“I can explain,” she offers weakly. The words crash into me like the ramming of a steer. I’ve heard that phrase before.
“Putting aside the personal humiliation for a second, did you know that story damn near cost us our farm? People didn’t want to do business with us.”
I stare at Scarlett, whose mouth opens but thankfully shuts just as quickly.
“MoosHaveRights2, an animal activist group, got that video and investigated. Somewhere, your reporting suggested that mud was shit our milkers were walking through, dragging their teats in the muck, making them unsanitary producers. We had to have multiple inspections and hormone tests, which the FDA is very strict about, proving we weren’t doing anything to alter our milk after collected. We also had additional health inspections of our cows, our barns, and that backfield, all at our expense.”
“I’m sorry,” she mutters.
“Sorry?” I snap, exasperated at the weakness of that word. “This is the kind of reporter you were?” As soon as I’ve asked, I raise a hand because I don’t want an answer. “Do you have any idea how mortifying that was? It looks like I fucked a cow.”
“Bull,” my brother warns, shifting his eyes to Joey still seated on the couch. Ignoring him, I continue.
“Your Insider team didn’t do their homework, or they’d know that mud was caused by heavy rains and a flooded field. Cows are not the sharpest of animals and slow to move in the mud. I was trying to move them along. That calf followed its mother but got stuck. Cows will leave their babes behind. I had to wade through that sh . . . muck to get him out of there. Ever pick up a calf when you’re ankle deep in sucking mud, Scarlett?”
I don’t bother to wait for an answer. “I’m strong, but calves are heavy, especially if they’re stuck as well. You have no footing or leverage, and when I lost my boot in that crap, we tumbled over, and he fell on top of me. My last resort before he trampled me into the mud was to push him over. Luckily, he found solid ground and scrambled off.”
I heave a deep breath before I continue.
“MoosHaveRights2 wanted to go after me for animal abuse as it looks like I tossed that calf off me after he humped me.” I cup both hands behind my neck. “Or was it I humped an animal? Despite your disgusting bestiality claims, I care about my animals. I would never hurt them, but you wouldn’t know that, would you? Only looking for a story, weren’t you? As if digging into my love life hadn’t been bad enough? Making a mockery of my misery wasn’t enough for you. Is that what you’re doing here?” My heart races at the sudden possibility. “Are you here to investigate me again? Are you looking for more on the Bovine Bridegroom?”
Everything in me tells me not to believe it could be true, but I’m so wound up by the images and her voice reporting that bullshit.
“Here’s your inside scoop from someone who knows him best.” I slap at my chest hard as I reference myself. “It was the man left at the altar angle you wanted first, right? Well, he’ll never be in that position again. He’ll never be a groom. He’ll never be anywhere near a wedding. Not ever. He will not be left behind. He’s no longer on those dating apps because he can’t trust anyone. And as for the cows on my land, you keep your nose out of a business you don’t understand. This isn’t Dirty Dairy, or whatever the fuck you think you’ll call us next. This is my property, my family, and you won’t find your follow-up story with us.”
My chest heaves as I watch tears stream down Scarlett’s face. With thick lashes, her makeup is a river of black down her cheeks. Her head lowers, and her hands clench together, making her look repentant, but I have no forgiveness in me. That fucking cockamamie story they cooked up when it was a slow day in the newsroom caused a scandal—a real scandal.
My heart races so fast I turn back to the couch, bending at the waist to place my hands on the back of the furniture to catch my breath. This cannot be happening. I could not be such a poor judge of character again. I brought a woman into my home who nearly decimated my family and me with preposterous reporting and lies.
Glancing up, I realize we’ve gathered more of an audience. Canyon stands near the entrance of the family room from the front hall, and my dad stands beside him.
“I’m so sorry,” Scarlett repeats behind me. The words tremble in her faltering voice, but I close my eyes. I can’t look at her right now. How could she report such a thing? How could this have been her career? How could she destroy the lives of people she didn’t even know?
We should keep our distance. Is this how she’d done it?
Closing my eyes is a mistake. Behind my lids, I see two things—a mixture of the woman on the screen, chuckling as she tugs at her glasses and the woman who was under me this morning, filling my heart with her tenderness as we joined as one. I shudder and quickly reopen my eyes, focusing on my hands curled over the back of the couch, veins extended with my anger. This is worse than being divorced, left at the altar, or a broken engagement to a thief. This is my heart being ripped out of my chest as the woman I thought I loved, who I brought into my family, who might be carrying my kid . . .
I spin to face her, and my insides twist like a snowstorm, cold and out of control. “I think you should leave.”
Blade gasps beside Scarlett, and she slowly nods, looking up at him with dark, tearstained cheeks. Her lids blink before she looks back at me, but I instantly turn away. Shifting to my right, Canyon has his head lowered as well, shaking it side to side in disbelief. I find my father staring at Scarlett, his eyes full of concern.
“Don’t look at her,” I snap. Does my father not remember all that happened? We almost lost this place. People didn’t want our milk. The slaughterhouse didn’t even want the cows we had to sell to cover the legal costs. Farms tied to MoosHaveRights2 didn’t want to sell us new heifers at first because they were skeptical of our practices. Generations of dairy farming were almost down the drain by a careless story.
Dad’s eyes shift and narrow at me. In the background, Scarlett’s sandals tap on the hardwood floor as she exits the room, and I watch as my dad disappears into the front hall. Left in silence, my brothers remain as the quiet support they’ve always been. The dairy king’s men were ready to put my heart back together again. Only this time, I’m not certain they can.
14
Gossip Girl
Scarlett
I trip over my own feet as I stumble down the gravel lane. A pebble gets stuck between my toes, and I try to bend forward to remove it, struggling with the added weight and bulge of my belly before jiggling my foot in the sandal. I flap my ankle around until the small rock flips free, and I can continue forward.
I recall the story as I walk. The reason the Eaton name sounded vaguely familiar returns to me. The report was three summer’s old. We’d gotten word of a man who’d been stood up at the altar similar in fashion to the Runaway Bride. Three times he’d been left behind, and we wanted to know why. Based on his picture, I remember the girls in the office wondering what could be wrong with him. He was good-looking, solidly built, and had a glint to his eye. We’d come up with several hypotheses as to how a man such as him could be alone, and none of the possibilities were flattering. We didn’t know the truth—that behind the image of a handsome silver fox was a good man who’d had bad luck with women.