Chapter Thirty-Five Savannah
Chapter Thirty-Five
Savannah
I look up at the warm and cozy home I tried to create here at Red Rock as Nash pulls up beside it, my insides empty, mind numb. Nearly a week ago, it was my hope for a new beginning, a possible future in a town I used to love with a man I fell in love with all over again.
Now as I stare blankly out the window, I can’t stop the horrific memories from assaulting me.
I don’t remember leaving the warehouse. I don’t remember the drive home.
All I hear is the crack of gunshots popping between my ears, with the tip of the scalpel pressed to my throat, and my panicked screams. Six years of lies and betrayal, all centered on one evil bastard as the source.
The EMT asked if I wanted to go to the hospital. I said no, that I just wanted to go home.
My throat closes around a gaggle of unshed tears.
It doesn’t feel like home anymore.
It hurts to think. And every time I close my eyes, I see Blaze stop short as he approaches me, his dejected expression making my heart clench when the ambulance doors closed. I twist my wrists, wincing at the scrape of the bandages against my raw and cut flesh.
What could he possibly have said to make all of this better? My parents, my uncle. Dead. And yes, he was strong-armed into doing all of those god-awful things, but it doesn’t change the fact that my family is gone, in part, because of his actions.
A sob rises in my chest. He could have warned my parents, Aunt Marg, and Uncle Aaron to leave the ranch before the job was supposed to happen, so they’d be safe in case anything went wrong.
But he didn’t. Neither did Nash.
And they burned because Nash and Blaze were too focused on themselves and their orders. I lost everything in those torturous minutes.
Nothing Blaze could have possibly said or done back at the warehouse would heal my tormented soul.
He tried to break me. On purpose. The fact that he’d make me question myself, doubt myself, when he knew how hard I was working to build Red Rock back up again, proves to me how self-centered he really is.
As if leaving me years ago wasn’t enough of a red flag.
Nash parks the truck and rushes around to open the door for me. I ignore his outstretched hand. I don’t need his help. I don’t need any of them.
He follows me up the stairs and opens the front door. I walk into the living room in a daze, not really seeing my surroundings, my nostrils filling with the scent of lavender even though I haven’t picked any in days. The rich aroma is normally like a calming balm for my senses.
But now it just reminds me of everything I lost.
“Do you, um, want some tea?” Nash asks.
When I don’t answer or look at him, he stammers, “You know, I . . . I’m just gonna make some. I’ll be right back.”
I pick up the soft crocheted blanket and wrap it around my shoulders. Stepping toward the fireplace mantel, I gaze at the happy faces that stare back, my eyes glazing over.
They’re the same photos that greeted me when I first came here weeks ago.
But now they all look different.
Because those faces smiling at me now all had shared knowledge I didn’t. And if I did, I might have been able to save them.
I pad over to the couch and sink onto the worn cushion, curling up against the arm closest to the fireplace. I stare at the stone wall, my eyes tracing over every jagged line for what feels like hours.
Nash walks in and hands me a mug. I blink fast to focus on the pink cup with the hairline crack down the side. A faint smile lifts my lips. I saw it in the cupboard when I got here and decided to never get rid of it.
Mom loved the color pink, and the crack made me believe that everything was salvageable. The mug still worked just fine even though it was damaged. It still held hot drinks, still served its purpose. I could work with that.
I raise my tired and burning eyes to Nash and take the mug.
Unfortunately, not everything is as redeemable.
I barely feel the heat of the cup as I wrap my hands around it.
The silence between us is deafening. I raise the cup to my lips and take a sip of the chamomile before I speak.
“I trusted him, and he sabotaged me. Caused countless problems on my ranch. All while he was sleeping in my bed.” My temples ache, the crushing tension making my eyes float closed for a second.
“And you. All those accusations about leaving you behind, the endless guilt trips about not coming to visit, not taking care of things. Your bitterness, your anger. All of it was you deflecting.”
I open my eyes. “You’re as big of a liar as Blaze is.
You knew all along what I didn’t, and you let me live with that grief and guilt for years.
