Chapter 56 Hutch
Hutch
“Whether you believe me or not, letting Ginger go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I’ll regret what I did to her for the rest of my life. And regardless of what either of you thinks, I do love her,” I say, looking Hank square in the eye. “I’ll never stop loving her.”
“Then what the hell, man?” Hudson asks, his voice strained. “I know you think you’re horrible in relationships, but—”
“That’s not it,” I huff out. “At least not all of it.”
“Then what is it?” Hudson asks, surprising me with the patience and empathy in his tone.
Hank sighs in irritation, and I can’t even be mad at him. He’s always been loyal. It’s one of the things I admire most about him. And this—my fucking things up with Ginger is a direct conflict with that.
I’m his brother, but she’s his wife’s best friend. He’s going to have her back. I get it, and I hate seeing the disappointment in his eyes now.
Moving back over to the couch, I sit down.
Bracing my elbows on my knees, I shake my head.
I’ve kept this shit inside me for so long, I don’t even know how to force it into the light.
Don’t want to. Being with Ginger sort of helped me pull back the curtain on it, but fuck if it’s still not just as painful as the day it all went down.
I suck back a steadying breath before blowing it out. “The day Sarah left—”
“Sarah Kessler was twelve goddamn years ago, Hutch,” Hanks spits.
I gaze up at him, all fight gone, not wanting to argue anymore. “Do you want an explanation or not?”
Hank jerks his chin at me, features still hard as stone, but at least he’s quiet.
I rake a hand through my tangled hair. “Sarah was pregnant.”
The air in my lungs feels heavier somehow with the admission out there. I thought I’d feel lighter telling my brothers, but I was wrong. It still feels heavy as fuck.
Hudson is the first to break the silence. “What happened?”
I shrug and shake my head. “Spontaneous abortion, the paper said. It wasn’t until later that I figured out that meant miscarriage. That’s all I know. And then she was just…gone.”
“Wait, what do you mean that’s all you know? What paper, Hutch?” Hank says all in one breath, voice low.
I swallow and look up at my brothers. The looks on their faces—masks of pity and sadness—I can’t bear it.
I drop my eyes to the floor between my feet, feeling the sting of rejection in my chest as strong as if I were still standing on that porch reading that letter and blue sticky note for the first time.
I sniff, hating that my eyes burn with tears I haven’t cried in years, not since the day she left.
“We’d been talking about getting married.
She was still so young, though, barely nineteen, and you guys know how her parents were,” I say, shaking my head again.
“Real strict, religious. Then, I got that new job at the lumber mill in Livingston. I bought a ring.” I chuckle to myself when I remember how nervous I’d been on the drive to her house with it in my pocket.
“I didn’t have a lot of money, but I wanted something nice.”
I spent $750 at a pawn shop on a tiny solitaire diamond and a plain gold band for her.
“I drove all the way there praying to God she didn’t hate it. Hell, I prayed her daddy wouldn’t come out on the porch with a shotgun and shoot my ass,” I say on a humorless chuckle, but both of my brothers stay silent.
“There was a hospital letterhead taped to the door with a Post-it telling me it was over.”
“Jesus Christ,” Hank mutters softly.
“She left before I even got there.” My voice sounds flat, but inside it still burns. “I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl,” I pause, “never got to ask if she was okay. Or how it happened.”
That silence stuck. Still sticks.
I pull in a shaky breath. “And the part I never said out loud until now?”I glance between them, then look down.“I didn’t try to come back from it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hudson asks after a long beat. When I don’t answer, he drops beside me on the couch. “Why didn’t you talk to one of us? We would’ve understood. Been there for you.”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, my voice hoarse.
“So you’ve kept this in for years? Carried it around alone, torturing yourself over it?” Hank asks.
“What was there to say?” I finally look up at him. “It would’ve made things worse. Mom and Pop…”God, I’ve hated for years that they never knew they had another grandchild. Mine would’ve been the first. And they don’t even know. I’m not even sure I want them to.
“I didn’t want them to be disappointed in me. And it wasn’t like there was anything I could do about it. I dealt with it the best way I knew how.”
