“Ah, finally!” he calls out from behind the bar as he wipes his hand on a rag. Walking to the table, he sets both his hands on his hips. “I was thinking you forgot about me.”
“Not at all, Frank. I just wanted to make sure I got it right.” I reach into the box and wrap my hands around the weighty sculpture. When he sees it, his jaw drops.
From a solid piece of basswood I carved him a face of an old man with a beard. Stained to a dark cherry, I painted the man's eyes to give him a little life.
“Holy shit, Bran, it's incredible.”
“And,” I say, “it doubles as a bottle opener.”
Pointing at his mouth, Frank lets out a scratchy chuckle. “You're fucking with me, right?” he asks. Looking over his shoulder he calls out to the bartender. “Nina, bring me a bottle of beer.” She's at his side quickly, and he pops it open using the opening in the old man's mouth. “This is awesome. I'm putting it right over the back of the bar. Wow.”
My skin bristles as I'm standing with him. I'm getting the feeling I'm being watched. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Melody's brother Ryder and a guy named Marc. They're both sitting at the far end of the bar, eyes pinned on me.
“I can't believe this,” Frank says, shifting my attention back to him. “I'm hanging it up right now.”
“Good, I'm glad you like it. I'm sure your customers will get a kick out of it.”
“You're staying for a beer, right?” Frank asks. “It's on me.”
“No, thanks though. I have to get back. I still have a lot of projects to finish.”
He walks away, holding up the wooden face and yelling to someone in the back to come and check it out. Picking up the box, I turn to leave.
“You should stay for a beer, Bran,” Ryder says, blocking me from going forward.
“Yeah, no need to rush off.” Marc comes up on the other side, completely boxing me in.
“I'm all set guys.” Attempting to take a step around them, they take a step in. “You guys need something?” I ask.
I really don't want to start anything with Melody's brother and his friend. The last thing I want to do is kick the shit out of both of them. But if they strike first, all bets are off.
The tension in the air is thick. It's layered with too much testosterone and alcohol.
Ryder lifts his chin, his eyes firmly locked on mine. “I wanted to thank you for helping my sister.” There’s an edge to his voice that tells me he doesn't mean it. His tone is dry and harsh.
“Yeah, sure, no problem. How is she doing?” I ask, trying to stay natural and not sound suspicious. As far as I know, Melody hasn't told him anything about us.
“You should know,” Marc chimes in. “I saw her pulling off of your road yesterday.”
Swallowing hard, I hold up my hand and signal the bartender. “Can we get three beers over here.”
All of us are just staring at each other as the bartender sets the beers down on the table. Even she can feel the tension. Her eyes jump between us, and she backs away quietly.
Taking mine, I tip my beer in the direction of the other two. “They're on me.”
“You didn't answer my question.” Marc's eyes turn to pinpricks as his mouth pulls taut. “Why was she at your house?”
“Look, I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You know she's only eighteen?” Marc takes a small step forward. “I know all about you. You already ditched one wife and kid, you better not be fucking with Melody now, too.”
Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
Squaring my shoulders, I'm ready. Let him take a swing and I'll make him regret it.
“All right, calm down,” Ryder says, setting his hand on Marc's chest and guiding him back a few steps. His eyes turn to mine as his head tilts. “I am curious, though. When Marc told me that, I wasn't sure what to think. Figure I'll give you a chance to explain. What were you doing with my sister?”
“I'm sorry, but you're going to have to ask your sister that question. It's not for me to answer.”
Crooking his jaw, his brows dip hard. “I've got my eyes on you. Stay away from my sister. She's been through hell, and she doesn't need an older man preying on her.”
Sucking down a huge gulp of my beer, I slam the bottle down on the table and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Is that right? You think I'm preying on your sister?”
He really doesn't know shit. I wasn't the predator, his sister made me her prey.
I might have found her, but she came to me, I didn't force her into anything she didn't want.
“I think that she's young and doesn't know any better.” His lips curl angrily as he bares his teeth. “But I do. I understand men like you. You find a vulnerable girl, alone and in need, and then you strike. I'm warning you, stay away from her.” He points his finger directly in my face.
I can't stop myself. I slap his hand away, gritting my teeth and puffing out my chest. I'm not going to stand here and let him treat me like some pervert. As if this was all planned and my goal was to get in her pants.
“Get your fucking finger out of my face,” I bark through clenched teeth. Taking a firm step in, I crook my jaw. “You don't have a damn clue what you're talking about.”
“Bullshit I don't. I know your reputation. And I know my sister, and she deserves better.”
“Maybe you don't know her as well as you think.” Storming past him, I let my shoulder slam against his, causing him to teeter on his feet.
“Hey!” Marc yells, attempting to rush toward me.
But Ryder grabs his arm and pulls him back, shaking his head no. “Just let him go. He isn't worth it.”
Every muscle in my body is shaking. If Ryder thinks his sister is a delicate flower, he hasn't been paying any attention to her. She made it clear to me already that she doesn't want someone cradling her all the time.
If I can know that about her in just two weeks, where the hell has he been?
