by K. C. Crowne
“You're lucky you're my brother,” he said. “Otherwise, I'd beat the shit out of you for that. I've got half a mind to anyway.”
“Oh, why don't you?” I hissed. “You already sound like Dad, why don't you hit me like he used to do too.”
Milo stopped and stared at me, and it was like a glass wall had grown between us. His face shifted, and there was a look in his eyes that said he had no clue what I was talking about. I knew that of the three of us, I was the only one that Dad used to pick on. I was the weakest of the three boys – the one that brought shame to the family because I preferred theater over football. It embarrassed our father that my dreams were closer to my mom's. He thought it made me less of a man or somehow inferior to my rough and tumble brothers, the big football stars.
For so many years, I'd wanted to get out of there – and I did. But just barely. I guess I'd just assumed Milo and Sawyer knew what Dad had done. I figured they knew he'd hit me more than once over the years, But, judging by the look on both of their faces and the silence that fell over us, it was clear that neither had any idea what was really happening behind the scenes.
“Eli, I –” Sawyer stammered.
“Dad hit you?” Milo asked.
“A few times, yeah,” I said.
“Bullshit,” he said, shaking his head, clearly not wanting to believe it.
“Why the fuck do you think I hate him so much?” I asked Milo.
Milo didn't say a word. Instead, he did what he always did – he turned walked away. It was a move he learned from our father – when things got too rough or too real, turn and head out. He pushed his way past us and headed toward the house.
Jacklyn looked at me with genuine sympathy in her eyes and whispered, “I'm so sorry, Eli.”
I gave her a tight smile as she took off running after him. She was always by his side, and probably the one good thing my brother had going for him. If only she'd have more influence over him, maybe we could get somewhere. She seemed like a smart girl. A kind one too. I had a feeling she saw and knew how much shit we were in with the ranch. But she was loyal to Milo. Always had been, and I figured, always would be.
“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Sawyer asked when it was just the two of us.
“Honestly, I assumed you guys always knew,” I said. “It's not like it was a big secret or anything. Dad fucking hated me.”
“He didn't hate you,” Sawyer said. “He was just an asshole.”
“Yeah, you can say that again,” I muttered.
We watched Milo and Jacklyn go back into the house and I knew I needed to keep at it. I needed to convince Milo to sell. I didn't know how I was going to do it though and I'm sure punching him hadn’t weakened his resolve any. Maybe Sawyer was right. He was just too much like Dad and I'd never get through to him. Maybe, the only thing I was doing was making him hate me even more.
“Give him some space and some time to think about what you said,” Sawyer said softly, patting me on the back. “And I'll talk to him about Mom tonight.”
“Hope you have better luck then I did with it,” I said.
“You still have the letters, right?”
I nodded. “Just have to drive back to LA to get them.”
“You might want to do that,” Sawyer said. “To show him. It's probably good for him to see.”
He was right. As much as I wanted to just get this over and done with, the letters from our mother written to her sister, showed just how much she hated the place and wanted Dad to sell it. Not to mention how he refused her every single time and the toll it was taking on her.
There were too many bad memories here for her – things Milo didn't know about. None of us knew about them until Sawyer and I had found the letters tucked away in the attic, a bit smoke damaged, but safe from the fires. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Milo or ruin his image of his childhood. But he was living in a fantasy world. Our father was not the man Milo thought him to be. He was living a lie.
Those letters were our only shot at getting through to him though, and I was running out of options. I really had no choice but to fight fire with fire.
* * *
When I got back to my apartment, there was a notice on the door. I groaned as I removed it, not bothering to read it. I already knew what it said. “Three Days to Pay Rent or Vacate” notices were a monthly thing these days. This month, the vacate option was looking more and more likely. The work had all but dried up for me the past few months.
I waited tables and tended bar, but there was no keeping up with the rising cost of rent in Los Angeles. I no longer lived in a higher-end neighborhood, choosing North Hollywood instead of somewhere trendier and safer. Even still, I found it harder and harder to pay for my studio apartment. All the money from my days on TV was gone. Stupidly, I'd bought a nice car and lived like the money would keep flowing, and well, I learned pretty quickly that fame was fleeting.
Not that I wasn't still trying. I wasn't convinced my fifteen minutes were up. Not just yet.
I tossed the notice and pulled the cardboard box from underneath my bed. The same box I'd found tucked away in the attic. It still had Mom's handwriting on it. “Caroline's Personal Belongings,” it said in her unmistakably neat and precise cursive. Amongst her belongings were photos of her and her sisters, along with letters and mementos that probably meant something to her but made no sense to me. Ticket stubs, a handkerchief, postcards, and Christmas cards – some in her handwriting, originally sent to her sister in San Francisco. She must have claimed them when her sister died, then tucked them away for safe keeping.
