I sit up now that he’s commanded my full attention.
“Make it right with her,” he says. “The woman still loves you—Lord only knows why. And she’s probably the only one who ever will.” Grabbing a fistful of his hair, he adds, “The woman of your dreams wants to be with you and you’ve done nothing but push her away since the second she came back.”
“I’m doing her a favor. She deserves better than me.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” Rising, he paces the space between the sofa and coffee table. “Hell, if you don’t want her … I have half a mind to make her mine. At least I wouldn’t treat her heart like a fucking punching bag.”
I fly off the couch and grip him by his shirt collar, pressing my face so close to his I can smell his regret.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I say between gritted teeth.
He lifts his palms in protest and I let him go.
“You’re right,” Cash says. “I wouldn’t. But you need to stop being a martyr. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Everyone thinks you’re this saint, but all you’ve done the last ten years is lie to everyone who ever gave a damn about you.”
He isn’t wrong.
“She’s leaving in two days,” he says. “Either you make it right, Wyatt, or you lose her forever.”
I sink back into the couch. I wish it were as simple as he’s making it sound.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” His eyes are wild, and he’s making the same face my daddy used to make when he’d get in one of his moods. “What changed, Wyatt? Huh? Ever since Blaire left and Dad died, you’ve become nothing but a shell of yourself. A shadow. A sorry excuse for a Buchanan. You’re lucky Dad’s not around because you’d be nothing but a disappointment.”
Ten years ago, I locked my emotions in a cage and I threw away the key.
Now they’re swelling to the surface, hot and angry, waiting to explode.
I stand again, shoulders taut, fists clenched, jaw cinched tight. “You know who was a disappointment, Cash? Our father.”
He squints, not understanding.
“The man the rest of you idolize and emulate? He was a piece of shit wife-beater,” I say.
Cash shakes his head in disbelief, but he’s clinging onto my every word.
“All those marks you used to see on Mama, the ones she’d tell you were from hitting her face on a cattle gate or getting kicked by a horse?” I’m seething. “Those were from him.”
“You’re a liar, Wyatt.”
“I saw it all. I heard it all. And I did what I had to do to stop him from hurting her another day.”
All color drains from Cash’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Dad only died … because I left him to die.”
Deafening silence falls over the room.
“That day in the field,” I say, “when I found him slumped behind the wheel of his tractor … he still had a pulse. He was still breathing. But I didn’t get help. I left. I went on with my day. I let someone else find him.”
Cash charges at me. “You sick son of a—”
“Boys!” Mama pulls us apart, shoving us to separate corners of the living room.
The horrified expression on her face tells me she heard everything.
“Mama, is it true?” Cash asks, his eyes red. “Did Daddy hit you?”
She remains planted between us, almost caught in between which one of us she should comfort first when we’re the ones who should be comforting her.
“How can you let him stand here in your house after what he did?” Cash asks.
Mama’s face is twisted and her bright eyes are dulled with pain. “Your father … he wasn’t always good to me, Cash. He had a dark side … and he hid it from you boys well—except for Wyatt. Wyatt knew. And he tried to get me to leave him for years, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to break up our home or put you through any kind of hardship. Ambrose always told me if I ever tried to take his boys away, he’d make my life a living hell—that he’d give it to me ten times harder than he already was.”
Cash stands frozen and speechless in his corner of the room.
Turning, she makes her way to me, her eyes softening as she reaches for my face.
“Wyatt, I had no idea.” Her voice breaks and her eyes brim with tears. “I wish you would’ve told me sooner … it must’ve been so painful for you, holding that in all these years, living with that secret. Is that why you pushed everyone away?”
My brother pinches the bridge of his nose before pacing a few steps. “I’m sorry … I … need some fucking air.”
He heads out the back door, and a second later his truck door slams and his engine roars to life and he disappears down the road in a cloud of gravel. I don’t blame him though. It’s a lot to process. Everything he thought he knew about the man he’s been mourning the past ten years has turned to shit. I can only imagine how the other two will take it.