“Each boy married so the trust wouldn’t revert to you. Each. One.” She studied me as if willing me to comprehend the magnitude of their actions, right here, this second, so she could witness it.
I clamped my teeth together. Three hundred million dollars. Three guys had gotten married so I wouldn’t get a dime. It wasn’t my money, but that didn’t stop the sheer rejection coursing through me.
“Dawson’s stuck, Bristol.” Emilia’s tone was softer, but her eyes brimmed with determination. “He can’t ask you to marry him without telling you about how the rest of his family kept the money from you. And if he doesn’t ask you to marry him, it’s like he’s saying you’re not worth it.”
Her words seeped in, severing what I thought I knew about Dawson and me. “Why do you think I’d believe you?”
“Bristol, please. You’ve never played stupid in your life. Don’t start now.”
I reared back like she’d slapped me. “You don’t know me,” I hissed. “All I know of you is that you’re a liar and a cheat. You lied to my family and cheated them out of quality land and oil money.”
“Then ask Dawson yourself. Ask Aiden. Beckett.” She spoke slower as she ticked off names. “Xander. Gentry.”
Five King men. Guys I’d barbequed with. Socialized with. They’d all kept this from me? They’d had to get married to keep me from getting some mysterious payday.
“If it’s true, why did Sarah do that? Why have an option where I get the money?”
“I can’t begin to understand her reasons behind this silliness.” She aimed her disdain-filled gaze at me. “And because of you, we’ll never know.”
Anger snapped the last of my tolerance for Emilia Boyd. Emilia could heap the blame on me. She needed a target, but I didn’t have to stand still and let her aim. “Whatever. You can lord around town like you’re the queen of goddamn King’s Creek and get people to dance at your command.” Big Dick had the humility to look ashamed. “But you mean nothing to me. And I’m not going to dance for you.”
I stormed out. But her words followed me. The details of everything she’d said.
Was Dawson going to lose money if he didn’t marry me by his birthday? Was he waiting until the last minute before asking me so we’d appear in front of a judge and I’d love him so damn much I wouldn’t question it?
Was he willing to give up all the money because he wasn’t ready to settle down with me?
I stomped through the bank. The slap of my sandals only angered me more. Boots would’ve been more satisfying.
“Bristol,” Emilia called from behind me. I couldn’t believe it. I had to out power walk my boyfriend’s grandma. “Are you going to talk to Dawson?”
I ignored her. I refused to air my dirty laundry in the middle of the bank. Thankfully, no one was coming inside. I banged out the door and aimed straight for the deli.
Dawson’s truck pulled into a spot next to mine. He got out and rounded the hood, a grin on his face, his eyes squinting under the sun. His smile faded, his concerned gaze shooting down the sidewalk toward me, then behind me.
My stomach lurched. This trust bullshit had to be true, but I wouldn’t fully believe it until his soft lips crushed my world. All the ways his family had screwed mine over. Money. Land. Friendship. Support.
One hundred million rang through my mind. That was Monopoly money. Fake. That much money was absurd. How much would my grandparents have gotten if things had been different? Would our lives have changed? Would they have bought a nicer plot of land and settled into a calm life with better neighbors than the Kings? Money meant a lot to me, but the way I’d grown up had shown me what I truly treasured. People.
People who treated me decently. People who took the time to get to know me. People who were honest with me.
The Cartwrights had had enough of the Kings’ lies.
Dawson was still several feet away when he asked, “What’s wrong?”
His face was pale and anxiety rippled in his eyes, answering many of my questions. He hadn’t wanted Emilia to tell me. He’d been keeping it from me.
Damn. “I think you know.”
His jaw clenched. “Grams, what’d you tell her?”
Emilia pulled up next to us. Her face was flushed and she was breathing heavily. She shouldn’t have trucked behind me so fast. She should’ve stayed in the bank and out of my life. “The truth. Like you should’ve done.”
