Chapter Seventeen

Reminder

Juliana

“This is a private conversation.” I point to the door. “Go.”

“He talks to you like that again, swear to fuck, he’ll spend a month chewing his own ass while shitting out his teeth.”

“Go,” I damn near beg now.

He doesn’t move.

“Peter,” I say into the phone, “I’m sorry about all that, but—”

“I thought your ex’s name was Gage,” he snaps at me.

I walk into the bathroom and lock the door behind me, leaving Garrett standing on the other side.

He bangs on the door, I ignore it.

“Well, it’s a long story, but his brother Garrett is Brandon’s father, and—”

“You are something else,” he snaps. “I want you back here now!”

“And I will not allow you to speak to me that way. That, Peter, is unacceptable.”

“If you’re not home tomorrow, we’re finished, and so are your chances at a job anywhere I’m connected.”

“I’m not sure it’s possible to be home then,” I say, my anger spiking.

“You make it happen, or you keep your whore ass there.” The line goes dead.

My whore ass? My whore ass? I send him a text.

- Get out of my house.

His reply

- You’ll regret this.

I don’t reply.

I walk out, ready to light into Garrett, when he does something that knocks me for a loop. He hugs me.

“I know you’re pissed.” His hug tightens, then he whispers, “But he’s not gonna talk to you like that ever again. I’ll make damn sure he doesn’t, like I made sure they couldn’t hurt you again.”

“What?” I push him away and fail. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Not a damn thing.”

“Garrett,” I begin.

“Mom, Dad?” Brand’s voice stops, and he giggles his nervous, little giggle. “Sorry.”

“Wait, Brandon,” I say, pushing free. I walk outside the room to find him smirking. “I don’t know what you think is so funny, but—”

“Garrett—Dad, he’s a real cowboy.” He continues to grin.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

He grabs my hand. Brandon grabs my hand, and my heart nearly melts. “Come on, Mom; Uncle Gray is gonna take us to buy a truck.”

“What?” I ask then look back at Garrett, who’s laughing now.

“Let’s go, little lady,” he uses some sort of weird voice.

Brand looks back at me. “See?”

Driving home in an SUV, I am a nervous wreck. Why he needed two vehicles, both burgundy, is beyond me. Why I allowed him to force me to drive a brand-new Cadillac Escalade when I haven’t driven in years, is also beyond me.

I can’t help thinking about him and Brandon walking around the dealership, getting in and out of the trucks and SUVs, making sure they were big enough for Garrett’s legs to stretch out comfortably for the long road trips Garrett plans to go on to get the horses he promised Brandon.

Brandon looked at him like he was a new shiny toy, and Garrett looked at him like he had loved him forever.

As angry as I am at Garrett, it begins to lessen each time I see him whisper something to our son, and watch as our son looks at me in a different way than he has the past three years.

When he pulls into a strip mall, I follow, and the truck behind me, the one Grayson is driving, keeps right on going.

I follow him into a Taco Bell parking lot and get swept up in the emotion it triggers. I sit as I watch him pull Brandon out of the truck’s back seat and swing him around in a circle, Brandon laughing and Garrett smiling. He sets him on his feet and whispers in his ear. Then he follows Brandon to my side of the vehicle, and Brandon opens the door.

“Come on, little lady.” He uses that same voice Garrett used.

As I get out and thank him, he starts to walk away.

“Brand?”

He looks at Garrett. “Oh, right.” Brand grabs my hand and blinks up at me. “Dad said this was where you went on your first date, a long, long time ago.”

“Is that so?” I ask him.

“He says you were the prettiest girl he’s ever seen,” Brand continues.

“All right, Brand.” Garrett laughs as he holds the door open for us. When we walk past him, he grabs the hat off his head. “Chow time.”

Brand grins. “Chow time.”

After we order, Brand and I go sit down, while Garrett waits for our order.

“You know what Dad said?” Brand asks, sitting next to me.

“No.” I smile.

“He said that he loved you before he got sick, and that now he’s better, he wants to love you again.”

I’m upset that Garrett is having these conversations with my son, but Brandon is so happy.

“If your dad says stuff like that, you should tell him you’re a big boy, but adults should keep some things to themselves.”

“I told him I loved you before you got sick, then I was mad at you.” He looks down, and my heart falls. “He told me you were sick, Mom. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

How do I explain this to him? How do I tell him that I did it for him, that he deserved better than I could be at that time?

