CHAPTER 51
Cal
I toss and turn all night, my mind a whirlwind of every misstep, every stupid thing I’ve said, every way I’ve fucked up what I had with Victoria.
It’s my fault, all of it. I’m so focused on protecting my family from outsiders that I see hurtful intent where there may not be any. I’ve been psycho about it since Mom died, and though my brothers poke fun at my tendency to take the “ever vigilant” theme too far, I can’t seem to help myself.
I keep watch over everyone. It’s my purpose, and I take it damn seriously.
Yes, Victoria showed up here to do a job.
I don’t fault her for that. And with every day she spent with us—with me—she seemed less focused on stealing Sulfur Springs.
I started seeing the concern she has for my family, her thoughtfulness with Jasmine, how she pitched in at the cookout and stood by us at the hospital after Evander was hurt.
I began noticing her patience when dealing with the ranch hands, and how she truly enjoys Summer’s company—a woman from a world completely foreign to her own.
All this concern and sweetness and patience aren't actions of a selfish woman determined to fuck us over. These are actions of a decent human being, the kind of woman I could be proud to have walk alongside me through life. I was starting to think I’d never find that woman.
And then I met her in Victoria Backlund, of all people.
I fear I’ve fucked up so badly that there’s nothing left to repair.
I flip over on my stomach and drop my face into my pillow.
I feel like a fool. Scratch that, I am a fool.
An asshole. I know the only way out of this would be to explain myself to Victoria, just lay it all out in front of her about where this relentless sense of duty, this blinding drive to protect my family, comes from.
And how I made a terrible mistake when it comes to her.
It’s too late for any of that.
Right now, she’s in the opposite wing of my house, door locked, convinced that I despise her. It couldn't be further from the truth.
I fell in love with her.
I am in love with her.
I love her.
And when I saw that fucking contract I lost my mind.
I instantly went into protector mode, hating myself for letting down my guard and exposing my heart to an outsider.
That’s the moment my overdeveloped sense of duty kicked in.
I did my damndest to push her away and pull my family close. It’s a reflex.
My mind floods with the details from that day so long ago. My mother asks everyone in her hospital room to leave, but gestures for me to remain and stand close to her bed.
She wraps her cool, dry fingers around my sweaty hand. She tries to squeeze but doesn’t have the strength. “Cal,” she whispers. “You’ve become such a wonderful young man. I'm so proud of you.” She holds out her left hand to me. “Please slip off my wedding ring.”
I’m horrified. “No!”
“Take it.”
I shake my head, but when she tries to do it herself and can’t get her fingers to work, I do what she’s asked. “Keep it safe. One day you’ll know who needs to wear it next.”
I can’t move.
“And I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything.” I blink back the tears that are trying to spill down my cheeks. I know she’s dying, and that these are my last moments with her. The pain in my chest leaves me barely able to breathe.
“I love your dad. I love him with all of my heart, just as he loves me. But every person has their strengths and weaknesses. Your father is a devoted and loyal man, with more integrity than anyone I’ve ever met.
He sees the best in everyone he meets. He will need you when I’m gone, Cal.
Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
I do, and I nod. On countless occasions, I’ve watched my mother quietly fix my father’s missteps and redirect his focus.
She’s never made a fuss about it. She’s never cut him down or implied he was a poor businessman.
She just goes about her business, keeping everything on track while loving her husband and sons.
“With me gone,” she continues, “you’ll need to step in as the protector of the MacLaine family, of Yosemite Ranch. I need you to make it your first and foremost duty. Can you promise me that?”
I nod, then bury my nose in the crook of her neck.
She no longer smells like my mother. She smells like hospital disinfectant and the cold tang of the medications dripping into her veins.
I know I’ll miss her for the rest of my life.
I’ll mourn her. And I will remain dedicated to doing exactly what she asks of me.
And then a few years go by. Life happens.
Beyond all odds, I get into the naval academy.
I’m just about to decline their offer of admission when Dad finds the letter.
He takes me aside, looks me in the eyes and says, “I know what you’re trying to do here, son, and I won’t allow it.
You’ve earned this. Your brilliant mind and steadfast heart are meant for something bigger. You’ve got to reach out and grab it.”
With his blessing, I leave and walk away from my family and the ranch. My brothers soon follow. Together, with a lot of sweat and tears and tenacity, we build a new legacy for the MacLaine men. But all the while, the ranch is disintegrating, breaking my heart with it.
When StellaR Tech is born on those little bar napkin scribbles, it pulls my dad out of the abyss and brings all of us home.
I think all these years I’ve felt guilty about abandoning my dad for a career as a Navy SEAL. And now that I’m back, I’m trying to make up for lost time, enjoying my outsized sense of family obligation. It drove me to ruin my chances with Victoria. To make her the villain, the bad guy.
But I watched the turmoil she experienced as she read that copy of the finalized lease contract. It horrified her, and though she remained silent, I saw the shock hit her. She took it personally. It left her devastated.
Why? Arlo means nothing to her. Which means she suspects her father is involved. It would make sense—he snatched up the lease before the ink was dry. Maybe Arlo helped him do that.
I’m grateful Victoria was determined enough to get to the bottom of what’s happening. But if she’s innocent, why would she use the phrase, “the Sulfur Springs deal,” like that still exists? Like there’s still a way she can broker that purchase for her father?
I flip on my back and throw my forearm over my eyes.
I can’t stop thinking of her, so close and yet way beyond my reach.
I want her in this bed with me, now. I want the sensation of her sweet, warm kisses and her soft curves and firm flesh.
I want to hear her unguarded laugh and her throaty whispers of desire for me.
She’s under my roof, right now, and I can’t have her. Because I’ve pushed her away.
I can’t sleep. I give up trying. It’s dark when I leave my bedroom and walk out onto the deck.
I stretch out in the lounge chair and watch the stars, soaking up the stillness, marinating in my own sense of failure.
At some point, the kitchen light turns on, illuminating the deck.
I decide to stay put. She’ll see me out here soon enough.
I hear her making coffee and then return to her room.
In about a half hour the sun is peeking over the mountains.
I hear the wheels of those infernal suitcases roll down the hallway again.
She sets them on the front porch and exits out the back door, laptop and notes clutched to the front of her body.
She sees me sitting in the lounge chair and stops.
She looks wounded and sad. I know what she’s thinking because I’m thinking the same thing—this is the lounger where we’ve snuggled many times, shared so much.
It’s where we've made love, and I don’t mind calling it that, since it was far more than sex.
It’s always been more than sex between us.
“Where are you off to?” I keep my voice neutral. Not a hint of accusation.
“Your dad’s. Don’t try to stop me.” She heads to the stairs.
“Victoria, please wait.” I jump up and follow her. “I need to explain something to you.” I tenderly place my hand on her shoulder and give it a light squeeze.
She shrugs it off with a violent jerk and looks back at me, her eyes dead and her mouth pulled in a grim line. “Get your hands off me.”
And she’s gone.