Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Emerson
“Auntie Em, come inside.” Hillary dashes into the house I grew up in.
I stay rooted on the porch. I’ve been in Huckleberry Springs for a week and a half, and I haven’t gone inside yet. My aversion shouldn’t be this bad.
“Go on then, Lucky. Leave with your brother. I told your mom to take you with her, but she didn’t want you neither.” Hutch’s rough voice streams through my head.
My lungs burn. That was almost twenty years ago. Get over it. One foot in front of the other is all I need, but I can’t move closer to the door.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brooks tells me. “I’ll let her know you had to go or something.”
“Thank you.” I take the save. I don’t have to go, but I don’t know Lane’s schedule, and I’ve been lucky so far. Figures the only thing my luck comes in clutch for is avoiding a hot guy. “I should probably get back and catch up on some work.”
I don’t have work either. I checked on my campaign results for the small, homemade chewing gum line that took a chance on me.
Now if only they’d pay the rest of their invoice, I’d feel better about all the work I did.
The wine start-up I helped get running hasn’t signed the contract for another year.
They’ve been ghosting me entirely. But at least they paid.
I move closer to the steps. Feeling like a failure doesn’t pair well with this house. “I should go work on more pitches.”
“Pretty hard to approach companies when you’re in another state.”
“Not impossible,” I say in a chipper voice. “We live in an online world.”
He gives me a look that says he knows that might be true—for established marketing agencies. Some girl who kicked off on her own with no references because they all screwed her over doesn’t count.
I take the stairs down to the ground, breathing easier the farther away I get from the front door.
“You okay over there?” he asks.
“Yep. Just fine.” I take two more steps and spin around. “Did you know he has Dad’s truck? The old orange Chevy?”
Brooks thinks for a moment. He learned to drive in that thing, but it was like any other vehicle to him. He’s never mentioned it since, not like he did with the land and the ranch business. That part stayed in his blood. “That still runs?”
“I don’t know, I guess. Lane said he’s fixing it.”
He screws his face up. “Why?”
“Because he thinks it means something to me.” A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to swallow.
I could’ve lied to Brooks. I hate to, and I usually don’t unless it’s to tell him I’m doing okay.
But I need to get this out. The pressure gives me a headache.
“I kind of lost my shit and insulted him when I found out.”
Brooks looks back at the front door before jumping down the stairs, his jaw tight. “Did he hurt you?”
I hurt myself. “No. We’re ignoring each other.”
He clenches and unclenches his jaw, thinking for a moment. “Stay here. I can get another bed.”
“Hey, there’s the luckiest girl in the world.”
“She didn’t want you either.”
“Sorry, Emerson. She thinks it’s for the best. We’re having a kid and it’s a small place.”
Memories and voices mix and mingle until they’re a tornado. “No. Thanks for the offer, but I can at least get through Lane’s front door.”
He nods once. Regret fills his eyes. Does he know that I’m remembering the last time I lived with him—and how it ended? “Okay.”
I give him a tight smile and start my walk to Lane’s. If I drove, the trip would be too quick. This way, I can see if Lane’s home and walk a little longer.
Yes. He is home. It’s early evening. The sun is sinking, but it’s still light out.
So I keep going. I’m not stealthy about traipsing down the driveway that cuts through his land and buildings.
I have that much pride. I’m not hiding from Lane and the terrible things I said. But I’m not ready to face him.
I wind around Lane’s property, but I’m probably still on it somewhat. Lady quits following me at what must be the line between what’s Lane and what’s his brother’s. Where there used to be nothing but open pasture dotted with random copses of trees, there’s now a rough path of wheel tracks.
The river spot must still be there. Does Lane go to the water to relax? Does he fish? Brooks and I tried when we were kids, but we never had much luck.
I keep going, staying in one of the wheel divots. The sound of birds increases the closer I get, and I catch a faint trickling of water.
What the hell is a picnic table doing here?
Guess that answers one question. Someone does come here regularly enough to need a place to sit and eat, but who?
I bypass the table and continue to the water’s edge. There’s another path through the trees, and then I’m in the clearing made by the banks of the river when it widens in the spring and after significant rainfall.
Breathing in a deep lungful of clean air, I relax in a way I haven’t for years. A bone-deep melting and an internal sigh that says, I’m home.
