I step away from Trig and flip my newest court documents facedown on the counter. I didn’t call my parents for a reason. I’m not proud of the position I put myself in by marrying Robert in the first place, that’s easy to admit. But I don’t need my mom looking down on me with her anguished, empathetic blue eyes while my father judges me with his harsh brown ones. When Jen didn’t answer her phone today, Trig was an easy second choice. I almost thought about calling him first, but wouldn’t allow myself. I don’t even want to think about the fact I’m not at all disappointed Jen was too busy to take my call and Trig, once again, dropped everything to deal with my latest catastrophe.
Trig narrows his eyes on me as I do my best to hide my latest legal issues before he folds his arms across his wide chest to take on my father. “Ellie doesn’t object to my being here, which makes it none of your business. But since you asked so politely, I’m here to make sure the movers do their job.”
I look up at him and shift Griffin in my arms, thankful he knows not to spill my latest catastrophe with my father. “I know you’re busy. Thanks for coming at the last minute.”
The side of his full lips tip as he gives me a secret smile—one that says he’ll be more than happy to keep my latest legal issue a secret, and oh, by the way, he just had unprotected sex with Kipp Montgomery’s daughter and he’s not even sorry. In fact, by the way he acted last night and again this morning, I’d say he’s pretty pleased with himself.
“C’mere, little cowboy.” I tear my gaze away from Trig when my father plucks Griffin from my arms and he gives me the eye—communicating he’s about as happy with my life choices as he was ten years ago. Basically, nothing has changed besides the fact he can’t boss me around any longer. Griffin loves my dad, who dotes over all his grandchildren. “I had some meetings in town and thought I’d stop by to see you two on my way home. What’s goin’ on with the movers?”
I shake my head and try to cover up my desperation to rid Robert from our lives like it’s not a big deal. “I’m just making some changes. I am my mother’s daughter after all. I can’t believe you’re even questioning it.”
He frowns and doesn’t mince words. “He can go—I’m here and can help with Griffin. I need to talk to you. Privately.”
“Dad—” I start, but Trig interrupts and he does it by leaning in and putting his lips to my temple.
I take a sharp intake of air when he kisses the side of my face outright in front of the man who clearly hates him. “It’s okay, angel. I need to finish up some work but I’m bringing you dinner. I guess barbecue is out of the picture with your I don’t eat meat phase?”
“No, you don’t have to—” I try but he keeps going.
“No worries. I’ll get you something green.” He reaches inside the box and grabs a handful of cookies along with the legal documents I was served today. Tossing one in his mouth, he talks around his vanilla wafer. “Be back in about two hours.” He turns to my dad. “Kipp, as always, it was an experience.”
My dad looks like the top of his head might blow but doesn’t respond.
I stand, unmoving, and watch Trig stalk out of my house through a slew of guys carrying my furniture.
They were only supposed to collect the mattress but I decided on a whim this morning to add everything else I hate. The charity was so pleased when I told them I was donating the master furniture as well, you’d have thought they were collecting it straight from heaven. That made me so happy, I threw in everything from the office and dining room, too.
Fuck, they can have it all. I can’t wait to sell this place even though I have no clue where I’ll go. My mom has mentioned multiple times I should move back to the ranch for a while, but there’s no way. I might’ve used it as an escape when Robert was alive, but not anymore. Now, I need to build a new life for Griffin and me.
“Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
I look at my dad, bigger than life and just as intimidating as ever. Jen could always handle him but not me. Not after he threatened me with Trig’s freedom.
I was only a girl. I might’ve been eighteen, but I was young, in love, pregnant, and wanted nothing but to live happily ever after with Trig Barrett. So, when my father basically hogtied me by threatening to go after Trig for being with me while I was seventeen, giving me no choice but to retract Trig’s alibi, he lost my trust—forever. It doesn’t matter how much we’ve ignored the dead body lying between us all these years. It’s there, and even after an entire decade, it reeks.
I grab the box of cookies and turn for my pantry. “You seem to know everything. I’m surprised you have to ask.”
