Chapter 8
Wyatt
From my vantage point on the hill, I can see everything. Including Hank Thompson standing on the porch with his arms crossed like he’s auditioning for the role of Disappointed Dad in a Lifetime movie.
This should be interesting.
Callie climbs out of her truck, and even from here, I can see her shoulders tense when she spots her dad.
She does this thing where she squares up, lifts her chin, and prepares for battle.
It’s the same stance she took right before she told me my chili opinions were “bad, just really bad,” last week.
I shouldn’t be watching this. It’s private family business, and I’ve got my own problems to deal with. But I can’t look away as Hank holds up what appears to be a newspaper, waving it like it’s his mantra.
Callie’s voice carries across the pasture, clear as day in the morning quiet.
“Oh good, newspaper dancing, Dad. My favorite way to start the morning.”
I snort despite myself. Leave it to Callie to sass her father during what’s clearly meant to be a serious conversation.
Hank’s voice booms back, “This is not a joke, Callie Marie!”
“Everything’s a joke if you try hard enough, Dad. That’s what keeps me sane in this whacky world we call life.”
“You were photographed leaving the McCoy ranch at dawn!”
“Was it a flattering photo? Because I specifically asked Mrs. Delaney to get my good side.”
I can feel her dad’s blood pressure rising from here.
“This is serious! You’re humiliating our family!”
“Dad, our family’s reputation survived the great zucchini incident of 2019 when you tried to pay your taxes in vegetables. I think we’ll survive me existing near McCoys.”
“You weren’t just ‘existing near’ them—”
“You’re right. I was aggressively existing near them. With extreme prejudice. And possibly jazz hands.”
“Callie!”
“What do you want me to say? That I took a wrong turn? That I was sleepwalking? That I was investigating a potential goat emergency?”
“I want you to tell me the truth!”
“The truth is that you’re being ridiculous, and Mrs. Delaney needs a hobby that doesn’t involve surveillance photography. Maybe she could take up knitting. Or competitive eating. Or literally anything that doesn’t involve stalking your daughter.”
“She’s looking out for you—”
“She’s looking out for her Facebook engagement rates, Dad. Have you seen her page? It’s like TMZ had a baby with the Cedar Ridge phone tree.”
There’s a pause, and I can see Mr. Thompson deflate. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter but somehow more serious.
“You’ll lose everything chasing those boys.”
“I’m not chasing anyone!” Callie’s voice goes up an octave. “They’re not Pokemon, Dad. I’m not trying to catch ’em all.”
Despite the situation, I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“Then what are you doing?” he demands.
“Living my life? Making my own choices? Being a functional adult who can decide where to drive her own truck?”
“With them?”
“With whoever I want! This is America, Dad. Land of the free, home of the brave, and constitutionally protected right to make questionable decisions at all hours of the day and night.”
“This isn’t funny—”
“It’s a little funny. Come on, you’re literally shaking a newspaper at me like it’s 1952. Next, you’ll be challenging them to a duel at high noon.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Pistols or swords? Because I feel like Jesse would absolutely show up to a sword fight. He’s extra like that.”
“CALLIE MARIE THOMPSON!”
“HANK EUGENE THOMPSON!” she shouts back, matching his tone perfectly.
There’s a stunned silence, then Callie continues in a calmer voice.
“Look, Dad, I get it. You’ve spent thirty years nurturing this feud like it’s your prized orchid. But I’m twenty-eight years old. I may live with you but I pay my bills. I manage my life. And I’m done letting a three-decade-old mayo incident dictate who I can and can’t talk to.”
“It wasn’t just mayo—”
“It’s always just mayo, Dad. Everything eventually comes down to mayo.”
She turns and heads into the house, but pauses at the door to deliver one final shot.
“By the way, you might want to work on your intimidation face. You look less like an angry father and more like you’re trying to solve a really hard sudoku.”
The door slams, leaving Mr. Thompson standing on the porch clutching his newspaper.
I shouldn’t be impressed by how she handled that. I should be worried about the fallout, about what this means for all of us.
But damn if Callie Thompson doesn’t know how to turn a confrontation into entertainment.
Jesse: Did you see the photos?
Boone: We’re trending on the Cedar Ridge Facebook page!
Me: Emergency meeting. Now.
Twenty minutes later, my brothers are waiting for me in the barn like it’s an intervention.
“We need to talk,” Jesse says, which is never a good start to any conversation.
“About?” I ask, though I know exactly what this is about.
