8. Weston
Weston
“I thought I might find you here.” Garrison’s voice carries over to me before he drops down onto the ground beside me. Just in front of us, the cool marble stone with Violet’s birth and death dates rests on top of the ground.
The fresh flowers I placed are illuminated only by the bright moonlight overhead.
“Shouldn’t you be at home, doting on your wife and new baby?”
“Sure, but then I wouldn’t get the chance to come sit with my surly friend.” Garrison Holt served alongside me. He’s a demolition expert, which is ironic since he now works at a community center and counsels troubled teens, diffusing situations that otherwise would derail them.
“I don’t need help, Counselor.” My guess is they all know by now. Everyone in town probably does. I imagine it was the hot topic at dinner tonight at Momma Knox’s place.
They likely all chatted about how Reese Faye returned home, and Weston Hayes stormed out of the local coffee shop because he couldn’t handle seeing her standing there, looking so radiantly beautiful.
“I’m just here to support. I know it’s a hard day.”
“No harder than the others,” I lie.
Garrison is quiet. That’s his superpower, really. He’ll remain completely silent, yet that silence speaks volumes. You have to watch yourself, or that skillset will have you spilling every one of your secrets in no time.
“Look, I’m not interested in talking about Reese. Okay? We were together. We broke up. She moved on. End of story.”
“I notice it was all ‘we’ until that ending statement.”
Growling, I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose. “If I didn’t seek professional help back then, what makes you think I want it now?”
“I’m not here as a counselor. I’m here as a friend. You made the counselor assumption all on your own.”
I turn toward him now, hoping that the anger I’m feeling is etched into my expression. Maybe then he’ll leave me to suffer in silence. “Zane already tried.”
“See, this is your problem, Cowboy. You are so intent on being alone that our mere presence grates against you. Well, guess what. You have been there every time I’ve needed you.
Really, anytime any of us has needed you.
No hesitations. No waiting for an invitation.
You show up, kick the door in, and offer us support.
So, this is me not hesitating or waiting for an invitation when it comes to you. ”
I turn back toward the gravestone, emotions burning in my throat.
It’s been decades since I touched a drop of alcohol, but the urge was certainly there today. That sneaky voice in my ear, telling me one drink won’t hurt.
Then I remembered my dad, his drunken rages, how there was never enough alcohol in the world to fix his problems.
So I came here instead.
Even dead, Violet won’t let me become him.
“Fighting a war is a whole lot easier when you can use your fists,” I say.
“The toughest battles don’t require your fists,” he replies.
“If you’re about to get religious on me, Demo, I’m not interested.”
“It’s not religion. It’s faith.” He leans back on his hands.
“But you’ve heard it all by now, and I don’t imagine anything I’ll say right now will make it past that hard heart of yours.
” He’s quiet for a moment. “Actually, I changed my mind. You’ve been trying to outrun your past for years now.
Even without knowing what you dealt with, I could see it.
Did you ever stop to wonder, though, why Anastasia can celebrate Violet’s life today instead of grieving her death? ”
“Anastasia wasn’t Violet’s sibling. She lost her friend. I lost my sister. It’s not the same.”
“Maybe not. But whether you want to believe it or not, Violet is in a better place. The sorrow is for those left behind. And the true tragedy is that you are still living in her death instead of focusing on your life.”
“The true tragedy was the murder of my sister.” I push to my feet. “The true tragedy was that losing her wasn’t even the only thing I lost that week, and I’ll never get any of it back,” I growl the words, doing what I can to fight back tears I refuse to cry.
Not now.
Not ever.
Garrison stands. I have him by about an inch in height and quite a few pounds of muscle, but I’ve always seen him as the bigger man.
The better man.
I see them all that way. Because if I were truly a good man, I wouldn’t have let Reese walk away.
I would have shouldered the grief for my sister and the baby Reese and I lost. I would have rescued my new wife from the storm I didn’t even realize she was standing in until it was too late.
“What else did you lose that week? Reese?”
“I’m not doing this.”
“Weston, you won’t heal unless you talk.”
“I’m. Not. Interested.” Rage bubbles up past the pain. Anger that he won’t just drop it. That he’s insisting on pushing and pushing.
“Maybe not now. But when you are, you have an entire team behind you. You’re not alone, Cowboy.”
