Chapter 19 #2
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t make it okay.” He looks at me for several beats like he’s deciding whether to say something he’s been sitting on for years.
“When you and Heston got serious, I panicked. I didn’t think running him off would work, but it did.
And I regretted it as soon as I saw how it affected you.
Well, after a while, anyway. It took a lot of therapy to learn about taking accountability.
I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this since you graduated, but then you started things up with Marcus, and I’d already sworn I’d never interfere with your relationships again.
Told myself I was going to love you by trusting you instead. ”
“Dad,” I whisper, wanting so badly to stand up and hug him right now.
“Now, I can’t rewrite the past,” he continues.
“Believe me, I’d rewrite the whole fucking thing if I could.
All the way back to—” I reach over to take his hand.
He shakes his head and clears his throat.
“Never mind about the things I can’t change.
You should know Heston scared the living daylights out of me, though.
I saw how close you two were. You were so drawn to him that you even brought up quitting school, and I blamed him for that.
I hated him, and I hated the involvement he had with the rodeo even more. ”
Jay passed unexpectedly during a rodeo event.
The coroners assured us that his congenital heart defect would have run its course, whether he was lying in bed or sitting atop a running horse.
Despite the facts, Dad saw rodeo as the villain in our story.
To this day, he holds a grudge against it for taking Jay away from us.
No one wants to type the details of their loved one’s fatal accident into an online search bar and scour articles or message boards until they find a clear culprit to channel their anger toward.
But the only thing worse than grief is guilt.
If you can’t lay blame on something else, then it falls on you, and there’s absolutely no other feeling in the world more gut-wrenching than that.
It was the rodeo or himself. Even if it didn’t make sense, I’d choose the former if I had to, just like he did.
“That was wrong of me,” Dad adds, “but it’s still true.
I didn’t want you anywhere near a rodeo arena.
And all I could see was you going off with Heston on the road, and me sitting here alone with my family scattered between heaven and a thousand miles away.
Everywhere but where I wanted them. Anywhere but with me. ”
There’s nothing I can do to stop my ribs and chest from rolling forward. The sound that accompanies it is nothing short of pained. My hand curls around the front of my neck. Several tears glob together in my eyes before spilling over in a rush down both sides of my face.
I only get this way about twice a year. Most days, I try not to acknowledge the people we’ve lost, and it works to keep me functioning.
To a certain extent. But it’s a facade. When it all boils over because I ran out of room to shove it down to, it comes convulsing out of me in an unstoppable wave of emotion.
All of a sudden, it’s the night before prom again, and I’m clutching a photo of my mom in the fetal position on my bed because she wasn’t there to help pick out my dress. Fix my hair. Remind me to be safe with a wink while giving me one last swipe of lip gloss.
I’m forced back to the way I felt when I was sitting in the front row at my brother’s funeral—close enough to the crowded bouquets of flowers around his resting body that I could reach out and touch his boots.
They were the same as always, unlike his face.
I’m reliving the way my legs were shaking as I stepped toward his grave and left a flower on his casket before they lowered him into the ground, knowing I’d never see or talk to him again.
I don’t want to think about how crushing it was to check his hat every day to see if it still smelled like him, and crying the night it started to take on the smell of my closet instead.
Or how it feels to visit two graves at once, lie between them, and talk up to the clouds that never say anything back.
Dad’s chair scrapes across the floor as he scoots it toward me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. It helps, and reminds me that he’s more important to me than anything in the world. He’s all I have.
Even though most days I’ve mastered the art of not letting the grief affect me, I hadn’t realized until now that I’ve still been letting it make my decisions for me.
Fear-based decisions. Ones that I only hoped would preserve what little happiness and togetherness my family had. It’s an impossible pill to swallow.
“It was my responsibility to get the help I needed to pull myself together,” he speaks softly into my hair. “Not yours. You shouldn’t have taken that on or tried to fix it. Not even if you thought marrying Marcus was the answer. Not in any way.”
I nod, sniffing away as many of my uncontrollable tears as I can. Something settles in my mind, hearing him say those words. For the first time, I’m starting to believe them and realize what feeling responsible for everyone’s happiness but mine has cost me.
Dad pulls away to hold me at arm’s length once I’ve calmed down a bit.
“We’re gonna be missing them forever, sunshine.
But I’ll tell you what, I bet they’re looking at us right now and shaking their heads.
They’re wondering what the hell we’re thinking, wasting time doing anything but what we’d do if they weren’t gone. ”
I push out a shaky, pained breath just thinking about what it’d be like if they were still here. They’d have hated Marcus. Mom, especially. She was open-minded and kind, but almost nothing made her stick her tongue out and scrunch her nose up like a man in khakis and clean shoes.
Jay probably would have given me the silent treatment for weeks after letting things end with Heston.
I’d like to think he would have looked up to him.
They would have had the type of bond that only comes from liking all the same things.
They would have loved getting to finally dap up and say “what’s up, bro” to someone and actually mean it literally after both growing up with only a sister.
“We wouldn’t be in this mess if they weren’t gone,” I whisper.
“Maybe not, but we don’t know that for sure. However, I do know exactly what your mom would be saying right now.”
I tilt my head, curious to hear what advice she would give. I’d give anything to know.
“Nothing,” he states. “Because she’d already be trashing that tool’s apartment and listing his prized watch collection on some online auction site.”
