Chapter 12 #2
“What for?” Dillon glanced between the two of us.
Maybe I should have expected the question, but I hadn’t, and I tried to rack my brain for something plausible that wasn’t “I need to apologize to the newbie… again.” Lord knew how that would go over with Granger. But what ended up coming outta my mouth wasn’t much better.
“Gotta piss.”
“You can’t do that alone? Gotta take a buddy with you into the woods on your own property?
” Granger asked, looking all too much like the cat who got the cream as he pulled another gooey marshmallow off the tongs of his roasting forks.
That sent Elliot into a riot of laughter, and I could feel heat flooding into my cheeks.
“Scared of the dark, boss man?” Lane taunted, slapping his knee as he cackled like some old man.
“It ain’t like that,” I insisted, feeling my flush rise higher as the men around me all broke into hoots and hollers at my expense. That was, all except for Jackson. He stared at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve; one that he was considering giving up on.
Just as I was about to take off on my own and come up with a strategy to talk with him at another time, Jackson rose from where he’d been laid out by the fire.
“It’s fine. I gotta take a leak, anyhow.” He motioned for me to lead the way, and we both ignored the continued ribbing being thrown my way as we left the circle of trees.
The moon was full tonight and hung high in the night sky, lighting up the grassy pasture as we walked away from the rowdy group of hands.
The cricket song gradually rose higher as we moved further through the tall grass, the loudest offenders cutting off abruptly as we traversed too close.
When we were far enough away that we wouldn’t be overheard, Jackson glanced back over his shoulder toward the festivities.
“Damn, I can’t imagine what they’d be like adding alcohol into the mix.” He chuckled softly.
“Not much different,” I admitted.
Even in the pale lighting, I could see the shadow of his dimple as he smiled.
“Did Dudd…” he began after a few more steps, then paused like he needed to consider how to word what he was asking. “Did he stop drinking for Raleigh?”
“No. He nearly lost his kid over his drinking. Nearly lost his job here, too. Part of the condition of him staying on was him getting help. Now that he’s doing it, the boys do their best to support him.”
“I’m surprised you’d keep him on at all, given…” Jackson’s voice trailed off as we reached the fence line that separated this pasture from another.
I shrugged. “Dudd’s a good man. When he drank, he’d drink himself stupid till he’d pass out, and he did it almost nightly.
That was the problem. He’d miss shifts on the ranch, time with his daughter.
His ex put her foot down when Dudd missed a father–daughter dance he’d sworn he’d attend.
If he’d gotten behind the wheel even once when he was like that, I wouldn’t have tolerated it, but he was drinking to sleep without any dreams.”
And part of me understood the temptation of that.
My eyes trailed over the dark expanse to the small orange glow illuminated through the trees, and I thought back to the day Duddson had knocked on my front door. I knew it’d been shortly after Raleigh passed, but I wasn’t sure exactly when.
At that point in my grief, it was all-consuming—the days bled into each other and nights felt like a pocket in reality where the stillness was suffocating.
Time was an illusion, and nothing made sense.
There were long gaps in my memory from those early days, and what I could remember felt hazy—like it had all happened to someone else wearing my skin and living in my body.
But I’d never forget that moment between Dudd and I.
His eyes had been bleary and bloodshot, from either the alcohol or crying, I wasn’t sure, but he reeked of cheap whiskey.
I’d been furious he’d stumbled up to my door, smelling just how I’d pictured the man who’d taken my husband from me had.
I’d been ready to lay him out; take out every ounce of hurt and anger I had on my drunken farmhand.
But then he’d opened his mouth, and it was all I could do to stay standing as I cried.
“Don’t become me. Don’t pick up the bottle, Tucker Legare. It hurts. I know it does. But the alcohol hurts worse, and it won’t fix none of it. Take it from me. I promise you. None of it is better at the bottom of a bottle.”
It’d been the tremble in his voice that had done me in.
The raw vulnerability of showing his true colors and knowing he could lose everything for it.
Dudd had been risking not only his job and his home on this property but his entire support system to plead with me.
He hadn’t started his AA program at the time, but it was clear he knew he had a problem.
Even then. So that moment—that one decision to knock on my door—was why I’d never tried to drown myself when the pain of losing Raleigh had been at its worst.
“So, what are we really out here for, Tucker? Because I know it wasn’t to talk about Dudd’s drinking.
” Jackson sighed after I’d gone silent for a while, lost in my own memories.
“Was it really to take a piss?” He eyed me as he leaned back against the fence, and I couldn’t help letting out a small huff of laughter.
“No. Not unless you actually needed to.”
When he shook his head, I sucked air into my lungs, trying to find the courage to admit that I’d once again done wrong by him.
“I was horrible to you earlier,” I started, but I felt myself falter when I watched a stoney mask slip onto Jackson’s features.
“I messed up and deserved to be reprimanded. It’s fine,” he said, pushing off the fence and trying to brush past me, but I shot my hand out to grip his arm.
“It wasn’t fine. I’m genuinely sorry, Jackson.” My tongue felt numb as I tried to get the words out, something in the pit of my stomach roiling at the unfeeling expression he wore. This wasn’t the sunshine hand I’d hired.
Those green-brown eyes lowered down to where my hand was wrapped around his forearm, but instead of letting go, I gripped it tighter despite the flare of pain that shot up my arm from the action.
Every fiber in my body was telling me that I’d regret letting him walk away like this, and for whatever reason, I wanted to listen.
“If you want to yell at me, cuss me out, or whatever, I’ll let you. Say your piece, and I promise it won’t come back on you.” I tried steeling myself for the contempt that might be thrown my way.
But when his normally vibrant eyes trailed up to meet mine, shimmering in the moonlight, I almost felt my knees give out. How could someone look so beautiful so close to tears?
“I’ll forgive you,” he started, his voice stronger than I expected with drops glistening on his lower lashes. “If you admit you feel it too.”