44. RHETT
44
RHETT
My eyes fly open.
“Son of a bitch.”
The throbbing in my temple isn’t one I’m used to. I never drink more than a beer or two, but last night, I had a wild hair up my ass and thought several shots of whiskey would help me make sense of my financial troubles.
It didn’t.
Groaning as I sit up on my father’s worn couch that I don’t really fit on, I squint into the early morning light.
I probably slept more last night than I have in several days put together, but the whiskey didn’t do me any favors.
Then I see it in my head. That conversation with Paige comes back to me like a flickering old movie.
I see the pain in her eyes.
The pain I put there.
The rejection.
The devastation.
Did I really tell her to go to Florida?
Shutting my eyes, I try to remember our conversation last night. I cringe as I replay it in my head.
She asked if I loved her, and I asked her if she needed cash?
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Fuck, I’m an idiot.
Truth be told, I’ve been an asshole since that damn festival downtown. Why do I always shut down when there’s trouble? Why didn’t I come home that night, scoop Paige off my fucking couch, and tuck her into bed with me? Why didn’t I return for lunch the next day? Even with sick cows, even with the financial pit I’m dealing with, I owe my wife that respect.
Why did I let distance grow between us?
Since the moment I heard she got that job, I’ve been steeling myself for her announcement that she’s changed her mind and is leaving. That she thinks I’m too hard to live with, too demanding, too difficult to love. That living out on this ranch isn’t as easy as she thought it would be. That I’m about to be broke and homeless, and that’s not what she signed up for.
But that’s shit Amber would’ve spouted at me.
Those are the arguments my mother had with my father.
Those are the ghosts that linger in this house.
Not something my sweet Paige has said.
My ex-wife yanked me around more times than I can count. One day she hated me, the next she never wanted to leave. When I filed for divorce, she wailed and screamed in my face that she loved me even though she’d fucked Cash and Kacey and God knows who else.
I stagger to my feet. I need to apologize. I need to find Paige, fall on my knees, and beg for her forgiveness. If she wants to go, it will grind up what’s left of my heart, but I’ll understand and support her.
Except I have to tell her that’s not what I want. I have to tell her that I love her with every fiber of my being, and if she’ll stay, I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy.
With a new resolve, I stagger down the hall and fling open the bedroom door. It looks like a tornado swept through here.
“Paige?” I peek in the bathroom. It’s empty.
Really empty.
Where the hell are all her toiletries? Her lotions and makeup? That soft band of fabric she uses to hold her hair back when she washes her face?
A panic starts to take root in my gut, and I look in the closet. Her half is mostly empty. A few things still sit on hangers, but her shoes are gone. Her dresser drawer is open, and it almost looks like she stuck in a hand, grabbed a few things, and hightailed it out of here.
Because I made her feel like shit.
I made her feel like I didn’t care whether she stayed or left.
How could I have said those things to her?
I make a slow circle, my eyes falling on her scattered clothes. A sock here. A t-shirt there. Would she have left so many things behind if she was gone for good?
Then my attention lands on her sewing machine on the small table in the corner that I set up for her projects.
That gives me a glimmer of hope.
Maybe she just went to Baylee’s.
Paige couldn’t have caught a flight overnight, could she? That would require her to drive to Austin.
There wasn’t time for all that.
I don’t think.
Fuck.
I rush to the living room, where my brothers look as grim as I do. It’s late for us, and the fact that we’re all loitering in the house at sunrise tells me they’re just as fucked up about our financial situation as I am.
The only difference is they didn’t just douse their marriage in kerosene and light a match.
From the couch in the living room, Gabriel hops up. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, buddy.” I spot Austin with him, playing Legos. “Did y’all eat breakfast?”
He bounces a ball on the ground, and it lands with a thud that makes my temple throb. “Uncle Beau fed us.”
“Good.” I turn back to my brothers and lower my voice. “Have y’all seen Paige this morning?”
Beau shakes his head. “Been waiting for you to wake up. Figured you needed a good night’s rest for once so we can make a plan.”
“A plan?”
I’ve never seen defeat in my brother’s eyes, but it’s there now. “Yeah. To liquidate.”