Boone holds up his phone, showing me the Facebook post that’s taken over the entire town’s news feed. The photo is blurry but unmistakably Callie, leaving our ranch at dawn with what Mrs. Delaney’s caption calls “sex hair and satisfied smile #scandal #enemiestolovers #calleddit.”
“Cripes. What a mess,” I say, running a hand through my hair.
“It’s hilarious,” Jesse counters. “Did you read the comments? Someone made a meme with Romeo and Juliet but with our faces photoshopped in.”
“It’s actually pretty well done,” Boone adds. “I might make it my profile picture.”
“This isn’t funny,” I snap. “This is exactly what I said would happen. We’re dragging her down with us.”
“Dragging her down?” Jesse’s eyebrows shoot up. “She seemed pretty happy being ‘dragged down’ last night.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?” Boone asks. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to bail now that things are getting difficult.”
“Things were always going to get difficult. That’s why this was a bad idea from the start.”
“Oh, so now it’s a bad idea?” Jesse’s voice is rising. “Last night you seemed pretty on board with the idea. VERY on board, if I remember correctly.”
“Last night I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Last night you were thinking with your—”
“Don’t.” I cut him off with a glare. “This isn’t about last night. This is about what happens next. Her reputation is being destroyed because of us.”
“Her reputation was already weird because she owns an escape artist goat and talks to chickens, and is the offspring of Hank Thompson,” Boone points out. “We’re probably improving it.”
“This isn’t a joke, Boone!”
“Everything’s a joke if you try hard enough!” he shoots back. “Callie said that this morning. Oh wait, you were creeping on their argument, weren’t you? I saw you up on the hill with your binoculars.”
“I wasn’t creeping. I was... observing. Sounds like you were doing the same, Boone.”
“Stalkers,” Jesse coughs into his hand.
“I… I was concerned,” I defend myself. “And it’s a good thing I was, because Hank was ready to disown her.”
“So?” Jesse shrugs. “Dad threatens to disown me twice a week. Three times if I forget to close the gate.”
“This is different. She could lose everything.”
“Or,” Boone says slowly, “she could gain everything. Something that actually makes her happy instead of just existing in her dad’s shadow.”
“You don’t know that we make her happy.”
“Did you see her last night?” Jesse asks incredulously. “That was the face of a very happy woman.”
“That was the face of a very satisfied woman. There’s a difference.”
“Not as much as you think,” Boone mutters.
I start pacing, trying to organize my thoughts. “Look, I’m just saying we need to think about what’s best for her.”
“What’s best for her?” Jesse’s voice goes dangerously quiet. “Or what’s best for you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re scared. You’re terrified of actually feeling something, so you’re trying to sabotage this before it becomes real.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s exactly what you’re doing,” Boone interrupts. “You did the same thing with Sarah. And Katie. And that girl from—”
“This is different.”
“Because it’s Callie?” Jesse asks. “Because she’s a Thompson? Or because for once in your life, you actually care about someone?”
“I care about not ruining her life!”
“She’s a grown woman who can make her own choices!” Jesse shouts back. “She doesn’t need you to protect her!”
“Someone has to!”
“Why does it have to be you?” Boone demands. “Why do you always have to be the responsible one, the one who ruins everything good?”
“Because someone has to think!” I roar. “Someone has to consider the consequences! Someone has to—”
“Someone has to pull the stick out of your ass,” Jesse snaps.
We’re all breathing hard, staring at each other across the barn like we’re about to throw punches. This is what I was afraid of, that Callie would come between us, split us apart.
“She’s a cool girl. She’s worth a complication or two,” Boone says quietly, breaking the tension. “Whatever happens, whoever gets mad, whatever we lose... she’s worth it.”
“You barely know her,” I argue, but even I can hear how weak it sounds.
“I know enough,” he says. “I know she makes me laugh. I know she’s brave enough to stand up to her dad and the whole town. I know she looks at us like we’re people, not just McCoys.”
“And I know,” Jesse adds, “that last night was the first time in ages I’ve felt like myself. Not Dean McCoy’s son, not the troublemaker brother, just... Jesse.”
They both look at me expectantly, waiting for my usual big brother rebuttal. But the truth is, I felt it too. That freedom, that possibility, that sense that maybe we could be more than what everyone expects us to be.
“This is going to end badly,” I say finally.
“Probably,” Jesse agrees.
“We’re going to get caught,” I continue.
“Definitely,” Boone nods.
“Our families will never forgive us.”
“Most likely,” they say in unison.
“So why?” I ask, genuinely trying to understand. “Why risk everything?”
Jesse and Boone exchange a look, then Jesse grins.