him before my mind can form a single coherent thought. And that’s a problem. Bad Scarlett. I’m here for a reason, and feeling things for the man in front of me is not one of them.
He clears his throat. My fingers twitch at my sides as I fight the urge to run my finger over the jagged line. To prove he’s real, that he’s here. But I don’t.
He ties the lead of the pony around the corner of my porch before laying his head on top of his hands that are resting on the middle rung. We’re close, too close. It’s abundantly clear that I am not ready for this.
I can see it in the way he looks at me, like I’m still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago.
But I’m not. In fact, I’m everything we both hated back then, cold and calculating, only looking out for myself and my own interests.
Selfish, for lack of better words, a monster of my father’s making.
I’m not a woman who wants to be protected.
I’m not the woman who wants to be kept and cared for like my mom and sister do.
If I can’t make it happen myself, I don’t want it.
But it’s him. My childhood partner in crime, the one I told all my secrets to, the one I shared all my dreams with.
The one I loved with my whole heart. The one I left behind when I promised I wouldn’t.
This version of Scarlett needs distance, needs space, needs to be left the hell alone to figure out who she is.
But still, in the small recesses of my mind, the traitorous thought that I don’t actually want any of that takes root.
And that’s exactly why I need to shut this down.
Right here, right now. We can’t go there, not when the risk is losing both him and the ranch. I wouldn’t survive it a second time.
* What’s wrong, my love?
* my daughter