Page 34 of Whiskey Moon

“Is everything okay?” Worry lines spread across her forehead. Ten years later and this woman can still read me like a book.

The sound of boots scuffing on gravel pull my attention toward Wyatt as he makes his way closer.

“I should get going,” I tell her.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” she asks when I climb into my car. I start the engine and roll down my window, stealing a glance at Wyatt, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me for a second.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I say.

She tuts. “That’s too bad. How much longer will you be in town?”

“At least another week.” I could stay longer if I wanted, but seeing as how my father is on the mend and I’m getting nowhere with Wyatt, what’s the point?

“Let her leave, Mama,” he interjects. “She’s got places to go and people to see. Can’t keep her all to yourself.”

Renata cups my cheek. “All right. I won’t keep you. Just promise you’ll visit one more time before you go back, okay?”

How could I say no to that?

“I promise.” I speak to her, though I’m looking at her son. Unlike him, I plan to keep mine.

She backs away, giving me a quick wave as I pull onto the drive.

I drive home in silence.

I’m not sure what I was thinking, believing I could lasso myself back into his life with a few funny stories, some quality time, and a banana nut muffin.

As soon as I get home, I sneak upstairs and grab a shower and a change of clothes before meeting my dad downstairs for our walk date. Only it isn’t my father waiting for me at the front door—it’s Odette.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask.

Her face is pale and her eyes are glassy.

“He took another fall this morning … they’re running more tests … I tried to call you several times.” Her voice is curt.

I haven’t looked at my phone once all day—that and cell service can be spotty at the ranch, especially the closer we are to the mountains.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t know,” I say.

“I just came back to grab a few of his things before I head back if you care to ride along with me,” she says. Her voice is shaking. Maybe she does love him? Maybe he isn’t just a companion benefactor?

“Of course,” I say. “I’ll drive.”

Her lower lip trembles. “Thank you, Blaire. That would be nice.”

Odette follows me to my rental car, and she doesn’t say a word until we’re five miles from Greenspout.

“How did he fall?” I ask.

She clears her throat, picking at a loose thread in her cashmere cardigan. “He was retrieving a box from the attic. A box of your mother’s things.”

I grip the steering wheel, not sure of what to say. Odette has always been jealous of the woman who came before her, and my father has always done his best to make sure she feels like his wife and not his wife’s replacement.

“He knows better than to climb on ladders after what happened last week,” she says. “I don’t understand why he’s being so reckless. He says he just … blacked out … I was in the kitchen and I heard a loud crash. I ran upstairs and found him lying face down on the floor, disoriented just like the last time.”

She shakes her head, twisting her wedding band before threading her fingers together.

“He’s going to be fine.” My knuckles fade to white against the steering wheel. “He has to be.”

He’s the backbone of this family.

I can’t imagine what my life would be like without him in it.

18

Wyatt

* * *

Blaire doesn’t show on Thursday—not that I expected her to. I finish my morning chores and head to the house for a quick lunch. The rumble of a car down our road steals my attention for a second, but it’s only the mail carrier.

“So what happened with Blaire yesterday?” Mama asks once I’m inside.

“Nothing at all.” I opt not to explain that Blaire asked to see the line shack and as soon as I told her it wasn’t a good idea, she went off on me and left. It was for the best anyway. We couldn’t keep doing this. It’s too risky for her to come around here. If her father hasn’t caught on yet, he will soon.

“Mm hm,” she says under her breath as she pours two glasses of iced tea. Taking a seat, she rests her elbows on the table and looks me square in the face. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“All right.”

“You told me your breakup was a mutual thing,” she says. “But Blaire told me you just … wrote her off.” Mama flicks her wrist. “Care to tell me what really happened?”

I grab a sandwich from the platter before me. “No.”

She huffs. “You lied to me. You know how I feel about liars.”

---