Chapter 34
Beckett
The bar I am in tonight is some run-down shack on the outskirts of Montana. I had a hell of a week trying to qualify for the Professional Stakes in the Bull Riding division for finals and was down on my luck after drawing a bull no one in their right mind would sit upon.
Unfortunately, I got to be the lucky bastard to draw him.
I didn’t argue when a few of my buddies suggested going out tonight and blowing off some steam. The little town we are in was less than a small town, with one red light and a gas station keeping it together.
Thankfully, the place had this bar and a few cute cowgirls walking around, too.
Since arriving, I knew I would be drinking my sorrows away; it was the only thing to keep my thoughts and anxiety at bay. Since leaving Honeysuckle, they’ve gotten worse than they did when I lived in the Georgia ranch town.
The only way to stop them was by drowning them, but drowning them also came with its own repercussions, the more I did it.
I often wondered if that’s how my parents’ addiction started—with alcohol and demons to water down.
Did they have problems of their own that they didn’t want to face? Instead, ignore it with things that gave them a high for a little while so they could forget.
Ignoring the thought, I told the bartender to pass me another beer—my sixth one for the night—and turned, facing a few cute girls on the dance floor I had my eye on for the night.
The vibration in my pocket makes me jump, I pull it out of my pocket to see it's yet another text from Holden Taylor.
We miss you, son. Hope you’re doing well. We love you. Please come see us sometime or call.
I huff. This is the eighth text he has sent me this week, and I never replied to any of them.
I didn’t know how or what to say. I didn’t know why he kept contacting me or why he even wanted to keep in touch with me. They felt sorry for me, I got that.
Another text comes through.
You always have a home here, Beckett. Don’t forget that.
For about thirty minutes, I contemplated my response. A home? He is full of shit—I never had a home. I had people who felt sorry for me. That’s all. No one wants a kid like me with problems like mine.
Hitting dial on Holden’s name, his voicemail comes up along with the beep for me to leave a message.
* * *
Lacey
I am out in the round pen early the next morning with the filly. Lexie left late last night after we rotted in my bed for most of the day yesterday, watching chick flicks and chatting about life.
The beauty in front of me trots fabulously in a circle by the round pen panels while I trail the whip behind her for clear communication of the way she should be going.
The whip is not used for punishment or to even hit her, but more of a guide to trail behind her in the dirt so she can learn I want her to keep moving.
When I stop the movement of the whip and my body, she turns looking at me licking her lips.
A sign of clear understanding of what I am asking of her.
“Good girl.” I smile at her, reaching and rubbing her nose.
The sound of a hammer off in the distance gets my attention, and I see a shirtless Beckett working on the porch deck, clearly taking his frustration out on the railing he is putting up.
His glance heads my direction, and I turn quickly back to the filly, not wanting to give him the idea that I was looking at him.
Because I wasn’t.
Totally wasn’t.
“Hey sis.” Carson comes out of the barn, propping up on the railing of the pen, “Can we talk?”
“About?” I keep my focus on the filly.
“Yesterday.”
“No, thank you. I need more time to process you being a dick,” I tell him.
He sighs. “Come on, Lace. I don’t know what you were thinking, having him in your bed. He is no good for you.”
I spin around on the heels of my boots, stalking toward my brother, dropping the lead-rope in my hand. “How dare you tell me what is or isn’t good for me!”
“What’s with the attitude?” he barks.
“What’s with you charging into my room and doing what you did!”
“He started it!” Carson points towards the cottage.
“Grow the fuck up Carson! He was asleep and you yanked him from the mattress!”
“He was in your bed!”
“That I allowed him to be in!”
“He is the reason our father died!”
I step back, taking a deep breath and forcing the tear in my eye not to fall. “How dare you blame something of that magnitude on someone who never touched a hair on our father’s head.”
“He broke his heart with his words.”
I close my eyes, fighting for dominance over my emotions. “Dad was old, Beckett. He was not in good health. How could you not see that?”
“Are you really taking up for him?” Carson points toward the cottage again. This time Beckett walks closer to us.
“Stop yelling at her!” Beckett yells at Carson.
“Beckett,” I sigh. “Please go back to what you were doing.”
“Not when he is yelling at you, Lace. I won’t stand here and listen to it. He can yell at me but not at you.”
I turn back to my brother. “Carson. Have you read your letter from mom?”
His focus moves from Beckett back to me with the mention of our mother. “No.”
“Don’t you dare come talking to me until you read it.”
I turn my back on him, walking back to the filly, reaching for the lead rope again, tossing a quick glance at Beckett. “Go back to the cottage, Beckett.”
He waits until Carson turns and goes back into the barn before he nods and turns back to the cottage. I walk up to the filly, placing my hand on her muzzle and taking a few long breaths. “These two are going to make me age twenty years, girl.”
She shakes her head, agreeing with me and it makes me giggle.
* * *
Beckett
I keep my distance from everyone the remainder of the day and throw my entire frustration on the exterior of the cottage.
I have replaced all the railing on the porch, and now I plan to pressure wash the siding. While it is in rough shape, it’s not falling in like the porch, so I am hoping a little TLC will give it the facelift it needs for the time being.
Last night I lay in bed and thought back to the years I spent on this ranch, and all the advice through the years Holden gave me.
When I finally fell asleep, nightmares of walking into my parent’s trailer and seeing their dead bodies sprung to life. I try not to think about those images often, but nothing will ever prepare you for that sight.
I don’t think it was the fact that they were officially dead that bothered me the most, but the fact that they were so heartless, so selfish, that they left a note explaining they didn’t want me to have a good memory of the day I graduated high school.
To this day, I try to understand why someone could be so cruel to their own flesh and blood.
Do I regret spitting on them that night in front of everyone?
Nope.
And those who know the life that tried to drown me and take me with it, understand why I did it, too.
Walking into the old shed to find the pressure washer, my boots halt, seeing the mechanical bull Carson and I would practice on for hours.
The dust cover lays over it, but she still looks as good as she did when we used her. I wonder if Carson still does for fun.
Walking up to the beautiful machine that helped shape the path I am on now, the weight of my hand presses down where the seat is under the cover.
“Hey, old friend. Long time no see.”
“You want to power her on?” A voice at the door makes me jump.
Briggs stands there, looking at me with a smirk.
“Won’t your boss get pissed off for you talking to me right now?”
Briggs steps inside, laughing as he steps closer. “As I hear it, you’re also my boss now.”
I nod. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
Briggs sighs. “Eh, I wouldn’t say that. I think Carson is just trying to find someone to blame other than the diagnosis he knew Holden had.”
I look at him confused. “Diagnosis?”
“You don’t know?”
I shake my head, no.
“Holden was told he was in heart failure about six months before he passed away. His kidneys were also shutting down and he wasn’t a candidate for dialysis. They didn’t give him much time.”
Oh, Lacey.
“My guess is he was trying to reach out to you before he died.”
Shot right to my heart.
“But I didn’t help by saying the things I did.”
Briggs nods. “No, but we all make mistakes, and you’re here now after hearing about Mrs. Taylor. I don’t think you realize how big of a deal that is.”
I search his eyes for an explanation. “What do you mean?”
“You came home, Beckett. Knowing Carson hated you, knowing it would cause trouble. You still came home.” He turns but stops and looks back. “Lacey sees that. She is not her brother. She will come around.”
When he reaches the door, he chuckles. “You two ever put me in the middle of your toddler tantrums again and give me another black eye, I will make sure she hates you both.”