by K. C. Crowne
“Eli, please. You know Sawyer is hurting too,” I said. “He needs you.”
“I don't need anyone,” Sawyer said.
“That's not true and you know it, so get over yourself already,” I said. “You're both in pain. It's more than obvious to anybody with half a brain. Do you really think fighting will make the pain affect you any less? Are you both stupid enough to really believe it'll take it all away?”
Neither one of them said a word, but both of them seemed to be pondering what I'd just said. They looked at me, avoiding each other, but at least they weren't insulting each other or threatening to beat the shit of the other. That was a good start.
I didn't realize I was still holding onto Eli's arm until he gently removed it. His hand lifted mine up, encompassing and devouring mine completely for a second, before he let it go. For that moment though, as our hands were joined, we just looked at each other and forgot that Sawyer was even there.
At least, until he said, “I think I'm going to bed.”
He was less angry, and he sounded more tired than anything, so I didn't stop him. Pushing them to talk about their feelings while Sawyer was drunk and tired probably wouldn't end well. He walked away, leaving Eli and I alone at the bonfire, looking after him as he went.
Surprisingly, he took a seat instead of leaving. He picked up his beer and took a long swig. I took my seat beside him, savoring the warmth of the fire.
“So much for reliving happy memories,” Eli muttered.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “I thought it would go better than that.”
Eli shrugged and gave me a half smile. “It's alright. You tried. Not like you could have predicted this would happen.”
I had often wondered what happened that made Eli turn out the way he had. Why was he so guarded and resentful when it came to his family? I'd never known him to be any other way, except when he was in Hollywood, of course. But then, I only knew the media personality he was pretending to be, not the man behind that façade.
Sawyer and Milo had very different stories about their dad – and they clearly had an entirely different experience with him than Eli had. Milo and Sawyer painted him as troubled, but ultimately a loving father. Maybe he drank too much sometimes, and he could be overly harsh, but there was never any ill intent there. Or so it seemed.
It was an image that was different when it came to Eli, though. He rarely ever said much, but it was clear that his relationship with his father was far different than the one his brothers had with him. I couldn't understand how he could have such a vastly different experience than his brothers.
Humans were so complicated, which was one of the many reasons I preferred horses.
Because I loved the ranch, and because of my feelings for the brothers, I decided to take this opportunity alone with Eli and try to pick his brain a bit. Maybe I could figure out a way to bring them all together again. It was a longshot, but I figured it couldn't hurt to try. It wasn't like there were a lot of other options to heal the rifts between the three men.
“I'm sorry your brothers don't take you seriously when it comes to your feelings,” I said.
He side-eyed me. “My feelings aren't important.”
His words and his actions were contradictory. In that moment, I could tell that he wanted to seem like a big, bad man – not the hurt child that was clearly still inside of him. Even though bits of the past came out while he was talking to Sawyer. He preferred to only let the world see anger, but there was more there – more hurt, more pain, more damage – than any of us could see.
“You don't have to put up a front with me,” I said, leaning back in my chair and drinking from my beer bottle. “I'm not going to judge you. Your father treated you worse than your brothers. I get that now and think that had to be hard to deal with.”
“It was more than just that –” he muttered, then bit back his words.
“What was it then?” I asked, genuinely curious as to what could possibly hurt him as badly as it did.
Eli licked his lips and hesitated, but finally, he answered, “I was never good enough in my father's eyes.”
“And you think Milo sees you the same way?”
“I know he does. Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out,” he said, snarling as he drank some more.
“You might be surprised,” I said. “Milo likes to act tough – I'm getting the impression all you Bucknell boys do – but I can tell you honestly that he misses you, Eli. He wants things to be on good terms between the three of you again. He only started drinking more once the drama began.”
“Drama? You mean his unwillingness to see my side of anything?” Eli said.
“Maybe, but it seems like you're not willing to see his side either,” I said. “Perhaps if the two of you sat down and actually talked about something other than this ranch, you might understand each other a bit more.”
Eli was silent for a long time. He just sat there, staring into the flames. I felt like maybe I'd lost him completely, that he'd shut down on me. I stayed put, keeping to myself. I could only do so much. I couldn't make him open up to me if he didn't want to.
Eli took a deep breath, and when he let it out, he said, “You know, my dad never laid a hand on Milo or Sawyer.”
I wasn't sure what to say to that. I didn't want to say the wrong thing, nor did I want to come off as disinterested. Without even asking, I knew where this was going. His dad had never hit Milo or Sawyer, but he hadn't said anything about not hitting him. The omission told me all I needed to know – and helped explain a lot of the anger and resentment I saw in him.
Eli turned the bottled around and around in his hand, staring at the label with a strange look on his face. There was anger there – the hurt too. But there was also the look of someone who was lost in thought. Somebody being taken back in time. I decided to stay quiet, not wanting to break his train of thought or stop the flow of memories.