He lowers his voice. “Twitchell Grace.”
I reach for the chocolate covered almonds because this has really been a fucking day. “Oh, yes. By all means, refer to me as the name you cursed me with. That’s the way to get me to talk.”
He’s holding Griffin’s hands and walking with him across the kitchen when he peeks up at me. His tone softens, but only by a touch. “Are you and Barrett together?”
I toss two almonds into my mouth. “If we are, you can’t do a thing about it. Statute of limitations and all—I googled it. Threaten me, threaten the ones I love,” I cross my arms and lean onto the marble counter, “do your worst. I’m an adult, Daddy. I can do whatever the hell I want.”
A flicker of something crosses his face—regret, fear, or maybe grief. It’s as if a haunted memory passes over his eyes, leaving nothing but pain in its place. “You don’t get it, darlin’. You have no idea.”
19
The Course of Us
No matter our motivation, worry for our children never dies. But they still need to fly.
Ellie
He doesn’t get to do this, try to demean me like I’m still too young to know what’s best for me. And he damn sure isn’t going to control who’s in my life, let alone who I sleep with—figuratively and otherwise.
My spine might be shorter than his, but after all I’ve been through, it’s stronger than ever and there’s no way I’ll allow him to make me believe that I don’t get it. I, unfortunately, get it more than I should.
I snap right back, “I remember it like it was yesterday—hell, like it just happened. Don’t tell me I have no idea.”
The chaos going on around us drowns out. My dad, still as big and strong and sturdy as he’s ever been, tosses Griffin up and catches him in his thick arms. “What I’m saying is you don’t know everything. You didn’t then and you don’t now, and it has nothing to do with what went down ten years ago with you and Barrett. It all started when you kids were tiny—especially you. You didn’t remember Silvie, but after she died, I wanted nothing to do with the Barretts. It was bad enough their land was so close to ours.”
My face falls and I turn to him. “What does Aunt Silvie have to do with the Barretts?”
Silva Montgomery was my dad’s younger sister. From the sagas my mom and dad told us, Silvie was always a wild-child and her story did not have a happy ending. She disappeared from their lives. Even my father couldn’t find her for years, and from what my mom said, he spent a pretty penny looking. My dad is right, I don’t remember her but I do remember going to her funeral. All the money my father spent on private investigators and the pressure he put on local law enforcement to look for her finally paid off. But when they did find her, she was in a ditch two counties over, dead and as naked as the day she was born.
She was covered in track marks, bruised, beaten, and pumped full of narcotics. DNA evidence was collected but they never found a match. Our parents used Aunt Silvie as a scare-tactic when we were young to stay in line, to avoid drugs, and be an upstanding Montgomery. Their way of doing this was to keep us busy as hell and expect perfection in everything we did.
Now that I have Griffin, I guess I can see where they were coming from, but I’ll never put that kind of pressure on my son.
I suspect my dad was a lot like Jen when he grew up, perfect and willing to fall in line with hi
s family’s plans. Silvie never did, though. The lesson we grew up listening to over and over—our aunt was born a rebel and she died a horrific death as a drug addict.
“Ma’am, we’re done.”
I look away from my father and to the man holding out a clipboard for my signature. “Of course, sorry. Let me get you a check. I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”
The women’s shelter had no way of getting the furniture and I told them I’d handle it. The cost is nothing compared to the need to rid my life of all traces of my dead husband. I scribble out a check, sign the paperwork, and just like that, a huge chunk of Robert’s memories are out the door, and I’m again alone with my father.
Now that Griffin is a free man again, he speeds on all fours back to the family room and his baskets of toys.
My father stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Nothin’ scared me as a parent more than you. I used to tell your mama to do everything she could to keep you busy. From the time you could roll over, you did everything you could to defy us.” He levels his eyes on me and his tone is as sharp as a razor. “And you know you did.”
I don’t answer and turn to get myself a glass of water. He knows he’s right and so do I.
