I shift and hope maybe that made her smile, but fuck if I know. I’m in the dark about what she’s thinking, so I trudge on.
“By the time I landed, my father had died. Lauren’s texts were all over my phone the minute I turned it on. I was devastated. Ruined.” My voice breaks with emotion, and I pause for a moment. “What I didn’t know was he’d left me a voicemail while I was in flight. It’s still on my phone right now. One sec, I’ll play it for you.”
I pick up my phone and navigate to my saved voicemails, pushing the speaker button just after I push play.
“Jack.” My father’s voice booms through the speaker, and chills chase down my spine hearing it. “There’s so much to say to you and not enough time to say it. It’s something I should have said a long time ago, but I was too proud and you’re too stubborn . . . I love you, son.
You were always my shining light. You never knew it, but you were. Yes, I was tough on you, and I hope you can forgive me for that, but this is a brutal business. I pushed you so that you would go out on your own and become your own man. I wanted you to harden and grow tough. I needed you to trust your instincts and rely on yourself.
Of course, I let you think I didn’t want you to leave.
But I did.
I knew you’d step into my shoes one day, and I needed you to be taught the things I never was. That when the sun sets, it’s you who has to lie in the bed with the decisions you make every day. It’s you who has to be confident they are the right ones even when everyone else thinks they are wrong.
I’m proud of you, son. Of what you’ve accomplished on your own. Of what you’ll accomplish when I’m gone. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you that face-to-face.
Time has a way of creeping up on all of us. Of running out on us when we only want one more minute . . . one more second. I wish I had those with you. I wish I had a do-over so I could see you live the day-to-day, knowing how proud I am of you.
Come back to the ranch, don’t come back to the ranch—you do whatever’s best for you. But the ranch is yours. Every last bit of it. There’s more than enough set aside for Lauren and the kids, so don’t you worry about taking care of them.
One last thing. You promised me you’d make your amends, and I’m holding you to that. I know your word is good . . . but I have one I need you to help me make too. The executor has an envelope for Fletcher. It’s a payoff. I know, I know. You’re mad at me for that, but I had a paternity test done anyway, and he’s mine. If he takes the money, then he waives all rights to any claim of anything from the estate. The amount is small in the grand scheme of things and it gives me peace of mind that he won’t be able to come after you or your inheritance—that my mistakes won’t haunt your future.
So two promises, Jack: Make amends and pay the asshole off.
And remember I love you. I always have. I always will.”
“I hope you could hear that,” I say when the voice mail ends. “I hope you’re still there because there’s more to tell.”
There’s a shift against the door, and I feel like that’s her way of telling me she’s still there. That it’s her way of letting me know she’s listening.
“My father died two weeks before Fletcher did, and after months in probate and legal channels, and even more time spent trying to track you down . . . well, you know the rest.”
The lock at my back turns.
I scramble up as the door swings open.
Tate’s cheeks are splotchy and her eyes are bloodshot, but at least she’s standing there.
“I don’t know the rest. How can I?” Her voice has so much hurt and betrayal woven within every single thread of it that I don’t know how to answer her. “You came here to pay off your dead brother, and what? Saw me and thought you’d fuck over his widow instead? You thought you’d get back at him by messing with me?”
“Fuck her over?” I choke on my disbelief. “I came here to fulfill the promise I made to him and the promise I made to myself. I helped save this place. It was like kismet. You were struggling and looking to hire help. I saw the ad, and I swear to you I felt like my dad had set it all up ahead of time. How can you even begin to consider all that we did here on the ranch as me trying to fuck you over?” I try not to sound defensive because I’m more aware than anyone that I don’t have a leg to stand on.
If I weren’t aware, all I would have to do is look at Tate to know that.
“Not the ranch. Not the business. Me.” Her chin quivers as she fights back tears, and it guts me. Absolutely guts me. “You let this happen, Jack. You caused this.”
“Tate . . .”
“You made me believe you. You made me believe in me. You made me hope. You made me dream the dream that wasn’t really mine.” She hiccups back a sob. “You made me love you. Even worse, you made me trust you when I swore I’d never be able to trust again . . . so yeah, you fucked me over.”
I watch a single tear slip down her cheek and know there’s nothing I can say to fix this, at least not in the heat of the moment . . . maybe not even a few hours removed from my sister and her bullshit.
So I tell her the truth.
“You’re right. I did all of those things. I saw you that first day on the porch with your hand on your hip and your threat to shoot me and I knew my brother didn’t deserve a fucking ounce of your love. Not fucking one.”
“It doesn’t change a thing, Jack. You still lied. You still—”
“I was wrong.” I run a hand through my hair to try to find something to say to get her to hear me. “I was determined to hate you at first sight. Sure, we’d talked on the phone and you had offered me the position, but I expected to look at you and know you were just as much of an asshole as your husband was. I thought I could show up and walk away and that might be enough to convince my conscience that I had tried to make good with what I’d promised my father.” I itch to reach out and touch her. I crave any kind of connection with her but know she won’t have it. I’ll have to make it through words. “But there was something about you, Tate. I don’t know if it was your beauty, the pain in your eyes, the defiance in your posture . . . but there was something about you that told me I should stay and see for myself exactly who you were.”
Her hand grips the doorknob so tightly it creaks under the pressure, but I see her bottom lip quiver. “I meant what I said. I need you to go.”
Tears course down her cheeks, the pain I caused in every single track they leave.
“You don’t mean that.”
She nods. “I do.” But her eyes say differently. “Please be gone in the morning.”
“I love you.”
She physically rejects the words with the grimace on her face, a hitch of her breath, the shake of her head.
“I know,” she whispers. “I believe you . . . but . . . but I lived a life with a man who thought it was okay to lie to me. It didn’t start that way, but it morphed into it. When he died, I promised myself never again. I told myself I deserve better. So I can’t . . . I won’t allow myself to walk into a relationship that’s been a lie since the beginning.”
She hiccups over a sob.