It’s no longer mine, but there’s something in my body that recognizes its original environment. I’ll need to find this feeling in Denver instead of sitting on my couch in my pajamas worrying about how I’m going to pay my bills.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
A screech rips out of me, and wings flap from the birds I scare from the trees. I whirl around. Lane. My heart almost stops at the sight of the tall, dark cowboy—hat and everything. Good thing I didn’t see him with that earlier. I might’ve swan-dived into his bed moments after we said I do.
Shock crosses his face and he puts his hands up like I’m a startled—and ornery—mare. “Shit, I’m sorry. Sorry. I should’ve known that you wouldn’t be so chill if you’d heard me.”
I bristle at his true statement. “I thought I was alone, and you snuck up on me.”
“I didn’t mean to. Not consciously. Maybe I did, thinking you’d decide to turn back if you knew I was following you.”
Oh. His honesty is refreshing, but also, what do I do with it? “I might’ve.”
He nods. “I wanted you to see it. It’s one of my favorite spots.”
Me, personally? No, he must mean he likes to show it off in general. “I can tell by the picnic table.”
He flashes a quick smile. “It kind of stands out. When Myles’s kids visit, it’s nice to have somewhere to hang out.”
He’s talked about his brothers, but not so much about Myles’s kids. “I can’t picture you being Uncle Lane.”
“I’m a great uncle.”
I lift a brow. “I feel like you’re a stern uncle. Do they have to make the bed and pick up their toys?”
Lane’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. “Yes, except Elsa’s a teenager, so her toys are all electronic, and Devon’s even worse. If I let him, he’ll sleep all day.”
“So you make him learn how to change oil?”
Pride fills his face and a not-so-little tendril of affection wraps around my heart. “They both can change a flat, rotate tires, replace their brake pads, change batteries, change oil, replace the air filter, and hook up their engine to diagnose a code, among other things.”
“Dang. That’s really cool.”
He nods again and the soft trickle of the river fills the silence. He cares so much, and I defaulted to accusing him of being a crook. He might’ve been once, but he’s clawed himself into good standing.
No, he didn’t claw his way there. He had help, and maybe that’s the source of my bitterness. “I’m sorry about what I said. I aimed low and hit my target.”
“I’m sorry too,” he says quietly and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets.
The view of an easygoing cowboy with remorse in his eyes and surrounded by wilderness isn’t one I’m going to forget.
It’s just another thing I’ll see at night when I close my eyes.
Another image of him to add to my growing collection.
“This all has to be hard for you. You have a new business you’re trying to run and you got plucked out of Colorado and told to marry some obnoxious prick.
And you did it for your brother and your niece. ”
“I owe Brooks. He got me out of here and supported me through college. He gave me the push out of the nest I didn’t know I needed.” Familiar heat jabs the back of my eyes. It wasn’t quite like that. “The least I can do is suffer through how obscenely obnoxious you are.”
His lips twitch. “It’s a fault. I’m working on it.”
“I can’t tell.” A giggle slips out and some of the humor fades. “I can blame the stress, but I think I’m still a little raw after learning you agreed to meet me out of pity.”
“It wasn’t pity, Em. I’ve been hearing about you from your dad for years. Since I moved here. It was like getting to meet an elusive celebrity.”
“Sure.” What did my dad tell him? “I’m sure he left out a lot of stuff.”
“No. He was quite self-reflective. He knew what he’d done wrong, and he regretted it.”
I blink away the tears crowding my eyes. “I guess that’s something. More than my mom probably felt.”
“He didn’t talk about her much.”
“Good. She’s not worth anyone’s time, not even his.” I fold my arms around myself and face the water. “What’d he say? About me?”
“He was proud.”
It’s hard to swallow. I will not cry.
“He followed your high school graduation. College. He stalked the companies you worked for, but I had to help him find out that you launched your own. He said he was tickled that you’re strong enough to take on that challenge.”
I’m not going to hold on to my tears, but I cannot cry. Not in front of Lane. I’ve given my tears to too many people who didn’t care about me. Except maybe Dad did more than I thought.
“Brooks and Hillary were harder to stalk,” he says as if he senses the topic is too much for me. “Short of sitting outside his house and taking photos, I couldn’t tell your dad a lot about them.”
The water twinkles, calming me along with his humor. “I’m glad you didn’t pick that option. I don’t have much for socials either. Just a few images.”
“I know.”