“Because…?”
“Because I should’ve listened to my heart. I dated him because it was easy. He was nice. He was my professional equal. Never mind all the feelings I was having on the inside. I should really listen to myself—” Her words cut off as she looks up at me.
“What?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
I’m too stubborn to let that one go. “It must’ve been something.”
The palm she places on my chest is firm. She takes a step back and looks me square in the eye. “Just a memory of Tate.”
I know she’s lying. If it weren’t for the twinge in my stomach, the gut instinct telling me what I know to be true, all I’d have to do is look into her eyes. I see fear in them. Agony.
I swallow her words. I need the lie just as much as she does.
When we get back to my house, and I’m inside her, the lie in her eyes melts away. What she tells me with her body is the truth.
* * *
“Way to go, Warner.”
Sunday morning breakfast at the homestead always has some teasing, some laughter, and some foul language. It’s just not usually directed at me.
Jessie drops something in front of me, and it lands on the table with a dull thud.
“Christ,” I say when I see the picture on her phone. Inches from my real, in the flesh face, is me in electronic format. I look angry, with my eyebrows drawn and my hand outstretched as I take away the photographer’s camera.
Thank God I showed up this morning to find my mom had already fed Peyton and Charlie breakfast and sent them to help the cowboys throw hay to the horses. They don’t need to see any of this.
I sift through my memory of last night, trying but failing to see a second photographer. Clearly there was one somewhere, hiding in the shadows of the shitty parking lot lighting at the Chute.
Jessie sits down across from me. Her smirk irritates me further.
Pushing the phone across the table, I say, “He was ignoring Tenley when she said to stop taking her picture, and I stood up for her. I don’t know why my reaction amuses you.”
“I’m not amused or surprised about your reaction. Protecting what’s yours is so ingrained in this family, I don’t know if it’s nurture or nature at this point.”
Protecting what’s yours…
Is Tenley mine? Mine to have, mine to protect… mine to love?
I’ve been going over questions similar to those since I opened my eyes this morning. No matter what I tell myself about it all being too much, too soon, I can’t seem to push it away completely. My brain understands that I’m a divorced single father trying like hell to figure out where to go from here, but my heart doesn’t give two fucks. It’s a needy, selfish bastard.
“What I’m saying,Warner,” Jessie speaks my name with extra attitude, pulling my attention back to her, “is that it’s painfully obvious you have strong feelings for her.”
“What’s that?” My mom walks up behind Jessie and looks down at her phone. The rest of my family files in behind my mom, all taking their places around the table.
Mom takes in the photo of me. Her gaze rises, stays on me for a long beat, then she goes to sit beside my dad. Everyone is quiet, waiting to hear what’s on Jessie’s phone. When nothing comes, my dad loses his patience. “Either say it or let’s move on,” he grumbles. He has zero tolerance for drama of any kind. He’s a shoot straight and don’t ask questions kind of guy.
Wyatt grabs the phone from Jessie. A cursory glance tells him all he needs to know. Besides, he was there. “Warner is experiencing a Wes and Dakota situation. He’s in love with Tenley but he won’t cowboy up and tell her.”
“Fuck off, Wyatt.”
Wyatt opens his mouth to respond, but from the end of the table comes the old, measured voice of my grandpa. “Warner, my eyesight might be closer to bat than man, but even I can see you’ve got it bad.”
At first, it’s just Jessie with a small, stifled giggle. Then it’s Wyatt, and he doesn’t hold back. Next, it’s everyone, a cacophony of laughter. Even my dad wears a reluctant, bemused half grin.
“I hate all of you,” I say, swiping bacon from the platter in front of me. I grab more than my share and stare at Wyatt. “And you, asshole, I’m eating your portion of bacon.”
