A new veil of silence settles over us as I let her words sink in. I think about the way he hugged me this morning, the grip of his fingers against my ribs as if to not let me go. I think about the baby moving and the slice of life I promised her I’d find for us. Closing my eyes and sinking my head back against the armrest of the couch, I let out a quiet groan. “I really am fucking things up, aren’t I?”
“No,” Layla says gently. “You’ve been through a lot, and you’re figuring it out. You’re human. I guess I just hoped it might help to hear from an outside perspective that you’re both over the moon about each other. So maybe just . . . enjoy it?”
I smile. “I’ll try.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve been hiding a whole-asspregnancy,” Olivia cuts in.
Layla and I lock eyes. She hasn’t revealed that she’s known since before the wedding, and I’m getting the sense she’s not going to. I’m grateful for it, because I’m not sure whether Olivia would feel slighted, even if Layla finding out was purely accidental.
“Rhett was so unhappy about it,” I eventually say.
Olivia waves a hand. “He’ll be fine.”
I groan. “I don’t know. He looked at Kasey like he was really disappointed.”
“Give him a minute to process,” Layla suggests. “He was pretty worked up about Tobias, so the timing of finding out hissister-in-law is carryingnothis brother’s baby wasn’t exactly ideal, you know?”
Okay. Fair point.
“He’ll befine,” Olivia says again. “I promise.”
I nod. “Thank you for letting me crash here.”
“Oh! Of course! It’s actually really fun—I’ve never had a girls’ night in this house before.”
“Have you ever thought about moving onto the ranch?” Layla asks.
Olivia shakes her head. “Not really. I’m not opposed to it, but Rhett doesn’t even really sleep there much. When he’s not staying the night here, he’s usually at the apartment above the bar.”
“Does your mom like him?”
Olivia beams. “Sheloveshim.”
“What about your mom?” I ask Layla. “Does she like Wells?”
Layla’s nose scrunches. “It’s getting better.”
“Yikes. Sorry.”
“No, no. It’s okay. She was just really banking on me being a rich NFL wife and not living in sin with a cowboy.”
I snort. “Your mom and my dad sound pretty damn similar.”
“Pretty sure my mom and her husband have been on double dates with your dad and his wife.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “Goodie.”
I haven’t beento the sheriff’s station since I was a little girl. Even before leaving Saddlebrook Falls, it was a place I firmly avoided.
Inside the unassuming two-story building, my father was a legend. He was strength and order, a beacon of safety for thepeople in this town. And I understood it. Even if I firmly disagree with a lot of the ways in which he yields his power, there’s no denying he’s always been successful at keeping our town safe.
I used to feel jealous of the way other people looked up to him, that to someone else he was even worthy of being looked up to, because the truth is, despite what he is insidethisbuilding withthesepeople, to me he’ll forever be the cold and irrationally controlling father who barely looked at me inside our home.
Staring up at the building, at the tinted windows that run along the length of the dark brick walls, I try to smother my dread. This is the absolute last thing in the world I want to do today, but as I lay awake last night listening to Olivia and Layla’s even breathing from their makeshift beds in the living room, sound asleep, a thought ripped through me so viciously I couldn’t ignore it.
All these fears I hold about running from the people I love . . . I suddenly wondered if that’s something he might be able to relate to. If my father didn’t care about me, he wouldn’t have tried to control me so hard. His parenting strategies were fucked, no doubt about it—but what if he was doing his best in the fallout of our family being torn apart, just like I was? What if we were both running from each other?
I never so much as gave him an inch. Between my stubborn defiance and his crushing force, there wasn’t an opportunity for us to genuinely connect or communicate about the things we were going through. And then I thought about the baby growing inside of me, and if—god forbid—something ever happened to make her feel like I wasn’t enough for her . . . wouldn’t I give anything for a chance to prove her wrong?
