Chapter 3 #2
“Hell yes, I do.”
“I’m going to go say hi.” I left my coffee on the counter, then headed for the living room, where Dad was on the floor with three babies. Emma, seven months old, was lying on a blanket with her toes in her hands, trying to shove a foot into her mouth.
Her one-and-a-half-year-old brother, Hudson, was smacking two blocks together. While Drake, my brother Knox’s son, was toddling around Dad, giggling as Dad tried to tickle him.
“This looks like fun.”
Hudson took one look at me and the blocks were forgotten. He shoved up on his feet and held up his hands. “Uh. Uh.”
Up. Up.
“Hey, buddy.” I swept him into my arms and kissed his cheek. Then another little boy crashed into my leg, so I bent and hefted Drake up too. My siblings always teased me for having baby fever. I wanted kids. Someday. And until that day came, these babies were my fix. “How are my guys today?”
Drake answered with a string of gibberish.
“Ah. Well, that sounds excellent.” I put them both down and sat on the floor. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, sweetheart. What are you up to today?”
“I came out to take Neptune for a ride.” I toyed with Hudson’s blocks, helping him make a stack.
“It’s a pretty day. Sun’s shining.” No matter what the temperature, hot or cold, Dad considered any day with sunshine a golden one.
“I thought I’d swing by the hotel this afternoon,” I said. “See if Eloise needs any help before the Christmas rush. I talked to Lyla this morning and she was oddly calm, considering how busy it’s been.”
Dad chuckled. “I thought the same thing when I talked to her yesterday. But you know it won’t last. She’ll be dead on her feet by the time Christmas gets here next week.”
The entire town was decked out for the holidays with garland and lights and trimmed trees. Lyla owned the coffee shop in Quincy and she’d spent three hours the other night hand painting Eden Coffee’s front window with snowflakes.
She had customers streaming through her door from the time she opened at six in the morning until closing at seven each night. Half were locals who’d placed special orders for holiday pastries. Half were tourists in town to enjoy the festivities.
Lyla would be exhausted by the time New Year’s was over. So would Eloise and Knox. But they’d have help. The Edens pitched in to help each other, without hesitation.
“What’s new at the hospital?” Dad asked.
“Nothing really.” There wasn’t much I could tell him, but on occasion, I’d gripe about Rachel.
Hudson threw a fist into my stack of blocks, then giggled, so I stacked them again.
“You okay?” Dad’s eyes narrowed on my face. “Something is bothering you.”
There was no point in denying it to Dad.
He’d always been able to read my moods. And I’d rather him hear it from me than the Quincy grapevine.
Knox hadn’t mentioned bumping into Foster at the hospital earlier this week, but chances were, it would come up sooner rather than later.
We didn’t get a lot of famous UFC fighters in Montana.
“Foster Madden is in town.”
“What?” He straightened, lowering his voice. “Why? What does he want?”
We hadn’t talked about Foster in years. Knox teased me for being too private for my own good. But I was glad I hadn’t had to explain the Foster situation to everyone. It was a story I didn’t have the heart to share multiple times.
Lyla knew I’d been dating someone in college and that we’d broken up when I’d gone to medical school. Eloise knew the same. And my brothers, well . . . they avoided their sisters’ love lives.
“He claims he’s moving here,” I said. “He bought that vacant gym on Lower Clark Fork Road.”
The previous owner had gone broke when I’d been in high school, and the gym had sat vacant for years. There just weren’t enough people in Quincy to support two gyms, especially when the Firehouse had new equipment and fitness classes.
“Have you talked to him?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
I shrugged. “I don’t want him to live here. But I guess I don’t have much choice.”
Dad’s mouth flattened. “You know, I thought about buying that building to flip. Damn it.”
“It’s . . . strange.” I had a feeling that even if there’d been no building, Foster would have come anyway. I forced a smile and ran my fingers through Drake’s blond hair. “I’ll be fine. It was a long time ago. Just a shock. But I’m going to take my ride. Get some air. Then I’ll be good as new.”
“Want some company?” he asked.
“I’d say you’ve got your hands full.” I bent down to kiss Emma’s forehead, then stood. “See you after a bit.”
After a quick stop in the kitchen to say goodbye to Mom, I headed outside, grabbing a pair of gloves and a beanie from my car. Then I zipped my coat up to my throat and headed for the stables.
“Your horse is all ready, Doc.” A hired hand saluted me by touching the brim of his hat as he strode out of the building.
“Thank you.” I smiled, then walked inside. Neptune stood in the closest stall. “Hey, girl.”
She huffed, butting up against my hand as I stroked her dappled gray cheek.
Neptune was one of eight horses Dad had purchased years ago. Eloise had insisted on naming them all, and at the time, she’d been doing a school project about the solar system. So each of us siblings, plus Mom and Dad, had a horse named after a planet.
“How’s my pretty girl?” I crooned, opening the door to lead her out.
