16. Halle
HALLE
Me:
How’s work been today?
Me:
I’m wearing that skirt you wanted me in…
Me:
Want to guess what I’m wearing under it?
This is stupid.
I glance down at my phone for what has to be the fifth time in the last hour. The screen is still blank. No text. No missed call. No notification. The lock screen photo stares back at me.
It shouldn’t matter. But I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t.
The neon beer clock hanging above the wall of liquor bottles says it’s already past one.
The regulars have started trickling into the bar, their conversations blending into a low hum beneath the twang of country music and the steady clink of glasses.
Someone laughs too loudly at the far end of the counter, and a stool scrapes across the worn floorboards.
Normal Saturday sounds, but all I can focus on is the silence sitting heavy in my pocket.
Cash hasn’t texted, hasn’t called, which is weird, considering he texted me well into the night last night, asking me all sorts of random questions.
I hate how much it bothers me. Worse, I hate how quickly my brain fills in the blanks with every worst-case scenario it can come up with.
Maybe he changed his mind.
Maybe he woke up this morning and realized I’m exactly what I warned him I was: a thirty-year-old woman still tangled in a divorce to a man who doesn’t think he does a damn thing wrong. I’m just a complicated mess who’s not worth the effort.
Cash is twenty-two.
Ever since I gave him my number, the day after he ate me out in the back room, he’s taken every opportunity to text me non-stop. But today? Crickets.
Even after he was adamant about this damn date.
I should have figured. Men like Cash didn’t do steady. They do fun and temporary.
I’d let myself catch feelings when I knew I wasn’t ready …
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
The bar hums with low conversation and clinking bottles. For an afternoon, it’s not half bad, but it all feels distant.
I check my phone again. Still nothing. Pride keeps my fingers from typing anything. Hadn’t I tried to warn him? Hadn’t I told him this was a bad idea from the start? If he was pulling away, I wasn’t going to chase. I wasn’t about to beg him to prove me wrong.
The door chimes, pulling me from my spiral. A delivery guy steps in, peering around the dim interior before heading straight for the end of the bar.
“Excuse me,” he said, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Are you Halle Dawson?”
I make my way over, frowning. “Yeah. That’s me.”
He hands over a manilla envelope with no return address on it. I thank him, tucking the envelope beneath the bar, and forcing myself to finish taking care of the next round of orders before disappearing to the back office.
The moment I tear the top open in the office, the contents spill all over the desk.
Shredded paper litters every surface—tiny strips, hundreds of them.
The remains of an official document. I dig through the mess, praying this is a sick joke until my fingers close around a folded envelope.
Opening it, a stack of official-looking papers stares back at me—copies of the dissolution of marriage documents I’d had served Zach weeks ago, and more.
My stomach drops as I flip through them.
While everything is signed, even more is in there about division of assets.
But his signature is right there, on every required line.
He signed them.
Then why the fuck did he shred a copy?
And there it is, on the last page, a summons to appear in court back in Dallas to make sure the division of assets is distributed equally.
Is he really choosing to fight me … ? I was more than fair. He’s fucking dragging it out.
Rage flashes hot through my veins. I dig through the rest of the smaller envelope until my fingers close around a folded note in Zach’s handwriting.
Opening it, a message is scrawled inside.
I figured you’d want these back. I signed them like you wanted, but I’m not making this easy on you. See you soon. -Z
For a long moment, I just stare. That fucking asshole.
Even now, after the lies, the affair, the years of making me feel small, he had to twist the knife one more time.
As if forcing me into court will undo the damage or keep me from moving on.
My hands shake as I cram the mess back into the envelope.
“God, I really do think I fucking hate you,” I mutter to myself.
Glancing up at the clock, I realize it’s just past 5 and my shift is almost over, but Aunt Aria and Uncle Matt are nowhere to be found.
That’s not normal.
I shoot off a text to Aunt Aria.
Me:
Hey, are you guys okay?
She texts back a few minutes later.
Aunt Aria:
There was an emergency at the Ranch—we came out here. You can stay and work or close down for the evening and come out here. We’ll all be here.
