Chapter 6 Hattie
HATTIE
“He saw it,” Mesa sighs on speaker phone. “I’m so sorry, Hattie. I know you wanted to tell him yourself.”
Figures.
Did I really think getting Blythe and Savannah to sneak me onto the ranch so that one of us could stage some sort of heist was a grand idea? I didn’t think it through. I wasn’t thinking, period.
When Mesa came out to our hiding spot and told us that Heston was right inside, things were not looking good.
Then, as soon as Gage found us crouching behind the bunkhouse and told me to leave, I knew that a bad outcome was inevitable.
At least I have the entire drive back to my rental house to accept it.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” I insist. “I hate that I didn’t say anything to you about this sooner.”
Mesa is one of my best friends in the world. I love her to death, and yet, I’ve been hiding the fact that I’m engaged from her for a week. I didn’t even tell her about the encounter with Heston at the hardware store. If she weren’t dating Heston’s best friend, I’d have gone to her right away.
Privately panicking seemed necessary before seeking help from people who care about us both. That’s an unhealthy excuse, looking back on it. But the complicated web was, and is, overwhelming to navigate. Even more so now.
Even though I feel guilty about keeping secrets, I’m still dying to ask her for details about Heston’s reaction.
Was he upset? Delighted? Is he still at the bunkhouse?
It’s maddening and makes me feel like a teenager who hasn’t yet learned to keep their desperation under control.
Despite the number of crazed questions floating around in my head, I keep them to myself. I’ve endured enough chaos for the day.
“I understand. I really do,” Mesa says. “Hattie, please don’t take this the wrong way, okay? I support you no matter what the answer is, but I need to ask you something.”
Blythe lengthens her spine in the driver’s seat to take a peek at me in the rearview mirror, and Savannah turns toward me on the passenger’s side.
I feel like the size of an ant in this backseat, smaller with every mile.
Maybe if the trip lasts long enough, I’ll continue shrinking until I disappear.
I swallow hard and speak cautiously into the phone. “You can ask me.”
“Are you pregnant?”
Savannah covers her mouth and widens her eyes.
I think Blythe murmurs an oh shit while my face turns as cold and white as freshly fallen snow.
That’s exactly what this looks like. A shotgun wedding.
The longer the silence stretches, the more I imagine how many people will be asking the same question when news of my engagement filters through the masses.
“No,” I answer honestly.
“Okay,” she says in a soft, soothing tone. “I won’t bring it up again. I just thought maybe—well, you know what, we don’t have to dive into it right now. Are you okay?”
I fake a smile, though she’s on the other end of the line and can’t see me right now. “I’ll be just fine. We’re pulling up to my house, and I’m going to shower and try to get some sleep before processing this circus of a day.”
“Text me tomorrow,” she suggests. “I have to fly out early in the morning, but I’m coming over as soon as I get back from my speaking engagement.”
I hope the days pass quickly. She’s the one I’m going to feel the most comfortable with confiding in once I’m ready.
A breathy, dejected laugh escapes my throat. I don’t deserve a friend like her. “Sounds good. I’ll be around.”
“K. Bye, girl. Get some rest.”
The call ends just as the vehicle stops in my driveway.
It gently rocks back as Blythe puts it in park.
No one makes a move to get out yet. There’s something safe about sitting in the car in silence before going inside.
If we do this long enough, maybe I can pretend that I have any control over the world waiting for me out there.
Savannah is tapping on her phone while I turn my head to stare out the window. Blythe leans forward, her hands flat atop the steering wheel, and rests her chin on her knuckles. She’s the first to interrupt the quiet.
“You knew this would kill him.”
Tears gather in my eyes, but I see my opportunity to be truthful and open with the people in Heston’s circle, and I take it.
“No one wants to find out like that. I didn’t invite him to the wedding, though.
I’m pretty sure my dad did. I didn’t want Heston to think I was being petty or that I was going out of my way to rub it in his face.
So, I tried to get to him before the mail did.
