by Hanna Hart
Dahlia shrugged. "I may have given her a call.”
"Mom!” he hissed, pitching out of his chair and walking up to the stove. He tilted his head to the side and snapped, “Why would you do that?”
"She was my daughter-in-law, Walker,” she said, still stirring the eggs. “I had a relationship with her, too, and unlike you, I didn't get to say my goodbyes.”
"And you shouldn't have! She shouldn't get the…” he hesitated, furious, but wanting to choose his words carefully, “…treat of being able to talk to you!”
"Oh, why won't you just tell me what happened?” she said, setting the thick spoon down and turning to him with both hands on her hips. “Your brother and sister obviously know.”
"Yeah, because they can keep things private,” he said petulantly.
"I heard on Facebook that Leanne is with Brian now,” she said, the concern thick in her voice. “That isn't true, is it? It seems a little quick for her to be moving on. What have you been apart for…” his mother began to count on her fingers as she concluded, “Six months now?”
"Four,” he said.
"Four months,” she agreed with a nod. “That's fast. Women don't usually move on so quickly. It's usually the men, you know? They can't be alone.”
Walker gave a loud sigh and shook his head with irritation. "I don't know why you bother asking me things if you're just going to go snoop around get the answer for yourself anyway,” he groaned.
Dahlia blinked in shock. The surprise was evident in her voice as she confirmed, "So, she is with Brian?”
"I don't want to talk about it,” he snapped.
"I think if you talked to her, you guys could work it out. I really do,” she said.
This was the very epitome of his mother—well-meaning, but nosy.
This was the very reason he didn’t want to come back to Colorado for the winter. He wanted to sit at home and wallow. He wanted to be free of questions. “What happened?” and “Are you okay?” and “Why did she leave you? Why did you do things so quietly? Why didn’t you let us help you?”
Because he did do things quietly. Leanne never said she was unhappy, but Walker could feel her pulling away. He knew the feeling well, in fact. And this time, he wasn’t going to let the love of his life slip through the cracks. He tried and tried to make it work.
He worked less, took trips, spent days without looking at his phone just to let Leanne know she had his undivided attention, but nothing seemed to make things better between them.
When he tried to bring it up with her, she would say, “I’m fine” or “I’m just feeling stressed about the ranch” and brush off his attempts to work on their relationship.
Still, he stayed patient. Then months later, he found her with Brian, and it all made sense.
He’d never confided in his family about his marital problems. When Leanne said she wanted out, he made it happen as soon as possible. He didn’t even tell his parents what was going on until the papers were signed, sealed, and delivered.
"I don't want to work it out,” he snapped at his mother. “She hurt me, Mom. What about that don't you understand?”
His mother folded her arms gently across one another and gave him a sympathetic look. "Hurt goes away,” she said softly.
Walker scoffed and rolled his eyes. "What gem are you going to throw at me next? Time heals all wounds? Forgive and forget?”
“Hey,” his father snapped from the breakfast table, taking a firm, protective tone with his son. “Watch it.”
"Seriously, this isn't your business,” Walker said, turning to his father indignantly. “The papers are signed. The divorce is already final. What do you want me to do, exactly? We can’t take back the last four months.”
His father inhaled a sharp breath as he folded his newspaper and set it on the table. "We loved Leanne, too, bud,” Richard said. “Just like you.”
"Great. Then, just like me, you can learn to un-love her,” he snapped in response. “Please? Can we shelve the Leanne talk for the rest of the time here and just act like a normal family? Please, talk about anything else.”
"A marriage takes work,” his mother said, throwing her hands into the air. “That’s all I’m saying.”
"And if you keep saying it, this family get together is going to be as holly jolly as it gets,” Walker said, trying to calm down.
To his great surprise, his mother actually seemed to hear what he was saying. She gave him a gentle squeeze on his left hand and met his eyes. Nodding, she agreed, “Alright.”
