Chapter Forty Savannah
Chapter Forty
Savannah
“I’d like to propose a toast to the youngest member of our management team, Savannah Carlson!” My boss, Tom, lifts his glass, and we all clink in celebration.
The champagne is perfectly chilled and goes down easily. Too easily. Alyssa pours me a second glass.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whisper-shouts, giving me a quick hug. “You’re going to run this place. Tom and Caroline should fear for their jobs. You’re such a boss bitch!”
My grin stretches from ear to ear as Luke, my boyfriend of four months, appears next to me with a glass of water. “Figured you might need it since Tom just ordered another bottle of champagne.”
“Aw,” Alyssa says, cocking her head to the side. “Aren’t you the sweetest?”
Luke’s face flushes, and he flashes a half grin, winking at me over her head. “What can I say? Savannah brings it out of me.”
I rise up on my tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his lips. “Thanks for coming out. I know you’re superswamped with your own client work.”
He hugs me close. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. And I’m definitely looking forward to more celebrating once we get home.”
I still.
Home.
For some reason, the word is like a machete to my chest.
The hairs on the back of my neck lift, but I shrug off the feeling. I don’t know why I’d be so put off by him saying that. We stay over at the other’s apartment several times a week. Moving in together is something we’ve already mentioned in passing.
So why am I getting all bent out of shape now? We go “home” together all the time, from work, dinner, happy hour.
But there’s still some inexplicable sense of unease slithering through my insides.
I down my second glass of champagne, hoping the fizzy bubbles will take over and create a nice, fuzzy distraction from whatever’s niggling my brain.
“So do you guys have plans for the holidays?” Alyssa asks, topping me off again. My God, does she want me to be carried out of here?
Luke looks at me. “Well, actually, we haven’t really talked about it, but my sister’s having Christmas this year at her ranch in Montana, and she . . .”
Ranch.
Shit. Why did he have to mention the word ranch?
“I, um, I have to talk to Nash. I missed so many holidays before, I was really hoping that we could see him, especially since he’s by himself.”
“Oh, sure,” Luke says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. I just figured . . . since you said you usually don’t go home for the holidays, you’d be here by yourself. And I wouldn’t want to leave you alone. We can also just stay here in Denver. Have a cozy little Christmas together.”
“Hey, Luke,” Tom calls out. “Come on over here for a second. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Luke drops a quick kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be back.”
Alyssa clutches her hands to her heart, watching as he walks away. “Oh my God, he is just too deliciously perfect, isn’t he?”
I nod. “He’s great. Checks off all the boxes. Handsome, funny, smart. We have a great time together. He makes me feel like I’m the center of his world.”
She looks at me. “And you’re . . . happy? Right?”
My answer should be yes. Without hesitation. I have an amazing boyfriend who would move heaven and earth to please me.
Who in her right mind wouldn’t be happy with that?
Except . . . something’s missing. That passion and fire. The pull in my chest. The yearning ache.
Of course, all of those things got me into trouble more than once. Passion led to lies. Fire led to betrayal.
Safe is better.
“So if things are going well, why aren’t you jumping to meet his family? Are you nervous?”
“Well, a little, I guess. It’s a big step in a relationship, but to spend the whole holiday with them the first time we meet . . . it just seems a little . . . rushed. Further along than I am.”
Alyssa takes another sip of her champagne. “I get it. But does Luke know that? Because it seems like he’s definitely in that place.”
“You’re right.” I tap my fingernails on the side of my glass. “I guess we need to have a conversation soon.”
Alyssa holds up the bottle and dangles it in front of me.
I shake my head. “Nope, I need to do this with a clear head.”
“Suit yourself.” She pours the rest into her own glass and takes a long sip. Then she turns, gasps, and gives me a hard nudge. “Holy smokin’-hot cowboy.”
My heart stutters when the tall, muscular man walks into the bar. He slowly moves toward me, and my skin prickles under his heavy stare. His black Stetson casts a shadow over his face, his black-and-gray flannel brushing against me as he slides past toward a woman waving at him.
“Wow,” Alyssa murmurs. “He looks like . . . oh, shit.” She snaps a finger in front of my face. “Hello? You with me?”
