King's Country (Oil Kings Book 4)

by Marie Johnston

  If I kept working without fuel, I was going to hurt myself. The last thing I needed, but what I really wanted, was Dawson riding in to save the day again.

  I tossed the helmet on the counter and swiped at more sweat with my forearm.

  I turned around and jumped. Dawson was leaning against the door of the shop, his long, lean form outlined by the sun. He wasn’t wearing his hat and that damn lock of hair had fallen over his forehead. My fingers itched to brush it aside.

  “I was worried about you,” he said.

  Why hadn’t Daisy barked? I would’ve known it was him by the joyous sounds she made when he idled down the drive. But she was probably passed out in the barn. I wasn’t the only one that had slept like shit.

  “I stayed at the cabin.” I’d needed the peace. I hadn’t found it.

  “I would’ve come, but I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

  I lifted a shoulder. I didn’t know either. “How’s your grandma?”

  “She’s getting discharged. They didn’t find anything wrong. She was put on blood pressure meds and refuses to take the anxiety meds they gave her.”

  Sounded like Emilia Boyd. “Don’t you need to be there?”

  “Xander and Aiden rode up. Aiden will drive her back.”

  “Did all your brothers come up?”

  “Yeah. Dad too.” A furrow developed between his brows. Here it was. The talk I didn’t want to have. “Bristol, about the trust . . .”

  “It’s not my money. I get it.”

  “I didn’t know how to tell you. No matter what, you would’ve been hurt and that was the last thing I wanted.”

  “So, what exactly is this trust about?” I wanted to hear it from him. My traitorous mind wanted to defend him. He had to be the one to tell me that he didn’t want to marry me. That he didn’t want to give up the money.

  He wandered in. I stayed where I was. Getting closer to him was a bad idea when my heart hurt this bad.

  “Mama set it up so that we’d each get an equal share if we were married for a year by the time we turned thirty. After that, if we got divorced, our spouse would get half. It couldn’t be touched by a prenup.”

  I waited. That wasn’t the part that hurt so much. Oh, it was its own knife through the gut. My logical brain didn’t care that we’d only been dating for a couple of months. Too early to get engaged or married in most relationships. But my heart ignored the major details.

  His lips flattened, but he continued. “And if we weren’t married by the time we were twenty-nine, or we got divorced before we were married a year, then the trust went to you and your dad. But since your dad’s gone, it’d go to you.” The last sentence was a whisper.

  I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans. I’d stuffed my clothes from yesterday in my dirty laundry pile and didn’t care if I touched them again. “I guess Pop would’ve blown it all.”

  “My brothers love their wives.”

  “But they only married them to get the money.”

  Regret rippled through Dawson’s features. “Yes.”

  “And the woman Emilia lined up for you?”

  “I wasn’t interested.”

  “It’s a lot of money.”

  “I want you. I want to be with you.” He inched closer. “I want you to get the money.”

  So why hadn’t he talked to me? I hugged my arms across my waist. “Don’t.”

  “Bristol—”

  “No, Dawson. I don’t know what to think.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “But you did.” Tears burned the backs of my eyes. I did not want to cry in front of him. If I cried, he’d be the one I yearned to hold me. I blinked, but the tears won. “It hurts a lot.”

  “I didn’t know what to do.”

  I licked my lower lip trying to keep from sobbing. “I think that’s what hurts the most. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to do about me.”

  “What we have is—”

  “Special. Yeah, you’ve said that. But you couldn’t be honest about something really fucking important. You weren’t honest about your grandmother trying to bribe you with another woman while we were dating. Instead, you came here and we . . .” I shook my head. Tears tracked down my cheeks. “I trusted you.” I loved you.

  I still did. I didn’t think I could quit. But how could I move on? His grams had spilled the beans and he’d still come not knowing what to do or say.

  “If we marry, it should be—”

  “Leave.” I couldn’t stand talk of marriage. Not now.

  His mouth snapped shut and he studied me. “I thought we could talk through this.”

