Page 87 of Mountain Pine
“I don’t want you to get mad.”
Great. I sound like a kid. A bad little kid that does dumb shit and is about to get in big trouble for it. And look! She’s already getting madder. Her face is turning colors, and her eyes are getting bigger.
I’m so fucked.
My confession comes out so fast, it’s one long word. “I’m-not-sure-I-still-want-to-work-for-your-dad.”
Taylor freezes. Her brow pinches and she folds in a little like she’s confused. “What?”
I repeat it, feeling like a traitor to the Larson family.
“Conner.” She sits down on the edge of her bed and takes a deep breath. “Are you serious?”
Dropping to my knees in front of her, I keep my tone soft and calm because I have no clue how to tread in this Taylor territory. Disappointing her is new for me. “I’m so sorry.”
She cocks her head at me, again with this confused expression on her sweet face. Then it morphs back into anger, and she smacks the top of my head. “Idiot.”
“Hey. Ow. What the—”
“You’re not beholden to Russel Larson, Conner. It’s business. Not personal.”
It’s all personal to me. That man gave me a chance when no one else would. He gave meeverything… and now I also have his daughter.
I stare down at my hands that are always rough and cracked. “All I know is how to work in dirt.”
“And?”
She’s not understanding what I’m trying to say. Let’s try again. “I want to give you a good life, Taylor. Thebestlife. I need to do more than mow lawns for that to happen.”
“Define best life, Con.”
“Everything. Anything. I want you to have whatever you want. I want to provide for you. For us.”
“And you don’t do that already?”
No. Ihaven’t had a chance.
“Oh my god, Conner.” She rests her elbows on her knees and grips the side of her head. “Have you not supported me in every way I’ve ever wanted?”
“No.”
“No?” She looks up and points behind me. “You built me a greenhouse because I wanted one of my own instead of always going to the big one at the nursery.”
“So?”
“You drop off groceries when you see I’m running low.”
“So?”
“You watch Hallmark Christmas movies with me every year.” Her gaze narrows. “And Iknowyou hate them.”
“I don’t hate them. Okay, I mean I used to hate them but then they grew on me and now I like them.”
I’ve always considered it some kind of warped Stockholm syndrome thing. She makes me watch them with her every year and now I look forward to it because she loves them so much and I love that she loves them, which somehow turns them into great movies I can’t wait to watch too.
“My point is you’ve always provided me with everything I could ever want or need.”
“You don’t understand what I’m saying. This isn’t about movies and plants, Taylor.” My blood pressure spikes. “I don’t want my wife to struggle. To suffer.” My hands are shaking. “I want my kids to be safe and warm and fed.” Fury and fear clash in my chest when I yell, “I don’t want my son to have to work at sixteen to keep the fucking electricity on!”
