The realization isn’t as surprising as it should be.
Lake and Carter are nothing alike and they never have been. I’d been their only common denominator, and they hadn’t been shy about their dislike for the other. I just thought it was a jealousy thing, not a fucked-up moral compass thing.
Oma sets the mug down in front of me, and I don’t argue when she pours a healthy shot of bourbon into in before pouring some into her own glass.
“Your grandaddy made sure I’d always be taken care of, so don’t you worry about that.”
“I need more, Oma. I need to know you’re all right.”
Carter’s comments had been well placed—subtle—so they were always in the periphery of my mind. I’d never worried about Oma and a part of me had been so thankful that he was so willing, so invested in our relationship that he would want to take care of her too.
I’m such an idiot.
“You should have come to me sooner,” she huffs and I dip my head because she’s right. But Carter had seemed so sincere, and I trusted him. I had no reason to think he’d do anything to hurt me or mislead me.
“I know.”
“There was a rancher that had been after our land for years, but your grandaddy always told him no, because we did just fine and this land had been in his family for generations.” Her eyes soften as she looks at me. “There was a settlement when your parents passed that we tucked away for you, but it’d also been a wake-up call.”
We didn’t talk about my parents’ accident often. I’d been young and all I’d known is that they left for a long weekend and never came home. The fact that they’d died skiing in Banff didn’t change anything.
“So, what happened?” I ask, wincing as I take a sip, the bourbon burning more than the coffee.
“When the rancher came back, your grandaddy told him to make an offer.” She laughs. “He didn’t try to lowball us but hedidend up paying well over asking price.” Her smile is fond,wistful.“He knew we were selling to make sure we could raise you here, and back then it was a gentleman’s game.”
“I’m sorry you had to sell,” I say, taking another gulp, this time relishing the feel of it.
She tsks and shakes her head. “It was the right thing to do, and he made out just as well.” The chair creaks as she shifts. “The point is that I am just fine here, and when I’m gone it’ll be yours.”
“No,” I say, covering my face with my hands. “I cannot handle anything else today.”
Chuckling, she pulls one hand from my face and holds it. “I’m fine, Pen. Now let’s figure out how to make you fine too.”
9
LAKE
WREN: Pen thinks you’re still mad at her
Istare at the message, blinking as if that’ll help it make sense as I climb into my truck after a long day at work. Pen thinks I’m mad at her?
LAKE: I’m not
LAKE: I was trying to give her space
WREN: That’s what I said
I sigh,running my hand through my hair because I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels and I’m messing up left and right. Working usually calms my nerves, especially when it’s around Christmas, but not today.
Fuck you, Lake.
That particular phrase had been like a bad penny in my mind, showing up when I least expected it and tanking my mood in an instant.
WREN: She’s going through a lot
LAKE: I know
WREN: You’ll work it out. She loves you.
