Chapter 16
My dad would kill us if he knew we were all sitting around the kitchen island in the middle of a perfectly good workday without a shoe in sight. I blame it on the apple tea and the fact that Guy looks so darn relaxed. I don’t have the heart to tell him we need to be functional members of society.
I’m still getting used to eating what Guy and Emma do, but the man makes a mean mug of tea, and when he sweetens it for me with a little honey, it’s perfect. Emma’s tea isn’t as hot as mine, and she can’t have the honey, but she seems to be enjoying a drink that isn’t water.
Guy’s leaning back with the kind of lounging sprawl only a man as tall as he is can accomplish without falling off his chair. His favorite mug is in his hands, and every so often, his leg bumps into mine playfully, and we share a smile. Neither one of us can get a word in because Emma’s spent the last hour telling him about our ride.
I think her happiness is rubbing off on both of us.
I’m on my second mug of apple tea when Guy takes advantage of a break in Emma’s diatribe to turn to me. “I talked to my boss while you two were gone. They finished up the project this morning, and he’s got work lined up for the crew after New Year’s. So he’s giving us all the rest of the month off.”
It’s a week until Christmas, and since his last job had shut down early and he’d scrambled to find this one, I’m surprised Guy sounds happy at the prospect. When he turns his phone my way, I understand why.
“He gave us all Christmas bonuses. I’ve never had anyone actually do that before.”
“You mean someone treated you as a worker who’s valued and respected? It should be the norm.” I nudge his ankle with my toe, smirking over my mug. “Too bad your husband-for-hire job didn’t offer a Christmas bonus.”
“I was going to complain to OSHA about hazardous working environments and dangers of falling, but my boss looks really cute today.” Those blue eyes seem to be laughing at me from across the kitchen island.
I wrinkle my nose at his flirtatious teasing. “Call OSHA on me, and you’re back on the couch,” I reply.
“I wasn’t sure if I was officially off the couch. Good to know.” He’s definitely flirting with me. Shameless, these Montana boys. Then he shifts modes, tapping a finger on his phone. “How do you want me to handle this?”
I have zero idea what he’s talking about, and it must show.
“Daddy,” Emma pipes up. “Did I tell you Legs knows the best trees? He took us to the best trees, and we brought home pine cones.”
“I have pine cones in my pockets,” I tell him, tilting my head toward my coat hanging up in the mudroom.
“Better than some places,” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, and when he winks at me, I nudge his ribs with my elbow.
“Ixnay on the irtingflay.”
“Aybemay. Hey, Sienna. I’d really like to help with bills around here.”
I think about it, pursing my lips. I don’t want to argue with him, not when he’s trying to be nice. “Okay, maybe we can have a grocery fund? I need to keep the ranch’s income and expenses separate for tax purposes, but I’m all about you kicking in on food.”
“Just food?” He folds his arms on the counter, and he’s doing the thing where his shoulders are relaxed and his head tilted so he’s not looming over me.
“Just food, laundry detergent, the kind of stuff we’re sharing.”
“Say I wanted to do more. Is that on the table?” He’s not pressuring me so much as trying to coax me into letting him overextend himself. Which is not on the table. He’s the one paying for Emma’s medical expenses, and now that I know how much anti-rejection medications cost, I’m not taking a dime from him unnecessarily.
An idea pops into my head. “You can be in charge of the date-night fund. Emma and I require fun, well-planned date nights, preferably with Christmas themes. Barley’s presence is negotiable.”
“Sen-na, Barley isn’t negoat-able,” Emma pipes up. “He’s goat-able.”
Guy looks at his daughter fondly, then turns the same look my way too. “What my girls want, they get,” he says.
As if he knew we were talking about him, Barley stands up out on the front porch and gives a loud woof, looking toward the driveway. I crane my head, because I’m not used to vehicles pulling into my driveway without knowing they’re coming. There’s no point in showing up unannounced when most people are out working on their property, so out here, visitors are few and far between and almost always expected.
I frown as a familiar Ford truck comes around the bend, and Barley gives a second, softer woof before turning around and heading back inside the house. He turns in a circle as if unsure whether to go back outside, then he comes to me, leaning against my leg for comfort even as his graying tail wags.
“Good boy,” I tell him, resting my hand on his head reassuringly. Barley didn’t understand when Micah left, and he hasn’t seen him since. I’m not surprised he’s happy but confused enough to come to me.
“Who is it?” Guy follows my line of sight out the window as Micah’s truck rolls to a stop in his usual spot. Immediately, my shoulders tense because that’s not his spot anymore. Nothing here is his anymore, and there’s only one reason he would be coming by instead of calling.
