He might be a ghost from my past, but I never wanted to leave things unresolved, and if he's here to collect on words I left unspoken, I'll be damned if he hears them from anyone else.
"How is it you always weasel your way out of being a shitty excuse for a best friend?" Fisher says as he pours a second glass of bourbon from Baylor's small batch.
"I'm not trying to weasel my way out of anything. I don'tdeserve your brotherhood, and I wouldn't hold it against you if you walked out of this silo and never spoke to me again. It's what I've earned, what I deserve." I twirl the amber hair of the dog in my glass before tossing it back.
"You've become really good at deciding what you think you deserve." He sets the bottle down. "But you don't get to be the judge and executioner." He takes a look around the refurbished silo that's been converted into a private tasting room for Baylor's bourbon. "So now what?"
"What do you mean?" I tap my glass on the counter.
"You're surely not returning to how things have been. You're going to tell her."
"No," I say curtly.
"London, she deserves to know. She may not have asked it yet, but she will. What are you planning to do, then? Lie? You're telling me you can really stand there and look her square in the eye and lie?"
"No," I grind out, reaching for the bottle of bourbon.
"Are you going to say something more than no?" This time, I don't say anything. I can't lie to him any more than I can lie to Laney. "You have to tell her. You can't just take her choice away."
"Choice?" I question with a wince, swallowing my freshly poured bourbon too soon.
"Yes, choice. That truth, the one that's kept you away from her…from me…from everyone…" His hurt eyes find mine. "It wouldn't have changed things for her. I know it."
Every day, the ghosts of my decisions feel more like a physical burden than a mental one. His proposition dangles the possibility of erasure. Yet, I've made peace with my past choices. The pain remains. It's a constant companion I've embraced, acknowledging what will forever be lost and what was gained. I'll continue to shoulder the burden, not for certainty, but for that singular, haunting "IF" that promises everything while guaranteeing nothing. Causing Laney any more pain is not an option.
"I can understand why you made the choice you did, but thatdoesn't mean I agree. I want to know why you cut me out too? I would have been there for you in a heartbeat. Anything you needed, I would have made it happen, but you cut me out like I was nothing."
I sent everyone a letter with the help of Sheriff Townsend shortly after I left so that they would stop pestering the Willow Creek police department. My letters could have been written with more care. Out of all my choices, I wish I had handled those differently. They were supposed to be my last words to people I cared about, and they were shit. I know it's not a consolation, but I wasn't in a good place either, and words were hard to come by without sending me into a dark place that threatened to consume me.
"Not saying more than what I did is something I regret most, but it never had anything to do with you. Laney needed you. I didn't."
"I'd say you're a little wrong about that last part. It's been a few years since I last saw you, but it's going to take a little bit more than playing cowboys and screwing pretty girls that ride horses to convince me that you're out here living your best life. I'm not leaving."
"You work in Paris," I counter.
"I can work from anywhere. Besides, I was always supposed to end up in Louisville. I'm the one who convinced my father to send me to Paris to start participating in races there. He's wanted me to come here for years, and now I'm wondering if it's not because he knew you were here all along."
"I wouldn't know. We don't discuss what happened when I talk to my dad." I reach behind the bar and grab a tin of roasted nuts. "Let me ask you something. Growing up, your dad never hid the business from you, and Sydney and you always knew you'd take it over one day. Did you know about this place? Did you know my family's ranch was your sole breeder?"
His brows pull together as he runs his hands over his five o'clock shadow. "I didn't look at the books back then, and whenwe came to Louisville, we never visited Bardstown, but I had met your uncle. When my father introduced us, I was young, and they addressed each other by first name. After graduating and being pulled into everything, I noticed the breeder was listed as Baylor Hale, Hale Ranch. Considering our father's friendship, I assumed there was a relationship, but I had no idea he was your uncle." I toss a handful of nuts in my mouth before he steals the can, taking a heaping handful for himself. "What's the story there? How come you didn't know about this place?"
"It's a saga, and I need carbs," I say, getting up from the bar.
"Good thing I have nothing but time. You can tell me over lunch."
"Fine," I agree. I usually don't tell other people's stories, but technically, it's mine too.
"And then when we're finished, we can figure out how you're going to get your girl back." He squeezes my shoulder as we walk out, and I stop dead in my tracks.
"I'm not doing that. I can't?—"
"You have to let her decide that. You can't decide for her."
"You don't get it. Sheriff Townsend…the Donovan's…coming here and starting over…that's only half of it. The other half—her half—I can't…"
"What do you meanother half?" He points to where we sat at the bar. "You're still keeping secrets?"
I drop my head, the weight of my secrets too heavy. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you so you can understand why I can't break her."