“The first time he hit me, I was maybe twelve years old. We got into an argument when I told him I didn't want to play football like Milo and Sawyer. I wanted to take some art classes instead, and he said art was for pansies.” Eli let out a dry laugh. “From that day forward, I knew what he thought of me. He told me he hit me to toughen me up. He often said I was too soft and would get my ass kicked in high school if I didn't learn how to throw a punch. I couldn't bring myself to punch him back though. He was my dad. He gave me a black eye, sure, but he was my dad. There was nothing I could do.”
My heart hurt for the little boy that he was. It was so long ago, but it was clear the pain was still fresh. Eli didn't cry, but his voice cracked as he spoke, and he continued staring at the beer bottle, focusing on anything but me.
When he didn't continue, I said the only words I could think of to say, “I'm sorry, Eli. You'll never know how sorry I am.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said and laughed bitterly. “That was only the first time. Dad continued smacking me around regularly. Told me I'd need to learn how to take it or give it back. Eventually, I fought back and he was proud of me. Gave him a bloody nose. I'll never forget how fucking happy he looked, with blood dripping down his face. I thought it was disgusting, but he took it as a sign that I was ready to be a man. I quit my theater classes and signed up for football the next day. He'd won. I felt defeated and just gave in. I was a pansy apparently, just not for the reasons Dad believed.”
“That's not true. You were just a kid,” I said.
I reached over and placed my hand on his. It caused him to look at me, and my breath caught in my throat. The weight of his gaze – the beautiful brown eyes and that perfectly gorgeous face – sent a flutter through my belly. He was too beautiful to be real. The pain in his eyes though, made me want to reach across and stroke his face, to tell him that it was okay, that the past was over, and his dad could never hurt him again.
“Besides,” I continued, “you stayed with it. You eventually went on to do great things in Hollywood.”
Eli's lips pulled back
just slightly. A small smile, but it felt genuine, and it made his face look less harsh. For a moment, the bitterness and anger that seemed to be an integral part of him dissipated.
“If you consider playing a tiny part in a stupid paranormal teen show great, sure, I guess so,” he said.
“You were not a tiny part,” I said. “You had all the girls swooning for you. You even won that award.”
His smile grew wider. “All the girls were swooning, huh?”
“Yeah, I was just a kid back then, but all my friends were so in love with you.”
As soon as the words passed my lips, I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. Thankfully, he must not have noticed because he didn't say anything that gave me away.
“Yeah, it was fun. I enjoyed it,” he said. “Even though I'd have liked to have a more serious role, it was nice. Not like it led anywhere though.”
“Ah, you've still got time,” I said.
“I'm afraid I'm getting a little old for Hollywood. Thirty might as well be sixty,” he said.
“You're still a heartthrob though,” I said softly.
My cheeks burned even brighter this time and I couldn't meet his gaze. I couldn't believe I was admitting that I found him attractive.
“Thanks, Jacklyn,” he chuckled, turning his face to look at me directly. “So what's going on with you and Sawyer?”
As if I couldn't blush anymore, he had to bring Sawyer into this now too. Wanting to appear calm and cool about the situation even though I was clueless about what was going on between us, I shrugged.
“We both just needed to have some fun and blow off a little steam, I guess,” I said. “Nothing serious.”
Eli cocked an eyebrow. “And Milo is okay with this?”
“It's none of Milo's business what I do,” I said, feigning nonchalance.
Deep down, it did matter to me what Milo thought though. It mattered more than it should and certainly far more than I'd ever admit. But I was basically invisible to him. I was there, but not really there. His opinions about my sex life shouldn't have mattered, but of course they did.
Was I ever going to get Milo out of my head?
“I mean, it's obvious the two of you are close.”
Rolling my eyes, I sighed, “We're not that close. Not like you're thinking.”
“And why not?” Eli asked me.
“Because Milo will never see me as anything but a kid,” I stated matter-of-factly. “He acts like he's a grandpa already or something.”
“You can say that again,” Eli said, shaking his head. “Still, it's obvious he cares about you. Any blind man can see that.”
“Yeah, as an employee, sure.”
“Nah, it's more than that,” Eli said. “He's an entirely different person when you're around. Believe it or not, you're good for my brother, Jacklyn.”
“Thank you,” I said wistfully.
If only Milo would see that, then maybe things would be different. I kept it to myself because what good would it be to admit out loud that I might be in love with Milo?
After a few moments of silence, Eli asked me, “So you and Sawyer are nothing serious?”
“Oh no,” I said, though the words felt wrong on my tongue. “We made it clear that there's nothing serious between us. It was just a good time.”
“Are you happy with that arrangement?”
His question took me by surprise. I guess I hadn't really thought about it too much. It felt like a one-time deal, and Sawyer had acted like it hadn't even happened – which hurt more than it should have.
“I'm okay with it,” I said, hoping the lie wasn't painted all over my face. “I doubt anything will happen again. And honestly, it's probably better that it doesn't.”
“Why's that?”
“I dunno. It just is,” I snapped, wanting to change the conversation.
“So why did you do it?”
I glared at Eli. “What is up with all these questions?”
He smirked. “Just curious about what goes on around here, that's all.”
