Her eyes, pooling with tears, widen, and she nods.
And then it clicks.
It isn’t solely about the thought of suicide. It’s also about her integrity.
“You’re afraid you scammed the system? Is that it? That you took money you wouldn’t have gotten if his death had been ruled a suicide when you think it might have been.”
Another tear slips over and slides down her cheek. “I used it to pay the overdue accounts so I could try to make this work. I swear—”
“Shh,” I say, and when she goes to speak again, I brush my lips against hers to stop her.
“I didn’t have a choice. I took the money to pay off his debt. I only wanted to—”
“Shh,” I say again, my own guilt eating at me.
My own remorse simmering for so many damn reasons.
How easy would it be for me to hand her a check and take all this worry away from her? How simply I could pay this all off so that her worry and guilt and grief could be laid to rest? It would be as easy as putting pen to paper. It would make amends, but then what?
It isn’t as if doing that would solve my own issues. It isn’t as if doing that will stop the ball from rolling downhill when it is already on its way down.
“I know. I just—”
“In life, sometimes you have to do things you never thought you would to get by or to put one foot in front of the other until you can see straight again.”
This woman who can hold her own, can threaten to shoot you if need be, has survived every hostility this town has thrown at her before and after his death, but is reduced to a pile of tears over a possible lie that most people wouldn’t even blink an eye at.
Her honesty is astounding. The way it has wrecked her even more so.
“Tate.” I pull her against me and wrap my arms around her. She hesitates for a second, almost as if she doesn’t think she deserves my compassion, but then she slides her arms around my waist.
And we take a moment to just hold each other in the middle of her studio that reflects a past she’s been burned by, a future she has before her, and a man who isn’t quite sure how to deal with any of this.
For a man who doesn’t ever need shit like comfort or connection, her head under the curve of my neck, her arms wrapped around me, and the shudder of her hiccupped sobs against my chest feel pretty fucking good.
31
TATE
“Can you stop the bank from having people show up here unannounced?” I growl at Sheryl the minute she picks up the call.
“What—why—hi, Tatum. How are you today?”
“The lender had an appraiser show up here like they already own the place. He tried to tell me lenders appraising the property their loans are for is standard practice. I call bullshit. Jesus, Sheryl. He walked around without announcing himself or saying a damn word.”
The pure panic that hit me the moment I saw him talking to Sylvester comes back. How I sprinted across the pasture to prevent the appraiser from telling anyone the truth. How the anger rioted and shame washed over me in a violent wave when I pulled him away and told him he needed to get off my property.
Thank God Jack was at the hardware store and missed it.
“That shouldn’t be happening. I’m in regular contact with them. They know we’re trying to get you up to date on payments.”
“Well, it’s happening on a regular basis. Can you just assure them the land and ranch are still here and they haven’t gone anywhere so they can stop checking? Besides, they sent papers over but haven’t formally started proceedings so they have no right to be here. Hell, the paperwork said that it can take up to six months to begin . . . so let them know, this isn’t theirs yet. They can’t have it.”
“I’ll call them again.”
“Do that,” I snap and then sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch. I just don’t want the staff knowing.”
Her throaty laugh fills the line. “Yes, you did mean to be a bitch, but I know it wasn’t directed at me.” The sound of papers shuffling fills the line. “I’ll call them again. And I’ll let them know again, that we’re not just throwing our hands up and walking away.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
I end the call, lean against the wall of the stable at my back, and exhale my frustration.
“You don’t want the staff to know what?”
I jump at the sound of Jack’s voice and a startled yelp falls from my lips. “Jesus Christ, Jack. You scared the shit out of me.” I hold a hand to my heart to calm the panic of Jack overhearing any of that phone call.
“Just heading out to help Will.” He holds up his tool belt to prove his point but then narrows his gaze and takes a step closer. “Is everything okay?”
I nod. “Yes. Great. Fine.”
He glances around and then reaches out and runs his thumb over my cheek. “You know if you needed to talk to me, I’m here.” He drops his hand when Will laughs close by.
“I know.”
He offers a ghost of a smile. “You’re saying the words, Knox, but I’m not one for lip service. You need to mean them.”
“I’m fine.”
“If there were a problem, you know you could trust me with it. I’d help.”
My smile is tight as my guilt eats me whole. “No problem at all.”
He purses his lips and nods a few times. “Okay then.”
Jack walks down the path with a glance back before turning the corner so I can’t see him again.
Sagging against the building behind me, I wonder how much longer I can keep this hidden. How much longer will I be able to hold on and play the part that nothing is wrong?
The second anyone in town catches so much as a whiff of this, the Destin twins will be out for blood while the rest of the townspeople I work with will withhold their services, afraid I won’t be able to pay them. I won’t be able to keep it from Jack then.
My reputation may suck in this town, but my payables in Lone Star are up to date.
And that is what’s currently keeping this place afloat.
32
TATE
Something has shifted.
I’m not sure if it’s me or if it’s Jack, but after the night he saw my studio, something has changed between us.
I feared our little chat behind the stables might have changed that. That Jack would figure out I am keeping things from him, and it would shift our new dynamic.
But it didn’t.
Everything feels the same and yet so very different.
It’s as if I can finally breathe. His reassurances and the way he held me tight that night changed things, but I’m not quite sure if I can put my finger on how. Is it trust? Is it that I have someone I can confide in? Or is it that I finally have something to look forward to, like the little glances he sends my way when I least expect them.
“Will, when and if Steely wants to move forward, things are going to happen fast.”
“Ten-four, Jack,” Will says with a tip of his hat as he mucks out the stalls.
My hand runs down Ruby’s flank, the brush right after it as I murmur sweet nothings to her, but my mind is on Jack. It’s on what he just said and what might happen if the Steely Brothers want to take a chance on us.