“It wasn’t your—” He shook his head and shoved a hand through his hair. “Bristol—”
“There’s a trust and rules about when you marry and your whole family has been trying to keep the money from going to my family.”
“No. Well, yes, but no, Bristol. Dammit, Grams.”
“I warned you, young man.” Emilia gulped in air. “I tried helping you. You could’ve married Mallory.”
The woman she’d tried to set him up with? And he’d come to me afterward—and still hadn’t told me.
I’d given him everything that night. If I hadn’t been in love with him by then, I’d have cartwheeled over a cliff as soon as he held me in his arms.
People were watching us. I had to get out of here. The bank was bad enough. It was close to lunchtime and customers were coming and going from the deli, their lingering glances taking me in at my lowest. All those embarrassing moments with Pop in town had nothing on getting my heart ripped out in public. “I’ve heard enough. Go ahead and get married. Keep the money.”
“Bristol—”
“Let her go,” Emilia rasped.
Her interference was the last straw. I whirled on her. “What do you have against me? Why do you hate me so much?”
Her eyes flashed and her nostrils flared as she leaned forward. She raised a shaky finger and stabbed it at me. “Sarah stayed home because of you. I talked to her that night and she said she was staying home in case you needed help. Because you said you were scared of the new guy your dad hired.” She swayed closer. The blazing specks of yellow in her brown eyes flashed under the sun. “I lost my daughter because of you.”
Horror replaced my anger. “What?”
I didn’t remember telling Sarah I was scared. But I’d talked to her about everything. She’d been the closest thing to a mother I’d ever had.
“My . . . daughter . . .” A strangled cry ripped out of her and her knees buckled.
I lunged for her but Dawson was there first. “Grams? Grams!”
A couple in their fifties who had been lingering outside of the deli rushed toward us. The woman got on her phone. “I’ll call an ambulance,” she said.
Emilia’s head lolled. Dawson lowered her to his lap on the sidewalk.
I backed up. The scene was too much.
My fault. It was all my fault.
I snagged my keys from my pocket and ran to my pickup. I’d done enough to Emilia.
Dawson
Grams had just been settled into a hospital room. I’d sat with her in the ER, where they’d run tests on her. The doctor was different than the one who had treated Bristol, but it wouldn’t have mattered for Grams. She’d have gotten better treatment regardless. I’d stayed by her side in the ER and then followed her cot to a room down the hall.
The last time I’d sat at a bedside like this was when Dad had had his heart attack. My brothers had rushed to town and we’d rallied as a family.
Today, I was alone, torn between the pain that had ripped through Bristol’s eyes when she’d learned the truth, and the lingering worry of watching my indomitable grams collapse. Seeing her weak and shaky had set my world off-kilter. She wasn’t the warm, nurturing grandmother who crocheted blankets and sent me birthday cards with five bucks, but she’d always been there. Always. Even when we’d avoided her.
Worry aside, fury simmered inside of me like a ditch fire ready to jump the road and spread uncontrolled through acres of pasture. She’d set up Bristol. Recruited Richard Lang to help corner Bristol and spill the beans.
I peeked at my phone. No notifications. I’d
tried calling. I’d sent messages. All had been ignored.
The only place I wanted to be was by her side. To tell her that it wasn’t her fault. To tell her that Grams was hurting and she hadn’t meant it. She shouldn’t mean it.
Dad appeared at the door. His charcoal-gray suit coat hung open and his tie was loose. He’d come straight from the office. Kendall wasn’t with him. He’d left during a big meeting I’d interrupted him in, and she’d probably stayed behind to finish up.
He went to Grams’s side and carefully pushed the IV stand out of his way. “She asleep or did they sedate her?”
“She fell asleep as soon as they moved her to this room. They think it was stress or some shit, but they want her overnight at least.” I glared at the white square tile floor. I should stop, but I kept talking. “I guess driving up from Billings, cornering my girlfriend, and destroying my relationship, then blaming an eight-year-old girl for the death of my mother took a lot out of her.”
