Page 26 of The One I Left Behind

I hope.

Chapter Nine

Ben

I tiptoe down the stairs Sunday morning, unable to sleep from the excitement of having Gillian to myself today. Trying to disguise myself a bit, I put on my baseball cap and wear my oldest jeans with a T-shirt that’s seen better days. Matched with my cowboy boots, the only item in my closet that still fits me, I look like any other rancher in town. It’s a lot for her to give me this chance, and I’m not going to put her in harm’s way with more nasty gossip or rumors.

I hear the voices before I have time to turn around, my dad spotting me as he stands in the kitchen in front of the open fridge. The door shuts, and I wince.

“Jesus, Dad.”

He stands in his boxer briefs, looking unapologetic. I walk into the kitchen and sigh. A blondish woman sits at our kitchen table, wearing my dad’s flannel checkered shirt and nothing else.

“Hi.” I raise a hand.

She looks at my dad and back at me. “I’m Claudette.”

“This is my middle boy, Ben.” He sits next to Claudette, handing her a coffee. “Why are you up so early?”

“Um… I could ask you the same thing.”

He and Claudette laugh. At least she’s his age. I wasn’t sure in the years I’ve been away if they’d gotten younger.

“This is late for me,” Dad says. “I’m a cattle rancher. And you’re about to be one too. Starting tomorrow, you either work the ranch or find something else to do, but you don’t freeload. Enough with being everyone’s gopher.”

“Freeload? It’s my childhood home.”

The back door opens, and Emmett flies in, breezes by me, and barrels up the stairs.

“You’re on me, but he can come take a shit in his childhood bathroom?” I ask.

“He built his own house.” Dad sips his coffee and puts his hand on Claudette’s thigh.

I have to get outta here.

“Just because you have a lot of money doesn’t change the fact that you’re thirty-two years old and should be living on your own.”

“I’ll pay rent.”

“Noughtons aren’t lazy.”

This conversation is about to get heated. My pulse increases, and I’m not doing that in front of one of his lady friends. Still, I find it hard to bite my tongue. “I got my ass kicked every week and got up to do it all over again. I’m not sure I know any professional football player who’s lazy.”

“Your dad told me. San Francisco, huh? Very impressive.” Claudette smiles.

“Thanks.” I squeeze out a forced smile. Where did he find this one that she doesn’t know who we are? I’m not buying the charade. Then again, maybe it’s her way of changing the subject.

“Regardless, if you don’t want to walk into scenes like this, then get your own house. Your property line runs along Emmett’s.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to some contractors this week. Who knew after all the years you wouldn’t want me home for a little while.”

“No contractors. You do it yourself. You have great hands, and you know enough. If you don’t, ask your brothers or cousins.”

I gape at him. “I can get out sooner if I hire someone.”

With my mom dying so young, my dad took on the role of both parents, but he’s never nurtured us. Instead, he believed in making us into self-sufficient men. Which I understand, and I’m sure his dad was the same to him. But I’ve been here a week. I’m not loafing around.

“That’s not the point. Don’t you want to sit in your own house and feel accomplished?”

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