Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wyatt
“Care to enlighten me as to why I didn’t see hide nor hair of you last night and why Emily’s room hasn’t been slept in?”
My dad’s voice hits me before I even clear the kitchen archway. He’s standing by the stove, coffee in hand, looking like he’s been waiting for me to surface for an hour.
I feel like hell. My eyes are gritty, my head is pounding, and my chest feels like it’s been hollowed out with a rusted spoon.
I finally fell asleep at three in the morning, only to be woken again by my phone buzzing with a single text message that read: Arrived.
Little does she know I’ve clung to that one passive-aggressive word like a lifeline ever since.
“Long story, Dad,” I mutter, heading straight for the coffee pot. “She got a letter last night from her dad’s lawyer. I guess the sale went through. It…it hit her hard.”
My dad’s expression shifts instantly. The irritation vanishes and is replaced by a flash of genuine concern that paints his whole face. “So where is she now?”
“She left for Oregon there and then. Packed a bag and hit the road.” I let out a sigh, bracing myself for the lecture that’s coming.
“And you just let her go?” His voice rises a notch as he sets down his ceramic mug with force.
“Dad, I didn’t let her do anything. You know how headstrong she is. I offered to go with her, but she said she was fine. She’s a grown woman, for Christ’s sake.”
My dad lets out an exasperated breath, shaking his head. “A grown woman who just lost the last piece of her family. Ten hours on her own in the dark, Wyatt?” He looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “How long is she gonna be gone? Did she get there okay?”
I nod, staring into the black depths of my coffee. “Yeah. She texted. She’s there. She didn’t say how long it’d take to wrap things up.”
He stays quiet for a beat, his eyes boring into the side of my head. “She’s got a stubborn streak, that girl.”
“Don’t I know it,” I whisper.
“Well, I suppose if she’s already there that’s something at least,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t look satisfied.
“I need to get Alex up,” I say, needing to escape the interrogation before I snap.
“Yeah,” Dad says, his voice dropping to a knowing rumble. “You do that. And while you’re with him, maybe think about what happens if she decides there’s nothing left in Oregon, and nothing worth coming back for here, either.”
I shake my head, staring down into my mug. I don’t have time for this right now. I can’t deny what he’s said stings, but I can’t dignify his words with a response. So I turn and leave the kitchen.
The house is far too quiet this morning. Usually by eight a.m. on a Saturday, Emily would have already been for a morning run and two coffees deep by now, chattering a mile a minute because she didn’t have a school drop off to make.
I make my way upstairs to his room, keeping my eyes on the floorboards as I walk. Thankfully, his is the first room as I reach the top of the stairs because I can’t bear to look at hers sitting empty right now.
When I gently push open Alex’s door, he’s already rousing. “Ah, you’re already awake,” I say, easing my shoulder against his doorframe.
He yawns as he sits upright, squinting against the daylight, his bed hair a reminder that he’s way overdue for a haircut. “Yup,” he says, rubbing his eyes.
He looks around the room, then back at me. “Is Emily back from her run yet?”
Man, my own kid asks for his nanny before I even get a good morning.
I realize then, he doesn’t just remember her schedule, he relies on it.
“Uh—yeah, bud, I need to talk to you about that.” I swallow hard before I try to work out what to say to him.
He looks at me cautiously as I make my way to sit at the end of his bed.
“She–uh, she had to go back to Oregon for a few days. Just to pack up her dad’s old house for the new owners.”
His face falls, and he looks down at his faded plaid covers. “Oh…I bet she’s real sad about that. She’s coming back, though, right?”
Fuck. I hope she is.
“I–I think so, bud. I’m not sure when, she didn’t say. But if she’s not back by Monday, I’ll take you to school.” I have no right to make promises to him right now.
He quirks his lip, and a look of pure disgust crosses his face.
“Don’t look so thrilled about it,” I shoot back, my sarcasm shielding my rejection.
He shrugs, sliding his legs out from under the covers. “I hope she’s back. Your playlist sucks, it’s all old men complaining about their trucks.’”
“Hey, dude, your old man’s taste in music is classic. It’s cowboy heritage.”
“If you say so,” he responds, rolling his eyes with a level of sass that definitely isn’t mine.
I know exactly whose attitude it is. Emily Callahan may have been gone for fourteen hours, but she’s left her mark all over my son’s mouth.
I catch myself smiling reluctantly. “Just get dressed, maybe you and I can do something later. Just us.”