At first, it felt wrong to read through the letters. They were deeply personal, but they gave me insight into the woman she was and what I found out hurt a lot. To realize my mother wasn't happy was in fact, downright miserable. And it killed a little something inside of me. She'd died when I was only ten years old, but my memories of her were all good. She was a loving, caring mother. So unlike our father, it surprised me she'd be married to someone like him. Then again, he hadn't always been so angry and mean. He began drinking after Mom died and the alcohol had changed him for the worse.
I lifted the letters from the box but left everything else for the moment. Everything Milo needed to know was in those letters.
I dreaded the drive back, and contemplated spending the night in my own bed. However, the deadline was looming, and I knew I couldn't afford to waste a single minute. I needed to get Milo to agree to the deal within two days. The clock was ticking, and I was keenly aware of each and every grain of sand that fell through the hourglass.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and I half expected it to be Bianca calling me again.
Instead, it was my agent. He rarely seemed to call these days, so it lifted my spirits just a bit.
“Hey, Tony. Got some good news for me, I hope?”
My agent chuckled on the other end of the line. “Promising news, maybe,” he said. “When are you available for an audition?”
“When do you need me?” I asked.
At that point, I was desperate for anything. Even a commercial might help pay the bills this week.
“If you can come by right now, I can brief you. Then you can head over,” he said. “This is a pretty big deal, Eli.”
“How big?” I asked. My heart raced.
“Big-big,” he said.
“Movie deal big?”
“Maybe not that big,” Tony laughed. “But a television series on a major network big. Most promising bite we've had in a while.”
That did sound promising. I'd done TV before, even though it had been awhile. I'd made a name for myself as a teen hunk back in the day, maybe I could ride on that for a little while longer. Prove that I grew up. Eventually get more serious roles. I longed for a movie role but at the moment, I was willing to take whatever I could get.
“Alright. I'll be right over,” I said.
I stared at the letters in my hand and dropped them down onto the bed. I'd have to do this fir
st. This was my career I had to consider and given the way things had gone recently, I couldn't afford to pass or delay on anything.
Besides, landing a major TV deal seemed a hell of a lot more likely to happen than getting my brother to sign over the ranch. Hell, winning the lottery seemed like greater odds than both, but at least I had to try. I had to keep fighting.
I had to prove to my dad that I wasn't weak – and that I wasn't a failure.
4
Sawyer
The sun was going down, and at the moment, it was peaceful. Eli had run back home to LA, and I wasn't sure if he'd be back that night or not. I couldn't care less, honestly. I was savoring the calm and a beer on the front porch, watching the sun set. As much as we needed the money for the property, part of me was sad to think of selling the place. Sure, my lifelong dream hadn't been to come back to the ranch to work. My dreams were dead and gone though. The ranch had always been the fallback plan, and I was content to be back where I knew I’d always belong.
I had just given up my lease in Texas, where I’d been for the last six months while things had gotten sorted away after the fire. Once a place I’d loved, Houston had brought back too many painful memories. I’d graduated Texas A&M and was drafted by the Texans in the second round. My dreams had been on track before, barely a month into rookie training camp, I’d blown out my knee. My career had died right there on a goddamn practice field. But at least I still had the ranch. For now.
I had a nice home with views that any man would be blessed to have, and I had a beer in hand. I was on my second or third, I don't remember which, when the front door opened. Jacklyn stepped out onto the porch and stared off into the distance. My gaze moved from the sunset over to her. God, she was beautiful. Ever since my father hired her to work part-time as a teen, I'd had my eye on her. But I knew she had feelings for Milo. Feelings I wasn't sure he would ever reciprocate. I honestly didn't know if he was capable of reciprocating them.
Her reddish blonde hair fell over her shoulders in fiery waves that reminded me of the sunset. Her blue eyes were wide and full of life, and at first, I thought she hadn't seen me sitting there. She just kept her gaze focused on the horizon without saying a word. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke.
“Can I have one of those?” she asked.
It took me a second to realize what she meant.
“Oh, a beer? Sure,” I said, reaching into the cooler beside me. I opened the bottle before passing it to her. “I didn't know you drank.”
“I don't, usually,” she said, sitting beside me on the bench and taking a swig. She grimaced and stared at the label, as if trying to decide whether she should continue drinking it or not. “After today though, I think we all could use a drink or two.”
“You can say that again,” I chuckled.
We both took another swig and this time, it seemed to go down a little easier and she didn't seem to mind it as much.
“You really think Milo should sell this place?” she asked, turning those gorgeous eyes toward me.
I found myself captivated by them – by the way the waning sunlight made them sparkle and made her alabaster skin glow as with an internal light. She was waiting for my answer, so I pulled my head out of the clouds and gave her a weak smile.
I shrugged. “I think it's the practical thing to do,” I said. “We can't really afford to keep running this place, not with the repairs that need to be done. Dad's insurance was shit.”
“But just think of all the memories you guys had here,” she said. “Doesn't that mean anything?”
“Sure, but memories don't pay the bills, Jack,” I said.
