12. Beck
— ? —
Beck
The cottage at Salt Fork looks smaller than I remember.
Maybe it’s because I’m seeing it differently now. I used it as an escape from everything happening around me while telling myself that the barn I’m building is a surprise for Scarlett. Me finally building the barn she designed years ago, that’s why I kept it a secret.
Camille is waiting on the porch.
She always looks good. Dark hair, easy smile, the kind of comfortable beauty that doesn’t need makeup or fancy clothes. We grew up together, learned to ride together, spent every summer of our childhood in each other’s pockets. She was my best friend before I knew what that meant.
And then she left. Just gone.
Until I hired her for my new project on my mother’s recommendation.
“Beck.” She stands up as I climb out of the chopper. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“I’m not staying.”
Her face shifts a little. Just enough for me to see that she knows what’s coming.
I walk up the porch steps and I don’t sit down. I stand there with my hands in my pockets and I look at the woman I’ve been confiding in for months and I try to figure out where to start.
“I made you the person I talk to,” I say finally. “That’s on me. I was having problems at home and instead of dealing with them, I got in a helicopter and came here. I told you things I should have been telling my wife. I let you become… something you never should have been.”
Camille doesn’t say anything. Just watches me with those calm, unreadable eyes.
“But you heard me, Cam.” My voice cracks on her name. “You heard me say those things about her. Easy keeper. Dry lot. I don’t know how I feel.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“You should’ve hit me.” I mean it. “You should’ve told me I was being an ass. You should’ve hung up the phone and called Scarlett yourself and told her what kind of man she married.”
“Would you have listened?”
“No. Probably not.” I run a hand through my hair. “But you should’ve done it anyway. That’s what friends do. They tell you when you’re wrong. They don’t just… let you keep being wrong.”
Camille is quiet for a long moment. Then she nods.
“You’re right. I should have said something.
” She looks down at her hands. “I kept telling myself it wasn’t my place.
That you and Scarlett had to work out your own problems. But the truth is…
” She takes a breath. “The truth is, I liked it. Being the one you came to. Being the one you talked to. It made me feel special.”
“Cam…”
“I’m not saying that’s an excuse. It’s not. I’m just saying that’s what it was.” She meets my eyes. “I’ll finish out the quarter. Get everything in order for whoever takes over. And then I’ll go back to Wyoming.”
“That’s probably best.”
She doesn’t argue. She nods, like she’s been expecting this, like she knew it was coming the moment she heard me say those words on the radio.
I should hug her. That’s what you do when you say goodbye to someone you’ve known your whole life. But I can’t touch her. It feels like a betrayal, even now, even after everything.
“Take care of yourself, Beck,” she says.
“You too.”
I walk back to the helicopter. I don’t look back.
Tripp is waiting at the landing pad when I touch down.
He’s got a piece of paper in his hand. He doesn’t say hello and doesn’t ask how Salt Fork was. Just holds out the paper.
“What’s this?”
“Phone number. Therapist in Fort Worth.” He shoves the paper at me until I take it. “Friend of mine. Good at his job. Doesn’t take any crap.”
“Tripp, I don’t need…”
“Sit in a chair and don’t lie for an hour. You’ll hate it.” He turns and walks toward his truck. “But it might be the only thing that saves your marriage. If there’s anything left to save.”
He drives away.
I stand on the landing pad with the paper in my hand. The rotors are still slowing down. The wind is dying.
I put the number in my shirt pocket.