Circling back to the topic I'm dreading, Jacob prods, "Are you going to tell me what you meant when you said you don't know why you're back home?"
Home.
The place I couldn't bring myself to come back to.
My stomach curls, tying into thick knots that won't be easily undone. I sit back in my chair, taking in the Christmas decorations, scratched wooden floors Ruby gave up trying to keep perfectly stained, and mahogany cabinets.
The last thing I want to do is admit to Jacob my faults and failures, but I also won't lie to him. I did that when I slept with his daughter. And the day I left the ranch, I vowed I wouldn't ever deceive the Cartwrights again.
So I take a mouthful of beer, swallow it, and confess, "Kingy Altmonte broke his wrist. My agent wanted me to take his spot on the team for Whispering Junction's Boots, Bucks & Mistletoe Rodeo."
"You're a Texan. You shouldn't be competing on any other state team," Jagger grumbles.
I shrug. "I go where the money is, and that purse is huge." I don't add that Willow's riders represent Texas. There's no way she's ever letting me ride for her team.
Jacob leans closer. "So if you're supposed to be riding, why aren't you sure why you're here?"
My mouth goes dry, so I take another swig. The last forty-eight hours collide into me like a wrecking ball. Every second replays in my head, tearing me like paper until there's a pile of shreds in front of me, along with Jacob's unnerving stare. Every stupid decision I made and everything I've lost, including Willow, is in that pile, with no way to make it whole again.
Jacob crosses his arms, waiting.
Ruby sets a plate of hot food in front of me, scolding, "Let him eat, Jacob."
Jacob glances at her, then rises. He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Eat your Christmas dinner. We'll discuss things later."
Relief and dread fill me. I'd rather get it over with, but I don't know where to start. All I know is I've royally screwed things up, and Jacob isn't going to be too proud when he hears the truth.
"Eat," Ruby orders.
I focus on the steam drifting from the plate and then cut into the prime rib. I slide it through mashed potatoes and gravy before shoving it into my mouth. The concoction tastes like heaven, and as soon as I chew and swallow, I put a huge forkful of sweet potato casserole in my mouth.
I groan, wash it down with my beer, and say, "You don't know how much I missed your cooking."
She beams and pats my shoulder.
I finish two plates, and Jacob returns as soon as I take my last bite. It's like the old man could see me eating through the thick wooden door.
He cracks open more beers, distributes them, and sits back down.
Ruby sets down a plate full of pie—slices of pecan, pumpkin, and apple covered in homemade whipped cream. "I'll let you three talk." She throws another motherly smile my way and says, "It's so good to have you home, Wyatt."
My chest tightens. "Thank you, ma'am."
She disappears, and the claw in my gut reappears.
Jacob says nothing.
Time to pay the piper.
I blurt out, "I'm not going to lie to you, sir. I did some stupid things."
His face hardens.
I clear my throat. "Actually, I did a lot of stupid things over the last few months. My agent and I haven't been getting along too well. My sponsors dropped me, and he fired me."
"Oh shit," Jagger mutters.
I don't move. The ticking clock and my uncontrollable heartbeat pound between my ears.
