25. Christian
Christian
I can handle this. I was fifteen once—yeah, it was a lifetime ago, and I’d just lost my mom, but I remember the stupid shit I pulled.
Thing is, this goes way beyond typical teenage bullshit.
What Travis did could’ve destroyed a man’s whole life if I didn’t know Preston well enough to see through my kid’s mountain of lies.
What my son pulled is next-level cruel. But I’m trying to handle this the way my old man taught me—you mess up, you get your ass handed to you by your father, you apologize, and that’s how the world keeps spinning.
At least, that’s what I’m praying works here, because I’m running out of ways to reach this kid.
Driving up to Silverpine wasn’t exactly how I planned to spend my Saturday afternoon, but here I am, staring at Meredith Beauford’s front door like it might grow a set of teeth and bite me.
She answers the door, already looking like I’m the last person she wants to see.
“He doesn’t want to speak with you,” she snaps.
“Yeah? Well, I really don’t give a shit, Meredith,” I say, my jaw tight. “Now, either let me in or drag Travis out here. Your call. But one way or another, this conversation’s happening. ”
She steps forward like she’s ready to square up, a long red nail jabbing the air between us as she tucks a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.
“You’re lucky I haven’t called the cops on your friend,” she spits.
Preston’s more like a father to me than a friend, but I don’t tell her that. I don’t give her anything she could twist because that’s what Meredith does. She digs up whatever matters to you and finds a way to ruin it.
“For what? Stopping him from torching my fucking farm?” I bark out a laugh. “Don’t make threats that’ll never stick, sweetheart.”
“Oh, he’d never do that,” she sneers. “But that old bastard has never liked Travis, and when he finally got him alone, he decided to take his frustrations out on him.”
“You’re right, Preston’s never liked him.” I lean in, dropping my voice. “But that might have something to do with you raising a goddamn brat, Meredith.”
“Don’t you dare talk about our son like that.” Her face flushes red, enough to match those talons she calls nails.
“Our son? Right. So he’s ours when it suits you… Got it.”
For fifteen years, it’s been “my son” when she wanted to keep him away from me, and “our son” when she needed someone to blame for his behavior.
Suddenly, Travis materializes beside Meredith like some teenage ghost, and even at fifteen, he’s already towering over her. Guess he got my height, if nothing else of mine stuck.
“Dad,” he says, holding his face still like he’s not rattled, but I catch that flash of fear in his eyes before he quickly locks it down.
“I think we need a conversation, son.”
“Whatever he said, he’s lying.”
“Preston?” I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, see, I’ve known Preston my whole damn life, and that man doesn’t lie about anything, especially not to me.”
“Well, he is about this.”
“What exactly do you think he told me?” I watch him squirm, waiting to see if he’ll dig his hole deeper.
I can practically see the panic crawling up his spine, but all he does is give me a half-assed shrug, like a kid who still thinks he can bullshit his way out of anything.
Meredith swoops in, wrapping an arm around him like he’s some poor, misunderstood angel instead of the pain in my ass he actually is, playing protective mama bear while she does everything possible to shield him from the big, bad consequences of his own choices.
“You don’t have to do this, Travis. I know you’ve done nothing but take the anger of a bitter old man.”
“Actually, you do have to do this, Travis, because you came onto my farm with a pack of matches, and Preston caught you in the barn lighting them up like it was the Fourth of July.”
“Prove it.” The challenge in his voice makes my blood boil.
“He showed me where you stashed them.” I step closer, watching his face pale. “Do you realize what could’ve happened, Travis? For God’s sake, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“That’s a lie!” He practically screams it, but I know what his stories sound like. “Preston pulled me into the barn, roughed me up, and then dragged me back out and spun some story to make you turn on me. He wants you to hate me.”
“And why the hell would he want that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe… maybe he wants the farm for himself.” I let out a low, disbelieving laugh and step back, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck.
“Is this what you think a man should be, Meredith?” I gesture at the boy I’ve spent fifteen years trying to connect with and shape into someone who knows right from wrong. “Someone who can’t own up to their shit? Who’d rather destroy a man’s reputation than face consequences?”
