Page 119 of The Talk of Coyote Canyon

“As you can imagine, she was upset when she left the diner.” He gestured at the house. “But it’s completely dark inside, so she must not have come home.”

“Her truck’s here,” Hendrix informed him.

“You think she’s inside?”

“I can’t imagine she’d go anywhere else—except maybe Anaconda to talk to her mother. But she’d need her truck for that.”

“I guess you’ve already tried knocking...”

“Many times.”

“So...what do you think we should do? I could go over to the diner and stand in for Talulah so she could—”

“No,” Hendrix interrupted. “Let me check inside the house before you do anything.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Since she won’t come to the door, I’ll have to break in.”

Brant sucked air in between his teeth. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

If he had to break down walls to reach her, he’d break down walls. After all, that was what he’d been doing so far—they just hadn’t been quite as physical as the ones on her house. “We’ll soon see,” he said, and Brant followed and watched as he got a crowbar from the tool chest in his truck and used it to force open the back door.

Ellen had hoped she could hide out in her room, under the covers, and close out the whole world for a while. According to the internet, an accredited lab should take only one to two business days to return DNA results once all samples had been received, so depending on how Stuart had decided to ship their swabs, she had at least three days to wait for some indication of who she was—or who she wasn’t.

That sounded like an eternity, an eternity during which she didn’t feel she could move forward with her life. She’d built her entire foundation—as well as her career—on believing she was Stuart Fetterman’s daughter. If that wasn’t true, would she be relieved? Glad to have that conflict removed?

Or would she suddenly feel rudderless? Would she then have the former neighbor take a paternity test?

No. What would be the point of that? She didn’t want a relationship with him. He was nothing to be proud of. At least in some ways she’d been proud of Stuart—how hard he’d worked and what he’d established. She’d looked up to him for those things in spite of what he’d done to her.

There were other considerations, too. What would be left of her relationship with her mother? Or her career? If she had nothing to prove to Stuart, would she continue drilling water wells? If not, how would she earn a living while she transitioned to something else?

She’d been foolish to be so happy about Hendrix. What chance did a relationship with him really have? He’d been fired because of her and had to resent it. If not now, he soon would. They’d joked about having him come to work for her—orwithher—but she couldn’t offer him what he’d had with the Fettermans. Considering all their equipment and the extensive book of past clients which had taken thirty or more years to build and from which they’d get a lot of their future business, he’d be taking a huge loss.

She needed to stay away from him. He’d be much better off without her. She’d heard him pounding on the door and ringing the doorbell but hadn’t been able to make herself get out of bed. She assumed he’d leave eventually—and move on as if the past few weeks had never occurred. It was early in their relationship. He probably wouldn’t have to think twice. Evenhehad to know he’d be a fool to continue to pursue so much as a friendship with her.

But just when she thought he’d left, she heard a loud bang—it sounded as though a bulldozer had crashed into the back of the house—and sprang out of bed.

“What are you doing?” she cried as she ran down the hall and found him in her kitchen.

He didn’t have to answer. She could see what he’d done. He’d broken her back door. It was flapping open, and Brant stood just outside, in the halo coming from the light Hendrix must’ve turned on.

“You broke into my house?” she said. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I’ll let you handle this,” Brant said with a wince. “And I’ll tell Talulah that Ellen is fine, but you might not be.”

Brant left, but Hendrix remained. He tried to get the door to shut and couldn’t manage it because of the damage he’d caused. He turned to give her a sheepish look. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix that, I promise. I was just...worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Her face had to be red and her eyes swollen, which was part of the reason she hadn’t answered the door. She didn’t want him to see her like this; it was embarrassing. But she was also angry enough to tell herself she didn’t care. “If I’d wanted you to come in, I would’ve answered the door.”

“Ellen...” He moved toward her, but she held up a hand to stop him from getting too close.

“Don’t. We can’t make it, Hendrix. We were stupid to even try. You lost your job today because ofme! How long will you be willing to live with that kind of treatment before you...before you...”

“What?” he prompted.

“Realize I’m not worth it?” she blurted out. Why not be honest?

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