  “You missed all your chances to talk.”

  “Bristol—”

  “You need to leave.” Because I didn’t know what to do either. I’d been through breakups. They stung, but I came home, went to work, and forgot about them. I got on with my life.

  Yesterday, it had felt like my life had imploded, only I was alone in my little snow globe of destruction.

  “We’re stronger than this.”

  I sighed. My tears were slowing. He’d come to make it better, but we were spinning our wheels in a big damn mud pit. I couldn’t see any way out. His birthday was in two weeks. He wasn’t dropping to one knee.

  “Look, if you don’t get married by the fifth, I’ll write a check back to you.” If I could even spell an amount that large. “It’s not my money. Your brothers worked really hard to keep it in the family.”

  “No, that’s not what I want.”

  There was enough room in my heartbreak for anger. “You know what really gets me?” Other than Dawson’s role in all of this. And his brothers’. “It’s your mom. She made the rules. What did she think would happen?”

  His gaze was steady, sadness emanating from his whiskey eyes. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to get hurt.”

  “That’s what it seems like. That’s what Emilia’s hated me for. For most of my life. But if your mom really wanted me taken care of, then she could’ve just left a trust for me. So, I can’t accept the money. She didn’t want me to have it either.”

  “That’s not what—”

  “I’m not taking anything more from your family.”

  “We don’t blame you for Mama,” he whispered.

  I doubted that was true. How could they not? I was here and she wasn’t. Sarah’s death had become just another thing I’d been left behind to take the blame for.

  He opened his mouth again, but I couldn’t let him get another word in. When it came to Emilia’s claims, he didn’t know how everyone in his family felt and it wasn’t like I could say fuck them like I did with the rest of the town. I blamed myself more than they did. And when it came to the trust, his words echoed in this big barn.

  “Goodbye, Dawson.”

  He let out a breath and stared at me, a crease across his forehead. He studied me for a moment and I lifted my chin. I clenched my jaw to keep my lips from quivering. With a shake of his head, he left.

  I watched him walk out of my sight. Every step. Each boot strike drove a wedge further between us. I hadn’t given him a choice, but I couldn’t help but want more. I’d been nothing but a temporary distraction in my other relationships. No one ever planned for a future with me. I hadn’t been important enough to think of beyond the next date, the next way I could fulfill whatever they’d been looking for. I couldn’t bring myself to accept more of the same from Dawson.

  I knew what I wanted from him. I wasn’t using him to make myself feel normal, to feel like I mattered. Being with Dawson had made me feel like myself for the first time since I was eight.

  I hadn’t moved by the time he pulled away.

  I sniffled and swiped at my nose. Back to work.

  Wait, I’d been planning to eat.

  I wasn’t hungry.

  I yanked my helmet off the workbench, but my phone buzzed.

  A message from Emma. I know we were supposed to meet for coffee next wee
k, but I had the shittiest overnight at work and could vent. You free tonight?

  I didn’t think before I messaged back. I’m free every night now.

  Oh, shit. What happened?

  Everything. Nothing? I don’t know.

  I’ll be over with Taya. You mind?

  My place isn’t . . . A real place? It’d be crowded with three of us in the RV and the trailer might be okay to use for the bathroom and laundry, but it wasn’t fit for entertaining. There wasn’t enough Febreze in the world for that. I settled for My place isn’t presentable.

  Then we’ll tailgate. I don’t care if you live in a tent, it’s fine.

  I didn’t have the energy to argue. Would it really hurt to let my friends know how I lived? If my trailer and RV combo scared them off, then they weren’t good enough to be in my inner circle. I was desperate for friends, but I wasn’t desperate to get treated like crap. I’d had enough of that.

  Dumping the helmet back on the bench, I walked out of the shed.

  My friends couldn’t listen to my sob story if I burned down my shed trying to weld. I was too tired and hungry and distracted to keep going.