I force a smile. “Yes, sorry. I’m fine. I was just . . . surprised. He doesn’t look like the type of guy who’d hang out in here. You know, with all the stuffy corporate types.” A high-pitched laugh follows, and I balk at how fake it sounds.
“Sweetie,” Alyssa says, pulling me into a corner. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. Because my Spidey sense tells me something is off with you.”
I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s just this weird feeling.
I can’t explain it. Luke is fantastic, really.
But maybe it’s just that we’re moving too fast. All that talk about family and holidays .
. . it threw me for a loop. Maybe I just need to slow things down a little bit.
The past few months haven’t exactly been easy. ”
She rubs a hand up and down my arm. “I know. And fuck that asshole for screwing with your head the way he did.”
I give her a hug. “You’re such a great friend. Thank you for always being there for me, with wine, ice cream, and a shoulder to cry on.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for.” She grins. “Just be honest with Luke. I’m sure he’d love some reassurance from you that he’s not just your rebound guy, especially since you kind of freaked out about the ranch invite.”
I clap a hand over my mouth. “Was it that bad? I didn’t want to come off as rude. It’s just . . . Nash and I are finally in a good place, and I really would love for him to come up here for the holidays.”
“So . . . no Red Rock? You’re not even a little bit curious about what’s happening there?”
I shake my head. “I know it’s operational. But I don’t ask questions. It’s not my business anymore.”
“But it is your ranch, right? It was bought for you? By that dickhead Blaze?”
I giggle. “Beware, anyone who messes with a friend of Alyssa Sawyer.”
“Oh, hell yes. Anyone dead to you is dead to me.”
A few minutes later, Luke returns. He dips his head close to my ear. “You wanna get out of here?”
I give his hand a squeeze and nod. “Sounds good to me.”
We say our goodbyes and head out the door. My apartment isn’t far from here, so we decide to walk the few blocks.
“You know, I’m really sorry about the way I reacted to your sister’s invite. I was caught off guard. I didn’t realize you’d told her about us,” I say.
“Of course I did,” Luke says, stopping under a streetlight. He stares down at me, intensity in his dark-blue eyes. “I’m in this, Savannah. A hundred percent. I think you’re amazing, and I want a future with you.”
My smile wavers, knees wobbling. “I . . . want that too. I just need a little bit of time. I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. Yet,” I hurriedly say.
“You’re worth the wait,” he murmurs. “I’m a patient man when I know what I want.”
I grin as he leans his forehead against mine and brushes his lips against the tip of my nose.
“I really want you to meet my brother. It’s just him, so probably a lot less pressure,” I say. “And maybe we can do both. Visit your family for some of the holiday break and have my brother come up here for the rest.”
“Sounds great,” Luke says.
“Perfect.” I pull out my phone. “I’m going to text him right now to see what he thinks—”
The words die on my lips when I see a text notification from Nash on my phone.
You sure I can’t convince you to come back for Christmas?
It pings again, and a photo opens on my screen.
With a shaky finger, I click on the image.
It’s a photo of Red Rock, the sun shining over wide-open fields, newly restored buildings lining the perimeter, and livestock grazing in the distance.
And in the far right-hand corner, Blaze sits on a horse overlooking it all.
Squinting, I can tell that the horse is Starlight.
He brought her to Red Rock. My heart clenches, knotting in my throat.
I shove the phone back in my pocket and grab Luke’s hand. “I’m sure he’ll want to come here. It will be great.”
“Because you’re with me,” Luke says. “And being together is the only thing that matters.”
“Right,” I say, trying like hell to keep my voice even.
I grab my mail from my box as we pass through the lobby of my building. Once we get inside, I shrug off my coat, all thoughts of keeping a clear head flying out the window. “How about some wine?”
Luke walks over to the wine rack and looks at the bottles while I grab two glasses. I move the pile of mail out of the way and set them on the counter. A single white envelope floats to the floor, and for the second time tonight, I freeze, my focus on the return address.
The Law Offices of Kent Atwood, Esquire, Whiskey Creek, Wyoming.
My stomach plummets hard. Is there something else I need to handle regarding the will? The sale is done, but maybe there’s final paperwork I need to sign and return.
I grab the envelope off the floor and tear it open. There’s a piece of folded white paper and a short note wrapped around it.
