Page 135 of Then You Happened
“I’ll promise you whatever you want when I get home,” I say. “Face-to-face.”
“Promise me you’ll make that amends, will you? Promise me.”
I laugh, but it dies as quickly as I emit it because I realize he’s dead serious. “I promise, Dad.” I rise as my flight is called over the loudspeaker. “Is there anything you need me to do for you? Any amends you want me to help you make?”
“Yes.” Another string of coughs as I get in line to board. “But I’ll tell you when you get here. Face-to-face.”
“Okay. I’m boarding. I’ll be there soon.” I pause, my father never one to accept any show of affection. “I love you.” My words are soft and I fucking hate the tear that creeps down my cheek.
“Me too, Jack. Me too.”
“SO, SEE? I made my dad a promise that I’d make amends,” I say when I finish relaying that last conversation with my dad to Tate. “I focused on it the whole flight home. How I’d find a small ranch in trouble. How I’d come in and help it to succeed instead of helping sabotage it so it would fail. Sound like a ranch you know?”
I shift and hope maybe that made her smile, but fuck if I know. I’m in the dark about what she’s thinking, so I trudge on.
“By the time I landed, my father had died. Lauren’s texts were all over my phone the minute I turned it on. I was devastated. Ruined.” My voice breaks with emotion, and I pause for a moment. “What I didn’t know was he’d left me a voicemail while I was in flight. It’s still on my phone right now. One sec, I’ll play it for you.”
I pick up my phone and navigate to my saved voicemails, pushing the speaker button just after I push play.
“Jack.” My father’s voice booms through the speaker, and chills chase down my spine hearing it. “There’s so much to say to you and not enough time to say it. It’s something I should have said a long time ago, but I was too proud and you’re too stubborn . . . I love you, son.
You were always my shining light. You never knew it, but you were. Yes, I was tough on you, and I hope you can forgive me for that, but this is a brutal business. I pushed you so that you would go out on your own and become your own man. I wanted you to harden and grow tough. I needed you to trust your instincts and rely on yourself.
Of course, I let you think I didn’t want you to leave.
But I did.
I knew you’d step into my shoes one day, and I needed you to be taught the things I never was. That when the sun sets, it’s you who has to lie in the bed with the decisions you make every day. It’s you who has to be confident they are the right ones even when everyone else thinks they are wrong.
I’m proud of you, son. Of what you’ve accomplished on your own. Of what you’ll accomplish when I’m gone. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you that face-to-face.
Time has a way of creeping up on all of us. Of running out on us when we only want one more minute . . . one more second. I wish I had those with you. I wish I had a do-over so I could see you live the day-to-day, knowing how proud I am of you.
Come back to the ranch, don’t come back to the ranch—you do whatever’s best for you. But the ranch is yours. Every last bit of it. There’s more than enough set aside for Lauren and the kids, so don’t you worry about taking care of them.
One last thing. You promised me you’d make your amends, and I’m holding you to that. I know your word is good . . . but I have one I need you to help me make too. The executor has an envelope for Fletcher. It’s a payoff. I know, I know. You’re mad at me for that, but I had a paternity test done anyway, and he’s mine. If he takes the money, then he waives all rights to any claim of anything from the estate. The amount is small in the grand scheme of things and it gives me peace of mind that he won’t be able to come after you or your inheritance—that my mistakes won’t haunt your future.
So two promises, Jack: Make amends and pay the asshole off.
And remember I love you. I always have. I always will.”
“I hope you could hear that,” I say when the voice mail ends. “I hope you’re still there because there’s more to tell.”
There’s a shift against the door, and I feel like that’s her way of telling me she’s still there. That it’s her way of letting me know she’s listening.
“My father died two weeks before Fletcher did, and after months in probate and legal channels, and even more time spent trying to track you down . . . well, you know the rest.”
The lock at my back turns.
I scramble up as the door swings open.
Tate’s cheeks are splotchy and her eyes are bloodshot, but at least she’s standing there.
“I don’t know the rest. How can I?” Her voice has so much hurt and betrayal woven within every single thread of it that I don’t know how to answer her. “You came here to pay off your dead brother, and what? Saw me and thought you’d fuck over his widow instead? You thought you’d get back at him by messing with me?”
“Fuck her over?” I choke on my disbelief. “I came here to fulfill the promise I made to him and the promise I made to myself. I helped save this place. It was like kismet. You were struggling and looking to hire help. I saw the ad, and I swear to you I felt like my dad had set it all up ahead of time. How can you even begin to consider all that we did here on the ranch as me trying to fuck you over?” I try not to sound defensive because I’m more aware than anyone that I don’t have a leg to stand on.
If I weren’t aware, all I would have to do is look at Tate to know that.