Walker spent the rest of the day watching shows and movies with his family in the living room. In a strange way, it was as if he and his siblings were all children again, living under the same roof.
But when evening came, and Shane showed up along with a crew of Kendall’s closest friends, the conversation quickly turned from reminiscing about childhood memories to all things wedding.
It wasn’t Walker’s intention to ruin Kendall’s special occasion. He didn’t want to be the brother who rolled his eyes at his little sister’s excitement. But he didn’t want to participate in the conversation, either. There were only so many opinions he could have on weddings, plated dinners, seating arrangements, and decorations.
Instead, he simply nodded whenever he was addressed by his sister.
Amidst the girlish prattling, he leaned in close to Rhys and whispered, "This is looking to be a very, very interesting Christmas season.”
His little brother smirked. "And by 'very, very interesting,' you basically mean a walking, talking wedding show that we can't escape?”
"Bingo,” Walker said.
Kendall, not realizing that nobody except for their mother had responded to her wedding talk over the last half hour, didn’t take the hint. She kept talking about prices per plate, what sounded reasonable, how much their parents were willing to chip in and what type of alcohol to serve.
Walker couldn’t pretend to be interested anymore. He raised his brows with humor and slapped his hands against his thighs as if to say ‘Welp! I’m out!’ and took his leave of the room. Rhys followed him out onto the back porch.
The porch had screens and windows protecting it from the cold outdoors, but it was still chillier out on the porch than inside the house.
He could remember his father sitting out there when he was a child, watching football on a tiny portable television so that the kids could have the big TV for their Sunday night movies. He was a good dad.
“It’s just getting ridiculous,” Walker said, taking a seat in one of the rattan chairs.
His brother nodded. “Yeah, and I mean…” Rhys began, but his words petered off.
Walker cocked a curious brow at him and couldn’t shake the feeling that the abrupt end in his brother’s sentence was about his divorce.
"What?” he said, nodding toward Rhys.
"Nah,” his brother shrugged. “Nothing.”
"No, what? Tell me.”
With a sigh, Rhys said, "Well, you'd think she would be a little less obvious about the whole 'I'm so ridiculously happy' thing after, you know…” his words failed him again. He squished his lips to the side of his mouth and winced. “With Leanne,” he finally finished.
Walker held his face tight, but inside, his stomach lurched. "It doesn't offend me, Rhys,” he said, trying to sound casual. “It's just annoying.”
"Yeah?” Rhys said, unbelieving. “Because I'm pretty sure if Becca and I broke up, I wouldn't want to see Princess Kendall planning her wedding.”
"What's up with that, anyway?” Walker said. “Aren't you supposed to wait a while between the engagement and the wedding? Like a year, at least?”
“Shotgun wedding?” Rhys teased. "Ah, I don’t know. They've been dating for a million years.”
“Yeah,” Walker snorted. “She probably wants to lock it down before he comes to his senses.”
The two of them shared a hearty laugh. Shane was a nice enough guy, but he didn’t seem like the marrying kind. Maybe Kend
all saw that, too, and wanted to capitalize on his moment of weakness.
"Don't ask me,” Rhys said with a far-off grin. “Marriage is so not my thing. I don't understand any of the rituals going on there.”
"So, you don't ever want to get married? Walker asked.
"Not really. It doesn't seem all that appealing, to be honest. Besides, I haven't been given a shining example,” his brother said, nodding toward him. "Your divorce was a living nightmare. An example, if you will, of why two people should not force themselves into believing they can possibly grow together for the rest of their lives.”
"Doesn't speak highly of how you feel about Becca,” Walker teased.
"Then again,” Rhys said thoughtfully, pulling a lip into his mouth and scraping his teeth against it. “There is Mom and Dad. They seem pretty happy.”
Walker shook his head. "That's because they've had a million distractions in their lives. They raised three kids.”
"Three bad kids,” Rhys interjected.