I turn toward him. “I’ve been alone since the day I lost my sister,” I tell him. “And no amount of talking will ever change that.”
“One day, you’ll see that’s not true. You know where to find us, Cowboy. We love you, Brother.” With one final soft smile in my direction, he shoves both hands into his pockets and heads up the hill toward his truck.
I face the gravestone again.
How did this become my life?
How is it fair that I have lost everything?
Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw my cell phone and unlock it. After pulling up my mom’s contact information, I stare at her name, trying to conjure up the strength to make the call.
Year after year, it’s the same, but I can’t bring myself to stop trying.
“Here goes,” I say aloud, then tap on her name.
It rings twice. “Hello?”
“Hey, Patty.” She asked me to stop calling her mom after Violet died. Said it was too painful to hear that name.
“Weston,” she greets. The background is full of celebratory noise, and I imagine she’s at a party of some kind. The woman spends more time partying than she does thinking about her only living family member. “How are things?”
“Who is it, Patty?” I hear a woman ask in the background.
“Just someone I know. I’ll be right there,” she replies, her voice slightly muted. “Is this important?” she asks me. “I’m in the middle of something.”
Someone I know. Not my son. My child. As the disappointment settles over me, mixing with the anger and stress from today, I decide that this is the last phone call I will ever make to Patty Hayes.
I’m done.
“Don’t worry about it. Have a nice life.” Ending the call, I stare down at my cell phone, the rage boiling up inside of me. It burns in my veins, swirling in my body like venom set on destroying everything left.
And I didn’t have that much to begin with.
With a frustrated sigh, I grab my notebook and planner, then get out of my truck just after dawn. Since Vivian refused to move the location of our morning meeting, I make my way up the porch steps of her farmhouse. Which is the absolute last place I want to be right now.
There’s a silver Kia Sorento parked just outside. Reese’s car.
It’s funny, she always loved driving my truck. I never would have guessed she’d get into a small SUV instead.
Then again, I’m sure a lot has changed. I’m certainly not the same person I was; guess I can’t expect her to be either.
I stop just outside the door and take a deep breath.
It’s just a business meeting.
Reese doesn’t need to be involved. Nor should she be. She hasn’t been involved in anything on this ranch in two decades.
Before I can raise my fist to knock, the door opens, and Vivian smiles up at me, her expression warm. It relaxes me slightly to see. I’m not entirely sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t a warm greeting. What if Reese told her everything? What if she knows how badly I ruined everything?
“Good morning, Weston. Coffee is hot; come in.”
I step into the house, prepped for battle.
Thankfully, Reese doesn’t seem ready for war.
“She’s still sleeping,” Vivian whispers with a knowing smile.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. After the tongue-lashing I got from her yesterday, I assumed your reunion didn’t go well.”
“She let you have it then?” I figured as much. Reese has always had a bit of a temper. With how shocked she was that I’m living and working here at the ranch, I assumed Vivian hadn’t told her.
“She did.”
“Did you tell her—”
“That, I didn’t get to,” she interrupts. “Maybe someday, but yesterday was not the day. Coffee?” She asks after pulling two mugs down.
“Yes, please.” I spent another night not sleeping, so caffeine is going to be the only way I get through the day. Especially if Reese wakes up before I’ve had the chance to finish business here and leave.
“Here you go, Sugar.” She carries over two mugs and sets them both on the dining room table before taking her seat.
I sit to her left, then set my notebook and planner on the white lace tablecloth. Normally, our meetings are quick and to the point, but words are failing me this morning.
“You doing okay?” she asks, clearly looking for a conversation I’m not willing to have.
“Yeah. Fine.” I refuse to look over at Vivian as I open my planner.
“Weston Hayes, I have known you most of your life. And for most of those years, you’ve been like a son to me.” She reaches over and covers my hand with her soft, slightly wrinkled one. “What’s on your mind?”
“Why did you let me come back?” The words are out of my mouth before I can filter them. I can’t help it, though. It’s been burning a hole in my brain since I climbed into bed just after two this morning.
“After you got out of the Navy?”
“Yes. You have to know that Reese left because of me. So why let me come back?”
Her expression softens. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
I think back, trying to pinpoint the day. Truthfully, I have no idea. One day, she was just there, living in the house I’d grown up in. “It’s all a bit of a blur.”