“Silvie was a lot younger than me. I remember every moment of her life from the day your gramma brought her home. She gave your granddaddy fits and I saw it all. You were the exact same way. Ellie,” he calls for me and I turn back to him. “I’m a strong man and I can say nothing has scared me in life more than you did."
“Dad—” I start, but he doesn’t let me get a word in.
“You were just like her. It was hard enough losing my sister to a world of drugs and addiction, dying the way she did. We did everything we could to stop her, reason with her—hell, we all but restrained her once. She was so deep in her addiction, she finally cut us out. Didn’t want a thing to do with her family and we lost her for good. There was no way I was going to let any of my children follow that path. I wouldn’t have survived it. You’re my baby, Ellie. You think pissing off my children is any skin off my back if it means they’re safe? I don’t care if you hate me ‘til the day you die—I’m gonna do what I think I need to do.”
I glance over at my son, his little fingers trying to figure out how to stuff a plastic horse into it’s trailer. I can’t imagine him hating me but I also can’t imagine not doing everything in my power to keep him from harm. I supposed if he hated me for doing what I had to do, I’d deal with it. It would tear me up, but I’d do it.
I look back to my dad. “What does that have to do with Trig? What you did—how you kept him from me and threatened me so I had no choice but to lie … that’s …” I exhale and pull my hands through my hair, exasperated with him, my in-laws, and even Trig. “It’s almost unforgivable. Actually, it is unforgivable.”
My father has the nerve to shrug. “Maybe, but I’d do it again.”
“How can you say that?” I snap, feeling my blood boil, all my anger bubbling over and my rage erupting. “You cut me off from Trig. It took me years to get over that, and when I finally thought I could move on, I chose Robert.” His name will always taste like cyanide on my tongue. “Good job, Dad. Your need to control every situation really worked out well.”
He takes the two steps separating us and I have to tip my head back to keep hold of his eyes when he lowers his voice. “I didn’t say I’m happy with the way things turned out. Sure, Trig made a life for himself but he’s still a Barrett. At the time, I did what I thought was best. I couldn’t take a chance with you, darlin’. That, I won’t apologize for.”
My tears form and I hate myself. Anything and everything is making me fall apart lately. “What did he do to you? There was no reason for you to hate him besides the fact he had nothing and you have everything.”
There’s a crash and my head whips to Griffin where he pulled over a basket of toys.
“Uh-oh,” he sing-songs.
I wipe my face and try to smile. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll pick them up.”
“I didn’t mean to make you cry, darlin’.” My dad leans down to swipe my face. “I’ve gotta get home. Your mama’s making dinner.”
“No.” I grab at his wrist to stop him. “You’re not leaving here until you tell me. Why did you hate him? Even you wouldn’t do what you did for no reason.”
He rubs his face. When his eyes settle on mine, weighted with antagonism and grit, he finally lays it out for me. “I gave Trig a job on the ranch as a favor to Faye Barrett for your mama. He needed an honest job. I found out after I hired him that Trig Barrett’s uncle was your Aunt Silvie’s supplier and I think his dad had a hand in it too, but we could never connect him. Trig seemed like a good kid so I gave him a job but Ray Barrett was always slippery … until you put him away. I had lots of ranch hands over the years and they were told to stay far away from my family, especially you girls while you were young. I lost enough to the Barretts for one lifetime, I wasn’t going to lose you, too—I made damn-well sure of it.”
* * *
May 15th —
Easton graduates today. FROM LAW SCHOOL!
I couldn’t be prouder of him if he was the second man on Earth to part the Red Sea. Easton bought me a plane ticket and the doctors even slipped me some extra cash and told me to take the week off. Tomorrow, I’m getting on a plane for the first time in my life all by myself. I might fall over stupid, I’m so nervous, but I’m going to watch my boy walk to get his diploma.
I know he’s only doing it for me. He told me he didn’t have time for such nonsense and I told him I was coming to the land of Mickey Mouse and earthquakes so he’d better scoot his booty across that stage. Actually, he’s only doing it ‘cause I told him I’m still his mama and he doesn’t have a choice. Then, to celebrate, he’s going to take me to Disneyland and the beach.