And yeah, I assumed he’d be upset if I wasn’t able to tell him myself. ”
“I’m not talking about the invitation,” Blythe clarifies. “This isn’t about semantics. At the end of the day, someone else asked you to marry them, and you said yes. Did you even—”
Savannah lays a hand on Blythe’s forearm, sensing her anger. It’d be hard to miss with the narrowed eyes and the growing intensity in her voice. I don’t look away from her, poised and ready to take the beating, whether I deserve it or not. She takes a slow breath to rein in her frustration.
“Sorry,” she says calmly. “I’m not trying to attack you. I don’t even know the whole story. But with the bits of information I do have, I know you two haven’t spoken since you left him. That doesn’t seem fair to him! Two years and—”
She stops herself again, unable to keep her voice down like she wants to.
I’ve been well aware that Blythe and Savannah disliked me since the day we met this past summer.
Savannah is less obvious about it, but it still rings true.
It was tense in the beginning, but since I’m good friends with Mesa, they warmed up to me over time. Kind of.
I respect the hell out of them for not only giving me a chance and helping me today, but also for sticking up for Heston at the same time. I can’t hold Blythe’s frustration against her when I’ve seen the evidence proving what a loyal person she is.
I’m stuck on something she said, though. Not just the specific words, but the way she emphasized them. I did not leave him. Technically, yes, I moved away the very day we broke up. But I don’t think she realizes that he is the one who insisted I go and forced me out.
Something about defending myself feels self-serving, so I hold back.
“He’s our family,” Savannah gently chimes in. “I think what B is trying to say is that this is all very confusing for us because we want what’s best for you, but still feel protective over the way this thing between you and Heston has been affecting him. We all worry about him very much.”
“And that’s why she’s my lawyer,” Blythe adds.
Despite the tense mood, I perk up at the reminder that Savannah is a lawyer. Maybe she could help me with Marcus. Although now probably isn’t the best time to bring that up, I continue gauging her expression.
She smiles, albeit sadly, and I slowly nod.
Her killer suit, dainty jewelry, and soft brown curls swept into a perfectly fastened updo aren’t the only sophisticated things about her.
The way she speaks is nothing if not thoughtful and wise.
She’s brimming with empathy, and it opens the door for more honesty that I’ve wanted so desperately to let spill out.
“I never got closure,” I admit. The tears that have been pooling in my eyes finally fall down my cheeks.
I don’t bother swiping them from my skin.
“God, that’s ridiculous to get emotional over when I’m tangled up in something with another man.
I must seem like such a horrible person to y’all.
” I almost let my situation with Marcus slip out.
Even keeping that part to myself for now, letting everything else out feels good.
I hold onto that feeling and allow myself to open up even more.
“I’ve been trying to move on, thinking it would fix everything.
Obviously, my freak out over Heston finding out about the whole wedding thing means that it didn’t exactly work. ”
Savannah worries her lip and makes quick eye contact with Blythe before turning back to me.
“Do you—ugh. I mean, obviously, you’re about to get married.
You made your choice, but you seemed pretty frazzled over the invitation getting to the bunkhouse, and now you’re saying moving on didn’t work.
How do I put this?” She pauses before tilting her head.
“Are you unhappy? Because maybe you’re still in love with Heston? ”
I shake my head and purse my lips, hating the way my streak of honesty abruptly ends. “Of course not. No. I’m not.”
“Yikes,” Blythe mumbles.
There’s a loud rumble behind the car we’re in, but I don’t turn around at the familiar sound that sends a shiver down my spine. Savannah winces as I stare at her with wide eyes. Maybe a lot of trucks sound like that around here. Hundreds, probably.
When Savannah’s eyes flick to the side, and she presses her lips together, I look out the window. The truck’s tinted windows and sleek black exterior are enough to cause a wave of vertigo to wash over me.
“Fucking hell,” I groan. “Savannah!”
“I couldn’t help it,” she defends herself. “I’m a natural mediator, okay? And it’s ridiculous how much time you two have let pass without a simple discussion. Don’t you want to clear the air once and for all?”
Yes.
I think . . . Maybe.
Ugh. I don’t know how.
“I can’t talk to him.”
“Hattie,” Savannah sighs. “Before today, I would say that I get it. Adults don’t always need to rehash the past. But I saw how utterly panicked you were earlier, and he didn’t waste any time getting the heck off that ranch and coming to find you.