I hate you for that.” I seethe. “I left to get away, because I felt like I had nothing here. You left me on my own to deal with the aftermath of your mistakes, and then you had the nerve to attack me for leaving when you’re the one who was complicit.
” I put my mug down on a coaster next to me and stand up, my heart beating a hole in my chest. “How could you have done that, Nash? How could you have let all of that happen?”
Nash brings a hand to the back of his neck, his green eyes wet with tears.
“I never in a million years thought anything like that could ever happen. I should have been smart enough to speak up when Harlon didn’t show.
But by then, it was too late. Those guys drove up, and .
. .” He shakes his head and sits down on a chair, covering his head with his hands.
“You don’t think I regret it all every fucking day?
Going along with the job in the first place?
Keeping everything from you? You deserved to know the truth, and I should have been honest about it.
I’m sorry.” He looks up at me, and a tear slips down his cheek. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Nash pauses and lets out a sigh. “But Blaze . . . he was in deep, Savvie. Wilkerson had him by the throat. I didn’t even know how tight his grip was until today.”
“I know,” I say, my voice flat. “Wilkerson would have killed him. It was never an idle threat that kept him in line.” I stare at the steam curling up from the top of the mug. “But he still chose to lie to me. Every day. Every time I asked about what was happening.”
“He was trying to protect you, just like I was.”
I press my fingertips to my temples to stop the room from spinning, frenzied thoughts bouncing back and forth in my mind.
So much deception. Blaze conspiring against me, Tyler exploiting my vulnerability, my beloved Miss Bea dead, my heart shattered in so many pieces I don’t know if it can ever be put back together.
“I’m leaving,” I rasp.
Nash looks up from the area of the floor he’s been studying. “What?”
“I can’t stay in Whiskey Creek. I can’t be here anymore. Not right now.”
He springs up from the couch. “Savvie, you’re in shock. You shouldn’t make any big decisions right—”
But I don’t let him finish. I head for the stairs. “I’m going back to Denver.” As I look around, my heart stutters. “I can’t stay here. Everything reminds me of his lies. Of yours. I need to get away from it all.”
Nash takes a couple of tentative steps toward me. “At least sleep on it. You’ve got a renter for the land with more hopefully on the way. Get some rest, and you’ll feel better tomorrow. Besides, you’re in no condition to drive, with your wrists and all.”
“Nothing is written in stone. And I’m a big girl. I can deal with some scratches.” My lips pull into a tight line. “I’ve survived worse.”
I can’t wait. I can’t breathe here anymore. My plans don’t mean shit anymore. I walk past every spot where Blaze and I made love, every place where my heart had been dancing in my chest, where hope had flared that this could be a new beginning for us.
That hope fizzled faster than a candle in a rainstorm.
Nash follows me. “What about the ranch? This is your home—”
“It’s another reminder. Of Aunt Marg dying, of Mom and Dad dying.” My voice hitches. “Too many bad memories. I don’t want it anymore.”
“You don’t mean that,” Nash says, his voice rising in alarm.
“I do. I’ll call Kent tomorrow and tell him to put the ranch up for auction. I don’t want any reminders of this family’s tainted legacy.”
I walk into my bedroom, vision blurred as I lay my suitcase out on the floor.
I open drawers, pull out clothes, and toss them in before swiping a hand across my eyes.
A framed photo in one of the drawers catches my eye.
I’d kept it hidden away since before I left for Denver, and I found it almost a week ago.
Me and Blaze at seventeen. Smiling, happy, hopeful.
I pick it up, and with a loud yell, I hurl it against a wall. The glass shatters against the drywall, splintered pieces scattering on the floor. I stare at the jagged shards.
Just like my wounded soul.
I grab my bags and leave the mess behind. It almost seems apropos. Cleaning it up would mean that things really can be fixed, reassembled.
But I know the truth.
I’ve known it for a long time, just didn’t want to admit it.
I lug my bags down to the front door. Nash stands there, shifting in his boots.
“You’re just gonna leave without talking to him?”
“Yes.” I pull open the door.
“What if he comes by? What should I tell him?”
“Tell him I need space. That I understand he was trapped.” Hoisting one bag over my shoulder, I say, “Tell him I’m giving up the ranch and moving back to Denver.”
