Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Amelia
“Dylan, you have five seconds to get your ass down here or…”
My words trail as I try to figure out how to threaten my twelve-year-old son effectively.
Deep down I know it’s a losing battle, though.
I thought the hardest years of being a mother were behind me, but I’m learning it’s all hard—the lonely nights I spent as a teen mom trying to soothe a colicky baby and the mornings I’m currently working through, trying to get a grumpy preteen up and out the door for school.
There is no manual for this shit. You just got to wing it and pray your kid doesn’t wind up in therapy for something you inadvertently did.
The bathroom door slams shut, and I take that as a small win. At least he’s up. Now, to get him dressed, fed, and into the car in the next five minutes. That’s where the actual test of strength comes into play.
But first…coffee.
I pop a pod into the Keurig and grab a mug from the cabinet.
Mondays are awful regularly, but not getting any sleep last night is making this one much harder.
Every time I tried to close my eyes, my mind drifted back to Maddox.
We’ve mostly kept our distance from one another over the years, but there have been a handful of times when it’s been unavoidable, and whenever that’s happened, intrusive thoughts of him always plagued the nights that followed.
Last night was different, though.
Instead of lying in bed mourning the past and thinking about all the ways he hurt me, which usually only ever leads to me being filled with rage, I stayed awake hurting for him.
I was sixteen when his mom died, just a hormonal girl with a crush on her best friend’s brother.
I remember him being upset, but he held himself together.
He was a pillar of strength for Della, and stoic in a way that went far beyond his years.
I attributed all of that to his grandfather.
William Meadows demanded a lot of his grandson, and I think that’s because his only son was a failure at best. He taught Maddox how to be a man, and ultimately, he taught him how to carry his family legacy with grace.
But I don’t think William gave much thought to how Maddox would grieve the man who paved the way for him to be his successor as the family patriarch.
I don’t think he accounted for the emotions Maddox would feel in the event of his death.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe we can ever prepare ourselves for the death of a loved one. Even when someone is terminally ill and we know it’s coming, the moment that person draws their last breath, they take a piece of our hearts to the other side with them.
What happened to William was an unexpected tragedy, though.
It completely blindsided Maddox. One look into his eyes, and I knew for certain that he was not equipped to handle everything he was feeling.
He runs on autopilot, and routine is his companion.
Disrupting any of that or cracking through the walls he’s built around himself will put him in uncharted territory.
How he’ll respond to it all is what worries me.
I can hate the man for what he did to me… for what he did to us, but to my dismay, there is still a soft spot for him nestled deep inside my heart, and it would hurt to see him fall apart, mainly because I know there is no one to put him back together.
We’re alike in that regard.
Neither of us has anyone to rely on when things go sideways.
We’re the heroes of own stories.
I think that’s another reason I’m so bitter when it comes to him.
I was too young for the feelings I had for him.
I didn’t understand them, and I sure as hell didn’t know how to process them.
Anger and resentment became my crutch, but sometimes I let myself believe that if we both weren’t so stubborn, and just a little older, maybe even more mature, then things could’ve been different for us.
Instead of spending years avoiding one another, we could’ve been friends.
We could’ve been each other’s anchors.
Then reality sets in, and I remember I was married to another man for half of those years, and even though I have been divorced for quite some time, being friends with Maddox is a terrible idea.
A teenage Maddox nearly destroyed me. I’d never survive the man he is now.
It’s like the universe hates me or something, because no man should ever look as good or as sinful as he does.
Even when he looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, he’s still the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“What’s for breakfast?”
The sound of my son’s voice startles me for a moment, and I nearly drop my coffee mug on the floor. Pushing any and all thoughts of Maddox to the back of my head, I turn to face Dylan.
“We don’t have time for anything more than cereal or Pop-Tarts.”
Not nutritious, I know. But the whole fed is best spiel worked when he was a baby, and I have no reason to believe it won’t work now, especially if I sneak some broccoli into his dinner.
