Page 9 of Rugged Guardian

“I’ll make breakfast.” Waylon walks into the kitchen and rummages through the fridge. “How about eggs and bacon?”

“Perfect,” I say, reaching for a skillet.

We move around each other with ease, like we’ve done this a thousand times before. The sizzle of bacon fills the air, mingling with the scent of freshly brewed coffee.

As he cooks, our conversation is light and easy. We discuss the cabin, avoiding talking about our family feud. Is it still a feud if the people most invested in it are gone? There are things that need to be resolved before we can even consider a future together.

I watch Waylon, admiring the way he moves and how his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He’s more handsome than ever. The years and his time in the military have added a rugged edge to his features. There’s no doubt in my mind that I want a future with him.

We sit down to eat, and I can’t help but think about how good this feels.

“So, what’s your plan for the cabin?” Waylon asks between bites of bacon.

“Just some repairs for now,” I reply. “I want to make it livable again. It’s been neglected for too long.” His eyes hold a thousand questions as he looks at me. I know he’s asking if I’m going to stay, but I don’t know the answer yet. I want to stay, but only if we agree to give each other a second chance, not just a night together. I couldn’t bear living here if we weren’t together.

When we’re finished, I hum as I start a second pot of coffee for us and wash the dishes.

“What’s all this?” Waylon asks.

I turn to see what he’s referring to. He’s opening a dusty box I found at the back of a closet yesterday. It’s filled with trinkets, old photos, and yellowed papers that probably belonged to my grandfather.

“I found it yesterday,” I explain. “Some old family stuff, I think.”

He reaches into the box and pulls out an old ledger, its pages brittle and yellowed with age. As he flips through it, his expression changes, his eyes narrowing.

“Angelica,” he says, his voice tight. “What is this?”

I turn off the faucet and wipe my hands on a towel as I join him in the living room. I tense as I see the handwriting. “From the dates, I’d say it’s my great-grandfather’s ledger.”

Waylon’s eyes are stormy as he reads aloud. “‘Am now the proud owner of the south side of King Mountain. Swindled that Jeremiah at poker. Miscreant was so drunk he didn’t notice the card up my sleeve.’ He cheated in the card game. That’s how he won this side of King Mountain.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “Waylon, I...”

His gaze snaps to mine, anger and betrayal evident in his eyes. “Did you know about this?”

“No!” I exclaim, my voice trembling. “I swear, I had no idea.”

All the joy we woke up with this morning evaporates in an instant. It’s like we’re still being pulled apart by our families, even though we’re the only generation left.

Waylon stands abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “All this time, our families have been fighting, and it was all based on a lie. I knew it! My great-grandpa always said yours cheated in that game.”

“Waylon, please, you have to believe me. I didn’t know,” I plead, my heart breaking at the sight of his anger.

It’s painful to discover that his great-grandfather’s claims are true. He swore up and down that my great-grandfather cheated him out of half of his mountain. Everyone and their dog knew that story when I was growing up.

“How can I believe you?” he snaps, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Your family has been lying to us for generations.”

I stand, reaching out to him, but he steps back, the distance between us growing. “I’m not my great-grandfather,” I say desperately. “I didn’t do this.”

“But you’re still part of his family, Angelica,” he says, his voice softer but no less pained. “And this changes everything. I knew this wasn’t a good idea.”

“Waylon, don’t go,” I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes. “It doesn’t have to change anything between us.”

Waylon shoots me a look filled with so much hurt and anger that I physically cringe.

“I need some time to think,” he says, his tone final.

He quickly gathers his things and heads for the door, leaving me standing there, wondering if we truly are cursed, destined to have our hearts broken again by things that happened long before we were born.

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