44
RHETT
My eyes fly open.
“Son of a bitch.”
The throbbing in my temple isn’t one I’m used to. I never drink more than a beer or two, but last night, I had a wild hair up my ass and thought several shots of whiskey would help me make sense of my financial troubles.
It didn’t.
Groaning as I sit up on my father’s worn couch that I don’t really fit on, I squint into the early morning light.
I probably slept more last night than I have in several days put together, but the whiskey didn’t do me any favors.
Then I see it in my head. That conversation with Paige comes back to me like a flickering old movie.
I see the pain in her eyes.
The pain I put there.
The rejection.
The devastation.
Did I really tell her to go to Florida?
Shutting my eyes, I try to remember our conversation last night. I cringe as I replay it in my head.
She asked if I loved her, and I asked her if she needed cash?
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Fuck, I’m an idiot.
Truth be told, I’ve been an asshole since that damn festival downtown. Why do I always shut down when there’s trouble? Why didn’t I come home that night, scoop Paige off my fucking couch, and tuck her into bed with me? Why didn’t I return for lunch the next day? Even with sick cows, even with the financial pit I’m dealing with, I owe my wife that respect.
Why did I let distance grow between us?
Since the moment I heard she got that job, I’ve been steeling myself for her announcement that she’s changed her mind and is leaving. That she thinks I’m too hard to live with, too demanding, too difficult to love. That living out on this ranch isn’t as easy as she thought it would be. That I’m about to be broke and homeless, and that’s not what she signed up for.
But that’s shit Amber would’ve spouted at me.
Those are the arguments my mother had with my father.
Those are the ghosts that linger in this house.
Not something my sweet Paige has said.
My ex-wife yanked me around more times than I can count. One day she hated me, the next she never wanted to leave. When I filed for divorce, she wailed and screamed in my face that she loved me even though she’d fucked Cash and Kacey and God knows who else.
I stagger to my feet. I need to apologize. I need to find Paige, fall on my knees, and beg for her forgiveness. If she wants to go, it will grind up what’s left of my heart, but I’ll understand and support her.
Except I have to tell her that’s not what I want. I have to tell her that I love her with every fiber of my being, and if she’ll stay, I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy.
With a new resolve, I stagger down the hall and fling open the bedroom door. It looks like a tornado swept through here.
“Paige?” I peek in the bathroom. It’s empty.
