Page 10 of Choose You

I lift my head, and my mouth falls open as I take in my first look at the house. I’d expected to find my childhood home a little run down and in need of repair. But it looks well-maintained, like the welcoming home it had always been when I was a kid—fresh paint, new porch furniture, and a new stone path from the driveway to the porch. There are even flowers blooming in the planters Mom asked Dad to build when I was a kid. I was seven, maybe eight, when she’d asked for those for Mother’s Day. Ryan was too little to help, but Dad taught me how to finish them in the deep brown stain that contrasted perfectly with our two story, white house.

Movement catches my eye near the big oak tree in our front yard. A tire swing still hangs from the same large branch that sweeps over the yard, and the same bench is still sitting in the shade.

A little girl, no more than three or four is sitting on the swing, now still, watching me. And someone who looks very similar to Matthew’s mother, Rosie, is sitting on the bench.

My heart rate kicks up again, and my chest suddenly feels so heavy I can’t breathe. This has to be a bad dream—a nightmare ofthe worst kind. Any second now I’ll wake up and all of this will go away.

I turn my face away from the little girl with long dark hair the same color as Matthew’s, and my eyes fall on the old barn and stable. Though, it doesn’t look old anymore. It’s been completely overhauled and converted into a veterinary clinic.

Along the top of the stable doors is a sign that reads, Langdon Veterinary Hospital. “What the actual fuck?”

I drop my hands in my face and mumble, “This can’t be happening.”

Why would Uncle Jimmy do this to me? I’d always told him no matter what happened to the vineyard, I wanted to keep the house. Always. I have too many memories in this house with my parents and friends, and even Matthew, to ever let it go. I can’t believe he let Matthew take it over like my wants and needs meant nothing.

I wipe my face dry and take a deep breath. I need time to figure out what all this means. There’s no way I can reach a decision on the best path forward until I’m in a better emotional state.

My car door swings open, and I let out a startled yelp. Matthew is standing on the other side.

“Jess, please don’t do this here. Not in front of my little girl.” His expression is tense, and his eyes are filled with concern.

The look on his face only feeds my anger, and I push him away. I hop out of my car and approach him, my finger poking him in his chest. “And what exactly don’t you want me to do, Matt? Tell you what an asshole you are? Tell you that my uncle and brother lied to me? Or would you prefer I tell you how empty I feel, knowing that everyone in this God forsaken town knew about this and apparently thought it was okay? This,” I point at my house, my anger boiling over, “isnotokay. You can’t live here. This ismyhouse.”

“Please, keep it down.” He looks over my shoulder toward the big oak tree, but I don’t bother following his gaze.

“I will not keep it down,” I say even louder than before. “All this required was a fucking phone call.” I cringe as those words come out. Because Uncle Jimmy did call, and I never answered. My words lose a little steam after that realization hits me. “Even a note would’vegotten my attention. But no. You went on with life as you saw fit without any regard to my feelings or needs.”

I expect him to yell back—to beg me to stop yelling in front of his daughter again, but he doesn’t. Matthew’s shoulders drop. He looks defeated. “Uncle Jimmy said he told you. You have to know I never would’ve moved forward with this if I had known you didn’t know.”

“Why should I believe you? Everything you’ve ever told me has been a lie. Not once have you ever just asked me what I wanted. Your choices made my decisions for me with zero regard for what I actually wanted. Why would I believe forone secondthat you took me into consideration before moving into my house?”

He lets out a deep exhale. “Not everything was a lie, Jess.”

There’s so much pain and anguish in the way he looks at me that it almost calms me down. Almost. But I remember all the pain and heartache he’s caused me, and my anger regains control.

“Matt, this is my house. I don’t care what my uncle told you. I need you to get out. I will never sell this house to you.”

“Daddy?” The panicked voice of a little girl cries behind me. When I turn around, I come face-to-face with a young version of Matthew’s eyes, sharp nose, and gentle frown. Seeing his daughter up close only sticks that knife deeper into my chest.

Tears are streaming down her face. Matthew rushes past me and swoops her into his arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

“But she said we have to get out.” She wraps her little arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest. The way he holds her and comforts her breaks me even more. I’d dreamed about starting a family with Matthew. We talked about having kids and raising them together on this land. A fresh batch of tears run down my cheeks. That should be my daughter he comforts, not some other woman's child.

He turns an angry eye to me. “Thanks, Jess,” he says with frustration. “You can say whatever you want to me. I know I deserve it, but I will not have you upsetting Emmie. This has nothing to do with her.”

His words come out harsh and demanding, and I take a step back.For once he’s right. Whatever happened between us has nothing to do with his little girl. She’s innocent in all of this.

Needing to get away from him, I turn toward the forested area bordering my property and run. I don’t really have a plan when I start, I just know I have to get as far away from him as I possibly can. As soon as I hit the treeline, my feet carry me toward the creek. When I was a kid, this was my place of solitude. I escaped to the creek anytime I needed to think or be alone or wallow in my sorrows.

And I definitely have lots to wallow in today.

CHAPTER 4

MATTHEW

Ihold Emmie close and whisper calming words into her ear. I hate that she heard Jessica and me fighting. She doesn’t need to see that kind of shit. No kid does.

The first twelve years of my life were filled with nothing but fights. First, it was daily screaming matches between my mom and the boyfriend she had at the time. Every day it was something. Either he wasn’t giving her enough attention, or she burned dinner. Regardless, the fights were loud and often violent.

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