Everly
It’s beensix weeks since I’ve seen my brothers in New York. About three months since I’ve spent time with my best friend in person. And it's been six months since I’ve seen Jack Deacon. I hate myself a little for measuring time so precisely. Time since I’ve kissed that man, fucked him so unapologetically, and then he disappeared from my life. I guess that’s what I’m left with, friggin’ yearning. That must be what it is, because it sure isn’t my dignity. How did I get here? To this place where I’m even annoyed at myself for not moving on. I’ve moved every other part of my life forward, except for the one that probably counts the most.
It’s Sunday and I’m back in Strutt’s Peak, which means Sunday dinner at the ranch. And because the weather is beautiful, there'll be lots of grilled meats. When warm weather hits Strutt’s Peak, we never dare to do things inside for too long, especially cook or eat. When June hits, it’s officially the summer season, and all the laid-back, outdoor fun that comes with it.
I’m happy to get out of New York for a while. That city has parts of my heart; anyone who’s spent time there always leaves a piece of their heart with it, but I’m a Colorado girl to the bone. I need to see the mountains. I need people to smile at me as I walk downtown, and I need, more than anything, to spend time with my family.
“Are you kidding me!” I yell as we drive down the long stretch of road to the ranch.
“What? Holy shit, what? Did I almost hit something?” G grips both hands on her steering wheel and frantically looks in her rearview mirror.
“No, no, you didn’t hit anything. David Muldowney has a sold sign on his property. I didn’t even know he was thinking of selling. I kind of wish I knew.”
“Fucking hell, Everly. Don’t do that shit while I’m driving. I thought I either hit an animal or there was a naked man with his dick swinging on the side of the road or something.” She looks back out her rearview.
“I’ve been waiting for you to say something wildlyyousince you picked me up. It took”—I look at my wrist as if to exaggerate the time—“way too long.”
She looks over at me, still smiling from our fit of laughter, and in true Giselle form, she calls me out on what I’ve been trying desperately to avoid. “Have you talked to him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He knows I’m back in town by now. It’s on him to come and find me. Nothing has changed since I left. I told him how I felt, and he didn’t. Which was kind of like him telling me in a way. I’m not moving on, but I’m still pissed off. And hurt. And honestly, the man isn’t poor or unable to travel, so if he wanted to make a grand gesture or if he wanted me in his life, then he would have come to New York to see me.”
“He did.”
I look at her, my head spinning. We’re pulling into the driveway to the ranch, and I can see my dad and Law on the front porch, watching us approach. “What do you mean, he did?”
“He went to see you right after you left. I don’t know, maybe a few weeks after you were settled. We had a very”—she clears her throat—“heated conversation about what a piece of shit I thought he was for what he did to you, and he told me he went out there to see you, but he didn’t want to ruin the life you were restarting.” She waves her hand in the air as if swatting a fly. “Such a penis move. I can’t even call him a pussy, because our flowers are elaborate and beautiful. Penises are a one-trick pony, so yeah, he was acting like a below-average-sized penis. Then I told him he didn’t deserve a woman like you and some other things. I haven’t seen him much since then.”
“I talk to you every day. Wouldn’t that have been something that you should have told me? I don’t know atanyfucking point?” I’m so upset right now as soon as the car stops, I rush out and slam the door.
Giselle follows behind me, slamming her door shut, too. “Don’t be pissed at me. I don’t know what you idiots are doing. I have my own bullshit going on. How am I supposed to know that you weren’t going to speak to him, or that he was going to send you breakfast every Sunday? Like, what is that? Why not take the easy way out, and text each other at least! You both know how to text like most immature people when they want to say things they don’t have the balls to say in person.”
I stomp up the porch stairs to the house. My dad and Law sit there watching and know better than to interrupt.
“You’re my best friend, G. You tell me shit about the guy that I’m crumbling over.”
She stops and yells, “HA! Exactly, you were crumbling. Fucking falling to pieces. Over a guy! I’m supposed to tell you that he went to see you, but then backed off? What is that going to do?”
“You. Tell. Me.” I push into the house and stomp over to the bar for a drink. “I’ll take anything at this point. Even water, to throw in my face, because I’m floored that my best friend would just leave out a very important piece of information like that fact that he came after me!”
“Fine. Well, I’m telling you now.” She continues to shout at me and moves into the bar beside me. I notice Michael coming in from the back patio and Henry creeping out from the kitchen with a towel slung over his shoulder.
“What’s going on? Why are you fighting-” Law just shakes his head at Henry to shut him up. They all know better than to say anything right now.
Giselle yells at him, “Stay out of it, Hank!”
Michael walks toward us just as I’m pulling out two shot glasses. G unscrews the cap to the vodka and starts to pour. I watch my brother, silently warning him not to speak. G pushes the overflowed shot glass toward me and picks hers up. We don’t say anything else and just shoot it back. The burn going down shakes a bit of the rage out.
“Ackk! Fuck. Dad, where are lemons?” He just points to the bar top, and I suck on a wedge while I pass G another.
“So you told her about the Muldowney Ranch, then?” Michael asks cautiously.
I look at my dad accusingly. “No, he didnottell me. I had to see the sold sign on my drive in here. Why wouldn’t you tell me that David was thinking of selling?”
“Shut the fuck up, Michael,” Law says through gritted teeth.