Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
TRACE
I could already feel a headache gripping the edges of my mind as I shuffled through the papers in front of me. It wasn’t enough. This project was going to be make or break, and there was too much on the line for it to fail. But there weren’t enough investors, and we didn’t even have a big enough plot of land for the project to go forward.
I was confident that I could pull in the investors we needed if I could get the project started. But that still left us with the problem of the land. Every acre surrounding this parcel was land which had belonged to town families for generations. Getting them to part with it would be nearly impossible.
The click of the front door closing drew me out of my thoughts as I looked suspiciously at my home office door. I already knew who it would be, and I didn’t have the energy to deal with this today. Not at seven in the morning and especially not before I’d had enough caffeine to get rid of this headache.
As I pushed up from my desk with weary resignation, I could hear the sounds of someone rifling through the cupboards in the kitchen, followed by the sound of a glass smashing on the tiled floor.
I was so done with this crap.
The kitchen was exactly how I knew it would be—broken glass littering the counters and the ground together with half of the contents of the pantry as Chelsea tore through it, looking for God only knew what.
“Chelsea!” I snapped.
She whirled around, stumbling to the side and catching herself on the pantry doorframe as she did. Great. Of course, she was drunk again. When was she not these days?
“What are you doing here?” I kept my distance on the other side of the kitchen, my gaze subconsciously moving to the camera I’d had installed for just these occasions. It wouldn’t be the first time that she’d try to turn around and call me out as the aggressor if things went south, even if she was the one breaking into my house.
“Trace,” she slurred, a sloppy smile spreading across her lips, which she no doubt thought was seductive. “I missed you, baby. I was in the neighborhood, and I thought?—”
“That you’d break into your ex-husband’s house and trash the place for the third time this month? This has to stop, Chelsea. How are you even getting a copy of my key? I know sure as shit that I didn’t give you one.”
She squinted in annoyance just like she always did, and that cold look of anger flashed across her face. If there was one thing Chelsea hated, it was not getting her way, and things hadn’t been going her way since I’d served her with divorce papers nearly a year ago.
“When are you going to see that this is all just a silly mistake?” She stumbled forward and even though I was starting to think that I might actually hate this woman, I was still concerned about her falling into the glass.
I wasn’t a complete monster.
“Chelsea, my mistake was marrying you. It was letting our marriage go on way past the point where I should have had the courage to stand up and call it over. The best thing you ever did for me was trying to climb into bed with Dex and showing me exactly what you thought of our marriage. You never did tell me how many other men there were, Chels. One? Two? Ten? How long did you wait after saying our vows before you started crawling between someone else’s sheets?”
She screeched at me then, and I knew I’d pushed her a step too far. When I flinched at the sound, she laughed, no doubt knowing exactly what thought had crossed my mind.
“Maybe I was desperate for a real man, Trace.”
“Then by all means, for the love of God , please go and find him and leave me the hell alone.”
I stepped out of the doorway to the kitchen, careful not to step on the broken glass, and swept a hand toward the front door. “And don’t forget to leave the key before you leave,” I added coldly.
“Oh baby, you know I didn’t mean that.” She pouted, moving closer, and I checked both her hands were empty, learning from my past mistakes.
“It doesn’t matter, Chelsea. Don’t you see that? We’re not married anymore. You have no place in my life. You don’t live here, and I’m tired of you breaking in every time you think you can con your way back into my life. You need to leave, and if you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to call the police.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she seethed. “What would mummy say if you dared to tarnish your family image?”
She was right. It was the only thing that had held me back from calling the cops on her before. I was so tired of this. So tired of still living my life looking over my shoulder when she wasn’t supposed to be in it anymore. Divorcing Chelsea hadn’t been easy. It had caused a massive blow-up in the family. But for once, I’d put myself first. And if I had to do it again, then I would. My mother was the next person I needed to eject from my life. Not that I’d ever probably get the balls to pull that cord.
“It’s her, isn’t it? You’ve got someone else. You’re leaving me to be with that whore!”
I should have known she wasn’t trying to make her way to me, but I realized my mistake too late as she reached for one of the remaining glasses and threw it in my direction. She was drunk enough that I didn’t even bother to duck. There was no way she could hit me, not even from as close as she was. She could barely stay on her feet.
But as the glass hit the wall and shattered to join the rest of the broken glass on the floor, I felt the sting lash across my temple as one of the shards flew in my direction.
This time I didn’t flinch. This was a pain I was all too familiar with. In fact, I think I was just about numb to it after all this time.
Instead, with a sigh, I turned and started to walk away. Locking the door to my office, I headed to the front door, grabbing my coat and briefcase from where I’d left them in the hallway. Chelsea’s screams of outrage followed me as she ranted about the woman I was leaving her for. She needed professional help. Unfortunately for me, there was no one left in her life to care enough to get it for her. I was starting to think I’d be haunted by Chelsea for the rest of my life despite the legal papers that confirmed she was no longer my responsibility.
Chelsea didn’t follow me out of the house, but the sounds of more glass smashing on the tiles did. I didn’t have it in me to care anymore. Instead, I leaned against the driver’s door of my car and made the phone call I should have made years ago.