Dad blinked at me, then looked back at Grams. His gaze grew pensive and his jaw tightened. He’d know better than to accuse me of overreacting. “Want to tell me what happened?”
“I can only guess most of it, but I’m sure it’s pretty damn accurate. Richard Lang called Bristol. Offered to meet with her.” I propped my elbows on my knees and rubbed my temples. “And I encouraged her.”
Dad walked around the bed and perched on the vinyl-covered recliner in the corner. I hadn’t wanted to sit there, choosing the office chair instead. The recliner had seemed too long term.
“Richard is a pompous ass.”
I bobbed my head. How much of Richard Lang’s behavior had I tolerated because it was what we’d always done? “Grams was there. She told Bristol about the trust.”
“Shit.” Dad adopted the same pose I was in, pushing his fingertips into his temples.
“Yeah. Bristol and I were going to meet for lunch, so I was close by when Bristol stormed out of the bank. Grams followed her and then . . .” I blew out a long breath. “And then Grams told her that Mama stayed home that night because Bristol was afraid of the guy her dad hired. Mama wanted to be around if Bristol needed to go somewhere safe.”
Dad didn’t respond. After a few moments, I glanced at him. His head was in his hands, but his eyes were closed. Yeah. It was a lot.
He lifted his head. “Well, damn.”
“Yeah.”
“We all know it wasn’t Bristol’s fault.”
“Grams doesn’t.”
“She’s hurting. She and DB took Sarah’s death pretty hard, as would any parent. Then she lost DB, and I doubt she’s gone to a damn bit of therapy.”
I chuckled without an ounce of humor. “That seems to be on brand for our family.”
The corner of Dad’s mouth lifted. “What are you still doing here?”
“Didn’t feel right leaving. Didn’t feel right to stay either.” I stood. “Thanks for coming so fast.”
“Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Xander and Aiden are coming down after Aiden’s done with work. Beck will fly out tomorrow morning. Emilia’s going to hate the fuss, but I don’t want her driving to Billings. Aiden can drive her home in her vehicle when she’s discharged.”
“Thanks for getting it arranged.”
I was almost to the door when he said, “Dawson.”
I stopped. Dad glanced at Grams, then rose and crossed to me. With a hand on my back, he guided me into the hallway. People buzzed around the nurses’ station, but we were four doors down. Our section of the hall was quiet.
Keeping his voice low, he said, “I know she’s your grams. But the next time you’re caught between her and taking care of someone you care about like you care about Bristol—choose differently next time. Your grams’s first priority is herself.”
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. Bristol wouldn’t hold it against me, staying with my grams until she got to the hospital. But she wouldn’t realize the depth of my feelings now that I’d stayed by Grams’s side for hours instead of making things right between us. “I’ve gotta go.”
He nodded like, Yeah, you do.
I managed not to run to my pickup or speed through town or on the highway. Once I hit gravel, I kicked the pedal down. A billowing dust cloud followed me as I turned into Bristol’s drive. Her pickup was parked outside of her trailer. I killed the engine but left the keys in and went to the RV.
Tapping on the door, I called, “Bristol, can we talk? Please?”
No answer.
I knocked again. “Bristol?”
I couldn’t have fucked this up that bad. What we had was too special.
Then you should’ve told her, dumbass.
Birds chirped. Happy-sounding shits. The wind rustled through the tall weeds along the fence posts and around the other two RVs. Crickets. But no human sounds.
I pounded harder. I didn’t want to sound irate, but the need to talk to her, to see her, pumped adrenaline through my veins. She was the hurt and angry one and she had every right to be. Grams could argue that the money was ours all she wanted, but it didn’t feel right. If it had felt right, I wouldn’t have had an issue telling Bristol about it.
I crossed to the trailer. My boots kicked up small puffs of dust that mimicked my race here. I knocked harder on the trailer door in case she was in the bathroom. “Bristol?”
The same sounds of nature were my only answer.