“Well, I guess I knew it was gonna be okay. That you were gonna be okay. That Mags and Gage, they were gonna make sure of it?”

“Why you saying it like a question?”

“Because, Brandon,” I whisper. “Because I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Dad said it was like the nastiest stomach bug, but in your heart. That you needed to make sure I didn’t catch it, like he did.”

“He caught my nasty heart bug?” I ask.

I look up when Garrett sets down the overflowing tray of garbage that, if I remember correctly, tastes amazing.

“Stomach bug in the heart story?” he asks Brandon.

“Mom calls it a heart bug.” Brandon giggles.

“Well, she’s the nurse, so I suppose she knows better than a couple dirt-loving cowboys, huh?”

He nods and smirks.

“The heart bug, I gave it to her. She wanted to make sure you didn’t get it. Can kill some people, but not us Falcons.”

Brand nods, perfectly content with his answer.

Garrett looks up at me and stares. Then he shakes his head and looks down.

“What’s so funny?” Brandon asks him.

“Not laughing,” Garrett answers.

He smiles. “I wanna hear more stories about you and Mom.”

“Did I tell you about the time I went to her house and fell through her steps?” Garrett asks.

“Nope. But why did you fall through them? Were you chubby?”

“No, the stairs were old.” He unwraps a taco and sets it in front of him. Then he grabs another one, unwraps it, and hands it to me.

“Thanks,” I say, looking at it.

“Why didn’t they fix ‘em?”

“They didn’t fix much, Brandon,” I tell him.

“I never met them yet,” he says, looking at me.

“They died,” I tell him, looking up at Garrett.

“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Brand reaches over and grabs my hand.

Heart melting.

I look at Garrett again, and he looks away, saying, “Happens, Brand.”

“Did they have the heart bug?” he asks.

“That would require a heart,” I answer.

Garrett’s eyes widen. “What she means is—”

“They weren’t nice people, Brandon. They didn’t love like you, Gage, Mags, Grandma Gail, and your dad. They didn’t know how.”

“Is that why they died?”

“Nope, they had an accident,” I tell him, instead of the truth, whatever that may be.

“When I fell through, your mom knew just what to do to fix my leg. She was born to be a nurse,” Garrett redirects the conversation. “Then your mom, when she was just seventeen, she had to take care of herself. She worked, went to school, lived on her own.”

“At seventeen?” Brand asks him, and he nods. “I’m not living by myself till I’m thirty, like you guys.”

I have no idea why, but that makes Garrett and I both laugh.

“How old do you think we are?” Garrett asks him.

“Like thirty.” He gives him a look like “duh.”

“Your mom is twenty-four. I’m twenty-five,” he tells him. “And you’re gonna have to get a job when you’re seventeen if you want to be as cool as your mom.”

Brand shrugs. “I’m gonna be a cowboy and a construction worker.”

“Interesting mix. So, does that mean you’re gonna put up walls on horseback?”

Brandon laughs and nods his head.

I follow them to Falcon’s Landing, where the carefree afternoon spent with Brandon and Garrett is going to end.

When he drives past Falcon’s Landing and turns onto the next dirt drive, I follow him all the way down a windy path to where he stays. There, I start to open the door when I see Garrett shake his head. Then I see Brand running up to the door.

“Come on, little lady.” He smirks. “I never been here before. Uncle Garrett—I mean, Dad, he says they used to come here all the time when he was a little older than me. His favorite place. He wants to build a garage and a barn, and fix up this old place.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. The barn is gonna have stalls, Mom. He’s gonna teach us how to ride horses.” He stops and looks at me. “Are you gonna move here, too?”

I shake my head. “I have a house—”

“Come on, Brand; let’s get back to the house and do some fishing.”

“Can we do it here?”

“Thinking maybe someday, but this old dock needs some work. Wouldn’t want you to fall through.”

“Mom could fix it.” He smiles at me. “Right, Mom?”

“Sure, but I still wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” I tell him.

“And Dad? Do you want him to not get hurt?”

I look at Garrett, who raises his eyebrow at me, and answer, “No, of course not.”

We all walk to the house, Brandon holding both our hands as we walk through the field, and he tells me what the stakes are for, and the plan to fill them in.

“Lots of work before the horses come,” he tells me.

“Horses?”

“Lots of them, I hope.” He smiles. “Cowboys need lots of horses.”