Driving home, my hands are gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles are white. I can't stop thinking about what Ryder said.
I am older than her. Her life is just beginning. We might have hopped onto the same path, but we're not walking the same walk.
Am I any better than. . .
I think back to a girl from my past. A friend who needed help and nothing more, and I was there for her. There was a guy twice my friend's age stalking her. He wouldn't leave her alone, and the police wouldn't do anything to protect her.
This situation isn't exactly the same, but what makes me any different than that guy? I'm older than her by a decade. She's only eighteen, a single foot into adulthood. I might not be stalking her, but I'll be holding her back from experiencing life.
Just like the stalker stopped my friend Sadie from living, I'll be stopping Melody. I've already been her age. I've been stupid and reckless. I made mistakes and grew into the man I am today.
I'll be stripping her of all those experiences, holding her back. She might regret it later. Having not gone out to party with her friends. Not going on random road trips. Not being free to follow the wind wherever it takes her.
Melody deserves the chance to figure out her life without an older man tying her down to a place she might not want to be. It isn't fair for her to have to settle for anything because of me.
My head is trying to do the right thing. It wants to be rational, to recognize the truth of what this is. It’s just a fling. We're having fun right now, but in the end, we can never be together. Ten years is a big difference.
But my heart, my heart is speaking a different language. It isn’t using logic. My heart only feels. It feels her. It wants her. It needs her. And right now, it's so heavy at the thought of ever letting her go.
I'm in too deep, and the idea of becoming the man she'll grow to resent pains me. I won't become her big mistake. I have to do the right thing.
And it's not what I want. Except, this isn't about me at all. This is for her. No matter how much I hate the idea
of this, there's no avoiding it.
I have to let her go.
11
Melody
'Your call has been forwarded—'
Hanging up, I send Bran another text. Not just another text, but the millionth message in the past two days. He probably thinks I'm crazy for texting him so much, but this is driving me nuts.
Where are you? Call me. Hitting send, I toss the phone on my bed.
I haven't heard from him since the day at the waterfall, and that was four days ago. My mind has been running wild. I knew it was risky opening up to him and telling him the one thing I absolutely know I want one day.
I shouldn't have said anything to him about wanting a family.
Dropping onto the mattress, I tuck my hands under my legs and hang my head. Ryder told me he was a loner, he warned me Bran wasn't a good guy. He left his family, abandoned them as if they meant nothing to him.
And I didn't listen.
I let myself fall for a guy who will never love me back.
Flopping back, I throw my arms over my head and let out a sigh. There's a weight on my chest. The anxiety is starting to move up from my stomach and hit me where it really hurts. My heart.
I wasn't sure what he was thinking after I told him about wanting a family, he didn't say anything. Deep down I guess I was just hoping he was listening with no judgment. I certainly didn't mean to scare him away.
Is it really fear?
Or is he just a coward?
I want answers. I deserve that, at least.
Picking up my phone, I try to call him one more time, but again it goes unanswered.
“That's it,” I say out loud, sitting up quickly.
Buttercup picks up his head and looks at me with sleepy eyes.
“I'm going to find out for myself,” I say to my dog. He doesn't seem to care, dropping his head back down.
I'm not just going to sit here and wait for answers that might never come. I'm going to go get them for myself.
If he's the man I think he is, then he's going to tell me what's going on to my face. I've been annoyed as hell that he's ignoring me, but now I'm taking control of this. He needs to talk to me.
Running down the stairs, Jenna is wobbling herself into the kitchen. “Hey, Mel, you headed to work?”
I don't even stop as I say, “Uh, yeah, and I'm running late.” Shoving the storm door open, it slams shut behind me.
I'm not explaining anything to her. Jenna cries on a dime lately, for good things and bad things. It doesn't matter. If I tell her I'm going to get answers from the man I'm falling for, she'll either burst out in tears because she'll think it's sweet, or she'll rage cry because she and my brother warned me about him already.
I don't have time for either scenario right now.
Pulling up his driveway, I see his truck right where it normally is outside. Parking, I look up at his house, but it's dark.
He's here. I know he's here.
Standing at his door, I hit the wood with the back of my knuckles lightly. Cupping my hands against the big window, I try to look inside, but I can't see shit.
Taking a step back, I glance around the property in case he's outside chopping wood or in his garden. He's not.
Knocking on the door harder, I call out, “Bran! Open up it's me!” Banging the door again with my palm, I hit it as hard as I can. “Bran, I know you're home!”
After a few seconds, I hear the chain for the lock as he pulls it away. Cracking the door a hair, he says, “Not now, Mel.”
No hello, how are you doing? No I'm sorry, I should have called.
All I get is a not now Mel.
What the fuck is that?
“Not now? What the hell does that mean, not now?” Using open palms, I force the door open wide enough for me to see his face, and I'm shocked. “What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?”
His eyes are puffy with dark circles and his hair is all matted into a knotted mess. He's barefoot, standing in a pair of dirt covered jeans and no shirt. His skin looks pale, as if he hasn't seen the sun in months.
“I'm fine, don't worry about me.” Using his hand, he tries to push me back lightly so he can he close the door.