She sighed and leaned back against the bench, clearly getting comfortable. Her leg brushed up against mine and our knees touched. She didn't move her leg away and neither did I. The contact between us sent an electric charge through my body and coalesced in my groin. I tried to think of something – anything – completely benign that would take my mind off her and hopefully calm the erection starting to grow in my jeans.
“There's got to be something we can do,” she said.
“Not that I know of,” I said. “But hell, what do I know? I'm just a dumb jock.”
She hit me in the arm and I pretended as if it hurt. She scowled at me.
“You're anything but dumb Sawyer, so stop that.”
“Think I'd have gone to a fancy school like A&M if I couldn't play football?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she said. “But a fancy school isn't all that. You don't need an Ivy League education to be smart.”
“What do you need then?” I asked, feeling a smile creep across my face.
She frowned a little and her face twisted into a serious expression, as if she was thinking way too hard about my question. Perhaps she was. Eventually, she just shrugged.
“Hell if I know,” she said. “I'm still trying to figure it out, and I didn't go to college – fancy or otherwise.”
“You didn't have to. You have a natural talent with horses,” I said.
“And you have a natural talent for playing football,” she said, turning her eyes back toward me.
The words crushed something deep inside of me, and I felt myself flinch. She started to apologize, but I held up a hand and stopped her.
“It's okay. You're right. I was a natural, but those days are in the past,” I said. “Now, I have to figure out where I'm going from here.”
“What about staying at the ranch and helping out?”
“Shit, with my knee, I wouldn’t' be much of a help around these parts,” I chuckled.
I took another long swig, finishing the bottle. I tossed it back into the cooler and reached for another. I offered it over to Jacklyn, but she shook her head. “You can do a hell of a lot more than you realize, Sawyer,” she said.
“Nah, I just get in the way,” I said. “I'm just here until I figure out my next move.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked. “Your next move, huh? And what does Sawyer Bucknell want out of life?”
She was grinning now, and it was a beautiful sight that made my heart stumble over itself in my chest. My voice caught in my throat and I looked away before I said or did something stupid – like lean over and kiss her.
“I dunno. A wife. A couple of kids. The same thing everyone wants, I guess,” I said. “But before I settle down, I need to figure out how to support a family. Can't do much with my knee, and God knows, I'm not the brightest tool in the shed –”
“Sawyer, stop it,” she said. “You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, and your knee doesn't hold you back that much. If there's anything holding you back, it's that thing inside your skull.”
I knew she was right. I could do more with my life than just play football; I just wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I was stuck in limbo. I loved the ranch, I loved helping Milo around the place when I could, but if the place really was going under, I needed a backup plan. A backup plan for my backup plan.
I sighed – it felt like I'd never get my life together.
“What do you want out of life, Jack?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.
I preferred talking about her instead of talking about me. It was safer that way. I wasn't ready to open my heart to anyone – not even to myself. She leaned back and stared up at the sky, a distant look in her eyes and a wan smile on her face.
“I'm already doing what I want to do with my life,” she said.
“Working with horses, you mean?”
“Yes,” she said, turning back to me. “That's all I've ever wanted to do. As far back as I can remember, this is how I wanted to spend my life.”
At one time, I’d felt the same way about football. It was all I'd ever wanted to do with my life. But my dream had been cut short way too soon. I was envious, but happy, for Jacklyn. I was jealous as hell that she knew so clearly what she wanted from life and could do it. But she deserved her happiness.
“But what about a life outside of work?” I asked her. “
There's more to life than this ranch, you know.”
She nodded. “I know. I haven't figured all that out just yet, but there's still time,” she said. “I'm in no hurry to settle down and have kids and that whole racket. Though, I have to admit, going out on a date now and then might not be too shabby.”
“Yeah, things with your last suitor didn't exactly turn out as planned,” I said.
She cringed, and instantly I regretted the choice to bring Eric up in conversation. It wasn't her fault that things turned out the way they had with him. None of us had guessed that he was the one running around starting all the fires – the fires that destroyed the ranch. He was a young guy, and charming as hell too. He'd fooled us all and it was no wonder she’d fallen for him.
“Don't worry, Jack. You'll find someone,” I said. “A pretty girl like you won't stay single for long once you put yourself out there. Some lucky guy will come along and sweep you off your feet. Mark my words.”
She chuckled and ran a hand through her long, silky hair. “Yeah, well, putting myself out there is the hard part.”
“Why's that?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I'm just not into the same things people my age are into, you know?” she said. “I don't want to go to clubs – I'd rather be in the stables. And it's not like I'm going to meet any hot guys my age in the stables.”
“Ouch. You met me there,” I teased, winking at her to let her know I was kidding.
She laughed, and her smile tugged at something deep inside of me. God, she was beautiful. I wasn't ready to devote myself to a woman just yet, but if I were and if Jack wanted me, I would have thrown myself at her feet. She was everything you could hope for in a woman. Everything and more.
Honestly though, she deserved better than some washed up twenty-something without any goals in life. She deserved better than somebody who had only one dream in life and now that it was gone, had no idea what to do next. I had to get my shit together before I could even think I deserved a girl like her.