“This is my problem,” I tell Guy as I stand and set aside my mug of tea. “Don’t worry about it. This will only take a minute.”
I shrug into my heavy jacket, now heavier with pine cones, but only stuff my feet into my tennis shoes before I head outside. My toes might get cold, but I’m not planning on indulging this unexpected visitor one more minute than I have to.
Micah shuts the door of his truck too hard before stomping up to me.
“Sienna, we need to talk,” he snarls.
I’m used to Micah’s moods, but he’s a big man, and I take a step back despite myself. There’s nowhere to go as I bump into someone. A hand rests on my hip to steady me, then Guy’s arm wraps around my waist as he moves next to me.
I didn’t even realize he’d followed me outside.
“Who’s your friend, Sienna?” His voice is mild, nonthreatening, but there’s a tension in his arm I can feel. Micah is a big man, and right now, he’s an angry one.
“Guy, this is Micah Hammond, my ex-husband. Micah, this is Guy Maple, my…” I stumble over the word because I haven’t actually introduced him like this before.
“I’m her husband,” Guy says in an easy, relaxed tone as he holds out his hand.
Micah doesn’t shake it. Instead, Micah glares at Guy like he’s a snake in the grass.
“You’re letting him live here now? Have you lost your mind?” He all but spits on the ground at the last word.
“I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised,” I tell Micah calmly. “You knew I was married when I sent in the insurance paperwork. You knew it when you showed up at our party, and you knew it when you drove out here today. Of course Guy and Emma are living here.”
“I kept hoping it was some big mistake.” Micah’s eyes narrow.
“No. But it’s also none of your business, Micah. This is my ranch, and what happens here is up to me and not up for public consumption.”
He laughs, a hard, bitter noise. “Not up for public consumption? You’re literally flaunting it in the newspaper, in front of our friends, and all around town. We just finalized the divorce, Sienna.”
“It was a bit quicker than normal, wasn’t it?” Guy smiles congenially at my ex even as he gives me a gentle tug into his side. I don’t miss the shift of his body just ever so slightly in front of me, or the way he’s positioned himself to jerk me behind him if this goes from uncomfortable to something worse.
“Quick?” Micah’s fists ball up, and suddenly all the warmth in my veins is gone. “You were working her from the moment you stepped into this town.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” I start to move between them, but Guy’s arm is gentle but unyielding.
“Is there a reason you’re here?” Guy asks, still sounding relaxed. “Or are you just trying to upset my wife?”
Well, that was blunt enough. Emma is inside, and I finally got her smiling again. The last thing she needs is her father to get in a fight with my jerk of an ex. Micah never laid a hand on me, but he’s a bully through and through. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out. I was in too deep when I finally realized the nice man I’d fallen in love with was petty and selfish on a good day and moody and aggressive on a bad day. The really bad days? I kept those to myself.
I never admitted to a soul that I locked him out of the house more than once, my shotgun on my knees until he sobered up out in the yard. Just looking at Micah now, seeing the flash in his eyes, makes me want to shift backward again, but there’s no way I’m letting Guy stand between me and Micah.
“Guy, I just need to talk to Micah real quick. Can you go back to the house? I’ll be inside in a moment.” When Guy’s eyes lock on me, searching my expression, I nod at him reassuringly. “Everything is okay, I promise.”
I don’t realize how close we are until he dips his head and presses a kiss to my temple. “Okay. I’m here if you need me.”
When Micah snorts, Guy eyes him, and for a moment, I’m not sure my request is going to be honored. Then Guy smiles at me and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He heads back toward the house, whistling a little Christmas tune under his breath as he goes.
I only realize my heart is racing when Guy’s retreat drops it down a notch. Micah watches him go with a flat expression of dislike.
“What do you want, Micah?” I ask him shortly. “If all you wanted to do was insult me, you could have just called.”
“I did call, and I texted, and I tried to talk to you at the store. You won’t answer me, and I deserve to know about this.” He turns his phone toward me, opened to the paper’s website. I’m not surprised at all that Jess’s wedding article stares back at me. “You changed your name for him? You flat-out refused when we got married, even knowing how much it bothered me we didn’t have the same name.”
“You could have changed your name to mine,” I remind him.
“That’s not the point, Sienna.” Micah looks so angry, and somewhere beneath the anger, he’s hurt. Once, it would have bothered me a lot. But I have a child in the cabin behind me who means more than Micah’s hurt feelings.
