Gabe

What the fuck just happened? I know I was pissed off, and yeah, okay, maybe I could have read the mood better, but she wouldn’t give it a rest with the what were you thinking?

So, I told her.

The way she left things, saying she didn’t want to be a burden? A burden? And then, giving back the ring? I was stunned. I’m still stunned. I had no clue what to say or do, I was going off instinct, and ended up doing the worst thing possible, I left. Never, in a million years, could I have imagined that would be her reaction. I wanted to chase her down. I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her tight. I wanted to apologize and tell her it was just a dumb idea, and if that’s not how she sees our future, then we’ll find another way. Together. But, considering every other step I’ve taken today came across completely the opposite of how I intended, it seemed like the smart play to resist what felt right to me, and give her time to clear her head. As much as I hate feeling this way.

I’ll give her tonight—tomorrow at the latest—by then she’ll be calmed down enough to let me apologize and explain that, our future is ours, and it doesn’t matter to me where we live, as long as she’s there with me. God, I can’t lose her again.

But, what am I supposed to do with myself until then?

I park the truck in front of my house just in time to catch Chet and Hank strolling into the barn. I glance at the clock on the dash. Shit, its after five. Perhaps I feel guilty about disappearing for an entire day, or maybe it’s because I can’t stomach the idea of being alone (or some combination of the two), but even knowing I’ll hear an earful from Chet, I hustle to catch up to my brothers.

“Hey boys. Are we ready to get after it today?” I joke as I enter the barn, rubbing my hands together. Judging by the look on either man’s face, it’s apparent my humor is not appreciated. Chet turns back to Hank without so much as a grunt and resumes their conversation.

I try again to engage them. “What’d I miss?”

“A day’s worth of work,” Chet answers.

“Glad to see you too, brother.” Chet’s words sting more than expected. “Okay. I give. You’re right.” I raise my hands. “I bailed today. I’m an asshole, I know.”

Hank chimes in, “You’ve bailed a lot lately.”

Sheesh, thanks man. Appreciate the help here—good to know I can count on you to kick a man when he’s down.

My stomach drops in recognition that neither man wants anything to do with me. I’m tempted to remind my idiot little brother that, as a grown man, I have other responsibilities, and while I appreciate him stepping in to pick up my slack, what the hell else does he have taking his time?

I feel compelled to defend myself and explain what happened, but if I even whisper her name I know I’ll lose it in a big way. I’m trapped, damned if I do and damned if I don’t. On the one hand, I can keep my mouth shut and let them vent, which I deserve, but they’ll probably stay pissed for the next day or two, leaving me isolated and alone and I don’t think I can handle alone right now. Or, I can defend myself and remind them that I haven’t taken a proper vacation in, oh wait, how many years has it been now?

So, I do the only thing I can that doesn’t require me to say anything, I dig into my pocket, retrieve the ring, and show it to my brothers.

Chet doesn’t speak, but his shoulders drop when he realizes what’s happened. Hank stares at the ring and bites at the corner of his mouth, while he searches for something to say. Finally, in the way only Hank can manage, he mutters, “Wow, I did not see that coming.”

“You need to talk? Or do you need time?” Chet asks.

My head falls. “I don’t know…I don’t really even understand what happened,” I confess. “I had this big idea I wanted to surprise her with, so I picked her up this morning and drove us down to Colorado Springs to show her around and tell her about it. I thought, if she saw how much thought I put into it, she would…I don’t know. Things just went sideways.”

“Colorado Springs? What idea involved Colorado Springs?” Chet asks, rubbing his chin.

Before I can explain, Hank interjects, “Is it me, or is this the kind of conversation that should happen over beers?”

“I could use a drink,” I admit. “Uh, Chet. I’m sure you want to get home to your family, but this does, indirectly, involve you. You may want to stick around for a bit.”

Hank puts his arm over my shoulder. “Come on, your place is closer than mine.”

As we walk to my house, I proceed to outline my thought process, how I was trying to give the woman I love everything she’s ever wanted, or at least, everything she’s ever wanted that I could afford. Chet and Hank take a seat at the kitchen counter as I retrieve three beers from the refrigerator. Chet quietly listens, never interrupting to ask a question or make a joke at my expense. Hank, much to my surprise, listens attentively and asks a couple, intelligent and relevant questions as I fill in the details of my day.

“So, you were just going to leave?” Hank asks in disbelief.

“No—I mean—I don’t know. I suppose if she was onboard with the idea, then…yeah. Why?”

