Chapter 13
Wyatt
Boone: You might get a call from Beau. Or worse… Dad.
Me: About?
Boone: He went on a tear today, cussed you up and down
Me: I’m not even there, what the fuck?
Boone: Exactly
Me: He’s on this shit again? I’ve been gone for months
Me: Fuck. Today was branding, wasn’t it?
Boone: Yep
Me: I never told him I was coming home for that
Boone: I know, and he’s pissed
Me: And Beau took his side?
Boone: You know how Beau is
Me: Yeah, Dad can do no wrong
Me: What about Gage? He still alive?
Boone: Barely
Boone: Him and Dad got in each other’s faces before lunch and Beau sent Gage away
Me: Shocker
Boone: How’s Bryn?
Me: Spectacular, man.
Boone: When’s the next date? You gonna post about it?
Me: Maybe like I did this morning. A small update.
Me: If she sees it, hopefully she knows I’m thinking of her.
Me: Maybe a GRWM too
Boone: Cha-ching. Start with the towel bro. Those always do best.
Me: Thirst traps always do. We’ll see. Might need to retire.
Boone’s warning was too late. Seven missed calls were waiting for me when I got back from our last call at the station. My voicemail indicator is lit up, but I haven’t listened to it. I already know what it’s about.
Dropping back against the side of the engine, I pause to listen closely, ensuring I’m alone. Brody left me in here with instructions to wash the truck. Shit I don’t mind doing. Especially when it gives me a moment to myself after those missed calls.
Dad doesn’t call often. Typically, only when he’s rip-roaring mad. Which is usually after Gage doesn’t give him the fight he’s looking for.
Bringing the voicemail up, I put the phone to my ear, take a deep breath, and brace myself.
“You stupid piece of fucking shit. You’re fucking worthless, you know that?
You missed branding.” My dad’s deep tone is sharp and biting, and I fight back the chill that threatens to race down my spine.
Like a million razor-edged teeth clawing their way along my back.
“So busy with your new life, you forget about where you came from and who raised you. You forgot what it means to be part of this family, what it means to be a Dalton.”
“You’ve broke your mom’s heart. Over and over, I listen to her cry. Because of you, you selfish prick. Can’t come home, can’t call. Why not, Wyatt? Things ain’t goin’ well in the fire service on the goddamn beach?”
I scrub a hand over my face, closing my eyes. They’re just words. Some I’ve heard a thousand times since I joined junior fire.
“You ready to admit defeat and come home with your tail between your legs?”
The words bring up an image of Bryn and her friends at the bar which brings forth her smiling face.
“It’s gonna happen. It’s inevitable. You’re no good at the fire thing. Why do you think you had to go all the way across the country to get in somewhere, huh? They didn’t want you here because you’re no fucking good. A waste of fucking space. A fucking—”
I hit delete on the voicemail without listening to the rest. It’s nothing new. Only him trying to get under my skin. Years ago, it did. A lot worse than it is right now. Distance and space away from the ranch, away from him, have helped.
Calls like that are the reason I stopped picking up. The reason I don’t call my mom. The reason I left in the first place. Sometimes I wonder why my brothers put up with it.
Gage doesn’t, but he refuses to leave. He’ll never abandon the land or the animals.
Beau, well, duty will keep him there forever, no matter what.
And Boone, bless my baby brother, but I think he stays to make sure they don’t kill each other.
I’m the lucky one that got out. The only one who refused to tolerate the treatment. But there’s a part of me that feels guilty for leaving them. Not my dad, but my brothers and my mom.
Maybe I am a selfish prick.
And maybe… maybe he does get under my skin more than I want to admit.