You’d think I’d be more excited to see the ocean for the first time but I really just want to see my boy. I miss him and haven’t seen him since Christmas. Whenever he comes here, he’s got ants in his pants. I know he loves me but I see it in his eyes. He won’t admit it, but it hurts his soul to be here. It reminds him of her even though she’s gone off into the world and he’s pretended to move on. He won’t talk about her, and if I bring it up, it’s the only time he snaps at me.
But this week is about Easton and how he broke away from his daddy and uncle, something I could never do no matter how hard I tried. But he did it and I’m so delighted, I might just pee my pants.
I close the journal, the third one I’ve read tonight, and look at the other side of my Texas-sized sofa. Trig is still engrossed in his own chapter of Faye Barrett’s world. I take him in, his concentration is profound, with his brows pinched even though he looks nothing but relaxed reading.
My father left as soon as he dropped the bomb about him blaming Trig’s dad and uncle for Aunt Silvie’s demons. And he did not leave on good terms because I stood up for my former love and told my father that, from everything I know of her, it sounded like Aunt Silvie would’ve gotten her fix from anyone. She became a junkie all on her own and Trig had nothing to do with it. When he started to argue, I added, “We can’t pick our parents now, can we?”
He knew I meant Trig and me. Needless to say, I didn’t get a kiss on the head before he left, but Griffin did.
Trig, true to his word, returned right when he said he would with something green for dinner. I’m stuffed because, along with the salad, he brought fettuccini, capellini pomodoro, cheesecake, and more bread than I’ve eaten in the last six months. When he got here holding two bags of food, he walked through my door and shrugged unapologetically. “I don’t know what babies eat. The gal taking my order said he could pick at the pasta.”
Doing what’s become a habit for me the last few months with my son, the three of us ate while sitting on the floor of my kitchen with Griffin crawling between the two of us like a dog, eating whatever he felt like from our plates. Besides both of us talking to Griff, Trig and I
didn’t talk much. It’s too weird and hard and, yet, still oddly comfortable being together like this—together with a baby. Just watching Trig, I know the same thoughts are running through his head—that this could have been us.
That this should have been us.
Trig cleaned my kitchen and I got Griffin ready for bed. When I came back down with the baby monitor, he was unpacking what looked like Faye’s mismatched journals from a box and his eyes met mine. “I thought we could read.”
I was relieved, honestly. After the last few days, I didn’t know what to expect. I like him being here but I didn’t know what to do with him here.
We’ve lived quietly inside Faye’s head now for hours. I wish the journals were in some sort of order. Faye was clean but not completely orderly. I bet she had these scattered all over her house at one point in time and when she was picking up, she just tossed them into boxes for us to find after her horrible disease stole her from our grasp.
I turn fully to Trig and rest the side of my head against the back of the sofa. “What did you read about?”
He rubs his eyes before he turns to me. Tonight, he’s in a pair of athletic shorts and a Texas Rangers T-shirt that looks so soft, it reminds me of sleeping in his arms last night. “I started off at Easter fifteen years ago, her starting a garden, and more bitching about my dad. The next book skipped a decade and all she talked about was the doctors she worked for, keeping their house clean, and their daughter. The whole book was about the girl’s teenage years. Can’t say it’s my favorite thing to read about people I don’t know, especially a teenager, but it’s almost like talking to her again.”
I snuggle into my sofa. “It’s a gift. One she didn’t know she was giving you but a gift all the same. Thank you for sharing them with me.”
He reaches across the empty cushion sitting between us that feels as large as the ocean, and his touch zips through me, a current that brings something down deep to life. It happens every time and I’ve tried to ignore it. Hell, I’ve even pretended it was something else and turned it to rage, not letting go of my scars. When his fingertips dance with mine, intimately choreographing beautiful images of us from so long ago, he calls for me.
Broken Halo: The Montgomery Series, Book 2 Page 18