“Ethan, it’s Trace. Can you get a car over to my house? Chelsea’s broken in and is currently smashing up my kitchen.”
I heard his sigh of resignation. He must have known this was coming sooner or later. Chelsea’s behavior around town over the last couple of months had been steadily getting worse and worse.
“I’m just about to head in for the day. I can swing by on my way past. But Trace? How far do you want this to go? I know how far I think you should take it, but I don’t much fancy getting chewed out by your mother this early in the morning for making a scene.”
I could hear the anxiety in his voice, and as much as I wanted to laugh at his discomfort, I didn’t. I was in a privileged position to be a Farrington, and even if I was subjected to my mother’s impossibly high standards for the family, it was nothing compared to what someone in a position like Ethan’s would be subjected to. After all, enough Farrington family money ran through this town that my mother was convinced the only person the police chief had to answer to was her. Well, him and just about everyone else. Like I said, she was a problem I really needed to find the balls to deal with another day.
“Ethan, she needs help, and if getting arrested and sitting her in front of a judge is how she gets it then that’s what needs to happen. We’ve all tiptoed around her enough. It’s time she took responsibility for what she’s been doing.”
It wasn’t as difficult to say as I’d have thought it would be. The world hadn’t collapsed around me, and my mother hadn’t leaped out of a bush to berate me for being the constant disappointment she’d always known I was.
Instead, all I heard was Ethan’s sigh of relief. “It’s about time, Trace,” he said quietly.
I was almost certain he didn’t know about what had been happening inside that house before I’d finally had enough. But as I felt the sticky warmth of blood slowly run down the side of my face, I knew he must have. It would have been impossible to completely cover it up, and Ethan had seen this in more than one home with his job. He’d never said a word to me about it, though, and I couldn’t help but wonder now if that had something to do with my mother as well.
“Yeah, I know. Just…she needs help, man.”
I unlocked the car and climbed inside, dropping the fob into my pocket as I pressed the ignition button.
“I’ll see what I can do. I take it from the sound of that engine that you’re getting somewhere safe?”
“Yeah. I’m going to head over to Book’s house for an hour before heading into the office. She’s somehow got a key to my house, and I’d be grateful if you could make sure she hands it over to you. The front door will lock itself when you pull it shut. It’s open right now.”
“Don’t worry about the house. I’ll make sure it’s secure before I leave, and I’ll find that key for you. I’m going to need a statement from you later as well. You want to swing by the station or am I coming to you?”
My head tipped back against the headrest of my seat as I watched the front door. There was no sign of Chelsea. Hopefully, she’d restrict her chaos to the kitchen. At least it was easier to clean up, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to do it. At this point, I might as well invest in plastic dishware. At least then I wouldn’t have to keep replacing it all the time.
“Can I call you in a couple of hours? I won’t know what my schedule looks like until I get into the office.”
It was a lie. I knew exactly what my schedule looked like because I had one of the best assistants around. I didn’t want to think about this right now, and by the sound of Ethan’s voice, he was thinking this was my tactic to back out of the whole thing.
“Sure thing, Trace. If I don’t hear from you by lunch, I’ll be giving you a call though,” he warned.
“I can live with that.”
“Okay. Speak soon, buddy.”
I disconnected the call with Ethan as I backed out of the driveway and turned my car to head out of town. There were two people I’d always sought out as a refuge away from this madness, but I couldn’t go to Dex right now. Dex had grown up with us and become one of the Farrington boys by default. He owned the garage in town now, and even though he loved that place, there was no way he’d be working already at this time in the morning. Which left Booker, the only blood brother I had left in town. The only one besides me that hadn’t run from this place at the first chance they had.
Booker had a farm on the edge of town that he’d turned into a horse sanctuary. He was the eldest Farrington son, but he’d managed to escape our mother’s expectations as soon as she’d come to the reluctant realization that Booker was never going to be an indoors type of guy. Booker was only ever happy with his hands in the dirt, and even if he had to spend his childhood being constantly reminded about what a disappointment he was, at least now that he was an adult, he got to be free.
I’d had that once. That feeling of freedom, of being able to make your future into what you needed it to be. It had all been a lie, though. My life was always going to end up this way. It had been mapped out like this since before I was born. Someone had to shoulder the burden of our family legacy, and most days, I did it with pride. Willowbrook had only been able to become what it was because of the way my family had guided it and encouraged its growth. This entire town was our legacy, and now that I’d had the time to mature, I could see what a privilege it was to carry it on.
By the time I was turning down Booker’s driveway I already felt lighter. Whether that was clearing my mind and concentrating on the responsibility that shaped my day ahead or just driving onto my brother’s land, I wasn’t sure. This place had a healing quality to it.
Maybe this was what I needed. A place on the edge of town. Somewhere with land. Willowbrook wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis, but there was still a quietness to being out here that appealed. It might be something worth looking into.
I pulled up next to Booker’s truck and headed through the side door, which led straight into the kitchen. It was never locked, and I knew Booker would already be up and getting his breakfast ready. He’d probably already been out doing chores for a couple of hours, knowing him. He was never one to sleep in.