Fuck … Is that why I haven’t heard from him all day?
Me:
Is everything okay?
I only give Aria a few more moments before deciding, fuck it.
Looking over at Hank at the end of the bar, shooting the shit, I holler, “Your tabs are paid. Go home before I change my mind.”
The few men scurry out of the bar, and I’m able to close up within a few minutes. My mind is racing with a million things that could be an emergency at the ranch, and Aria still hasn’t texted me back.
I text Cash.
Me:
Hey. What’s going on?
Me:
I’m on my way.
I slip my helmet on and head toward the ranch.
Five minutes later, I find myself turning down the dirt road that leads to the main house, my headlights cutting through the dark fields.
Dust billows behind me on the dirt road leading to the ranch.
The Thornwood sign creaks in the breeze as I pass under it, lights glowing from the main house, then I notice all the vehicles.
My brow furrows as I scan them—Luke’s truck, Matt’s, Rhett’s, Colt’s, Dawson’s, and a few others I recognize. Of fucking course, I don’t see Cash’s truck or bike. I park, kill the engine, and climb out.
As I approach the house, I spot Rhett and Colt standing off to the side of the porch, sharing a cigarette. They speak quietly, heads bent close. Neither look up.
Rhett stands with his arms folded tightly across his chest, and the look on his face is pure exhaustion. It looks like he’s run himself ragged all day. Colt isn’t much better. His shoulders are slumped, and neither of them seem interested in the cigarette they’re passing back and forth.
Peeking around as I walk up, I still don’t find any sign of Cash through the windows.
A fresh wave of irritation rolls through me.
Pushing it down the best I can, I break the silence. “Hey! What’s going on?”
Colt glances up first. The second he sees me, something softens in his face as he gives me a sad, tired smile. “Halle …”
He steps forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a big hug. “I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs.
His words catch me off guard. When he pulls away, I look between them. Rhett finally lifts his head—his eyes bloodshot.
“Hey, Hal.”
No grin, no teasing, nothing that I’ve grown used to since those two started dating. Just two quiet words.
The knot in my stomach tightens.
“Okay, now you’re both freaking me out.”
The uneasy feeling grows as I glance between them, but neither speaks. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on? If you don’t tell me, I’m going inside to ask someone else. I can see everyone in there sittin’ around. Start talking, you two. This shit isn’t funny.”
Colt rubs the back of his neck, and Rhett looks away.
My irritation flares hotter than before, built up from a day full of bullshit, and now, everyone is acting weird.
Cash is nowhere to be found. Aria still hasn’t answered my text.
Rhett looks like he hasn’t slept in days from crying.
Colt keeps avoiding my eyes, and nobody will tell me what’s the fuck happening.
Judging by the look on their faces, neither one of them wants to be the person who says it out loud.
Colt breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s Ben … He’s gone.”
I cross my arms in disbelief. “You’re lying.”
Storming inside, the moment I step inside I know he was being honest. Seeing all the long faces, all the fight drains out of me like someone just pulled a plug.
Eli has Tierney wrapped tightly in his arms, Luke and Sarah sit in the same position across the room as she sobs softly, and Dawson and his cousin stand off to the side, both red-eyed and hollow. I can hear Aria’s voice drifting from the kitchen, and the air’s thick with grief.
Panic rises sharp in my throat when I still can’t find Cash. My voice comes out, barely above a whisper. “Tell me it’s not true …”
Seeing me, Tierney looks up, red-eyed and heartbroken. Standing, she wraps me in her arms tightly. Her voice comes out low and hoarse. “I’m so glad you’re here. He’s really gone.”
The words stun me into silence, and the room blurs slightly as the weight of it settles over me. My knees buckle as I fight to keep myself upright in her arms.
Tears welling in my eyes, I say, “Aria didn’t tell me, or I would have come sooner. I’m so sorry.”
When Tierney finally lets me go, I sink into the nearest chair. The anger and worry about Cash are momentarily eclipsed by a deeper sorrow.
Grandpa Ben. The man who has been my family for as long as I can remember and the backbone of this ranch—gone. Just like that.