Chapter 10
HATTIE
Present Day
I said what I needed to say last night. Soon, the pit in my stomach will dissolve. Just as soon as the look on Heston’s face as we ripped each other’s emotions to shreds in my front yard stops flashing before my eyes.
Any minute now.
My phone buzzes, and I quickly check it, sighing in disappointment when I see it isn’t Mesa.
She’s just as busy as I am with work-related stuff right now, and I know she’s out of town for a few more days.
I’ve been dying to catch her at a good time to talk to her about everything, but part of me knows I’ll be putting her in a tough spot when I do.
Some things are better said in person, anyway.
The back door connecting to the mudroom opens, letting in a draft of cold, morning air. I place my phone back down and keep my eyes focused on the mug in my hand as Dad’s boots scrape back and forth on the mat.
“I thought I heard your truck roll in,” he says. “Mornin’.”
“Good morning,” I respond as cheerfully as I can manage.
He slides the pot of coffee from its warming plate and refills his travel cup. I push the chair out next to me with my foot. With a grunt, he drops to the seat and leans back.
“Are you ever going to learn to take your boots off before you walk through the kitchen?” I ask.
“Are you ever going to remember to put the creamer back in the fridge after you’re done with it?”
I breathe out a soft laugh through my nose. “We’re the worst.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t make your way here this early to help break ice in the stock tanks,” he suggests.
We each take a sip of our coffee. I let my attention fall to the unassuming grin on his face. I like that he’s always glad to have me around, even though I’m not the same little sidekick with bouncy pigtails tagging along behind him anymore.
Despite his generally pleasant expression, there’s still an underlying instinct that tells me he’s on edge. I’m beginning to think neither of us is capable of not being on edge anymore.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I explain. “Thought I might sneak over for a ride or find something to keep me busy until I got called in for work. If nothing comes up, I can stick around and help you with chores.”
The truth is, the house I grew up in was the only place I could think of that might give me a little comfort right now.
The only comforting place I have access to, anyway.
I ignore my heart too often. So this time, when it told me to stop worrying myself to death and simply come home for a slow Sunday morning coffee, I listened.
He nods, rubbing a palm over the side of his still sleepy face. “Work going okay?”
“It’s going good. Busy.” I roll my shoulders back, but it doesn’t stretch out the stiffness like I hoped it would. “Have you seen Marcus up and around yet?”
He chuckles. “It’s a little early for that. I’ll bang on his door when I stop by the office in a bit.”
“No, that’s okay!” I rush out. He twists his mouth and raises a brow at me. “I mean, don’t wake him. He’s been in his office a lot, and I’m sure he needs to sleep.”
How he can indulge in a single wink of shut eye at a time like this is beyond me.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him, actually,” Dad says.
Yay.
I take another drink, a gulp this time, to cover how hard it is not to cringe right now.
The details of my altercation with Marcus are bubbling to the surface, begging me to let them out.
Deep down, I know that Dad would blow a gasket if I told him, though.
And it scares me to think what Marcus would do when he realized I’d exposed him.
I can’t exactly vent to Dad about my ex, either. That would end in a fight, like it always has.
I have no outlet for my thoughts. They’ve raced nonstop since talking with Heston face-to-face last night, and have only slightly slowed down since showing up here in an attempt to calm them.
I don’t feel right about how things went with him at my house. Realistically, I knew the outcome of a reunion like that wouldn’t be great. But part of me feels guilty for the way I let my resentment get the best of me.
I’ve been waiting for the relief to hit after speaking my mind to him . . . but it still hasn’t come. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that the rational closure I’ve been wanting got buried beneath hurt, anger, and residual fear from my earlier conversation with Marcus.
The whole interaction was a mess, and we didn’t come to terms with a single thing.
Maybe there’s nothing I can do about that, and maybe Marcus won’t back down from his outlandish power trip, either.
But barely surviving each day, in a constant state of turmoil, is getting really damn old.
Just once, I’d like to be the fun and bubbly girl.
Just live, for one whole day, without getting dragged under.
“What about him?” I ask, returning my focus to Dad.
He lifts a shoulder. “How’s it going?”
“Everything’s fine. Why do you ask?” I laugh lightly, but Dad sees right through it.
“I don’t know,” he says. “The thing with the invitations kind of caught me off guard. I didn’t realize he was going to get them sent out right away or not mention it to you. How did he even have them made that fast?”