“Yeah, well, my personal life is really none of your business,” I said.
I looked down at my half-empty beer. I no longer had a desire to finish it. Eli was something else. For someone who once made a living entertaining people, he sure as hell could ruin a party. I was just about to toss the rest of my beer and head inside, when I remembered the original intent of the bonfire. Sawyer had wanted to relive some old times, while I thought maybe – just maybe – it would give Eli incentive to stop pushing with the sale if he remembered the good times.
Maybe there was still a chance at doing that.
“So you have no good memories about this place, huh?” I asked.
“Not too many, no,” he said. He leaned back and sighed. I could tell he wanted to say something, so I kept my mouth shut. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he chuckled. “Okay, maybe I have a few.”
“Tell me about them,” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I'm curious,” I said. “You asked me a bunch of personal questions, figured it was my turn to return the favor.”
I smirked back at him much like he'd done to me earlier. He rolled his eyes, but was grinning, so I took that as a good sign.
“Alright, so my brothers and I used to raise chickens. They had a pen over there,” he said, pointing out toward the stable. “Every morning, Mom would take us out to collect the eggs. I think it was her way of showing us how to respect animals or something. Start small, I guess. Milo was bored by the chickens though, he kept asking for something bigger. He wanted a horse of his very own, but Mom said he was too small and Dad said there was no way he could care for a horse all by himself even though I offered to help him. It took a couple more years, but Milo finally got his horse. Sawyer was old enough to help too, and the three of us were responsible for him. Milo named his Charley. Not sure where he came up with that name since it was a mare, but Charley was a good horse. She would end up being with us for a really long time, and we all took care of her.”
As he spoke, his smile went all the way to his eyes. His voice was soft and distant. It was like I wasn't even there. At least for a moment, Eli was back on the ranch, a child with his brothers and Charley, living every little boy's dream of owning a horse.
I leaned back into the chair and curled my feet underneath me, twisting my body so I could focus on Eli. Hearing this story did something for both of us and it seemed to lighten the mood entirely.
“Whatever happened to Charley?” I asked. “Milo never told me about her.”
Eli's smile fell in that instant, and he was back to sulking, staring into the fire, the mood quickly darkening once more.
“There's a reason for that. No one really likes to talk about Charley,” Eli said. “I try to remember the good times.”
I didn't want to push the issue, but whatever it was, clearly it was painful for him – and probably for Milo and Sawyer as well. The love Eli had shown for that horse while talking about her just made the pain in his eyes hurt me even more. It was like a knife to the gut.
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked,” I said. “I was hoping to talk about the happy memories.”
“Yeah, well, that's the problem here. With every happy memory from this place, there's a corresponding bad one. Often negates the good entirely, but I'd like to think the years we spent with Charley are still worth celebrating.”
“Yes, of course,” I said, yawning as I spoke. My eyes were getting heavy. “It's getting late. I should probably head to bed.”
Eli simply nodded. He didn't make any movement to get up or to leave.
“You heading out soon?” I asked.
“Nah, it's late, I've had a bit to drink. I should probably crash here tonight,” he said. “But I think I'm going to stay out here awhile longer. I'll put the fire out when I'm done.”
It was hard not to smile, feeling victorious that I'd managed to get through to Eli so easily – if only a little bit. Mayb
e it wouldn't convince him that the ranch was worth saving, but it was a start. Little by little, I could break down those walls and get to the bottom of this.
Maybe I could save the ranch and salvage the brother's relationships all at once. I didn't want to get ahead of myself, but it seemed plausible now. At least, a lot more so than it had just a few hours ago.
I continued smiling all the way into the house, up the stairs, and into my bedroom. Not only was I happy about helping bring everyone back together, seeing that side of Eli was nice. Hearing about his childhood, understanding him a bit more. He really wasn't as bad as I thought he was.
He was just a bit damaged – but hell, weren't we all?
* * *
A sound pulled me from my sleep. I sat bolt upright in bed and flipped on the lamp, my eyes taking a moment to get used to the light.
“God, I'm sorry,” Eli's voice muttered. “I didn't know which room you were in.”
I glanced over at the clock. It was just after two in the morning. I'd come back inside and had gone to bed around two hours ago. Had Eli been sitting outside that long?
“It's okay,” I mumbled, wiping sleep from my eyes. “I really should lock the door from now on.”
I was suddenly very aware of how exposed I was. It had been warm, so I'd kicked off the blanket in my sleep. I had on a pair of pink lace boy shorts and a matching tank top that didn't even cover most of my stomach. Eli had obviously noticed too. He stood in the doorway for a second, eyes fixed on me and an expression of pure lust on his face. I reached for the blanket and quickly covered myself up.
“Uh, can I help you with anything else?” I asked.
“Oh no, sorry,” he said. “I, umm, well, I'll just find the spare room now.”
Hearing him mumbling his words, standing there looking all flustered about seeing me in a skimpy pj set, caused my heart to race. His brown eyes were still on me, and he hadn't made any move to leave.