It feels good to laugh, no matter how small and sad it comes out. “Yeah, that sounds about right. So, is that what we should do?”
He settles back in his seat and rubs the side of his jaw. “Maybe. You probably haven’t done that because you were worried about how it’d piss him off, huh?”
“Exactly,” I admit. “I know I shouldn’t have kept the peace because I worried it would disappoint you to have a falling out with him.
And I shouldn’t have let him scare me into keeping my mouth shut in general.
But he’s an unpredictable manchild. I still don’t want anything bad to happen to you and everything you’ve worked so hard for. ”
“I’ll be honest. He does have enough clearance to pull a few plugs on recent investments if he really wanted to.
That’s probably what he’s got his eye on as leverage, and I probably shouldn’t have given him so much free rein there.
That’s on me. But the ranch is the most valuable thing I own, and most of it isn’t liquid value or easily accessible.
It’s tied up in land and a trust. It’s, uh—well, it’s not a small amount, either.
No one bankrupts a place like this overnight. ”
“Tied up?”
He nods. “Rightfully . . . it’s all yours, Hattie. While I’m still alive, ownership could never be transferred unless it went through you first. And when I’m gone, no one can touch it but you.”
“Okay, that’s . . . I don’t know what to say. You know I love this place, and I’d never let someone else take it from us if I could help it.”
“I know, sunshine. It’s been my life’s work. It’s always been for you.”
“Dad. I would very much like to stop crying now, if you don’t mind.”
He chuckles. “Sorry.”
I take a breath to refocus and stop my emotions from shoving me into a pool of my own tears. “So, what I’m hearing is that he couldn’t get to it unless he had spousal rights.”
Dad twists his face. “Yeah. Makes the most sense, I guess. What a fucking loser.”
I laugh again, slightly less pained this time. It feels good to finally be talking this out with him instead of freaking out over it on my own. “I’ve been doing some research on extortion.”
He crosses one boot over his knee and smirks. “Oh yeah?”
“He might be able to do a little damage if we piss him off, but what you’ve told me makes me think he’s not going after small potatoes. If the ranch is in his crosshairs, then I’m his only way of getting it. I think the obvious thing is not marrying him.”
“That’s a good start,” Dad agrees with another chuckle, then rubs a hand down his face. “God, I was doing everything I could to make sure that didn’t happen because I knew you didn’t want to. I could sense it. I never would have forgiven myself if you actually did it.”
“Everything you could?” I narrow my eyes.
He lifts his hands in surrender. “Look, I said I wasn’t going to interfere in your relationships anymore, but I’m good at finding loopholes. Or, making them. Whatever. It was just a little invitation and a horse delivery to the right place. I did what I could.”
“I knew it,” I gasp. “I couldn’t wrap my head around why, but I knew you were up to something!”
“I ain’t sorry about it, either.”
The mood has turned much less somber, and we’re back to our old jesting. I’m glad for it, but as realization sinks in, I go silent for a moment.
“You were pushing me toward Heston,” I say quietly.
He nods and looks down at my hands that are twisting in my lap.
Part of why I walked away when Heston told me to go was because I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to make a life with someone my dad didn’t approve of.
Their lack of camaraderie was a huge pain point for me when I finally accepted that it was over between us.
Learning that my dad has been advocating for a second chance between us is lighting my entire body up with tingles and flickers of hope.
“I didn’t give him a fair chance,” he admits.
“And I never forgot the way you were that summer. It was the happiest I’d ever seen you, even toward the end when you were fighting the idea of going back and finishing school.
I know it was only because you loved who you were with him, and you didn’t want to give that up for anything.
He took care of you and made you feel that way. He made you happy.”
I groan and let my head fall into my hands. “I thought I told you I wanted to stop crying.”
He stands from his chair, and I wipe a fresh tear from the side of my nose. Not sure how there are any of them left at this point. When Dad returns, he places a glass of water in front of me and drops back down to his seat with a muted grunt. I gladly chug a third of the cold liquid.
“Tell you what,” he states. “You tell me if you want me to go and nip this stuff with Marcus right in the bud, or if you want me to lay low and work on a good plan with you to deal with it. I don’t want to send him off with a little wounded pride.
I want to make him pay for pulling this shit.
But I’ll do whichever one you think feels like the right move. ”
“This is the part where I worry that I’ll make the wrong decision,” I say with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Whatever happens, happens. It’s your call, and you’re steering this ship whether you like it or not.”
I narrow my eyes. “Okay. But why?”
The weight on my shoulders feels lighter now that I’ve got Dad in the know and on my side. But it’s odd for him to force me into pulling all the strings instead of making it a collaborative effort.
“Because I want you to start trusting yourself and feel like you still have some freedom of choice, too. There’s something else I’m going to tell you. You need to do as I say, and I’m not taking no for an answer on that one.”
“What is it?” I ask quietly.
“Let’s see. It’s Wednesday, so that means . . .” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, checks the time, then places it face down on the table. “If you leave within the next hour, you’ll get there in time to find out for yourself.”
“Leave? After everything we just talked about? I already called out of work today to figure this out before Marcus gets back from the city. I can’t just leave now.”
“Yes, you can, and you will. I don’t want to hear any arguments about it. I need you to go so that it can stop keeping me up at night. Everything here can take a backseat for one more day.”
My back straightens. “Keeping you up at night? Go where?”
“Solana Bluffs.”