“You know Marcus.” I lower my hands beneath the table and twist my fingers nervously. “He’s always got everything in order. When he sets his mind to something, it gets done as quickly as possible.”
“Right,” he says, drawing out the word. “So, everything’s good? You don’t feel like there’s anything you need to do, or—”
“Dad.” I cut him off with a sigh.
If he tries just a tiny bit harder, I might break. That can’t happen yet.
His tan canvas coat rustles as he shifts in his seat. I pretend not to notice how deeply he’s thinking as he spreads his legs and pushes a hand over his thigh to smooth out his pant leg.
When he speaks this time, he doesn’t look at me. “Alright, I’ll drop it. I followed your lead and acted like nothing was wrong all week. I think I can do it for a few more.”
“Okay.” My voice quiets as I realize the awkward position I’m putting him in by keeping him in the dark. My words come out like a sad confession. “I shouldn’t be making you feel like you have to put on an act.”
Slowly shaking his head with a sympathetic smile is the reaction I expected from him. In truth, I think we both know that no one could actually make him feel like he has to do anything he doesn’t want to do. Still, the idea of it gets his wheels spinning in a new direction.
“You’re a little off lately.” His observation doesn’t come off as unkind, but rather gently inquisitive. When my dad says things like this, it triggers alarm bells in my head. It’s rarely unfounded when he voices his concern. “Maybe not quite yourself or something,” he adds.
By lately, I don’t think he means the last few days or weeks, and it makes me feel even worse.
I wish I could offer an explanation that justifies the way I’ve been acting. But “I don’t even know who I am anymore” simply isn’t true. I know exactly who I am. I’ve just lost her, and recently, too many other things have taken precedence over getting her back.
“I’m fine,” I say with a smile.
He chuckles and seems to give up on the topic altogether. “You coming back home after work tomorrow for Christmas break?”
“I’m not in college anymore, Dad. I have a big kid job now that doesn’t shut down just because a holiday is coming up,” I remind him with a laugh. “My schedule is pretty full this week, but I’ll come back to Tish in time for Christmas morning on Thursday. Promise.”
He nods and scratches the side of his neck. “Well, I don’t know what you’ve got after that. But I was going to see if you wouldn’t mind hooking up to the trailer and dropping a horse off for me. End of next week, maybe?”
I stand and squeeze his shoulder on my way to put my coffee mug in the sink. “Of course. Is it nearby? If not, I can just take the horse to the clinic with me and then make the drive to wherever I need to take it after work.”
“Uh, let me think.” He groans with a stretch and tilts his head like he’s trying to remember where the horse is supposed to be delivered to. “It’s about fifteen minutes outside of town. Give or take.”
I laugh through my nose. “The name of the town would be helpful information.”
“Westridge, I think?”
I rinse out my cup, then turn to lean back against the counter. “Oh. That’ll be easy, then. Which horse is it?”
“Flighty Bay mare.”
I know which one he’s referring to right away. I hope whoever is getting her has a soft bit ready. She’s scrappy.
“Who’s she for?” I ask.
“Young kid just getting started. His uncle roped on one I trained ages ago. Good guy. Anyway, he gave me a call, and I want to help his nephew out once he settles in at his new place.”
“Okay,” I say, drawing out the word and waiting for him to elaborate on the location. Dad mumbles something, then coughs. “What was that?” I ask.
“I said, ah, over at Prairie Rose Ranch.”
My body goes still. Just because I’ve been avoiding that place and everyone in it like the plague doesn’t mean I haven’t heard the local ramblings about it. The ownership, the drama, the name change . . .
“Gage’s place,” he confirms.
My arms cross instantly. “Very funny. I’m not going there, and you know it.”
It’s strange that he’s asking me to do this when any one of his employees could probably deliver the horse for him. And if I remember correctly, any mention of me going to that ranch in the past had set him off.
“It’s just a quick drop,” he says, hands raised like what he’s suggesting isn’t a big deal. “I’ll be gone, and everyone else is busy. Figured you’d help me.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes, button up my coat, and trudge toward the door.
Even Dr. Cates knows I don’t take calls if they’re from Prairie Rose Ranch.
We have an understanding that he handles all their veterinary needs without my involvement.
“You know I’ll always help you whenever you need it. But this is different.”