  I could only take care of two of those three obstacles. I could eat. I could nap if I needed to. But I was afraid that I’d never get Dawson off my mind.

  Dawson

  Dad hadn’t gone back to work by the time Grams was discharged. It was only the two of us at the house. Aiden had driven Grams to Billings. Xander had taken Beck to the airport in Billings the day after Grams had gone home. Between my brothers, they’d checked on her. I had stayed away.

  I entered the house after it was dark enough to hurt myself if I kept working. Dad had quit before sunset, which wasn’t early this time of year, but I couldn’t go back to my place and think about how I’d love to wind down with Bristol in my arms, watching a show.

  It couldn’t be over between us. It’d been so abrupt.

  Toeing my boots off, I hooked my hat in its usual place. Dad was in the kitchen. Savory smells filled the house.

  “You cooked?”

  “I still have some skills.” He shoved a plateful of crispy hash browns and sausage toward me.

  I sat on a stool and dug in. My stomach thanked me for the food but my heart hurt too badly to feel the hunger. “I thought you were supposed to be eating better.”

  Dad hardly talked about his heart attack, but his meals had more fruits and vegetables than they had when growing up. And I was diligent about offering him heart-healthy items when he was home.

  He went to the fridge and withdrew a bowl. He slid it across the counter. Salad greens tossed with tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and avocado. “I am eating better. But a guy can still have sausage and hash browns,” he grumbled.

  I smirked but dug in. Telling a rancher he had to cut back on red meat and potatoes wasn’t always successful. But Dad and Kendall had done their research. They wanted to be together for a long time.

  My smile died. That was my dream too, but I’d messed it up and Bristol didn’t want to talk to me. I shoveled food into my mouth out of habit.

  When I was done, I shoved the plate and salad bowl away. “I’m going to Billings tomorrow. I’m switching banks.”

  Dad leaned on the island, his gaze unwavering. “Your grams called today.”

  “Worried she missed too much business while she was in the hospital?”

  “That too.” Dad didn’t sugarcoat it. Grams would always have her priorities and her family wasn’t always at the top. “But she wanted to know how you were doing.”

  “Did you tell her I was shitty?”

  “No, I said that you’d have to be the one to talk to her, if you wanted to. I also told her that none of us condoned what she’d done.”

  Dad didn’t stand up to Grams too often, but when he did, he made it count. “I want to be so angry at her. And I am. But . . . I can’t help feeling like it would’ve turned out the same because I waited too long to do what I had to do. Except for Bristol getting blamed for Mama’s death.”

  “Bristol was a kid. Your mom was worried about her when the rest of us should’ve been too. Hell, I can kick myself until the end of days, wondering what I could’ve done for each of them that night, and I will. But that won’t do Bristol any good today.”

  “She doesn’t want to talk to me. We could discuss it, work through it, but she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “Doesn’t mean you need to give up.”

  I glowered at Dad. “I’m not a teen that needs advice.”

  “No, you’re a grown man who might be smart enough to think your old dad still has something worth saying.” The look he gave me made me feel like a teen getting a lecture at the dinner table all over again. I slumped onto my elbows, ready to listen. “Think about it, Dawson. No one’s stuck around in her life. Her mom left. Sarah died. Her dad was around but he wasn’t. Now he’s gone. Workers. Boyfriends. Friends. Neighbors. We all left her to do whatever it was she did. To handle whatever came at her all by herself. I think the guy who’s in love with her, who wants to spend his life with her, should do a little more than try to talk to her once.”

  Fatigue swamped me. I hadn’t slept well for three days and it was late. Dad thought he had all the answers, but it was almost ten at night and I’d put in a fifteen-hour day. “What exactly do you think I should do, then? Go over there every day until I wear her down? When does winning her back become harassment? She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t know what to do either. You’re both circling each other like dogs, hurt and wary of anyone else.” He circled the island and sat on a stool next to me. “So you’re on the right track. Figure out exactly what you want. Get over your hurt and how it makes you feel when she tells you to leave.”