“Ok, Dad!” He jumps out of the bed and darts toward the bathroom.
“And brush your teeth!” I call after him.
I sit on his bed for a few more moments, noticing how his room hasn’t been changed since he was five years old.
It’s exactly the way Charlotte decorated it when he was small.
I’ve kept it like a museum for years, but looking around now, he looks a little out of place surrounded by bright posters and dinosaur stickers.
He’s outgrown it without me even realizing.
He’s outgrown so many things lately. Maybe I have, too.
* * *
I find Alex in the TV room, his eyes glued to the cartoon he’s watching. He looks small against the cushions. Lonely, even.
I take a breath, centering myself, and step into the room while hiding a box behind my back.
I’ve brought a secret weapon.
“Hey, bud. Got something for ya.”
He looks up, his expression neutral until I shift my weight and reveal the surprise. “A LEGO set!” He’s off the sofa in a heartbeat, his face splitting into a grin.
“Yup. It’s the one you saw in the store when we went to Bozeman a few months ago.”
“I thought you said it was expensive?”
“It was!” I admit, tossing the box onto the coffee table. “But I thought we could both use some father/son time. What do you think?”
His smile beams so hard it’s about to touch his ears. God, she was right. This kid needs some time with me. “Clear the coffee table, so we can get started.”
He slides to his knees on the floor, frantically clearing away the books and magazines as if his life depends on it.
I tear open the box and immediately regret every life choice that led me here as I’m met by an expanse of tiny plastic packets and a sea of colorful, non-uniform pieces.
I take a deep breath and sigh. I’ve damn well committed to this.“Okay, you check the instructions, and I’ll find the bag we need.” I rummage through the pile and lay out the bricks.
“This looks so cool,” he says, studying the picture of the truck on the box. “Did you use to have LEGOs when you were younger?” His little fingers are already sorting through the grays and blues I’ve laid out.
“Uh—yeah. I had a couple of sets, but they were a lot less complicated than they are now.” I chuckle, staring at a piece that looks like it requires a degree in structural engineering. I feel a twinge deep in my chest at that thought.
“Did you play LEGOs with Emily…when she lived here?”
I still at his words. My mind flashes back to that wild-haired rebel who used to follow me into the brush, her knees always bruised and her pockets full of interesting rocks.
“Sometimes. But we used to play outside mostly.”
I remember the sun-soaked days on the ranch back then. Life seemed so much simpler. Our biggest worry was making it back to the house before the porch light came on.
“I think she’d like this one,” Alex muses, eyes fixed on the manual. “She’s awesome at building things.”
I huff a small laugh. She’s more than awesome. “She is, isn’t she?”
He picks up a few small bricks and puts them together, methodically searching for the next one. A weird sensation curls through me as I watch him.
The mid-morning light catches the deep, chocolate brown of his hair and the way his heavy lashes shadow his cheeks. He’s got my features and Charlotte’s coloring for sure, but the look on his face right now, that’s all her.
The way his tongue rests between his teeth, the narrowed, intense focus, is the exact expression Emily uses when she’s staring at a blueprint. It’s a professional’s focus that requires no DNA whatsoever.
“She is coming back, though, right?” he asks, still searching for a tiny red piece no bigger than a thumbnail. “I’m gonna miss her.”
My brows furrow. The house is already cold without her, and she’s only been gone a few hours. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure, bud. She’ll be back in a few days.”
He nods, satisfied with the answer. It strikes me then how much time they’ve been spending together.
How much I’ve taken for granted that she’s there when I’m out in the fields or up at the bridge.
In fact, he probably sees her a hell of a lot more than he sees me lately.
The guilt settles in my stomach like a stone.
“You really like her, huh, bud?”
He smiles, but doesn’t look up. “She’s the best. She lets me eat chocolate before dinner, and she plays the best games in the car.”
I can’t even fight the smile on my face as I picture the two of them, thick as thieves, plotting against the rest of us while they cruise down the dirt roads.
“I wish I had a mom like her,” he continues.
The words hit the room like a wrecking ball. Alex’s smile falters instantly. His eyes flicker up to mine, full of a sudden fear, like he thinks saying those words is a betrayal. Like he’s worried he’s hurt me.
My heart sinks. I can’t deny it’s touched a raw nerve. I’m just not sure which one.
I reach out, ruffling his dark hair. “I think your mom would have liked her.”