She doesn’t flinch or even blink. She just stares me down and looks me dead in the eyes. “Maybe he’s more like you than either of us realizes.”
I don’t rise to it. Instead, I turn to Travis. “Next weekend, you’re coming up to the farm. You’ll be apologizing to Preston ? —”
“He absolutely will not be.” Meredith cuts in like she’s the queen of the damn world, but I keep my focus on our son.
“You’ll be apologizing for trying to drag his name through the mud, and you’ll be shoveling horse shit for the entire weekend.
Do you understand me?” His face goes tight, thunder written across every line of it.
He glances at his mom like he can’t believe I’m serious—like he’s waiting for her to step in and rescue him.
“Or we can call the police and let them investigate. They can pull prints from that matchbox and take Preston’s statement—you know, Preston, the man who’s got more respect in my town than God himself, including from Sheriff Martinez.
” I watch that sink in, the color bleeding from his face.
“We can go down that road if you want. You can get under oath and explain how Preston supposedly beat you so badly, yet there’s not a mark on you. Your choice, kid.”
When Travis’s face drops and the fight drains from him, I know I’ve got him.
“Fine.”
One word, dragged out of him like I’d pulled it with pliers. But it’s a win, and I’ll take it.
“Great, I’ll come pick you up Saturday morning, six a.m.”
“Six!” The horror in his voice almost makes me smile.
“You want to make it five? Hell, we can do four if you’re feeling ambitious.” Amazing how the threat of manual labor can make a teenager appreciate sleeping in.
“Six is fine,” he grumbles.
“Go back inside, Travis. I need to speak to your father.”
His shoulders sag like the world’s about to end, and he turns without another word.
As he disappears into the house, I’m left alone with the woman who hasn’t changed a bit.
She still looks like the girl I met all those years ago.
She still has that same flawless exterior.
But that ugly personality shines right through it.
“If this is how you treat him, it’s no wonder he can’t stand coming to visit.”
“Let’s not pretend this isn’t the best fucking day of your life, Meredith.” I lean in, done playing nice. “You’ve been trying to punish me through him since day one, but someone has to step up and actually parent that kid instead of coddling him, and it sure as shit isn’t you.”
“All I’ve done is be honest with the type of man you are. It’s not my problem if he doesn’t like what he hears.”
“You knew me for all of an hour before you were on your back. Don’t pretend to understand anything about me.”
“You really are a pig,” she sneers as I turn to walk away.
“Nice seeing you as ever, Meredith,” I call out, striding back to my truck.
I slide in behind the wheel and glance up, watching as she stands there with her arms folded across her chest. All I know is the sooner I’m out of Silverpine, the better, because every time I see her face, it reminds me of how much her family has tried to hurt me through my own flesh and blood.
What’s coming isn’t all that different from the memory that just blindsided me.
I’ve spent every spare moment with Piper these last few days. Telling her I love her felt like breaking down the final wall inside me, allowing her and all my feelings to come flooding in.
Now that she’s gone back to her sister’s for the night, I’ve asked Travis to come over.
My stomach’s in knots, and every part of me wants to run the other way, but we need to talk.
The first issue is what he did to Piper.
The second—and this one makes my chest tight just thinking about it—is what I’ve done to him.
Loud knocking cuts through the silence of the house, dragging me out of the dark spiral of my thoughts.
I step back from the kitchen window, set down my whiskey, and head toward the front door.
When I pull it open, my son just stands on the porch with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets like we don’t have a thousand unresolved things between us.
“Since when do you lock your door?”
“Since I wasn’t okay with you just coming and going whenever you feel like it.” The truth stings coming out, but I force it anyway.
For a few long seconds, he just stands there studying me, like he’s trying to figure out what version of me he’s walking into—the disappointed father, the exhausted farmer, or the man who’s barely holding onto his temper.
When he finally steps inside, his eyes sweep the living room before he drops onto the couch with a lazy kind of casualness that makes my jaw tick.
I don’t sit beside him. I can’t. There’s still a part of me that wants to beat him bloody for what he did to Piper, so I take the opposite chair and lean forward, with my elbows braced on my knees, trying to cage the fury clawing its way up my spine .
“Where is she?”
“Home.”
“With her sister?”