Walker raised a finger to the air and agreed, “Three bad kids! But you see? That's the key! They always had someone else to annoy them and stress them out, so they never really had to focus on each other.”
Rhys’ eyes went wide with amusement. "Poor Kendall.”
"Yeah, poor Kendall,” he repeated dryly.
“Poor Kendall?” he wanted to repeat without sympathy. If she decided she wanted out of her marriage, she would get a cool fifty percent of whatever poor Shane was worth. There was nothing ‘poor’ about it.
“Maybe it'll work out,” he said with a shrug. “Or maybe she'll get really lucky, like me, and she'll lose her two best friends and get to watch her entire life fall apart before she hits thirty.”
Walker meant for his words to come out as a joke—some sarcastic humor between brothers, but it came out spiteful and nasty.
"Sorry, man,” his brother said, slapping a hand on Walker’s shoulder.
"You know what? I'm sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I shouldn't have brought it up. I am so sick of talking about her. Leanne, not Kendall," he clarified. "And you know I'm happy for her, right?"
"Yeah," Rhys nodded. "I know."
"It's just this place, being here, home with all the family. The obligation dinners, the gifts, the reminiscing. I feel...” he said, his words tapering off into nothing.
"Yeah, I know, man. It's okay.”
"It sucks,” he said evenly. “Plus, Mom just keeps harping on about it. It's exhausting. It's the exact reason why I didn't want to come here in the first place.”
"Well, Mom hates being left out of the loop. You didn't exactly tell her what happened. As far as she's concerned, you went from 'taking some time' to battling it out in court,” Rhys said.
"We just used some lawyers privately,” he corrected.
"Yeah, but it sounds more epic when you say 'battling it out,’” Rhys said with some levity.
"It was civil, really,” Walker said.
As far as divorces went, it was civil. They didn’t go to court and drag out a long, painful process. They had no children to fight over. She even agreed not to come after the business under two stipulations. One, that Walker pay her off. Four million. That’s what she wanted, and based on his net-worth, his lawyer suggested that he scoop the deal up before she came to her senses.
The second, strange stipulation was that she wanted Walker to sell their ranch house. This took him aback. They had taken almost a year building that house to give it the character and warmth they felt that most new builds lacked.
He fought against that one hard.
“I don’t like the idea of picturing you there with someone else,” she’d said in a voice so small and sweet, he nearly forgot how she’d smashed his heart into a thousand, untraceable pieces.
It was an infuriatingly ironic statement, considering finding her in the house with someone else was exactly what Walker had experienced.
The rage he felt, imagining his ex-wife shamelessly spending his money with his best friend at her side made was excruciating.
"Sorry,” Walker said, suddenly realizing what Rhys had just said about their mother. “Are you defending Mom right now?”
A dawning look of horror crossed Rhys’ face, and his eyes went as round as saucers. “You’re right! I feel so dirty now.”
"Now go to your room and think about what you've done,” Walker teased, aiming a finger inside the house.
Rhys laughed and stood from the rattan chair, walking toward the doorway. He turned back to look at Walker and asked, "I'll see you tonight at the festival of lights?”
"Yeah,” Walker nodded. “Maybe.”
Seeing the city overtaken by beautiful lights was the last thing Walker wanted to do—especially without Leanne.
Chapter Four
Ava
Mountain Coffee was an amazing little shop. With its raw design of wood, crisp whites, and crystals, it had all of the trendy décor to attract Instagram-obsessed twenty and thirty-somethings and coffee that was so good, the older crowd couldn’t resist the little shop, either.
Beyond their expansive hot drink selection, Mountain Coffee had a very limited menu for food. There were bagels, made in-house, yogurt parfaits, and a daily special.
This was the location where Ava met her friend Tibby on most days. Not only because they had amazing hot drinks, but because it was the middle ground between both of their houses.
It was evening and the two were meeting for tea before going to a firework display in the city square outside. It was a Christmas tradition, one that she never missed.