The roar of an engine outside jars me. My head whips toward the drive, toward Blaze’s truck. I tighten my grip on the door handle and slant a glare at my brother.
“Telling him my plan won’t change anything, Nash. I’m still leaving.” I storm past him and head for my car.
“Savvie, wait,” Blaze says, not even bothering to shut off the ignition as he jumps out of his truck. He runs over and positions himself between me and my car.
Shit, I can’t do this. I need to get away. Now.
He’s still wearing his bloody flannel shirt, the bandage on the side of his torso showing through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. The skin under his tired eyes is streaked purple, his face pinched with concern.
“Where are you going?”
I pop my trunk. “Back to Denver.”
He shakes his head. “Please don’t go. Let me explain—”
I push past him and throw my bags into the trunk. “I heard everything I needed to know, Blaze. There’s nothing more to say.”
Taking a deep breath, using all the strength I have left, I finally look into his eyes and see anguish flickering in the depths.
“I understand why you did what you did. Why you left. But you still lied to me for years and then again when I came back here. Every time you looked me in the eyes, you knew you were deceiving me. Destroying me. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.
We could have figured it out together. But instead, you just did what you were told to cover your ass. ”
“No,” he says. “That’s not true. I know what Wilkerson is capable of.
I did what he wanted to keep you and my brothers safe.
I swear, I never wanted to hurt you. I know I fucked up.
I lost control and made so many mistakes.
I wish to God I’d done everything differently.
I am so sorry.” He reaches for me, his fingers gently grazing my bandaged wrists.
“Please. Don’t leave me. Just stay, and I swear I will fix this. I’ll fix us.”
I drop my gaze to his hands. My chest aches like a bruise that’s pressed too hard.
“How? How can you possibly make this right, after everything you’ve done?
” Then I look up at him, and with a shake of my head, I say, “I need space. Time to figure out how I feel without you standing in front of me, making me want to forgive you before I’m ready. If I’ll ever be ready.”
“How long?” His voice cracks.
“I don’t know. Weeks, months.” I shrug. “I can’t put a timeline around it. I just know I need to go.” I will my voice to stay strong and steady, but I know if I spend any more time here, my body will betray me, and I’ll fall right back into his arms.
It’s too dangerous to stay.
“What about the ranch?” he asks, his voice desperate, pleading.
I look back at it. “I don’t want it anymore.”
“But this is your home.”
“No,” I say, my words sharper than I anticipated. “It’s a horrible and constant reminder of everything I need to leave behind. I’m done with it all. With the past, with you, with this place. It’s over.”
He steps closer, blocking me from the car door.
I sigh. “Please move.”
“I love you, Savannah. I meant that. I always did. It was never a lie. And I fucking hate myself for hurting you so badly, for making you believe I didn’t.”
My throat tightens like an invisible noose pulls it hard. “I know. But love isn’t enough when there’s no trust.”
I move past him and open the door before taking one last look at what I’m about to bury. The devastation on Blaze’s face, the guilt etched into Nash’s expression, the ranch I wanted to call home.
“Savvie,” Nash calls out from the porch.
I pull my eyes away. “Take care of him,” I mutter before getting into the car. I don’t know if I’m talking to Blaze or Nash or both of them. But my mind is too riddled with grief to care.
Tears pool in my eyes as I speed down the drive with Red Rock, Nash, and Blaze in my rearview. I reach for my phone and turn it off before it blows up with calls and texts I’m not ready to respond to.
By this afternoon, word will spread through town like wildfire—about the shoot-out at the warehouse, the crime syndicate operating under everyone’s noses, about Tyler, Harlon, Blaze, and Wilkerson.
Everyone will be shocked and appalled.
But I won’t be around to see or hear any of it.
It’s a four-hour drive to Denver. Four hours to put as much distance between me and Blaze as I can. Between me and every gut-wrenching lie that was told in the name of protecting me.
I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel, gazing out at the sprawling green fields and hazy purple mountains I might never see again.
For years, I learned to accept the version of truth people gave me. Now I need to learn to survive the whole of it.