“Which was not to deal with it at all?” Hudson says quietly. “Fuck, Hutch. I wish you had come to me. You know none of this was your fault, right? The baby, Sarah leaving. It wasn’t about you.”
I turn to look at my brother. “Wasn’t it?”
“Of course not,” Hank says, dropping onto the couch on my other side. “Sarah chose to leave.”
“To leave me.”
“That’s not on you,” Hudson says. “Do you remember what you told me when Tristen left?”
I nod. “That the decision was hers. Not yours to take on.”
“And this is no different,” Hank says, surprisingly gentle.
“And the baby?” I ask.
Hank shakes his head and he’s quiet again for a couple of beats. “I can’t answer that. But I can tell you it isn’t because of something you did. Sometimes horrible shit just happens. There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”
“I’m sorry, Hutch,” Hudson says. “I can’t believe you’ve been able to keep this in for years.”
I huff out a breath, bumping him with my shoulder. “Told you when you asked me to keep you and Finn’s wedding under wraps last year that I knew a thing or two about keeping secrets.”
Hudson smiles sadly. “I wish you didn’t, though.”
I nod. “Yeah, me too.”
“Does Ginger know?” Hanks asks. “About the baby, I mean?”
“She does,” I say, settling back on the couch between my brothers. They both stay where they’re seated, Hank looking over his shoulder at me.
“And about Sarah?”
I nod. “I told her the night she asked about this.” I lift an arm and point to the little foot tattoo.
Hank nods, and Hudson looks pained. “You told us it was for your ‘wandering spirit’.”
“Yeah, well…that was bullshit,” I say with a sad chuckle. “What was I supposed to say?”
“I get it.” Hudson nods. “Can I ask what made you break things off with Ginger, though? I mean, you guys seemed super fucking tight the last couple of weeks. Hell, we’ve seen more of you since she’s been in town than we have in two years.”
That’s an exaggeration, but I know what he’s getting at.
“It was a combination of things, but mostly, I ran into Sarah.”
“When?” Hudson asks at the same time Hank asks, “Where?
“The day I didn’t show for dinner at the ranch. I stopped at the gas station for milk.”
“What the hell?” Hank asks. “She was here, out of the blue?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get a chance to ask through the judgmental shit her parents spewed at me.”
“Her parents?” Hank barks, eyebrows pulled together.
I nod. “She had her daughter with her. Her husband.” I swallow. “She’s pregnant, too.”
Hank narrows his eyes. “How old is this daughter?”
I can tell what he’s thinking without saying it. “Four, maybe five?”
Hudson blows out a breath and starts pacing, hands linked on the top of his head, elbows out.
It’s bad enough that Sarah took off without an explanation and just that note. I don’t think I could take it if she’d lied to me and our baby survived, only for her to have kept him or her from me.
Hudson turns, stopping in front of me. “I can’t imagine that spooking Ginger, though, I mean, what is Sarah to you anymore?”
I smile. “Nah, did a fucking number on me though. I was gonna tell her, but then she said some stuff about me not expecting my life to look like… Well, her and the boys. And yeah, that freaked me out too. I don’t know, I couldn’t handle knowing that if I wasn’t enough for Sarah, and all the pain she must have gone through with losing the baby, maybe I wasn’t enough for those three either.
I figured I was bound to fuck it all up at some point.
It was a piss poor thing to do, but it felt easier to hurt her a little, before shit got too serious, rather than hurt her a lot later on. ”
“Respectfully, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard you say, man,” Hudson quips.
“Next level dumb,” Hank mutters.
“Okay, harsh,” I say on a chuckle, but it feels good to laugh. And I’m finding I feel lighter having gotten all of it off my chest.
“So what now?” Hudson asks.
“Fuck if I know,” I say, scrubbing my fingers through my too-long beard. “Work, I guess. Try to get back to normal.”
Hudson’s phone goes off and he pulls it out, checking the screen. “Shit. I was supposed to bring dinner home an hour ago.”
“Go,” I tell him. “Take care of your wife and kids, man. I’m fine.”
Hudson nods, and we all stand up. He pulls me into a one-armed hug, slapping me on the back. “Take a fuckin’ shower, will you?”
I laugh, hugging him back. “Thanks, Hudson.”