“Well, that’s okay, because I do. Hal and I had just moved into the house. I’d come out onto the back porch that first evening and saw a small lantern flickering in the old treehouse out back.”
The memory comes flooding back, hitting me like a dagger to the chest. “Violet had been upset.” She’d been devastated, really. Her entire world had been turned upside down, and she had no idea why.
“Yes. She didn’t understand why she had to leave her room.
I remember being so completely heartbroken as I overheard what she said.
And then you told her that there is good that comes from every bad thing that happens to us.
You told your little sister, who was only two years younger than you, that no matter what happened, you would both be okay. ”
Pain burns the back of my throat, but I don’t allow myself to sink into it. I’ll never surface again.
“Weston, I knew back then you were a good boy. And as I watched you grow, I saw you become a good man despite every single tragic card you were dealt. You took care of your sister when your mom—” She stops speaking, clearly afraid of overstepping.
“Quit trying?” I add. “You can say it. We both know that’s what happened.”
She gave up after selling this place. And when Violet died, she did absolutely nothing.
I found her and Anastasia in those woods.
I saw her broken body. I planned the funeral.
I planned the burial. And I packed my mom up when she decided she wanted a fresh start somewhere else, where no one knew she’d had two children.
All while I was also grieving the dissolution of my new marriage and the loss of a baby I would never get to meet.
“Sugar, you are one of the best men I’ve ever known.” She smiles. “So that’s why I let you come back. Because I know you’re a good man. Because you needed a home. And because I missed the boy I knew.”
“Except I wasn’t that boy anymore.”
“No,” she agrees. “But the man you became is someone I’m proud to know.”
Throat tight, I pull my hand back and open my notebook to the bullet points I made. My attempt to make this meeting go by even faster. “We need to hire a new ranch hand. I want to start putting out applications, but I’d like to raise the pay we’re offering.”
“Can we afford that?” She sips from her mug, thankfully accepting the conversation switch.
“We can. I’ll put up the money to cover the first year, and if we can increase our revenue from the cattle at auction this year, we can keep it going.”
“You don’t need to front the money.”
“I don’t mind. I just want your permission before I do it. The help we’ve been getting at that price point hasn’t been worth it. I want to find someone who is actually going to stick—”
The stairs creak, and a black dog races down right before Reese comes into view, wearing a green sweatshirt and pink flannel pajama pants. Her red hair is slightly tangled, and there are dark circles beneath her eyes.
For a moment, nothing is said.
We just sit here, staring at each other. Two strangers who once had no secrets.
“I’ll go.” I shove up from the chair. “Let me know your thoughts on the idea. I really don’t mind.” Grabbing my notebook, I head for the door.
“Weston Hayes, you are not leaving.”
I stiffen, then turn toward Vivian. “This was not a good idea.”
“And why not?” Vivian demands as she gets to her feet.
She looks from me to Reese, who is still standing on the stairs.
“You are my partner on this ranch, Weston. Reese, you are my daughter. As long as this ranch is owned by me, the two of you will have to see each other. So, either figure out how to get along, or—” She stops abruptly, her eyes widening as she pales.
I drop the books and rush forward. “Vivian, what’s wrong?” I take her hand and help her lower slowly onto the dining room chair. She seems so fragile now, where moments ago she’d stood like a solid wall.
The skin of her hand is paper-thin beneath my fingers, and I keep my gaze locked on her, trying to figure out what could be wrong. She’d said she was just getting old. That her health issues weren’t anything serious.
Was she lying?
“Mom?” Reese rushes forward, kneeling in front of her mother, so I release Vivian’s hand and take a step back.
“Just a little dizzy, that’s all.” She tries to laugh, but it’s empty. Devoid of anything but the exhaustion she’s clearly battling.
“We need to get you to the doctor,” Reese insists.
“I’ve been to the doctor,” she snaps.
“Well, we’re going again.” Reese straightens and glares at me. “Can you please stay here until I can get my shoes?” For the first time since I laid eyes on her in that coffee shop, she’s not looking at me like I’m enemy number one. There’s fear in her gaze, and I would do anything to chase it away.
“Of course. I’ll do anything for Vivian,” I reply, hoping she sees that I’m doing it for Vivian and not her. Though I can admit to myself that that’s far from the truth.
Even after all these years, and everything that’s happened between us, there’s still nothing I wouldn’t do for Reese.