CHAPTER 9
KILLIAN
It’s been two days since I stumbled into the barn still wasted from mine and Noah’s night of heavy drinking. Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t wasted enough because I can still remember the look on Daisy’s face as she took in my dishevelled state.
I’ve spent the past forty-eight hours trying to decipher exactly what that look meant. She tried her hardest to hide the hint of hurt in her eyes, but it was there. And that unsettles me.
Because as much as she has hurt me in the past, and as angry as I am at her for doing what she did, I never want to be the source of her hurt.
The only thing I don’t understand is, what could I have possibly done to hurt her? If anything, I should be the one that’s hurt. She wouldn’t even look at me at the bar. And she was quick to protest against giving me a ride home from the ranch.
So, what is it?
“You good, boss?” Callen asks as he reaches for another log on the ground, effectively jarring me from my thoughts.
I frown at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He smirks as he hauls the heavy timber over his shoulder. “You’ve been starring at that stump like it offended you for the past ten minutes.”
My eyes move from him to the machine in front of me and then to the untouched tree stump in the ground, my frown deepening when I realise that he’s right. I’ve been stood here with the stump grinder hovering over the stump, and I haven’t even turned the key to power the damn thing on.
Shit.
I run a hand down my face. “I’m fine.”
“Okay then. We’re gonna head to The Boot after our shift, you coming?”
The mere thought of alcohol has my stomach tying itself in knots, so I shake my head. “Nah. I’ve got shit to do at home tonight.”
Callen lifts his chin in acknowledgment and continues his earlier task. I turn back to the grinder and finally turn the key. The engine roars to life beneath my hands, the sound welcoming as it drowns out my earlier thoughts.
***
I lasted exactly an hour before I gave in to my ever-present thoughts of secret-filled eyes and dark curly hair.
I’ve accepted the fact that no matter what I try to do to keep my mind occupied, the moment I’m alone she’s there, at the forefront of my brain. It’s fucking torture.
When Daisy first left, I was haunted by her. Everywhere I turned, there was something to remind me of our time together. Every time my sister baked something with caramel, I’d imagine Daisy’s hair spread across my pillow as she slept peacefully beside me because that was the scent of her shampoo.
Every waking moment was filled with thoughts of her. I tortured myself with the whys and what ifs to the point of insanity. I was experiencing panic attacks numerous times a day.
I don’t know when it changed, but eventually I went from thinking of her every minute of every day, to only once in a while. I dreamt of her less as the years went on. Every now and then, thoughts of her would hit me unexpectedly, but they no longer hurt as much.
I no longer felt like I wanted to reach inside my chest and rip my own heart out.
And then, she went and fucking returned and all that progress went right out the goddamn window.
I massage my palm against the ache forming in my chest and shake my head as I stalk to my fridge and grab a beer.
I wasn’t planning on drinking anytime soon after the clusterfuck that was the last time but I’m holding onto the hope that a few beers will help sleep find me easier tonight.
I twist the cap off and toss it in the trash as I pass. Taking a seat in my trusty leather recliner, I reach for the TV remote just as there’s a heavy knock on my front door.
With a sigh, I place the TV remote back on the side table and stand, a frown etched into my brows.
I don’t know who the fuck would show up at my house unannounced at seven on a Tuesday night, but it better not be Noah looking for a cuddle buddy.
I pull the door open with a little more force than necessary, and my frown only deepens when I find Hunter standing on the other side, his arms folded across his chest. My eyes narrow as I try to read the serious expression on his face.
“Who died?” I ask, only half joking.
His brows furrow briefly before his arms drop to his sides and his features soften. “No one died. We do need to talk, though.”
Well, shit. That sounds… ominous.
“Come on in, then.” I hold the door open for him to enter. Hunter removes his cowboy hat as he steps into the living room and dread settles deep within me.
“You sure no one died?” I ask again, because why the fuck else is he acting so serious?
I run a nervous hand through my hair as I grab Hunter a beer and pass it to him. “Thanks. And I promise, no one is dead.”
Another thought strikes me then and my eyebrows shoot up. “It’s about Daisy, isn’t it? Are you here to tell me to stay away from the ranch?”
He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Nah, man. I’d never tell you to stay away from the ranch. It’d be a waste of time anyhow. I am here about Daisy, though.”
“Okay…” I drag the word out, my curiosity peaked.
Hunter runs his hand through his hair, his nervous tell mirroring mine, and begins to pace. I watch in silent confusion as the oldest, usually more level-headed Calloway brother battles with something internally in the middle of my living room.
He stops abruptly and levels me with yet another serious look. “Did you know she was sick?”
I frown, tilting my head. “Who was sick?”
Hunter blinks at me. “Daisy.”
My head rears back, lead settling deep in the pit of my stomach as his words echo around the room. “Daisy was sick?”
His expression is tortured as he nods and then quickly drains the rest of his beer.
Me? I slowly sink into the recliner, my brain playing catch up on the last few minutes. What he’s saying doesn’t make sense.
“My Daisy?” I ask, confirming that what I’m hearing is correct and that he’s saying that my Dais was sick.
“Yeah, man,” Hunter sighs, taking his own seat on the sofa opposite me and leaning forward, his elbows resting against his knees.
I swallow past the lump in my throat before asking, “Savannah tell you that?”
He shakes his head. “No. When I interviewed her, I took a look at her resume`. There was a year long gap in her employment and when I broached it, she told me she was sick.”
I pick at the label on my bottle as my thoughts swirl violently in my head, each one trying to catch up with the next. I’m silent a moment, giving myself time to process the information but Hunter speaks again.
“There’s something else you should know.”
My head snap up. “What?”
“The timing of the gap. It was from the day she left Rosewater Creek. The day she–”
“Left me at the altar,” I finish for him.
He gives me a tight, sympathetic smile. “Yeah.”
My lungs burn and that earlier ache in my chest spreads into my stomach as everything begins clicking into place. I scrub at my face, taking a deep breath.
When I look up, I find Hunter watching me, his gaze etched with worry, and I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe she told you that.”
My brows dip as I recall the conversation from the night at the firepit. “Wait. You said she had great references from the three years she was in Montana.”
Hunter dips his head. “I made that up. She does have great references, but only for the last two and a bit years.”
I stand and begin to pace, my hands cupping the back of my head. “So where was she that first year?”
“I don’t know, but Killian, you need to understand that I have violated employee confidentiality by telling you this. I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore, man. It’s been eating me alive. Not only because of you, but because I’m worried about her.”
I nod, understanding what he’s saying. “Who else knows?”
“Gray was in the interview, so he knows but that’s it. I didn’t even tell Savannah.”
“Okay, good. That’s good.” I nod again, my mind drifting back to a time I’ve spent so long trying to forget.
I don’t understand how I could have missed this. It somehow makes perfect sense but no sense all at the same time.
There would have been signs. I would have noticed if she was sick, wouldn’t I?
Fuck.
How could I have been so blind?