Liquidate. He means sell our ranch.
Because we can’t fucking afford it.
My throat is thick, and I struggle to suck in a breath. I wander to the front window where I see the empty spot where my wife’s car is always parked.
Nice job, asshole. You ran her off.
The boys start throwing the ball back and forth to each other, but Austin can’t catch that well, and it goes flying against the corner of the living room. I’ve been a big enough dick this week, so I don’t bark that they shouldn’t play ball in the house.
I rub the back of my neck. Everything hangs in the balance. My house, the ranch, our livestock. My relationship with Paige.
And as much as I’ve bled for this ranch, if Paige leaves, she’s taking my heart and soul with her.
I return to my brothers at the kitchen table. “The cattle aren’t the priority right now,” I say for the first time in my life. Because the ranch has always been the most important thing.
Beau and Jace give each other a wary look, and Jace scrubs his stubbled face. “I don’t know how much you drank last night, bro, but the state inspector shut us down indefinitely. Until we can get his damn stamp of approval.”
“I’ll deal with that later. Where’s my phone?”
Just then, it buzzes on the counter by the coffee pot. It’s Baylee.
I don’t get a chance to even say her name before she shouts, “Where’s Paige?”
“I’m not sure. I just realized she wasn’t here.”
“She texted me after midnight that she was coming over, but I was asleep and didn’t see it until just now. I tried calling, but no one answered.”
Fear like I’ve never known spreads like ice through my veins.
All the worries I’ve been carrying around with me for months melt away as it becomes imperative that I find Paige.
Because she’s what matters here. Not this land. Not the wood and brick of this house. Not my family’s stupid legacy.
My wife.
“I’ll find her.” I put her on speakerphone. “Do you think she could’ve driven back to Charming?”
“She would’ve told me she was doing that.” Baylee whimpers. “I’m worried, Rhett.”
That ball goes thudding across the kitchen, and my boys trail after it, laughing like they don’t know my whole world is coming apart at the seams.
I glance at my brothers. “We’ll go look for her.” They immediately nod, concern etched on their faces. “Any idea where she might’ve gone?”
That’s when the ball goes sailing across the room and clatters around in the bathroom. Gabriel streaks in there. “Uh-oh.”
Beau rolls his eyes and pushes out of his chair to wrangle my kids.
Baylee and I agree to check in within an hour. I hang up and shove the phone in my back pocket. “We need to split up and drive around town. Maybe she got a flat tire.” It’s easy enough to do on our country roads.
Beau ushers Gabriel out of the powder room, but he has a box in his hand. “Um. Rhett.”
“Where are my keys?” Jesus, I’m a mess.
“Brother.” The seriousness in his voice makes me freeze.
He holds up a box. I squint until the words come into focus.
It’s a pregnancy test.
There’s only one woman in this house.
“Where’d you find that?”
Beau motions behind him. “The boys knocked over the trash, and it fell out.”
I practically trip over myself to grab that box and shake it. “Where’s the actual test?” I rush into the bathroom and turn over the trash can. Balled-up tissue falls out.
And then the small plastic wand clatters to the ground.
With my heart in my throat, I grab the damn thing.
It’s positive.
The realization that I kicked out my pregnant wife is almost too much to bear. Needing support, I lean against the counter. As I think about all the ugly things I said last night, grief like I’ve never known spears me, making it difficult to breathe.
Paige didn’t tell me that she was pregnant. She could have.
Instead, she asked me if I loved her.
And like a royal ass, I all but offered to buy her a ticket to Florida.
I have to find her. I have to track her down and beg for forgiveness.
My wife is pregnant.
With my child.
For a second, fear of repeating all the mistakes in my first marriage slams into me, but I give myself an internal shake. This is Paige we’re talking about, not Amber. Paige, who’s a natural mom with my boys. Paige, who loves the ranch and my kids and my stupid ass. Paige, who’s never wavered in her commitment to me.
Like clouds parting in my dumb, thick skull, I realize I want this baby. More than my next breath.
But first I need my wife, safe and sound, back in my arms.
For as long as she’ll have me.
“Get your keys,” I shout. “We need to find Paige.”