Ava met Tibby in high school, and the two had been best friends ever since. They knew each other’s biggest loves and biggest heartbreaks; they knew each other’s stupid mistakes, and for the most part, each other’s secrets.
It was for this reason that Ava could confide in her friend about her disastrous date several nights earlier.
"He was married?” Tibby said, slamming a hand down on the raw wood tabletop in front of them. The over-emphasized slap to the grain caused Tibby’s green tea to shake and spill down the side of her glass.
Ava laughed at the effort and nodded, "Yup.”
"What a d-bag!”
Ava nodded. "I know.”
Love wasn't easy. This was what Ava had learned in her mere twenty-eight years on the planet.
A simple but true fact.
Ava had friends who had no problem wearing their hearts on their sleeves. She knew people who had professed to fall in love after mere weeks of dating. These were emotions expressed by people who were excited to fall head over heels for someone else. People who were willing to trust others and live life like an open book.
Ava was not an open book. It took her a long time to fall in love and even longer to actually say the words out loud.
Tibby was incensed. "This dude just has a straight-up family walking around, living life, waiting for his sorry behind to come home on a Friday night and he’s like, just out there, kissing random girls!”
Ava nodded enthusiastically to her friend’s rant. "My thoughts exactly!” she said.
Her friend shook her head and set both hands around her white clay mug. She warmed her hands against it, lost in thought, before looking up at Ava and bashfully asking, "So…how was the kiss?”
"Ugh,” Ava groaned with half-hearted irritation. “It was amazing. That’s what kills me! We had this cosmic connection. That never happens to me; you know that! This was like, in the stars kind of chemistry.”
Tibby winced. "So, what are you going to do?”
"Um, become his mistress, obviously,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. She reached across the table and flicked her friend in the arm. “What do you think I’m going to do? Nothing! He’s lucky I don’t find his poor wife on social media and tell her what a dog her husband is.”
"Right,” her friend agreed, then giggled, “Wouldn’t that rock his world?”
"If anything, this just proves that I
am no good at picking out men,” Ava sighed.
"Amen.”
Ava’s eyes went wide at her friend and the two of them burst into a small, shared laugh.
"A little defense of your so-called best friend would be nice here,” Ava snorted.
Tibby rocked her head from side to side, her eyes skyward as she began, "Well, I mean, let’s start with your most recent conundrum. Married dude. Definitely a bad call. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Ava said.
Her friend then began counting on her fingers as she listed off, “Before that was Jeremy, who literally left the country without telling you.”
"A little bit more complicated than that, but I guess that’s the gist of it,” Ava said, shifting uncomfortably.”
"Then there was Gish.”
"Zach,” Ava said, reminding her friend of his first name.
"Zach Gish,” Tibby snapped her fingers. “The thief, was it?”
"Jailtime, six months,” Ava said, reminiscing with faux happiness as she pressed her hands together and set them against her cheek. “For the record, I did not know he was breaking into people’s houses and robbing them. Idiot.”
"You, or him?”
They both laughed, and Ava shrugged, embarrassed. “Whichever,” she joked.
"Then there’s…” Tibby began but seemed to lose her train of thought. She pulled a lock of black hair through her fingers and twirled it, her eyes trailing around the small coffee shop. “There’s Walker,” Tibby concluded.
Ava’s stomach sank at the very mention of him. She dated Walker for just over two years, from the time she was eighteen to almost twenty-one.
He was that perfect mix of reckless teenage love and coming of age tenderness. He was the first person she had ever imagined spending the rest of her life with, but then everything spiraled out of control so fast that Ava had no time to catch it.
Ava didn’t keep secrets from Tibby, except one—and that one had everything to do with Walker.
"Excuse me?” Ava said, high-pitched and silly. “I thought we agreed that for as long as we both shall live, the name Walker has been banished from girl talk?”