Hank stares at me blankly. “What about the ranch? Shit, what about this house?” Hank looks around the kitchen. “All the work you’ve put into it. It’s not like you can put it on the market, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know. But look, Chet’s got a family now, and I’m going to have a family. Soon.” I look to Chet. “You said it yourself, I’ve got to start putting them first.”

To this point, Chet hasn’t so much as coughed. He’s been a fly on the wall, quietly taking everything in, and occasionally staring off in that way he does when he gets caught up in thought. But after hearing me explain my reasons for wanting to leave, his brow furrows as he opens his mouth to speak. “Gabe, you know this place belongs to you every bit as much as it does to me. We’re partners.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?” Chet asks, confused.

“Partners? Since when?” My eyes flit back and forth between my brothers, looking for someone to acknowledge my point of view, but Chet and Hank stare back at me with blank faces.

“What?” I demand.

“Do you really not see yourself as a partner?” Hank asks. “Hell, I spent most of my time here screwing around drinking beer or riding four-wheelers. But you? We would have lost this ranch years ago, if it wasn’t for the two of you.”

Now I’m the one staring blankly. “Do you really think he’s ever said anything to offer, even a hint, that he sees us as partners?” I ask Hank as I aim the neck of my bottle at Chet.

Hank leans in to me, putting himself within whisper distance. “I thought you were supposed to be smart?” He sits back and laughs before taking a drink from his beer. “Chet doesn’t express everything with words, man. But I think he’s made his position plenty clear along the way.”

“That’s…” I look back and forth at my brothers, caught between feelings of pride and disbelief. “I can’t process this right now.” I sigh and stare at the counter. “Not until I’ve figured out what went wrong, and what it’s going to take to get her back. I can’t stomach losing her again, much less ending up a weekend warrior dad to my child.”

“Gabe, I’m sure you meant well, but did you stop to ask her what she wants?” Chet asks.

Goddamn, I hate it when he does that. It’s not so much that he might be right, it’s like, because of the way he talks, all succinct and to the point, it makes whatever he says sound so damned obvious.

“Of course, I did.” I grit my teeth. “Let’s suppose you’re right though. Given where we are now, how about some advice on how I can correct the problem?”

And why the hell weren’t you around before I went wading into the deep end, in the first place?

Chet picks up his Stetson and squares it on his head. “Someone I trust gave me a nickel’s worth of advice once, maybe it could help you too.”

Chet trusts someone? The thought catches me by surprise. “Okay, hit me with it.”

“He told me to talk to her. Good or bad, don’t let another good one slip away.” Chet stands to leave. “Talk to her brother.”

I shake my head, undecided if that was wasted breath, or brilliant and insightful. “Chet, before you go—who gave you the advice?”

Chet cracks a smile. “You,” he says, before closing the door behind him.

Hank looks at me with wide eyes. “Maybe you are smart,” he jokes. “But probably not, or you wouldn’t have put yourself in this situation to begin with.”

“Thanks for the support, jerk.” I smile.

Hank stands to throw his empty in the trash and stops behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You gonna be okay?”

I bob my head. “I’ll be alright. Thanks man.”

“Hey, we’re family. I’m here for you. As long as there’s beer in your fridge, anyway.”

“Speaking of—grab me another while you’re up?” I ask.

“Sure thing.” Hank opens the refrigerator and retrieves two more bottles.

“So, what’s going on with the, mechanic-for-hire thing?” I ask, hopeful for a distraction.

Hank hands me my beer as he plops down on his stool. “Not much to tell. Our name is enough for folks to take a chance on me, you know, the first time. After that, what can I say, my work speaks for itself.”

The topic change is welcome, and hearing Hank talk about something he’s so passionate about is a side of him I’ve never seen. And, at least the way he describes it, he might actually turn his hobby into something real—if he doesn’t pull one of his stunts and screw it up first.

After his second beer, Hank notices the time and takes off for home, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Even worse, around six pack thirty, I get the wise idea to text Meredith. Because, you know, drunk plus emotional—that always helps.

Me: Mer, about today. I forgive you for overreacting.

Me: And I’m sorry too.

Me: Please call me.

What can I say, it seemed like a good idea at the time?

My eyes grow heavy and I sleep like a baby. If I had to guess, the alcohol may have had something to do with it. But after waking with fresh eyes and a clear head? I can’t stop staring at those words.

I’m seriously never drinking again.

What do I do? Send an apology text? Explain that I was drunk? Should I call? She never replied to my messages, does that mean she’s still as pissed as she was yesterday? Would it be better to just show up? The magnitude of the conversation does merit a face to face, but…what if she won’t see me?