Sure enough, Book was standing at the stove scrambling some eggs when he glanced up and saw me walking in.
Val left the dog basket in the corner of the kitchen and ran to my side, whining as she pressed against my legs. Dex and I had bought the Australia Shepherd for Booker four years ago, and she hardly ever left Booker’s side.
“Fucking hell, Trace. How is this still happening?”
He pulled the pan off the stove and opened the cupboard under the sink, grabbing his first aid kit which had seen far too much use. I’d forgotten about the blood on my face after everything that happened.
“How bad is it?” I asked, taking a seat at the breakfast table as he gripped my chin and tilted my head back to get a better look. Val’s chin rested on my leg, and my hand automatically went to the top of her head as I petted her softly.
“Is that glass?” He shook his head, dropping the kit on the table as he opened it up. “Of course it is. I don’t even know why I’m asking.”
I didn’t say anything as Booker went to work, pulling a small piece of glass from the side of my forehead and then gently pressing a dressing to the wound as he kept tipping my head from side to side, checking if there was any more glass inside.
We’d done this far too many times before. I couldn’t even remember the last time he’d lectured me while he did it. He gave up long ago.
“I called the police. Ethan is picking Chelsea up, and I’m pressing charges.”
Booker frowned as he dug through the first aid kit and pulled out some alcohol wipes. He didn’t say anything as he cleaned me up and then readied some butterfly strips.
“Hold this here until the bleeding stops,” he said eventually, as he pressed the dressing pad back against my forehead.
I pressed my fingers over it, holding it firmly in place as he moved back to the stove, putting the eggs back on the burner as he slowly stirred them with the spatula.
I didn’t press him. This was how Book processed stuff. After everything, he’d unquestioningly been at my side. He’d given me his advice but never tried to force me to do anything I didn’t want to do or anything I wasn’t ready to do. Instead, he stoically waited, and then when I was ready to make the first step, he’d been there every step of the way.
It wasn’t until he was putting a plate of food in front of me that he finally broke his silence.
“You need a restraining order.”
I shoveled the fluffy eggs into my mouth and groaned at how good they were. I could never replicate these at home, and it was one of the reasons why I came to Book’s house as many mornings as I could. Everything seemed to taste better when it was made in his kitchen for some reason. Val was obviously in agreement as she dug her chin into my thigh as if to remind me that she was still there. I slipped some bacon off my plate and pretended not to see the scowl on Booker’s face.
“Yeah, I’m going to speak with Ethan this morning once she’s been processed to confirm I’m pressing charges, and then I’ll speak with my lawyer.”
“You using the family lawyer?” He tried to ask it casually, but I couldn’t help but miss the slight growl in his tone.
Booker wasn’t exactly on the best of terms with the rest of the family. Moving out here had been the best move he’d ever made but it had meant that our mother had finally turned her back on him. And with her, the rest of the family had followed, more or less. It was nearly impossible for Book to speak with our father without her there, and the rest of the Farrington boys weren’t exactly in town anymore. Xander had run off to the city to be some big-shot doctor, and, well, Gage had just plain run off. It had been years since any of us had heard from him.
It was the reason why the family business had fallen on my shoulders, even though I was the youngest. It should have been Booker who took up the reins, being the eldest. That was how it had always gone in every other generation. I didn’t resent him for it. It would have been hard to once I saw him out here. I might be slightly jealous of the freedom he’d found, but there was nothing malicious about it. Besides, despite the pressures that came with it, I did enjoy what I did.
“No. I’m going to use the same lawyer who dealt with the divorce.”
Booker nodded in satisfaction. He didn’t need to say that using the family lawyer would have meant that the charges would be dropped and everything swept under the rug. I’d seen it happen enough times to know that already. Using my own lawyer kept all the control firmly in my hands exactly where I wanted it to be. I was done being bossed around by my own mother. I was taking control of my life, and that started by getting my stalker ex out of it.
“Whatever you need, brother. I’m here.” Booker tucked back into his breakfast, and I knew that was the last he had to say on the matter.
Some people might find him rude or abrupt, but the truth of it was that no one would ever have my back like Booker did. No matter what, my brother would always be in my corner. He was possibly the only person in the world who really knew who I was anymore.
“What have you got going on for today?” I asked casually, sinking back into my seat with my coffee in hand.
I went to loosen the tie at my collar only to realize that I’d never even put one on. Luckily, I had a change of clothes at the office because I had a meeting later this afternoon and absolutely no desire to go back to the house anytime soon. I’d deal with the mess eventually, but for now I needed a few hours of normalcy before heading back into the drama.
As Booker started to tell me about the new horse he’d picked up at auction, I sipped at my coffee and let his words wrap around me. Val slunk back to her basket in the corner once the food was gone. Her ears pricked as she dozed in the softness, ever the watchful presence. My mind didn’t even drift to the deal I’d been tirelessly working on. That was the magic of this place that Booker had built. You could leave the world at the front gate and sink into the peace of the refuge he’d built. It was part of the magic here.