Savannah—
Your aunt left this letter with me before she passed. I’m sorry for the delay, but she instructed me to send it six months after her passing.
—Kent
“Um, babe, I’m going to change real quick, okay?”
I don’t wait for Luke to answer before I dart into my bedroom with the letter clutched tight in my hand.
Unfolding the letter, I sit on the edge of my bed, all air abandoning my lungs, my chest constricted like it’s been lassoed by thick ropes.
My darling Savannah,
If you’re reading this, then I’m gone, and the ranch business is settled. I told Kent not to give you this letter until after you’d made your choice about Red Rock. Whether you kept it or sold it, stayed or left. Because you needed to choose for yourself, not because of a letter from a dead woman.
But now you’ve chosen. And I need to tell you some things.
I bought Red Rock forty years ago when I was about your age.
I was running too, from a broken engagement, from dreams with the wrong man that didn’t pan out.
I came to Whiskey Creek because it was far from everything that hurt me.
I planned to stay a year, maybe two, just long enough to figure out my next move.
But as you know, I met your uncle. And we had such a happy and wonderful life together, all because somewhere along the way, running turned into laying down roots.
My temporary plan became a life. The escape became my home, and we were so lucky to have you all surrounding us for the years we spent together at Red Rock.
I decided to leave you the ranch because you remind me of myself at your age. Running. Hurting. Looking for the next place that might feel like home because of all that you lost in your real home.
Sweetie, you can run for the rest of your life. Denver, Seattle, Boston, wherever. You can build careers and relationships and live a perfectly fine life. But running doesn’t heal wounds. It just puts distance between you and the pain.
Red Rock was my gift to you, but it was also my challenge. I hope you learn to put down those roots. When things get hard, and they will, don’t be tempted to run. Face the problems. Fight for the solutions. Build something that matters.
I hope you chose to keep Red Rock. But maybe you didn’t because you couldn’t make it work financially, because something drove you away, or because you just decided it wasn’t for you. Any of those reasons are valid. You’re allowed to choose differently than I did.
But I’m asking you to be honest with yourself. If you left Whiskey Creek again, is it because you are running from something or toward something? Because there’s a difference.
If you’re building a new life here or somewhere else, giving it your all, and creating a home, then I’m proud of you. That’s all I ever wanted for you. To be happy and settled.
But if you’re hiding, if you’re waiting for life to feel safe before you start living again, if you keep telling yourself “someday” while the years slip by . . . Savvie, it’ll never feel safe enough. You have to choose it anyway.
I’m not telling you what to do. You’re a grown woman who makes her own choices. I’m just asking you to think about what you’re running from and whether it’s worth losing what you could build.
Your parents are buried in Whiskey Creek. Nash is there, the only family you have left. If you chose to stay, then you have acres of possibility to do with as you wish. Somewhere in all the uncertainty is your life. The one you get to build. The one you get to choose.
Don’t let fear steal that from you, Savannah. Don’t let doubt or hurt keep you from claiming the life you want. You’re stronger than that. You always have been.
Whatever you decide, know that I love you. I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. And Red Rock will always be yours in spirit, even if someone else holds the deed.
All my love, Aunt Marg
PS—If you sold the ranch to some developer who’s turning it into condos, I will haunt you for the rest of your life. Just so you know.
I fight a losing battle with my tears. They stream down my cheeks, dripping onto the paper I read twice, and then a third time.
Her message hits me with the force of a brick hurled at my chest.
She’s right. I am running. Just like I did six years ago, from the same misery and loss I feel right now. I’m hiding in Denver, dating a man I don’t see a future with, and building a life that I thought would be perfect but instead feels empty.
I’m not living. I’m existing. Going through the motions. Waiting for the pain to fade so I can go back to being the person I was before everything crumbled. Before my world shattered.
Except that person is gone. I’m not the same. And I’ll never be again.
Maybe that’s my real problem. I’m not running from Whiskey Creek or Blaze. I’m running from the fact that I can’t go back to who I was, not after all that’s happened. I can only go forward as the woman I am now.
But I’m terrified she won’t be enough.
So I keep running because I just don’t know how to stop.
And part of me is too afraid to try.