38. Gather the Troops
GATHER THE TROOPS
brAXTON
Aside from the drought, the sweltering hot days, trying to keep the ranch running and the horses fed. Aside from keeping Pop moving, but not pushing him, balancing the books, and making time for Colt. Aside from the juggling, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m happy.
That’s because of Colt.
And, if I’m honest even a little, it might be because of Emberleigh.
She can hold her own with the whiskey, much to my surprise. It shocks the shit out of me since she’s been so damn proper and, then, of course, her parents’ address. The streets aren’t gold in Highland Park, but there’s no dusty Ford pickups on those highly-manicured roads.
Unless Jaguar makes a truck, it isn’t gracing the streets of that ’hood.
My good mood is short-lived, though, when I get a call from Eli.
“Tell me you’re shitting me.”
His silence says more than I want to hear.
I pull the phone away from my face and stare down at the screen to make sure we’re connected. I’d rather see blackness than see the seconds ticking by on the call timer.
“Finchley?
“Still here.”
“When the fuck did this go down?”
“Just received the paperwork. Paperwork, I’ll add, that says they’ll be at your house by the end of the day.”
I tip my head toward the sky, the scorching heat roasting my face and neck. The blazing sun burns my closed eyes with an orange glow.
“Fuck!”
“Yeah, about that? They’re challenging your fitness, so get it out now, because this evening is about looking and playing the part.”
“I’m not playing or looking anything tonight. He’s my son. This was done. This is done. Why are they making moves now and what grounds do they have?”
“Sorting it all out now. Carrington’s attorney is no fool and he’s exploiting loopholes most wouldn’t consider, much less attempt.”
“Okay.” It’s a question, and he knows it. I’m a damn good rancher and have a good mind for the business, but I’m not someone who looks for loopholes, much less fights to exploit people on the other end of them.
“Hang tight. Working through details and will get back ASAP. But, my advice?”
“Yeah?”
“Get home. Gather the troops. We’re going into battle and we need all our forces to make it through this fight.”
“Done.”
“Will be there in a bit.” He disconnects and I’m left standing in the boiling late summer day, trying to understand the shivers running down my spine.
Me: Taking the rest of the day off. Can you handle the workload for a while?
Cyler: Sure thing, boss.
Me: Thanks.
Me: Can you come by the house and plan to be there a while?
Bright: What’s going on?
Me: Legal shit.
Bright: Do I have time to take Luna home?
Me: Bad idea.
Bright: Get it, but don’t have another option at this point except to bring her with me.
Me: I’m good with that.
Me: Have any off-duty friends who want an extra buck? Or who you can call in an extra favor with?
Exton: Probably. Why?
Me: Colt’s grandparents are challenging my fitness and are “coming to take him” this afternoon.
Exton: Fuck that.
Me: Don’t know what to do, Ex.
Exton: Give me a couple. Wish I were there.
Me: Me too.
I call Pop. I don’t want to. Don’t want to trouble him or stress him and don’t want the ass-chewing he’ll probably deal out, but need him either way.
“Pop?”
“Brax.”
“Can you come to the house? I’m heading there now. The Carringtons are coming.”
“For a social call?”
“Negative.”
“What the hell?”
“Cyler is managing the ranch. I’m making my way home to spend time with Colt and try not to lose my shit.”
“Not gonna work,” he quips.
“You know that’s right.” I hang up since I don’t have the bandwidth to chitchat.
They’re coming and fuck if I know what to do.
Emberleigh
The front door closing is all wrong. It’s the wrong time of day and it’s too sharp. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is off.
I jump up from my bed and head to the hall, peeking my head out. “Braxton, everything okay?” I ask, rounding the corner.
The icy stare that meets my gaze is unlike anything I’ve seen on his face before.
It’s not the distant or removed expression when I first arrived.
Or even the rage when my father served him with papers.
This… This is different. It’s fury underlined by betrayal.
Something in the turn of his eyes and the lines at their corner reminds me of a disappointed parent.
“Braxton?”
He lifts his eyebrows and cocks his chin to the side.
“Are you okay?” I lift a hand but quickly let it fall to my side when he glances at it like it repulses him. Right.
“Am I okay? Am I okay? I have a ranch to manage, a father who just lost his wife, a woman I thought I could trust who’s invaded my home, and her parents who are threatening to take my son.
My son, whose paternity is confirmed, whose papers indicate I’m his sole guardian.
My son!” His voice is rising with each sentence.
“And his grandparents are on the way here to take him. Sure, okay. I’m peachy-fucking-keen. ”
He moves me out of the way, lifting me by my upper arms and placing me down out of his path, and heads down the hall. He looks first into my room and then into his, obviously seeing Colt and closes the door behind him. The lock catching echoes loudly in the empty room.
I hurry to my room and grab my cell, dialing my father. I get four rings and voicemail. I don’t leave a message because what I want to say won’t be acceptable to my father and anything else could be overheard and seem like collusion.
Me: What’s going on? Are you headed this way?
I get no response. I’m as in the dark as Braxton. No, I’m more in the dark and very much in the middle.
Kimpton is the first to arrive. He knocks, which still surprises me. He could just walk in. They’re that kind of family—the comings and goings, the type that would raid each other’s refrigerators.
“Emberleigh,” he says, tipping his hat. “Mind if I come in?”
I open the door wide and wave my hand for him to enter. It’s not mine to refuse him and, since I have no idea what’s going on, I might as well act like it.
I close the door behind him and ask, “Can I get you something to drink, Kimpton? Tea? Water?”
“Whiskey.”
I turn toward him and cock my head, holding his gaze. “Come on then. I might need your help. Don’t even know where that is.”
He follows me to the kitchen, but passes me for the liquor cabinet. When he opens it, he looks to have a silent conversation with himself, before he turns and says, “I think I’ll take that tea after all.”
I simply hold his eyes and nod and then do as he requests. We’re sitting around Braxton’s kitchen table when the next guest arrives. Brighton doesn’t knock. Her yellow lab mix, Luna, bounds in and rushes straight for the kitchen for pets from Kimpton with Brighton on her heels.
Luna must hear Colt stir since she scurries from the table down the hall, nails clicking all the way, and whimpers outside of Braxton’s door until metal-on-metal sounds and the door presses home again.
Brighton stands some distance away taking in Kimpton and me around the table, seemingly confused.
“Would you like some tea? We also have stronger stuff in the liquor cabinet.”
“We?”
“Bright,” her father admonishes.
“No, it’s okay.” I place a gentle touch on the top of his hand on the table. “You’re right, Brighton. It’s Braxton’s. I spoke incorrectly.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“Brighton Alexandra!” Kimpton’s icy tone slices through everything.
My eyes drop. I don’t see what Brighton does. My father rarely admonished us publicly but the private berating was more than enough. No one wants a witness to this.
“Pop—”
He must give her a look, because the words die in her mouth.
When I look up again, her eyes are on her boots. Brighton can go toe to toe with anyone. She’s fierce. Her deference to Kimpton must come from respect and not because she thinks she’s wrong. My suspicions are confirmed when her gaze meets mine.
When Elias arrives, I excuse myself to my room. The weight of whatever is going down is more than I can bear. And since no one will talk with me about it, I’m blind.
There’s no return call from my father. No return text.
I try my mother as well and get the same response. That is… nothing.