Page 24 of Wild Horses

If my truck were moving, I probably would’ve driven into a ditch at his half-hearted apology. “What?”

“I made a…” He pauses as if whatever he has to say is caught in his throat. “A mistake. I’d like to see you. To meet in person. For the two of us to talk things over. See if we can’t figure something out.” His voice breaks, and for a fraction of a second, I almost believe he means it.

“Figure what out? You told me you’d disown me over helping my sister after you tried to push her into a marriage with the man who released pictures of her without her consent. You backed him over your daughter.”

“So did you at first,” he snaps, sounding much more like the Warren Phillips I know.

“Yes, and I was wrong. So fucking wrong.”

“I’m not going to be around forever. Phillips Construction is your future. It was always meant to be yours.”

I sidestep the guilt trip. “If I remember correctly, you said there was nothing that said the company had to stay in the family.”

My father clears his throat, and I can picture him in his ostentatious study, fingers drumming on his expensive desk, my mother fluttering around him, eavesdropping. “It was the heat of the moment.”

My mother’s muffled words come through the line. “Ask him again, Warren.”

“Your mother and I feel it would be best for us to talk in person. I’m sure you don’t want to come to Dallas, and I won’t be coming there.”

The scoff is out of my mouth before I can stifle it. “No, I can’t imagine you would.”

There’s a brief shuffle, and then my mom’s voice rings over the speaker. “War, baby, please. Meet your dad in Lubbock. It’s halfway between you. Neutral. The two of you can talk things over, and we can move forward and put this whole ugly… situation behind us.”

“A conversation isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Don’t say that! We’re a family,” Mom pushes. When the silence stretches between us, she can’t help but add, “Do you know how embarrassing this is for us?”

And there it is.

“So none of this is actually about Tuesday or me. It’s about you. Like always. Let me guess: the shareholders want to know why both of your children left the company? And your friends at the club are asking why they didn’t see us over the holidays?”

When neither of my parents answer, I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. My bitter laugh sounds in the quiet of my car. “So, thanks for the call. It’s been great chatting, but I have to get to work.”

“Warren!” The desperation in how my father says my name keeps me from ending the call, but I don’t answer him. He quickly fills in the silence between us. “Dinner. A drink. Lubbock, four days from now. Just give me a chance to talk things through.”

The tightness in my chest that eased over the past few months comes roaring back, gripping my lungs like a vise.The first thrums of a headache pound in my temple, but I don’t hang up. In a stranger’s voice, I say, “Drinks. That’s all.”

And I hate myself for it.

Tuesday

Hey, where are you? The crew is going to The Great Dane for karaoke and Flocked Up Flamingos

I’m in Lubbock

???

Why on earth are you in Lubbock?

I scrub a hand through my messy hair. It hangs limp, almost covering my eyes. Shoving it out of my face, I replay the many practice conversations I had with myself preparing for this. None of them are good enough.

I’m sorry. I’m meeting Dad.

…

The dots bounce and disappear until I can’t take it anymore.

It’s not what you think. I promise. He begged me to hear him out. I’m here for one drink to see what he has to say. That’s all.

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