At Whit's End (Wells Ranch, #4)(6)
“I practically had to beg the principal not to expel him, Blair. What the hell am I supposed to do if they don’t let him go back next year or something?”
“They can’t do that, can they? There’s no other schools in the area.”
“I think they can do whatever they want.” The pads of my fingertips tap my tear ducts in a silent reminder not to cry.
If I cry, my parents will want to know what’s wrong. And if I tell them about Jonas’s incident, I’ll be a failure in their eyes once again. Mom’s lucid enough she’ll give me a speech about parenting, and how she handled situations like this one when Blair and I were younger, as if she were winning mothering awards. Dad will shake his head with stern disappointment, then promptly change the subject.
“At least it’s summer break now. Maybe he’ll be in a better place—a little more mature—when he goes back in the fall?”
“Yeah…” A shaky breath sends shivers down my spine. “I don’t know what to do with him this summer, though. If he stays home, I know he’s going to do nothing but play video games and argue with me.”
“Do they still have summer camps at the agriculture hall?”
Swallowing a mouthful of wine, I nod. “Not enough interest to run it all summer. But he’s there next week. Alex paid for it.”
“The least he could do.”
The very least.
“I’ll help as much as I can. You know I will,” Blair says. The mouth of the bottle clinks against the rim of her glass. “I’ll just…um, move some things. Maybe bring him to the clinic with me again? Or I’ll tell Cassidy I can’t babysit for a little while.”
“Blair, you don’t have—”
“It’s fine. I have no problem helping.”
“I asked Alex to spend time with Jonas this summer but apparently work is really demanding. I think he paid for camp to get me off his back.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek, gnawing away the emotion clawing at the backs of my eyes and top of my throat.
“I wish he’d quit being such a fucking sleaze.”
“You’re telling me.” With a sigh, I look around at the kitchen of my childhood, vividly remembering the countless arguments my parents and I had about Alex. When it comes to him, sleaze is one of the kinder insults to be hurled within these walls. “But also, he has a point. He’s a roofer—summer is their busiest season.”
“Bullshit. You gotta stop letting him walk into your life whenever he wants.”
“I know. I know…. But he’s the father of my only child. At one point, I loved him. It’s not that simple.”
Blair’s wistful gaze meets mine; our small frowns mirror each other. “Trust me, I know how you feel. But holding on to the past isn’t healthy, especially when he’s not on the same page.”
I down the rest of the wine and eagerly reach for the bottle. When Blair moved home to take care of Mom a few months back, she reconnected with her high school boyfriend, and now she’s apparently an expert on relationships.
“Easy for you to say when the love of your life magically turned everything around to win you back. You’re all glowy and shit now.”
“After more than a decade apart,” she says. “Give Alex an opportunity to miss you.”
With a swallow, I shrug. Wine goes down real easy when I’m talking about my ex. “But that also means keeping him from Jonas.”
“Is he seeing him now?”
“Well, no, but—”
The sliding glass door cuts my sentence short, and Dad appears with a proud gleam in his eye and a plate heaped with steaming burgers.
“Great,” Blair mutters into her glass. “Looks like we’re getting leftover burgers for the next three days.”
After topping up my glass—thank God I live within walking distance of my parents’ house—I follow the rest of my family to sit around the table. Slipping into an empty chair, I watch Jonas squirt ketchup over his cheeseburger with a concerning amount of tension and angst carved into his expression. He looks more like a hardened fifty-year-old going through a nasty divorce than a ten-year-old starting summer break. I remember the softness of his smile and the way he’d stare up at me as a toddler, arms outstretched as he waited to be picked up. It was easier then; he ate up every lie about where his dad was and didn’t question my decisions. He didn’t deserve those lies, but he also doesn’t deserve the truth.
No kid should have to face the reality that their dad doesn’t want them.
Colt
“She’s the real boss. I just work here.” I nod toward Betty and watch as she keeps a wide berth around the outside of the herd, staring them down with intense eyes and a wide-open, panting mouth.
The five-year-old blue heeler is the love of my life, and sometimes also the bane of my existence. But despite the number of shoes and phone cords she destroyed as a puppy, and the number of times the guys in my bunkhouse at Wells Ranch have threatened to shoot her, she’s proven herself as a fantastic working dog. And an even better best friend.
Aside from my mom, Betty’s the only girl I need.
“She’s gonna put you out of a job,” the ranch foreman, Red, says into the wide mouth of his metal water bottle. Following a long swig, he clunks the bottle back into his saddlebag and tips his chin toward the cattle we’ve been sorting for the last hour. “Might want to start eating kibble to convince Austin to keep you employed. He breaks down the math of how much more it costs to feed and house you, I bet he kicks you out and keeps the dog.”