Page 93 of Then You Happened
And then it clicks.
It isn’t solely about the thought of suicide. It’s also about her integrity.
“You’re afraid you scammed the system? Is that it? That you took money you wouldn’t have gotten if his death had been ruled a suicide when you think it might have been.”
Another tear slips over and slides down her cheek. “I used it to pay the overdue accounts so I could try to make this work. I swear—”
“Shh,” I say, and when she goes to speak again, I brush my lips against hers to stop her.
“I didn’t have a choice. I took the money to pay off his debt. I only wanted to—”
“Shh,” I say again, my own guilt
eating at me.
My own remorse simmering for so many damn reasons.
How easy would it be for me to hand her a check and take all this worry away from her? How simply I could pay this all off so that her worry and guilt and grief could be laid to rest? It would be as easy as putting pen to paper. It would make amends, but then what?
It isn’t as if doing that would solve my own issues. It isn’t as if doing that will stop the ball from rolling downhill when it is already on its way down.
“I know. I just—”
“In life, sometimes you have to do things you never thought you would to get by or to put one foot in front of the other until you can see straight again.”
This woman who can hold her own, can threaten to shoot you if need be, has survived every hostility this town has thrown at her before and after his death, but is reduced to a pile of tears over a possible lie that most people wouldn’t even blink an eye at.
Her honesty is astounding. The way it has wrecked her even more so.
“Tate.” I pull her against me and wrap my arms around her. She hesitates for a second, almost as if she doesn’t think she deserves my compassion, but then she slides her arms around my waist.
And we take a moment to just hold each other in the middle of her studio that reflects a past she’s been burned by, a future she has before her, and a man who isn’t quite sure how to deal with any of this.
For a man who doesn’t ever need shit like comfort or connection, her head under the curve of my neck, her arms wrapped around me, and the shudder of her hiccupped sobs against my chest feel pretty fucking good.
31
TATE
“Can you stop the bank from having people show up here unannounced?” I growl at Sheryl the minute she picks up the call.
“What—why—hi, Tatum. How are you today?”
“The lender had an appraiser show up here like they already own the place. He tried to tell me lenders appraising the property their loans are for is standard practice. I call bullshit. Jesus, Sheryl. He walked around without announcing himself or saying a damn word.”
The pure panic that hit me the moment I saw him talking to Sylvester comes back. How I sprinted across the pasture to prevent the appraiser from telling anyone the truth. How the anger rioted and shame washed over me in a violent wave when I pulled him away and told him he needed to get off my property.
Thank God Jack was at the hardware store and missed it.
“That shouldn’t be happening. I’m in regular contact with them. They know we’re trying to get you up to date on payments.”
“Well, it’s happening on a regular basis. Can you just assure them the land and ranch are still here and they haven’t gone anywhere so they can stop checking? Besides, they sent papers over but haven’t formally started proceedings so they have no right to be here. Hell, the paperwork said that it can take up to six months to begin . . . so let them know, this isn’t theirs yet. They can’t have it.”
“I’ll call them again.”
“Do that,” I snap and then sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch. I just don’t want the staff knowing.”
Her throaty laugh fills the line. “Yes, you did mean to be a bitch, but I know it wasn’t directed at me.” The sound of papers shuffling fills the line. “I’ll call them again. And I’ll let them know again, that we’re not just throwing our hands up and walking away.”
