“It was clearly someone. Kacey’s ex?” I guess. He glances at me, then nods once.
“What’s the story there?”
He lets out a breath and sounds defeated when he replies. “It’s not my story to tell. And douche isn’t a strong enough word.”
We’re back at the truck waiting for Chet and Cody. I can’t stop thinking about the look on Kacey’s face when she saw Garrett. It was pure hurt and regret. I’ve never seen her look like that. Looking down at the ground, arms crossed holding her middle, not speaking or standing up for herself. That’s not the girl I’ve gotten to know over the last six weeks.
Sure, she might be quiet sometimes, but it’s not because she feels less than or hurt. She speaks when she has something to say, and she keeps her circle small. But the Kacey I know smiles, laughs at my dumb jokes and rolls her eyes at Carson. She’s alive.
That girl back there was a shell.
She’s sitting on the running board next to Jessie. I can tell Jessie is trying to distract her. She’s showing her some video on her phone.
Neither Carson nor I have spoken since we got back to the truck. I don’t know what to say. I want to ask her if she’s okay and what I can do to fix this. I hate seeing her like this.
Finally, I decide I’m done waiting. I walk over to her. “Come on,” I say, holding my hand out to her. “Let’s go, I’ll drive you home.”
She looks at me for the first time since we ran into Garrett. “You don’t have to do that, and I don’t want to leave Jessie and Carson alone. You know how they are—we’d have to hide a bodylater.” She only half-heartedly delivered that joke, and none of us are buying it.
“Don’t worry about us, there’s beer in the cooler. Who knows how long your dad and Chet will stand about gabbing? Go home, get some rest.” Jessie smiles at her, but it’s a sad smile.
Kacey looks over at Carson. He just nods once then looks back toward the arena like he’s keeping guard. He probably is.
“Okay.” She grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”
We’re a couple miles down the road and she’s looking out the passenger window. She hasn’t said a word since we left.
I want to reach across the truck and hold her hand. I’ve never been big on hand holding or other displays of affection, but apparently, I’m a completely different person around this girl.
When we reach the edge of town, I work up the nerve to ask, “Are you okay?” It sounds lame when I hear it out loud, but I don’t know what to do. I’m not good at things like this. Shockingly, Trey is actually the one who always has all the right words when people are upset.
She doesn’t reply for a long time, and I’m beginning to think she won’t when she says, “I’m guessing Carson told you who that was.”
“No, but I guessed.”
She sighs and turns from the window. “He’s my ex. We dated for two years and it ended badly.”
“I’m sorry. He seemed like a real douche,” I say with more bite than intended.
She huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”
I take my eye off the road to glance at her. “I know you have Jessie and Carson, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m a great listener.”
She’s looking down, picking at her nails. I barely hear her quiet response. “Thanks.”
I pull up to her house and put the truck in park. When I look over, she has her hand on the handle but isn’t opening the door. I’ve learned over the past few weeks while working with her and Buck that she likes to process thoughts internally. Once she has it figured out, she’ll share it with me or act on it, but she’ll sit and think something through first. I admire her for it. Most people act on impulse or rash snap judgements, but not Kacey. She thinks things through.
When she lets go of the handle, and looks down at her hands in her lap, her voice sounds numb. “He was Mr. Perfect for the longest time. He’d write cute notes, buy me gifts, and work around the ranch. He always knew exactly what to say at the right moment. I thought we’d get married, have kids and build a life together.”
I turn in my seat to face her. “What happened?”
She looks out the windshield at the old pine tree, swaying in the wind next to her house, and clears her throat. “He didn’t know I was there, the day I overheard him on the phone and found out it was all a lie.” Her eyes dart back and forth, like she’s reliving it all over again in her head. “I’m still not sure who he was talking to. I walked in to hear him telling someone how I’m nice enough and a good lay, that he can put up with me if it means he gets the ranch someday.”
I ball my hands into fists; I can feel my anger at this piece of shit rising. She sucks in a breath before continuing. “He told them he was going to try and get me pregnant. He went as far to say how he had a plan for getting me off birth control so he could try knocking me up. Then he had the audacity to laugh about it to whoever it was he was talking to.”
Now I have to reach out and grip the steering wheel to try and stay calm. Carson was right. Douche isn’t a strong enough word.
What kind of person does that to someone?Now I wish Carson would’ve hit him. Hell, I’ll hit him, given the opportunity.