“You’re welcome. Love ya, brother,” he says. Stepping back, he flicks Hank on the arm. “Later, loser.”
I’m met with silence when I shut off the shower and step out to dry off.
I’ve been drunk more days than sober for the last week, and getting dressed has been the least of my worries, so it feels good to put on clean clothes.
Pulling on sweats and a T-shirt, I leave the bathroom.
Oaks isn’t inside, so I know Hank is still around.
I slip my feet into my boots and instead of dragging my ass back upstairs and crashing in the sheets that still smell like her, I step out into the dusky evening.
Hank’s at the fire pit, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, a small fire crackling in front of him. I walk up and take a seat, and without a word, he reaches for a second cup and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
He doesn’t say anything for a while as we sit and drink coffee. He’ll probably regret it later when he can’t sleep; morning comes pretty early for a cattle rancher, but I’ve been sleeping for days, so I can afford to be awake for a while.
“Ever since I was a kid, all I ever wanted was the ranch,” he says, taking a sip.
I take one of my own and sit back, waiting for him to speak again.
“A piece of land to work, sun on my face, a place that was mine. A bed to lay my head at night…” He trails off.
“Someone to warm it,” I joke.
“That too.” He huffs out a chuckle, lips curling in a smile.
“Well, you got all that, that’s for sure,” I tell him, feeling grateful that he’s living the life he always dreamed of.
“Wren, the ranch…my baby girls. Hell, I couldn’t ask for a better life,” he says.
“I’m sure you couldn’t.” I nod, taking another sip of my coffee.
When I think he won’t speak again, he says, “Do you remember the day Mom went into labor with Hales?”
I swallow hard, knowing exactly where my brother is going with this, and I find that I can’t meet his gaze. So I nod. I was five, if that, but I remember it like it was yesterday.
“Mom had been laboring all day…refused to go to the doctor because pop was waiting on that heifer to give birth, remember?” Hank asks.
I remember how scared I was watching Mom pace the living room, breathing labored, but smiling through the contractions.
“Dad was so sure that heifer would calve before she had the baby.”
Hanks laughs lightly. “Now we know where Hales gets her stubbornness from.”
I smile a little because it’s not only Hales. Every single Hayes is stubborn. From Pop all the way to Paige. I’m sure Amelia and Hazel and even baby Huck will be, too. Even Wren and Finn are, and they just got married.
“Do you remember what you said to me when shit went south, and Pop ended up delivering Hales on the kitchen floor right there while the three of us boys watched?”
I swallow again, nodding. “I don’t remember the exact words. I was barely five.”
Hank nods. “Well, I do. You said you wanted to be a dad someday. You wanted to be the person someone looked up to, like Pop was for you—for all of us—that day.”
“Yeah, and look how fucking well that turned out.”
Hank shakes his head, finishing his coffee. “Look, I know you’re afraid of commitment—"
I scoff with a smirk. “Says the man who pined for Wren for twenty years and never had a serious relationship otherwise.”
Hank shoots me a look, brow raised in that infuriating ‘congrats, you done now?’ way that he’s so damn good at.
“Sorry. Go on,” I tell him.
“You’re probably scared as hell you’ll fuck up not just the relationship with Ginger, but those boys, too.
And I get it. What happened before with Sarah, don’t punish yourself by walking away from something good now.
You deserve to be happy, Hutch. You deserve a different version of the life you didn’t get to have back then. ”
“Well, fuck,” I mutter, through the tightness in my throat. “When the hell did Hank Hayes get so good at the emotional shit?”
“My wife might tell you I got some experience punishing people for shit they can’t change.
” Hank looks uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat.
“But it was all her. She’s everything. Nothing in this life is worth more to me than her.
She teaches me every day what it means to love someone.
The way she is with Amelia and Hazel… Hell, the way she is with my stubborn ass, too.
And I suspect you might feel the same way about Ginger, too, if you’d let yourself. ”
I nod, because he’s right. And he’s given me a lot to think about—both him and Hudson.
Feeling the need to break up some tension, I say, “Don’t you have some cattle to herd?”
He lifts a brow at me. “What do you think I’m doing right now?”
I can’t help but grin.