10. Tinsley
CHAPTER 10
Tinsley
The drive out to the ranch does nothing to calm me down. It only serves to further ignite my fury as my mind spins round and round, picking up pieces and putting them back down until the most probable picture begins to form.
Hunter’s always been the most protective of his family but especially of Archer. He’s ruthless in cutting out people he thinks could harm them. And the night I left, I was on the receiving end of it.
I didn’t realize it was possible to break your own heart. But writing that letter did just that. It destroyed me. Shattered my heart and left me sobbing until I stopped trying to prevent my tears from splashing down on the pages of my goodbye.
Archer was rational though. He’d understand why I did it. Still, I couldn’t leave the spot where I stood.
A ring. He had a ring in his drawer. Not just any ring, either, but his mother’s engagement ring. I found it when I was searching for a pen to purge the lyrics that swam in my head after having sex for the first time and hearing Archer say, “I love you.”
Elation.
Fear.
Indecision.
I knew he’d never ask me to choose between him and my music. He loved it and me far too much. But I also knew that the longer I was here, the more my dreams had started to shift. I didn’t want to have regrets or what ifs about us, so I packed. I threw all my things into my suitcases and lugged them downstairs where I sat at the kitchen island and cried my eyes out as words failed me in adequately expressing my love for him and my reason for leaving.
“I’m doing the right thing,” I reminded myself with a shaky breath.
With a renewed resolve, my feet finally peeled off the floor and carried me outside to my car. It was as I was hefting my second suitcase into the trunk that Hunter had come home.
His truck slammed to a stop when his headlights illuminated me and what I was doing.
“What the fuck, Tinsley?” he yelled, jumping out. “Does Archer know you’re leavin’? What the fuck am I sayin’? Of course he doesn’t, because his ass would be here with you if he did!”
I closed my trunk and continuously turned the ring of my keys over my finger. In the dark, the subtle differences between him and Archer were all but absent, so I didn’t turn around when I spoke for fear of faltering in my decision.
“If things are meant to be, one year of long distance while I see if I can make it in L.A. and he finishes school won’t break us.”
“Fuckin’ bullshit!” he spat. Hunter yanked my arm and turned me to look at him. He was right in my face, inches away, when he said, “You know, I told Archer I wasn’t so sure about you. That you’d be packing up at the end of summer and leavin’ him behind. Probably make some grand declaration about lovin’ him forever only to dump him three months in for some Hollywood pretty boy who could elevate your name. He didn’t want to listen though.
“He kept bringin’ you around, and I eventually believed your shit too.” He stepped back and scrubbed his hands over his face, pacing a few steps away from me. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Tinsley. Just get back in the house. Please. You’re gonna break his heart otherwise. Just go back inside and we can pretend like this didn’t happen.”
I didn’t know when my tears came back, only that they did as I hiccuped, “I can’t, Hunter. Stayin’ might just ruin us.”
“If you leave, I’ll make sure it does,” he warned.
I didn’t listen. Instead, I got in my car and, at two in the morning, started making my way to L.A. I cried the whole way and for an entire year waited by a phone that never rang, until finally, I threw it in Berry Lake when I lost what remained of my hope.
That was the day I gave in to my label and let them make me into the Tinsley Jacobs the world knows.
If it had just been me, I could forgive Hunter. He was protecting his brother by doing what he thought was best at the time. But after what Ames had said, about how deeply it affected Archer, Hunter’s actions only enrage me further. He let his brother suffer, watched him day in and day out as he waited for me and never told him the truth. Took things even further and kept me away when I proved him wrong and returned.
The SUV hasn’t even come to a stop outside of the converted stables when I’m hopping out and cutting a scorching path inside, ready to cut through to the paddocks beyond. At the cross of the stable, I pause. The melancholic mashup of my songs “Have Me Now” and “Ever After Was Once Upon A Time” are filtering out from Archer’s office, the God-given baritone of his voice that would have Nashville falling at his feet if they knew accompanying my words. The rich, sweet lure of him mere feet from me, singing two of my most precious songs, is hard to resist. I want to abandon my reason for being here and go to him.