Why is he acting like this?
None of this makes sense. Things were good. We were good.
He can try and push me away, but I'm not leaving without some answers. Bran might be able to hide away from the rest of the world, but I've given too much of myself to be written off like I'm disposable.
What the hell did I do?
You opened your mouth, a voice inside me says.
Spilled secret or not, it doesn't mean he can just walk away without giving me an explanation. If it's about the family comment, he needs to be man enough to tell me himself. If there's something else, I deserve to know.
That's how a relationship works. You give and take from each other. I gave him something no one has ever owned, my heart. I think I at least earned the right to know the truth.
I don't let him close the door, planting my foot right in the opening. “I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on. Why have you been avoiding me?”
“Just go, Mel. It's not hard, all you have to do is turn around and walk back to your car.” He's breathing slowly, his face emotionless and flat.
What did I do? Why is he pushing me away like this?
I've done nothing to hurt him. There's no reason for him to be so cold to me. So what if I said I wanted a family, it doesn't mean he has the right to ghost me like this.
His voice sharpens as he snaps, “I said leave, Mel. I'm done, we're done. I can't keep doing this.”
“What?” I ask, my voice trembling. “What happened? Where is this coming from?” I can hear the plea in my tone. I need more than that. “Doing what? What are you talking about?”
“Leave.” His voice is harsh, full of animosity. “Get the hell out of here,” he barks through clenched teeth.
I haven't seen this side of him. He's brimming with a mix of anger and sadness. I just can't tell if his feelings are aimed at me or at himself. His eyes are glaring at me, but he looks distant. As if he's someplace else in his mind. A scattered thought, a missed moment, a memory he's focusing on.
The only thing I can recognize is him cutting the tether between us. He's gone. Whatever I thought we had no longer exists. It's gone completely.
Taking a step back, my heart starts to crumble in my chest. I can feel the muscle turn brittle as it slows to a stop. My body goes cold, so cold the tips of my fingers are numb. My arms dangle lifeless at my sides as I peer up at him, searching for a hint of the man I met that day in the woods.
The warmth I felt, his tender touch and caring worry. The way he carried me to keep me safe, and allowed me in.
I'm staring at him, my eyes glassing over as I do my best to hold in my tears. I don't want to cry. My own anger is building, and I don't want to give him any more of me. Including my tears.
I still want answers.
“Be a man, Branson, and tell me why? At least tell me where this all went wrong. Don't I deserve that much at least?”
He doesn't answer. His eyes turn cold as he closes the door the rest of the way, flipping the lock to seal him inside alone. The metal click is this last thread he just severed.
My feet are frozen, I want to turn and run, but I can't. I'm so heavy, every muscle and nerve, all the way to my bones feels like they're made of concrete. I'm stunned.
The shock I feel quickly turns to sad rage. He can't shut me out like this. It isn't fair.
Slamming my palm against the door over and over, I yell, “Bran! Bran! I deserve an answer!”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Pounding again with the side of my fist, I grunt angrily as I beat on his door. “Tell me why!” I demand. “Why?!”
Silence.
He doesn't even care enough to explain. I mean nothing to him.
Dragging myself back to my truck, I sit in the front seat, trying to c
atch my breath. I want to cry. I can feel it. The tears are bubbling over the edge of my lids, and my lungs are starting to take in short gasps of air.
Flicking my eyes up, I see him standing in his window. He watches me for a second, then turns around and walks away.
There's no wave. There's no smile. There's nothing.
Branson is just an empty shell of the man I met.
Where did I go wrong?
The tears bubble up over my eyes, but I refuse to blink them free. Backing down his driveway, I head back to the farm, doing my best not to lose it. Even though the dam feels like it’s going to burst at any moment.
Pulling into the farm, I don't go inside right away. I'm overwhelmed by sadness. It's eating me away inside, turning my stomach upside down and making me want to puke.
Looking up at the house, I can see Ryder holding Jenna's belly in the living room, talking to their baby inside her. They both start laughing, enjoying the life they're building together.
I feel ripped apart as I watch them and their happiness. I'm jealous because I want that too. And I stupidly thought that maybe I found it. A few stray tears spring free, but I wipe them away quickly.
What am I doing? I knew this could happen. I knew it all along.
So why does it still hurt this bad?
Sniffling, I grab a tissue from my glove box and wipe my eyes. Pulling down the visor, I look in the mirror. My eyes are red and glossy, and there are black smears of mascara across my cheek bones.
Licking the tissue, I do my best to clean my face, but it isn't working. Balling it up, I throw it on the floor.
I can't hide in here forever. Climbing out, I walk into the house with my head down. Ryder and Jenna both turn to me at the same time with big grins on their faces.
“Hey,” Jenna says. “I thought you were at work?”
“Nope, home early.” I don't look directly at them. If my brother sees me this way, he's going to start asking questions that I don't want to answer.
“You okay?” Ryder asks.
“I'm fine,” I answer, my voice carrying a hint of the obvious. I'm not fine. Not fine at all.
Big Man’s Claim Page 8