I was doing the honorable thing here. My family would see that one day. And Christy would too, ten years down the road when she was married to a better man than me with a couple of kids on her lap. She would look back, wipe a hand across her brow, and say, “Schew, am I glad I dodged that bullet.” I just hoped my entire body didn’t implode from the pain of it all. Mom didn’t need to lose another child.
As she sat across the table, snickering at Ash who had just imprinted on a fifteen-year-old like that gross storyline inTwilight, I couldn’t take in a full breath. Christy was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. Her blond hair in a braid across her left collarbone, the most stunning smile God ever gave a woman, and eyes so warm I wanted to press a kiss to each lid. To think she was never going to be mine, that I’d never run my fingers over her beautiful face, I’d never kiss those lips again, while she sat mere feet away, was utterly gut-wrenching.
It felt too much like losing Savannah.
My fists curled at the thought. My last therapist told me I had survivor’s guilt and the only way to overcome it was to be true to my emotions. And to let myself be okay when I finally let Savannah go in my heart. That’s what was happening. I’d felt it over the last few weeks. Christy was settling into the space that Savannah had always occupied. I’d fought it as long as I could. But now, Christy was all I cared about,all I could think about. When I thought of my future, she was what I saw. She and I, a farmhouse on this very ranch, and a houseful of kids that looked just like her. Maybe we’d get a dog. A heeler to help us round those kids up every night. I’d wanted it all. Thought for a split second that I’d get it all.
And then the pep rally happened and she’d been put on administrative leave and I realized Selfish A-hole Holden had struck again. And Christy was dead center in the crosshairs because of it. The point of the breakup was to keep her out of those crosshairs, and yet here she was, enjoying lunch like she was part of the family. I didn’t want to think what the repercussions would be if Amber found out.
Yeah, Silas was going down after this. I wouldn’t fight him. Mom would kill us both. Maybe I’d just put some Nair in his shampoo bottle. Lemon loved his hair. Was always running her fingers through it. That would definitely cause a stir.
Ashton leaned toward Jailbait and grinned his stupid, cocky smile. “Hey, I’m Ashton. Nice to meet you.”
Tally looked over, surprised he was talking to her. She nodded, unimpressed, likethat’s nice.“I’m Tally.” Then she looked away, eyes on the roast that Lemon was scooping onto her plate.
How had my idiot brother not noticed that she was pregnant? Or that she was a teenager? Then again, she was sitting on the adult side of the table and her stomach was probably out of his line of sight. And, she looked older than her age, possibly from the unplanned stress of realizing she was going to be a mom while still in high school.
“So are you Christy’s friend?” he tried again.
Tally didn’t even hear him, she was so fixated on the food headed her way.
Anna opened her mouth but I silenced her with a cough and a knowing look. She smiled but rolled her eyes.
Christy cut in when Tally didn’t answer. “You could say that.”
I took the platter from Lemon, plopped a large serving on my plate, appreciating the smell of the beef and the buttery potatoes, and passed it to Tally.
Mom glowed at Ashton. “So what boring book are you torturing your students with right now?” Ashton was almost done with his Master’s in English lit and he was a T.A. for an honors literature class.
His lips pursed. “StupidJane Eyre. Shoot me now. If I have to listen to another ditsy freshman fawn over Rochester I will poke myself in the eye with a hot Dupree Ranch brand.”
In a shocking turn of events, Tally, who I’d thought might be a selective mute up to this point, glared at him like she might do the branding herself. “You did not just diss my girl, Brontë.”
The room went still, silverware stopped clanging, conversation halted, and everyone held their breath. Ashton was normally an annoying ray of sunlight shining right in your eyeball. But disagree with him on a book he felt strongly about, and whoa buddy. And Ashton loathedJane Eyremore than almost any other book in existence. Once, when Lemon was still married to her first husband, Billy, she tried to convert Ashton to the “love story.” He almost made her cry, saying that any woman who liked that novel was a masochist and deserved whatever piece of crap man she ended up with. It hit a little too close to home since Lemon’s first husband was a piece of crap himself. Hence the near tears. Sophie ripped into him afterward.
The question now was, would Ashton kowtow to his new underage crush? Or would his undying love of literature cause him to die on this hill? Stay tuned. I knew I would.
Ashton leaned back in his chair and sighed the sigh of a haggard man who’d come homefrom battle only to find his wife in bed with another man and was too tired to care. “Of course,” he muttered. “Here we go.” He gestured like,let’s get it over with.“Yeah, I dissed your girl Brontë.”
“Are you dead inside?” She held her hands out in a mind-blown gesture. “Jane is a hero for women everywhere.”
He folded his arms across his chest and sighed again. “A hero? How so?” Maybe he was going to choose his newfound “love” for Tally over his hatred of Brontë after all?
Tally’s face lit up. “She experiences gut-wrenching hardships and continues to be resilient anyway. And she doesn’t need a Mr. Darcy to save her. She saveshim.And she teaches us that just because someone is broken and flawed, it doesn’t mean they aren’t deserving of love. She’s independent and strong but also willing to serve Rochester and take care of him when he needs it.”
Ashton cocked a disbelieving brow. “She’s independentanda servant? Do you even hear yourself?”
Sigh. My guy Ash was going to die on this hill. Christy’s eyes were bright but she was biting her lip nervously. It was so incredibly hot.
Tally threw her hands up. “She chooses to love him. Loving someone means you serve them.”
Ashton scoffed like he’d never heard anything more absurd. “It’s a sick, twisted relationship between a pervy old guy and his child almost-bride. He’s a predator who feeds on his prey.”
She glowered at him, open-mouthed and horrified. “How dare you say?—”
He barreled over her, pounding on the table.“Rochester locks his wife in the attic?—”
She jerked back like she was afraid. “He was tricked into marrying Bertha and?—”