It’s how I assume sailors must have fallen prey to sirens.
It would be easy enough to let it go and follow him. I think I would be okay without confirming the conclusions I’ve reached. I could lay it all to rest now and move on with Archer from here. The first page of a blank book waiting to be filled.
But as sure as I am standing here listening to him and feeling how quickly I turn weightless, ready to fall back into him regardless of my reservations, I know I can’t let it go. It won’t make a difference in how much tighter I plan to hold on to Archer this time around, but I need the peace that comes with knowing for sure, one way or the other.
“Is that Archer?” Briar whispers at my side, the normal click of her heels silent on the wood floors as she listens, too.
I nod my head, not wanting to disturb the way he’s unknowingly calling me home to him.
“Wow…”
His voice is the stability I need. The slow, thick, caressing cadence calms the malevolent rage within me into something more purposeful that doesn’t threaten to consume me. After all this time, he’s still my anchor, that soft place for me to land, my home.
I don’t wait to hear the rest of the song. I look up at Briar and say, “I don’t want Archer to know. Make sure he doesn’t see you.”
“You gonna be good without me?”
“Yeah, I got this,” I assure, reaching out to squeeze her hand before we part ways.
As I walk down the hill, several paddocks come into view. The ranch is full of life, with hands moving about across all parts. Horses are being exercised and groomed, more getting trained and tested; stalls are being cleaned and side by sides whiz to areas further out. The occasional sound of a recorded crowd cheers out from the track where I assume Ryder is working to desensitize a future Triple Crown winner. And not too far off from me is an enclosure where mares and their foals graze and lazily move about.
When I reach the fence line, I act as if no time has passed and invite myself to hop up and take a perch on it. From where I sit, I can see movement within the segregated stables. A moment later, Hunter comes out—black hat on, t-shirt removed and tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, boots no doubt scuffed and covered in dust and caked mud—a bale of hay in each hand that he throws into the feeder. He takes his time to loosen them up, moving everything about and turning it over to combine what’s new with what was already there.
The clicking of his tongue behind his teeth alerts an obsidian colored mare who makes her way over to him, a small carbon copy of her beauty following at her hip. He runs his hand down her mane several times, quietly talking to her before leaving her be.
With his teeth, he pulls off one of his gloves and takes out his phone, punching away at the screen. It’s when he tucks it back into his front pocket that he finally notices me.
“What are you doin’ out here, Tinsley?”
I give him the most insincere smile I’m in possession of and wave, “Hello to you too, Hunter,” before hopping down and meeting him halfway. “How’ve you been?”
His eyes narrow down at me, and even though I have to tilt my head back to keep eye contact, I don’t feel cowed while under his scrutiny.
When he doesn’t play along, I say, “Well let me tell you how I’ve been. Let’s see,” I muse. Then counting things off on my fingers, I list, “As of this year I’ve won eleven Grammys and two CMAs; I’m a household name, recognized around the world; I’ve been on tour—my most successful ever and one of the most successful in the industry—for seven months now; I had a little blip of bad press when keying Corey’s car was live streamed last week but whatever, he had it comin’ but shh,” I hush. “You didn’t hear me say that. I also released my seventh studio album this year which, wow, who knew it was gonna be such a banger? Certainly not me. After all, I just, ‘prance around in sparkly dresses and sing silly little songs like a bubble headed doll.’ Right? That’s what you said? Don’t worry, I don’t need you to repeat it, it has sadly lived rent free in my mind for the last nine years. Remind me to forward you my therapy bills when we’re done here.”
I snap my fingers and add “Oh, and before I forget, I’ve been living with a broken heart for the last decade, mourning what I thought was the loss of the love of my life. But I didn’t really lose him, did I, Hunter?” His continued silence pisses me off, and I startle a poor horse as I yell, “Did I?” demanding he answer me.
“You left him,” he seethes. “In the middle of the goddamn night.”
“I did what I thought was best for us!”
