Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
WYATT
We had been in Silver Creek for four days and had barely left the bed. We had survived on the few groceries I had brought with, which was enough for me. But Julian was over two hundred pounds, and most of that muscle.
So here we stood, his chin resting on my shoulder, looking at the very small meat section of the general store. One half of the building was the outfitters, and the other half was a grocery/drug/liquor store.
“It looks like chicken or beef,” he said, reaching for the whole chicken and the large package of steaks. And the other package of chicken breasts.
“You’re going to eat all that?” I said, looking at the large amount of meat in the small cart.
“This and more.”
“You know how to cook that? Or any of this?” Our cart was filled with rice, beans, and the few fresh vegetables they had.
“Yes.” He kissed my cheek. “I assume you have salt and pepper.”
“I think so?” I didn’t know since I never cooked here and I rarely came here in the winter.
Julian rolled his eyes and walked over to the spices and threw a few in. The store was pretty quiet for four in the afternoon. I heard the bell over the door ring and the checkout girl greeting the person.
I wandered over to the small alcohol selection, checking the tequila options. They had one dusty bottle of silver. “You want something other than tequila?”
“Wyatt?” I heard a gruff voice call.
I looked up to see an older man in a cowboy hat and a Carhartt jacket. “Roman.”
“What are you doing back?” He reached past me and grabbed a case of beer.
“I needed to get away.” Roman Calloway owned a dude ranch outside of town. He wanted me to join him so we could offer the complete package. Fishing and hunting and horse riding. Everything the Bay Area techie needed to get in touch with nature. For a price, of course.
“I told you that city will eat you up. How long you back for?”
“Uh, couple weeks.” I heard Julian come up behind me. “Roman, this is—”
“Jesse.” Julian extended his hand, winking at me.
The older man cocked his head. “Roman Calloway. You look like someone.”
“I get that a lot.” Julian played it off. “It’s the hat.” Julian pointed to the Coyotes hat he had on.
“Yeah.” Roman narrowed his gaze. “Anyway. We are going to be short this summer. Zach’s not coming home. I could use the help. You can bring your boyfriend here. We could use a boy his size. You know how to ride a horse?”
“Yes, sir. Spent my summers working cattle in Warroad.”
“A Minnesota boy, huh? I got a dude ranch up on 16. I’ve been trying to get Wyatt here to come and work for me. With that face of hers, she could—”
“Sell water to a drowning man.” I rolled my eyes. Roman had been trying to get me to come work for him since I bought this place. Silver Creek was about selling an idea, kind of like Vegas.
“Well, the offer stands. You too, Jesse. It was nice seeing you, Wyatt. Don’t let that city eat you up.” He nodded before walking back to the front.
“Come on, Jesse.” I pulled the cart to the front.
The cashier rang us up, stealing a look at Julian when she thought I wasn’t looking.
When the total came, Julian slid his card before I could stop him.
If the girl knew hockey, the whole town would know Julian Silver was here.
We carried the groceries back up to the apartment.
“Would you move up here?” Julian asked, putting away the groceries.
“At one point, I thought I might. Now I don’t know. I might sell it,” I said, opening the cupboard. “I did have salt.” I held out the white cardboard cylinder.
Julian handed me the box of salt. “Why would you sell?”
I shrugged. “It’s a lot of work. The outfitters barely pays for itself.
I don’t come up here as much as I thought I would.
” I put away the morning dishes, especially since now I had him.
“I almost bought Roman’s ranch instead of this place.
Roman’s wife was sick, and he didn’t think he could take care of her and the ranch. ” I closed the cupboard.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was twenty-one and did not know how to run a ranch, and I wasn’t ready to leave Vegas.”
“You were twenty-one when you bought this place. Did you win the lottery?” he teased, folding the paper bags up.
“Something like that.” I turned away from him.
“Hey.” He grabbed my arm. “I was kidding. I couldn’t save two fucking pennies when I was twenty-one. So good on you.”
“It’s not like that. I was a coward and because of that, another girl died.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.” I leaned against the counter.
“Remember the asshole from LA? He was a judge. Judge Cavanaw, and he was rich and powerful. Maverick blackmailed him for a million dollars. Cavanaw could either pay it or Maverick was going to sell photos of my busted face to every gossip magazine in LA. Maverick got the security video from the hotel, and it showed us checking in together. Another from the hallway when I was…” I shook the image away of his pale, flabby body reaching for me as I raced for the elevator.
Him screaming no one would care if I died in the hallway.
“Wyatt.”
“I took the money and bought this place. I should’ve pressed charges because he did it again.
But that girl didn’t have a Maverick, and, well…
her ending was different.” It took me a long time to come back to this place after I heard about the girl and how she died.
For months I kept playing the what-if over and over.
What if I hadn’t gotten away? What if Maverick hadn’t come?
That was why I wanted to make Maverick happy in those days.
Why I wanted him to love me so that I wouldn’t end up like that girl. Forgotten. “I could’ve saved her.”
Julian pulled me into his embrace. “What happened to her wasn’t your fault.”
“It was. I should have…” I closed my eyes against the tears.
“You did what you had to, to survive.” He hugged me tighter. “Wyatt, you were nineteen.”
“He killed her. No one cared because she was a whore.” I had argued with Maverick for weeks to let me go to the police. To show them the photos. He reminded me we’d both be arrested for extortion. Maverick was just making a name for himself. He couldn’t afford to lose everything over a silly girl.
Julian held me at arm’s length, ducking to meet my gaze. “Not because of you. Because of some sick fucker who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Because our society puts money over life. You didn’t kill that girl.”
“I didn’t stop it. I could have told the cops what happened. Instead, I said nothing. I cowered in the cell, wishing it would all go away. If another prostitute hadn’t felt sorry for me and called Maverick, I’d probably still be sitting in that cell. I could have saved that girl.”
“No, you couldn’t have.” He pulled me back into his embrace. “You were a scared kid. He should be the one sitting in prison.”
“He died of a heart attack on his yacht. I went to his funeral.” I had whispered that I would see him in hell. “I tucked a photo of that girl in his pocket.” As hard as it was to tell Julian, it felt good to have someone else know my burden.
“I’m sorry, love.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m sorry so many men have failed you.”
“Do you hate me?”
He cupped my face between his hands. “No. Even if you killed him with your bare hands, I wouldn’t hate you. I could never hate you.”