  “Get over myself, is that what you’re saying?”

  “That’s part of it.” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “You know, when I have to fire someone, or sever ties with a company, I have to get over myself. I can’t send an email at five o’clock on a Friday and hope they forget about it by Monday. I made the decision, so I have to own it. I don’t want the conversation any more than they do, but I made the decision and I have to stand by it. I have to tell them in person and list my reasons why. I have to be available for questions and explanations because my decision affects their life.”

  “Okay? I might be too tired to get the connection but what does firing someone have to do with Bristol breaking up with me?”

  “The trust. You decided not to talk to her about it because you didn’t want to hurt her. But how much of that decision was about saving yourself from a hard conversation?”

  Goddammit. I sank my head in my hands. Dad and his fucking wisdom. “If your goal was to point out how I fucked up even more than I thought, you succeeded.”

  “Get over yourself, Dawson. You asked what to do. You need to figure out what you want, with Bristol, with the money, and you need to tell her. Then you need to be available for her. You don’t get to smile and joke and say something charming so everyone likes you. You need to stay for the hard conversation. Once she realizes that you’re not circling the issue and that your apologies are genuine, then maybe she’ll talk to you.”

  He patted me on the back, then slid off the stool and went to his room upstairs. I was alone with my thoughts.

  As much as I wanted to feel sorry for myself and slink off to bed, Dad’s words were sinking into my brain. Slow, like a warm cup of coffee resting on a snowbank. I wanted Bristol to trust me, but I had to prove I was trustworthy. To do that, I had to tell her the truth. To talk to her, I had to get her to let me hang around long enough to listen. And before I said a damn word, I had to give her more than an excuse about not wanting to hurt her.

  She didn’t think I’d stick around. She might think that I was done with her.

  I wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  So, what’d that mean?

  I went to the office and grabbed my laptop.
First, I logged in to my email and sent a message to our lawyer. Then I searched businesses in Billings and scribbled out a list. After that, I brought up a list of businesses in King’s Creek. I ran through all my conversations with Bristol since I’d found her shivering in the pasture.

  It was time to back up my words with actions. Tomorrow, I’d ask Kiernan to cover for me while I ran to town. I might need him to fill in for me for a few days while I worked on proving to Bristol that I wasn’t abandoning her.

  Once all that was done, I would be ready to find Bristol. And I’d back up everything I told her, starting with how much I loved her.

  Chapter 16

  Bristol

  It was obnoxiously nice outside. Birds chirped in the bushes a hundred yards from my trailer. Their cacophony was worse than living next door to frat boys. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and I was sweating before ten a.m.

  I put on the sunglasses that Emma had given me the night she and Taya had come over. I’d told them the bare-bones story about the trust and asked for their discretion. I needed someone on my side in town, but if they told the world what had happened, it wasn’t like my life would change.

  Everyone thought I had done something to make Emilia Boyd collapse. Taya had heard I yelled at her. Emma said the gossip was that I’d pushed the woman. Both of them claimed to have defended my honor.

  I believed them.

  So, that night, we tailgated. I warned them about the trailer and they didn’t let it stop them. They used the bathroom several times and didn’t comment on the state of the rest of the space. Since Taya brought over a couple bottles of wine and I didn’t drink, both women had to crash in the RV for the night. Taya took the couch and I made Emma sleep on the bed instead of on the floor by Taya. I slept in the back of my pickup with Daisy after they each fell asleep. An impromptu campout. Otherwise, they’d have argued, and I couldn’t share a bed with anyone but Dawson. Too soon.

  They’d begun the next day hungover and I had started work late. But it’d been worth it.

  I’d felt lighter the next morning. Tired and worn out, but not holding in everything that bothered me, not letting it eat away at me. I had even gone to town for mouse traps and rodent stations and managed not to lob off a sarcastic remark when I was asked if I needed more than one. A trailer, three RVs, a shop, and a barn. Yes, I needed more than one.