I sank onto the metal stairs outside the RV. They cut into my ass but I didn’t budge. Should I recite my I’m so damn sorry spiel anyway? Just holler it so she could hear it in the RV or the trailer?
More birds sang. A hawk soared over the pasture behind the trailer, waiting to attack its next meal. I hadn’t eaten lunch. Dinnertime was passing.
Had Bristol eaten?
Probably not. She would’ve come home and thrown herself into work. She would’ve retreated into the giant, solid shell she’d built for herself. And she’d be thinking that what Grams had said was true. That Mama’s death was her fault.
Twenty minutes went by. Her pickup was here. She had to be too.
No Daisy. I got up and went to the barn, checking inside. No Bucket.
Right. She had cattle to check and the four-wheeler wasn’t running reliably, and even if it were, nothing could beat horse therapy when the world turned to shit and you felt like you were alone.
It wasn’t something I did. But I’d asked Xander once in high school why he disappeared so long when he got upset at Dad and that was what he’d said.
Would she come back? I toed the ground.
I’d wait.
I parked my ass on the weathered stairs to the trailer. It was more comfortable than the RV steps. And I waited.
An hour went by. Then another.
Was she hurt again? Maybe Daisy was at my house wondering where the hell I was.
My phone rang and I answered without looking at the caller. “Hey.”
“Hey, Dawson,” Xander answered. “Aiden and I are leaving the hospital with Dad to pick Beck up at the airport. We can get a room if you need the house to yourself.”
“Dad told you what happened?”
“Yep. And we all feel like shit. You talk to her yet?”
“No. She’s not home. She’s out riding, but I’ve been waiting close to three hours.”
“Is there anywhere else she can go?”
“On horseback?” I smacked my palm against my forehead. “The cabin. Dammit.”
“The old hunting cabin out by the wells?”
I’d spent the evening on my ass. I could’ve walked there by now. How was the reception? Was she getting my messages?
Of course, asshole. She probably went to the cabin so you couldn’t reach her.
“Yes. If she’s out there, then she doesn’t want to talk to me.” I blew out a breath. “You might as well stay the night, but I’m not going to be good company.”
“You don’t have to be. We’ll try to help you figure out what to do.”
&nb
sp; There wasn’t much I could do if she wouldn’t talk to me. She might want space. She might need it, and that was why she’d gone to the cabin.
I’d respect that. It was the least I could do.
“I’ll be right there.”
“We’ll grab some pizza at the gas station.”
“That’s crap pizza, don’t bother. I’ll make dinner. It’ll get my mind off today.” Nothing would get my mind off today, but I’d rather be cooking in the kitchen than sitting on the couch, staring at the wall, and ruminating over everything that had happened.
“See you there.” Xander hung up.
I dropped my arm and stared at the RV. Then I looked around the yard. Tidier than it’d ever been. Bristol had gotten the Weed Eater working, sharpened the lawn mower blades, and tuned up the riding lawn mower. She’d removed old car parts, sold an old John Deere 4450 that hadn’t run in twenty years, and used the money to buy nicer matching posts for the section of fence that bordered the yard.
Signs of her were everywhere. But she wasn’t around. Because of me.
Chapter 15
Bristol
I put the arc welder down and took off my helmet.
This motherfucking piece of— I kicked the workbench. The chunk of metal I was using to make a new hay tine for the raking fork clattered to the floor. Nothing was going right today. I didn’t have to be a genius to know why.
First off, I’d slept like crap. No, that wasn’t the first thing that’d gone wrong, but I didn’t want to think about yesterday. Emilia Boyd’s words had run through my mind on a loop last night. The crickets and frogs hadn’t drowned the memory out.
My stomach cramped. I hadn’t packed more than a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to take with me. They’d comprised lunch and dinner yesterday and breakfast this morning. I’d made sure Daisy and Bucket had enough to eat, but I didn’t care about myself.
I wiped sweat off my forehead. The shed door was open, but the wind had died during the night. It wasn’t stifling, but I was hot and cranky.
King's Country (Oil Kings Book 4) Page 20