We walked for a bit, out of the stables and lapping the corral before I made a few adjustments to my saddle. Then I stepped my left foot into a stirrup and hoisted myself up, settling into the seat before we headed through a gate—the hired man had opened it for me—and into a field.
Dad was right. It was a pretty day. The sun cut the chill from the air. The rays reflected off the snow, and on the back of my horse, my mood instantly improved.
“Foster is here,” I told Neptune because my horse was the best listener around. “I have no idea what he expects from me other than he wants to go out to dinner and talk.”
Neptune snorted.
“Yep. That’s what I think too. It’s all horseshit. No offense.” I loosened the reins, letting Neptune pick up speed to a trot. “What could there possibly be to say after so long?”
Neptune didn’t have an answer this time.
Neither did I.
We rode in silence for hours, weaving a wandering trail in the snow until the crisp air cleared the fog from my mind.
I took the long, familiar path to my favorite place on the ranch.
Garnet Flats.
In the spring, the meadows would be a lush green dotted with wildflowers in red, yellow, white and purple.
In the summer, the warm sap from the evergreens would infuse the air with the scent of pine.
In autumn, the leaves would change, coloring the mountain foothills before they slept through a white winter. One hundred acres of sheer beauty.
My dream had always been to build a home here. To experience the seasons through every sunrise and sunset. As I stared across the snow, my eyes flooded.
That dream had included Foster once.
For the first time in my life, it hurt to be here.
With a nudge of my leg and a tug on the reins, I turned away from the meadow. Neptune and I returned to the stables at a gallop, and by the time we arrived, we were both out of breath.
After I put my saddle away, took care of Neptune and led her back to the calving pasture to rejoin the other horses, I headed back to Mom and Dad’s. I didn’t want to go home, so I didn’t. Tomorrow, work would be a welcome distraction, but for today, I’d use my family.
I finger painted with my niece and nephews. Mom made me a grilled ham and cheese sandwich for lunch before I helped her put the kids down for a nap. And every time Dad made eye contact, I smiled, doing my best to reassure him I was fine.
It wasn’t until the sun was dipping toward the horizon that I finally said goodbye and climbed into the Jeep.
Then I took the long way home so I could savor the pink and orange sunset behind the jagged mountains that surrounded Quincy’s valley.
And by the time I turned down my street, it was nearly dark.
Just not dark enough to miss the black truck with Nevada license plates parked in front of my house.
“You infuriating, obstinate man.” I gritted my teeth and turned down the alley so I could park in my garage. After marching inside, I flew through the house and ripped open the front door to find Foster on my porch. “Why are you here?”
“Dinner.” He held up a plastic bag from our local Mexican restaurant. In the other hand, he had a bottle of white wine.
“God, you are stubborn.”
“It’s a little cold for a picnic. Gonna let me in?”
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Are you seeing someone?”
“I can’t see how that is any of your business.”
“That’s a no. Come on, Tally—Talia,” he corrected. “It’s just dinner.”
It would never be just dinner. Not with Foster. “No.”
“Fine.” He tucked the wine under his arm and used his hand to dig in his pocket, pulling out that damn blue pouch. “You left this at the gym.”
“Seriously? Stop with the ring.” Didn’t he realize how hard it was for me to see it?
“It’s yours.”
“When did you buy it?”
He held my gaze. “Right after you left.”
“Why? You married another woman.” Before he could answer, I waved both hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. That ring has never been mine, and I don’t want it.”
“Tally.”
“Don’t!” My voice carried past him and into the night. “Don’t call me Tally like you know a damn thing about me. Don’t call me Tally like we’re old friends. Don’t call me Tally like you didn’t lie to me each and every day we were together.”
“Okay.” He sighed. “I just . . . I want to explain. Please.”
“Why? I can’t believe a word you say.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t. I won’t. I’m an intelligent woman, Foster. I’m trusting. I’m loyal. And you made me question everything about myself. You made me doubt my intuition. My heart. Myself. So no, I don’t want dinner. I don’t want to hear your explanation. I don’t want you here. Go away.”
How long had those words been bottled up? I waited for that sweet relief, for the good feeling that should have come after yelling at Foster. But my heart . . . hurt. It hurt. Shouldn’t it feel good now? How many years had I held this anger inside? Why didn’t it feel cathartic to set it free?
“I’m sorry.” Foster swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not enough,” I whispered. “It’s not enough to be sorry.”
“You’re right.” He nodded. “I just . . . you’ve always been my Tally. It’s how I think of you. It’s what I call you in my head.”
He’d thought of me. He’d said my name in his head. The hurt doubled. Then it tripled with the apology written on his face and the regret brimming in his eyes.
This had to end. I had to be the one to end it this time. So I took a step away, gripping the door. “I stopped being your Tally the day you married my best friend. You want to give that ring to someone? Give it to Vivienne.”
It should have felt good to slam the door in his face.
It didn’t.