“No, you did what was easiest for you, Tinsley.”
“I was eighteen! We were hurtling towards a future I hadn’t planned on and it terrified me. I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to still leave if I had to look at him when it was time. But instead of letting us work through it, you broke us! You broke him. ”
Hunter steps into the volatile storm I’ve brought with me and hisses, “We both know he’s not cut out for your life in L.A. You would’ve broken him in the end anyway. I just sped it along in order to protect him.
“And turns out I was right. What was it, three months, six, before you were fuckin’ around with that guy you went on tour with? Didn’t seem like you were all that heartbroken.
“Meanwhile, my brother was here having a goddamn shrine built out on the lake for you and makin’ himself look like a fool by sayin’ the tabloids were just makin’ shit up about you.”
I can’t help the humorless laugh that bubbles up. It’s manic and ugly, but I can’t stop it now that it’s free. It consumes everything in its path until it dies off as suddenly as it arrived, not unlike a tornado wreaking havoc through small towns.
The stillness in me right after should be a warning, but Hunter isn’t aware of it until my fist collides with his solar plexus, making him double over with the wind flying free from his lungs. Mikey and John would be proud.
“You’ll find I’m not so easily intimidated now, Hunter. So don’t fuck with me again. I love Archer, and we’re gonna be together. So either get on board or learn to fake it for his benefit. You understand?”
He attempts to stand upright but can’t, his breath still coming to him with labored wheezes. “Are you gonna tell him?”
I don’t even have to think about it. The truth of the matter is, as messed up as it was, Hunter did us a favor, and as angry as I am and as angry as I may always be over the time we lost, we needed these years apart. Because I know in my heart of hearts that had we stayed together, I would have been running back here every chance I could to see him instead of making myself into the success that I am. My music career wouldn’t have received every shard of my heart and soul that remained. As my everything, Archer would have been my focus with the entire world coming in a distant second. But with bitter thanks to Hunter, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if Archer’ll have me back, I can be with him now with absolutely zero space for regrets and what ifs to try and grow in.
“No, I’m not. And not for you or for me, but for Archer. I think we can both agree this is one thing he doesn’t need to know about.
“Now lay on your back,” I say, heading for the stables. “It’ll open up your chest and help with your breathing.”
Inside, I grab the keys to the side by side Hunter has tossed on a table and get into the utility vehicle, jerking between speeding and slamming on the breaks as I go. Maybe while I’m here, I’ll add re-learning how to drive to the list of things I want to do.
When I get back up to the converted offices, I have every intention of tossing the keys into the back bucket and leaving. But I catch a glimpse of Archer’s profile through his office windows—glasses on and pen in his teeth, reclining back in his chair with his arms stretched over his head. I can’t resist.
Shoving the keys into the pocket of my jean shorts, I make my way inside with a single-minded purpose. At his open door, I don’t bother to knock and continue in.
The pen falls from his mouth and he catches it, dropping it on the desk as he says my name.
My stride slows the closer I get, but it’s still strong and confident as I round the industrial designed desk and slip between it and his chair, his legs opening up to make room for me. Hands on the armrests, I lean in—captivated by his eyes—and say, “I saw Ames today and somethin’ he said got me thinkin’.”
Archer doesn’t ask what his friend told me. Instead, he lifts the bill of his old Vanderbilt hat that I'm wearing to better see my face, murmuring, “I saw you wearin’ this in that video.”
“I never leave home without it,” I confess.
“Always did look better on you.”
His hand slowly caresses down to my face, his rough palm gently cupping my cheek and guiding me to lean into him. My lips follow and kiss the heel of his hand.
That small touch of my lips is like kerosene and a lit match across a dry pasture, consuming everything that stands between us, and the next thing I know, his hands are in my back pockets tugging me over his lap and my knees on either side of his thighs. My hands comb through his hair, tugging on the ends until he’s looking up at me and our lips crash together.
Ten years of longing, regret, love, and sorrow spill out into that kiss. And when we break apart, lips swollen and breaths heavy, I finally feel like I’ve come home.