He huffs out a breath. “Fine, I’ll take Pop-Tarts. Do we have any more cherry? I don’t like the other flavors.”
Praying there is at least one sugary cherry pastry left, I open the pantry cabinet.
I hit the jackpot, finding a brand-new box behind a can of peas—another small win.
He doesn’t like them toasted, so I open the package and place the two pastries on a paper plate before pouring him a glass of milk he probably won’t drink.
“Your dad is going to pick you up from school today,” I say as I place the plate in front of him. He lifts his gaze from the plate and groans.
“Why?”
Well, that definitely isn’t the reaction I was hoping for, but it doesn’t surprise me.
My ex-husband is a constant disappointment.
We got married because I was pregnant. At the time, I was only seventeen, still heartbroken and full of hormones.
Russell convinced me, in a not so nice way, that getting married was the right move.
He said nobody would want me, and I believed him all too easily.
My aunt, who was my legal guardian back then, signed the papers, and I became Mrs. Cain.
Dylan was born soon after the ink was dry on the marriage certificate, and I discovered Russell didn’t want me either.
Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. He wanted sex, but he didn’t want a wife or the responsibility that came with having one, and he sure as hell didn’t want the responsibility of having a child.
He’d leave me with the baby all day and come home late at night.
It took me two years past senior year for me to finish high school because he was never around to help.
I can count on one hand how many diapers he changed, and the number of feedings is even less.
Any time I asked him to do something for Dylan, I was called ungrateful and reminded that he was doing his part.
That all the odd jobs he took put a roof over our heads, and food on the table.
It didn’t matter that those odd jobs were mostly illegal or that he blew more money than he made on pills and booze.
And don’t even get me started on his gambling addiction.
It wasn’t until Dylan started school that I realized I needed to make a change. I didn’t want my son to go through life thinking his mother was a doormat, and more than that, I didn’t want him to grow up one day and think it was okay for him to treat a woman the same way his dad treated me.
I wanted more for him.
And maybe I wanted more for myself too. I just haven’t really mastered that part of it yet.
Since the divorce, my focus has always been on Dylan.
I work two jobs to make ends meet. When I’m not at the bar, I’m holed up here, making handmade soaps and simmer pots I sell at the farmer’s market.
I’ve been trying to build a website so I can take orders for shipping, but there is just never enough time in the day, and I struggle with mom guilt.
I know I’m not around as much as I should be.
I work too much. But I can’t rely on Russell to pay for child support either.
Even if he had a steady income, which he doesn’t, it wouldn’t cover half my bills.
So I sacrifice time with my son, already knowing that time is a thief.
That these next couple of years, while hard, are so important in shaping a boy into a man, and I fear I’m dropping the ball.
That’s why I asked Russell to pick him up from school a couple of days this week.
I figured a subpar parent being present is better than no parent.
Not to mention, I still cling to the hope that Russell will wake up one day and see the error of his ways and want to fix all the wrongs he has done when it comes to our son, especially now that he’s clean.
“I have to work at the bar, and your dad wants to spend time with you. Plus you have that vocabulary test tomorrow that you need to study for. He can help you with that.”
Dylan huffs. “Yeah, right.”
Pushing his plate away, he stands from the chair and slings his backpack over his shoulder. “He’s always late, and he never even helps with my homework. I don’t understand why I can’t just get home on my own. All my friends do.”
I sigh. “We’re not having this argument again. If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you jump too?”
It’s cliché, and I sound like my grandmother, but I really don’t care. Nor do I care what his friends are doing. Their mothers don’t work crazy hours. They are home to greet their children when they come home from school. Dylan and I don’t have that luxury, and I need peace of mind.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Maybe I am, but there are worse things to be in this world.
“Since you still think I’m a baby and don’t trust me, can Shadow pick me up?” Dylan adds, hopefully. “He promised I could help him work on the motorcycle he’s restoring.”
“It isn’t you I don’t trust, Dylan. It’s everyone else, and I’m not asking Shadow to pick you up when I’ve already arranged for your dad to.”