I feel very adamant about this. You need to speak with one another. ”
Until now, I’ve been leaning on a bit of guilt for the invitation debacle. It’s my fault for saying yes to Marcus when I shouldn’t have. But when the truck engine turns off, and the driver’s side door bangs shut, my memory fog clears.
“I’m still . . .” Lost. Consumed with helpless regret. Hurt. Scared. Take your pick. I try not to grit my teeth too hard. “Angry.”
Blythe plucks a scrunchie from the center console and pulls her dark blonde hair into a messy bun that has no business being as effortlessly cute as it is, then pops her lips. “Now would be a good time to tell us what happened.”
Savannah chances a look to the side. “Quickly.”
Even if Heston weren’t approaching the vehicle, we still wouldn’t have enough time to open that can of worms and dissect them all, one by one.
The light coming in from the backseat window is fully eclipsed in the next moment, and judging by the tall, dark figure standing right outside of it, this confrontation is happening whether I’m in the right state of mind for it or not.
We sit in silence, pretending that Blythe’s running car isn’t a dead giveaway that we’re hiding inside of it.
“Is he walking away?” I ask, focusing on the windshield.
I wish he would, but I already know that he isn’t. Blythe shakes her head with a raised brow. I gasp when she reaches for the window button in slow motion as if I won’t see.
“Are you serious?” I whisper. She gives me an apologetic closed-lip smile and inches closer to the button. “I swear to—”
The backseat window glides down with a menacing whir. I straighten my posture and silently beg my rapidly expanding chest to slow the hell down.
I’m not ready. I’ve had what seems like an eternity to prepare for this moment, and somehow, it still feels too soon.
No, this can’t happen yet. Not after all that’s transpired today and over the last week.
What little energy I have left is barely enough to keep me afloat.
It’s nowhere near enough to help me string together a coherent combination of words that prove I’m not the same person I was back then.
I still have my moments. But the girl he knew was wildly impulsive and borderline codependent.
She was also completely in love with him. And asking him to forget who I used to be means forgetting that, too.
The window stops, as does my heartbeat. The chill coming from outside feels like it’s rushing in to suffocate me.
Savannah sharply nods her head toward the window with raised brows. I don’t want to. But with one exaggerated blink and a shallow breath, my neck turns anyway.
His hands rest on his knees as he bends to eye level and looks into the car. I refuse to let my mouth fall into a frown, which in turn makes my chin quiver. I attempt a small smile to make it go away.
Heston doesn’t bother with a greeting, or much less a look in Blythe and Savannah’s direction. Instead, he eyes me from head to toe, sending a shiver up my spine that’s so intense it almost hurts.
My hands curl together in my lap, but not quickly enough that he misses the ring on my finger. Stupid thing. I want to return it, or at the very least, hide it in the top drawer of my dresser.
His gaze snaps back to mine, brows low and lips tight, as if he’s found the evidence he was looking for and doesn’t like it one bit.
He grew out his beard, and his hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it. I noticed that at the hardware store, of course, but seeing it up close is different. I wish he’d take his cowboy hat off. Maybe he’s balding now, and it would give me a little smug satisfaction.
Ha! You may have dumped me, but I see you’re paying for it now with a receding hairline.
I doubt it, though. His hair has always been infuriatingly perfect, right down to the stubble on that square jaw of his.
My cheeks heat in annoyance with myself. Heston remains silent. Waiting.
One thing I promised myself was that if this day ever came, I wouldn’t get caught up in how ridiculously handsome he is. I’d look away if I needed to, just to force him to lead the conversation instead of me getting distracted or filling in the gaps like I always did.
The man rarely speaks about his feelings, and not enabling that pattern is the only semblance of control I have right now. My chin raises slightly, daring him to break the ice.
I sure as hell won’t.
And I think he knows it.
With a sigh, he steps closer to the car and rests his forearms on the open window. Our eyes lock once again before he finally speaks.
“Well,” he breathes out a sigh. “Congrats, I guess.”
I wasn’t planning on saying thank you, but even if I was, he turns away before I get the chance to say a single word.