Page 74 of Eight Second Hearts

“I don’t force her to do anything,” I grunt. “She can leave at any time. Let that old man rot as far as I’m concerned.” I blow out a puff of air. “Except. . . he’s still my dad, I guess. So yeah,maybe I’ve been an asshole and said some shitty things to Darla. I probably could have been a better big brother, but. . . I was busy trying to survive. For every time he neglected Darla, his attention was on me instead. If I wasn’t good enough, I didn’t get. . . I didn’t get to eat. If not for Maria, I’d have probably starved.”

“What about your grandpa?” she asks.

“Ah, yes. The source of the fucking legacy,” I growl. “Yeah, he was an asshole, but you know what, he treated me better than my dad did.”

Beau nods. “He knew Tripp was gonna be the real legacy.”

“That he did,” I say bitterly. “They wanted me to be the best, and when I surpassed Dad’s skill, he never forgave me for that. When I surpassed Grandpa, well. . . Grandpa was at least proud, even if he expected more because of it.” I gesture to Beau and Ram. “It was my job to keep their attention on me, so those two didn’t get the worst of the treatment.”

Indie’s face tightens. “So you took their anger on yourself.”

“I carried the burden so no one else had to, and I’d choose to do it again,” I admit. “I’m strong enough to carry it.”

“But you were just a child,” she says. “Your spine wasn’t developed enough to be their pillar.”

Her words stab me. I even press my hand against my chest to make sure I’m not bleeding. Fuck. I rub there just in case and have to clear my throat to keep speaking.

“There’s something really fucked about feeling like that house is where I had the worst years of my life,” I rasp. “And also, I was loved there, once. My mom was nothing like that man. I still don’t understand what she saw in him, or even if she ever loved him. It’s never really made sense.”

“Why keep coming back here?” she asks genuinely. “Why not let the ranch go if it holds so much pain?”

I shrug. “Duty, maybe. Maybe some part of me believes in the legacy.” My face scrunches up. “Maybe I’m still trying to contort myself back into the shape of a dutiful child. I don’t really know. But. . . it feels wrong. And there are other people who depend on this place as much as I hate it.”

“A heavy legacy,” she breathes. “You three carry a lot with you.”

I swallow thickly. “I couldn’t hold the weight if not for Beau and Ram. I’d have tapped out a long time ago. Honestly. Them and Bilbo.” I pet the dog in question where he lies curled up against me, the blanket I’d been using wrapped up around him rather than me. He deserves to not be cold. I don’t really think I do.

Her expression softens. “Sometimes, that’s enough to keep us going.” She shrugs. “I once forced myself forward through a war zone because I’d bought a Venus fly trap, and I was worried no one else would remember to feed it. At least your reasons have a heartbeat.”

Despite the heavy subject, I laugh. “Did you get back to feed it?”

“Yeah,” she admits. “But I killed it anyway. Apparently, I gave it too much water.”

And if that doesn’t tell me the kind of person Indie Chen is, I don’t know what does. The woman who went through a war zone to make sure she fed her Venus fly trap. The woman who cared so much, she didn’t know when to stop watering.

For that alone, I promise myself to try. For her.

If I don’t, she’ll take on the weight I can’t. They all will. And I will no longer let them drown while I use them to tread water. I want her to stay. I want her here for as long as she’s willing.

So, for the journalist who came into my life like a stubborn bull, I’ll face my fears.

I’ll face my father.

Chapter 44

Indie

The power comes back on sometime between us gorging ourselves on Tripp’s Cowboy Caviar and Beau jokingly roasting marshmallows in the fireplace. Thankfully, the heater kicks on and the whole house starts getting more comfortable, but we leave the fireplace going just in case.

The snow stops for a little while, but only enough for us to see just how much has built up around the house.

“I should probably go check on the bulls in the barn,” Tripp mutters. “No one else will be able to get there.”

“How far is that?” I ask.

“Ten-minute walk without the snow. Probably fifteen depending on the drifts,” he admits. “The barn is temperature controlled and has its own massive generator, but the bulls need food. The Barn Manager don’t live on the ranch, so no one will be able to get in until the roads are cleared.”

I stand up and dust off my jeans. “I’ll come with you,” I offer.

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