“Whatever.” He starts for the door. “Don’t be surprised when the principal calls to tell you I’m stranded at school.”
“Hey,” I call. “That will not happen. Your dad will be there.”
My voice sounds confident, but I make a mental note to call Russell on my way to work. So help me God if he fucks this up, I’ll kill him.
“Hey,” Shadow says, sliding onto one of the stools at the end of the bar. His gaze scans the room, and he quirks a brow before bringing his gaze back to me. “It’s busier than usual in here for a Monday.”
I drop the lemons I just cut into a container and hum. “It’s those new happy hour specials.”
“The rodeo starting back up in a couple of weeks probably has something to do with it too,” he says, tipping his chin toward the taps. “Mind pouring me one?”
“Sure,” I reply, reaching for a glass. I fill it to the brim, careful not to spill any foam.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” My eyes slice to the booth reserved for him and the rest of the members of his motorcycle club.
A perk of the Fallen Demons owning this joint.
“The rest of the club meeting you here?”
“Nah,” he says, taking the beer from me. “I’m meeting Maddox here. Told him I’d help him collect the trucks from the parking lot.”
I noticed they were still here when I opened the bar earlier, but I assumed he’d send some of his men to collect them.
“That’s surprising.”
“Yeah, I thought so too. I think he’s just looking to get away from the ranch right now. The guy must be up to his ears in shit.” He takes a sip of his beer. Wiping the foam from his lip with the back of his hand, he meets my gaze. “Fucking awful what happened to William.”
“You can say that again.” I cross my arms against my chest and prop my hip against the bar. “Any word on the funeral arrangements?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t ask, but I doubt it. William died, but the ranch didn’t. When Mad called, he mentioned he had to finish work before meeting me here. He probably didn’t even have a chance to call the funeral home yet.”
Either that or he’s putting it off.
“He’ll be buried on the land, I’m sure. Maybe that’s what’s got him tied up.
I remember when his mom died, he and William, along with some of the ranch hands, dug the hole themselves.
” He drags the pad of his thumb around the rim of the glass.
“For two guys who went off in different directions, we sure do a lot of things the same.” He pauses for a moment, then peers back at me. “You planning on paying your respects?”
I don’t know how much my cousin knows about my history with Maddox. I never told him anything. However, I can’t say that Maddox has kept his mouth shut. Shadow is a perceptive guy, though. There is no way he hasn’t noticed the tension between us over the years. He just hasn’t called me out on it.
“Of course,” I say. “I may not have seen him in a long time, but William was always very kind to me when Della and I were younger. I spent the entire summer before I got pregnant on that ranch, and he always made me feel welcome.”
“Yeah, he was good like that.” His fingers wrap around his glass and he lifts it thoughtfully. “To William.”
I don’t have a glass of my own to raise, but that doesn’t stop me from repeating the words. “To William.”
The front door opens, and I brace myself for another rush of customers, but when I turn around, I only see Maddox sauntering in. The brim of his Stetson is pulled low, yet his stare is palpable even without seeing his eyes.
He makes his way toward my cousin and flicks the brim of the hat, finally giving me his eyes as he rounds the end of the bar and pulls up a stool next to Shadow.
I hold the stare longer than necessary, taking in the dark circles that mar his handsome face, and the days’ worth of scruff that lines jaw.
He looks like he got about as much sleep as I did last night.
“Hey, man,” he says, turning to Shadow. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“Of course,” Shadow replies. “You look like you could use a drink.”
Blowing out a ragged sigh, he scratches the scruff on the side of the face.
“I don’t know how much more my liver can take after the bottle of whiskey I downed last night, but I’m willing to find out.
” His eyes cut to mine. “If you’d be so kind as to make it a double, I’ll be forever grateful, and just so you know, I’m a much better tipper than Wyatt. ”
He winks, a gesture I’m sure he meant to be playful, but it doesn’t quite reach its mark.
“Sure thing, cowboy. I’ll add it to your tab.”