“I changed my name for his daughter. Guy was fine being a Naples. True masculinity is not being offended by outdated societal constructs forcing women into being subservient. Naples land, Naples daughter, Naples hands. You knew why it was important for me to keep my name.”
“I thought I knew,” Micah growls back. “But now you changed it for some—”
“Watch it. If you utter even one breath of an insult toward my stepdaughter, I will cram my shoe so far down your throat your esophagus will herniate.” Even I’m startled at how hard I snap the words at him. If I was Legs, my ears would be pinned flat and my teeth bared.
“Have you considered at any point here the asshole is playing you?” When I snort, Micah glares at the house instead of me. “I’m serious, Sienna. I know the divorce was just as hard on you as it was on me. You’re hurt right now, it’s almost Christmas, and your dad is sick. You’re making rash, impulsive decisions that aren’t like you, and the whole town is talking about it. I don’t care if it pisses you off, but I’m not going to just stand by when a stranger suckers my wife into some sham marriage.”
His wife. Like I’m not a person, just a possession. A toy he didn’t want to play with anymore until someone else decided to notice me.
“I’m not your wife, Micah. And Guy might be a stranger to you, but he’s not a stranger to me. The marriage isn’t a sham. It was a…whirlwind.”
I should know better than to use the line on him, because Micah knows me too well. His eyes narrow. He’s not going to let this go, and if Micah truly thinks Guy’s a danger to me, he’s more than capable of causing us a lot of problems we don’t need.
I look at the mountains, taking a long, deep breath. Then I tell him the truth. “It really was a whirlwind. Emma’s sick, Micah. We got married to keep her on the transplant list. They’re living here until Emma gets her kidney, which was my idea and my decision. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“And when she does? What happens then?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you don’t know what you’re doing.” Somehow the anger in his voice was so much better than the pity. “You just picked up another stray.”
He might not be as angry anymore, but I don’t know if I’ve ever been so livid in my life as I am in this moment. I can’t even speak.
“I’m sorry the kid is sick, but this isn’t your problem, Sienna.”
“Get. Off. My. Land.”
“Sienna—”
I take a step forward, and I might be half his weight dripping wet, but Micah’s pushed me too far, and he knows it. “I want you to understand something,” I hiss. “From this moment on, you can hate me, you can hate Guy, and you can say anything you want all over town to anyone who’ll listen. I can’t stop you, and I don’t care enough to try. But if I ever hear you bad-mouthing my stepdaughter again, I will burn you to the ground. Every secret, every mistake, everything I spent our whole lives protecting you from… I’ll destroy you. Now get off my land .”
He’s lucky I don’t pelt the back of his head with a pine cone as he finally does what I ask.
“I still think you’re making a mistake,” Micah tells me as he climbs into the Ford. “Don’t come crying to me when it bites you in the ass.”
As if I could ever cry to him about anything. As if he had ever been a safe place for me, when our lives were centered around me having to be a safe place for him.
I stay right where I am, in between Micah’s vehicle and the house, making him back around me. Only when the scent of diesel is replaced by the snow-dusted evergreens do I feel safe enough to take a deep breath, my shoulders slumping. When I turn, I see Guy still standing there on the porch, one shoulder set against the doorframe and his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Technically, I went back to the house.”
Guy waits for me as I climb the porch steps, those blue eyes scraping over me. I don’t know what he’s looking for, and I’m too unsettled by Micah’s presence to be able to guess.
“I’m sorry,” I say, walking past him, making sure to give him space.
Emma’s playing in the living room, watching a show on her tablet, so I head to the kitchen and start making sandwiches. I use up all the ham on the first two and add a peanut butter as the third. I think they’re apology sandwiches. Sorry my ex is a jerk. Sorry your daughter is sick. Sorry life didn’t give you better. Sorry I’m one more thing you have on your plate.
Guy takes my stack of apology sandwiches and puts the peanut butter and strawberry jam one on a second plate. He sets it in front of me and leans back against the island counter next to me, facing the window, hip at my shoulder.
For the second time in a short span, a man is standing over me. But with Guy, it’s different. I don’t know why exactly, but like pine needles on the wind instead of diesel, his presence causes me to sag. I will not cry over Micah. I will not sniffle into this sandwich. I am a Naples, daughter to one of the toughest men in the Frank Church Wilderness. There’s no room for weakness in these mountains. I will keep my head up and my back straight. I will be strong because there’s no one to do it for me.
Guy’s hand covers mine on the countertop next to my uneaten sandwich, fingers squeezing gently. I didn’t even realize mine were trembling.