Page 126 of Arrogant Bastard
Another failure mark in her column. I guess it’s good she didn’t live to see how I turned out. I sigh. “Do you think she’d be disappointed in me?”
“Hell no, Catarina McKay. Not in a million years.”
“But can’t you see I turned out just like her?”
“In some ways you are—in all the best ways.” His head tilts. “But you keep going, no matter how many times you get kicked down.”
“Dragged along, you mean. There’s a difference.”
He huffs. “That’s the silliest thing I ever heard.”
“What? It’s true. Wyatt came up with the distillery. I just went along because I had no other choice in the matter.”
“Bullshit. You were as much a part of your survival as Wyatt was. You just forget because it’s easier for you to think you had no part in it.”
“Why would that be easier for me?”
“I don’t know. Why would it be?”
I squeeze deeper into the corner of the couch. “It doesn’t feel like mine.”
“Well, it should. You put in the work to claim it.”
We fall silent.
My brain is so tired from all my thinking. I can’t do it anymore. I sigh. “Well, I hope someday you find someone that deserves you.”
“You keep using that word, girl, and I think you’re confused.” He flips the lever on his chair, and it springs upright. He leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “You’re under the mistaken impression that the world owes you something because you’ve suffered, and I’m going to be blunt with you. Take it from an old guy who knows: you don’t deserve anything. Life’s not a point system. It’s not a bank that pays you interest.”
The words sting, and I want to lash out against them. But I don’t because I know they’re true.
His fingers lace between his knees. “You can’t keep waiting for something to come along and make you happy and fulfilled. If you do, you’re going to have a long wait. If you want something, it’s up to you to make it happen. You’ve got to show up for it each and every day. So it’s time to ask yourself: are you ready to show up? Are you just going to take what life’s dishing out, or are you going to do something about it?”
“What would you like me to do?” I throw up my hands, anger replacing the heartache. “Is it my fault I went and fell for a guy who was supposed to marry someone else and failed to mention it? Why is it my responsibility to fix it?”
He shrugs. “It’s not. But you’re looking at it all wrong.”
“How?” I’m stumped, but he seems so sure of the answer that I keep listening, despite my frustration.
“You need to ask yourself if you want to be happy or right.”
“I don’t understand.” It’s like he’s speaking in a riddle.
He gazes at me intently. “You paid a price for what you have today. It was hard, and it was lonely, and it beat you down, but you kept getting back up. So I ask you, when’s the last time you got back up?”
“That’s what I was trying to do,” I yell. “And look where it got me. I took the risk and got burned.”
A muscle works in his jaw, and he’s silent for a moment before he goes on. “You asked me why I kept going back, even though I shouldn’t have. But the truth is, I made a choice. Maybe it was the wrong choice, and the stupid choice, and maybe everyone saw me as a fool for making it, but right or wrong, I didn’t care. I loved her, and I loved you three hellions. I didn’t want anything else. Yeah, it says something about me, but I never saw myself as a victim. I chose to take the part of her she gave me. I chose to be the role model my brother refused to be. Those nights when we all sat around the table laughing and eating dinner together, those were like little glimpses of heaven to me. I don’t regret them, even the mistakes, because they weremine. I own them. Right or wrong.”
But he settled, can’t he see that? Doesn’t he see how it was so much less than he deserved? I want more, goddamn it.
I raise a brow. “Are you saying I should stick with Caden even though he’s a flight risk? Even if I have evidence that he leaves when things get hard? You’re saying I should be like momma and stand by my man?”
“Fuck no.” He rolls his eyes at the ceiling. “I’m saying own your life, Cat. Make it yours, and then you’ll feel like it belongs to you.”
The wind seeps out of my sails. I can almost grasp what he’s saying, but not quite. I turn toward the window. It’s started to rain. Good. The crops need it.
“How do I do that?” I ask.
