by Liz Isaacson
A challenge sat behind her smile. “Rhett, Jeremiah, the twins, Wyatt, you, Micah.”
“Which twin is older?”
“Liam.”
Skyler grinned at her. “So we know a little bit about each other.” He stood up, wanting to kiss her again. In fact, they had all afternoon with nothing to do. His hormones raced, but he pressed on the brakes. “For example, I know you’re a good cook. I know you have a good singing voice, and you love to sing. I know you hate shopping. I know you’re good at your job, and good with people because you genuinely care about them.”
He joined her in the kitchen, hoping she’d say a few things about him, so he’d know he wasn’t crazy.
She just gazed up at him. “I know we know each other.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I’m sure you’ll regret that,” she said with a smile. She turned back to the stove and carefully flipped over the chimichangas. She kept her eyes down as she said, “I’d love to know why you apologize without a reason.”
“Ah, that goes back to the ex-girlfriend,” he said, hating Shayla’s presence in his life. But she’d been there, and Skyler couldn’t just erase those years, even if he wanted to.
Mal didn’t say anything, and Skyler took that as his cue to keep talking. “Her name was Shayla, and she always seemed to be mad about something. So I learned to apologize, even if I didn’t know what I’d done.” He shrugged, the familiar foolishness and embarrassment filtering through him. He wondered if he’d ever be rid of it.
Just like he wondered if the Lord really cared if he’d gone to church that day. Mal did, and his brothers did, and Momma and Daddy had always taken them to church on Sundays. Momma volunteered at the church on Tuesdays and Wednesdays too, sorting donations and teaching a class on how to make jam, among other things.
He simply felt so small among such a huge world, among so many people.
“Well,” Mal said. “You don’t have to do that to me. If you don’t know why I’m upset, ask me. I’ll tell you. Probably in two languages.” She flashed him a smile. “I’m not sure you’ve seen upset from me yet.”
“Oh, boy,” Skyler said with a smile. Easily, as if he’d been born to do it, he slipped his hand along her waist. “Thanks for calling this family meeting. I’m, uh, not great at the whole talking thing.”
“You don’t have to be good at it with anyone else,” Mal said. “Just me.”
“Deal.” Skyler slipped away from her, because though they were married, he wasn’t in love with her. And if they weren’t married, he wouldn’t even be considering leading her to his bedroom.
He sat back at the counter and logged out of his banking website. “That card I gave you is connected to one of these accounts,” he said. “I know you haven’t used it, but you really can. For groceries, and all that. You probably shouldn’t even have your own account. They’ll want to know why.”
“I’ll go close it tomorrow,” she said.
Skyler nodded, suddenly tired for no reason at all. “Do you want to go for a hike this afternoon?”
“Let’s see how I feel after I eat this chimichanga.” She pulled the two of them out of the oil and put them on a plate with a paper towel on it. “Let me get some toppings out, and we’ll be ready.”
Skyler watched her work, and she was so welcome in his life, in his apartment. He thought about telling her about the therapist he was going to call tomorrow, but when she turned from the fridge, laden with sour cream, salsa, and guacamole, he decided it could wait for another day.
After all, they didn’t have to talk about everything in their first family meeting. At least that was what he told himself.
The next morning, Skyler woke at six, even though he hadn’t set his alarm. He lay in bed, trying to go back to sleep. But the endeavor was fruitless, he knew that. He rarely napped during the day, and once he woke up in the morning, that was it for the day.
He got up, put on his running shorts, his basketball shorts after that, and was pulling a T-shirt over his head when he went into the kitchen. He started making coffee, though he wouldn’t drink it, and wondered if he could go knock on Mal’s door and ask her to go running with him. With all the food she’d been making since she’d stopped working, Skyler definitely needed to hit the gym even if he didn’t run.
“Morning,” Mal said, and Skyler’s heart rate jumped.
“Oh.”
“Scared you, didn’t I?” She wore her Spandex and a sweatshirt with a white feather on it—and a smile.
“Yeah,” he said. “You want to go running?” He pushed the power button on the coffee maker, and it started to click.
“I’m already dressed,” she said.
“I’ll get my shoes.” He had nothing to do the rest of the day, and he could easily go lift weights after lunch. Or that evening. Or whenever, really.
Mal’s phone chimed, and she picked it up off the counter where she’d set it. “I think it’s…your mother.”
Skyler almost dropped the coffee can he was putting back in the cupboard. “What?”
“Yeah, it says, You two will come for the New Year’s Eve light parade, right?” Mal looked up, complete surprise on her face.
Skyler crossed the kitchen and took the phone from her. He didn’t have his momma’s phone number memorized, but the messages certainly seemed to be from her. He met Mal’s eyes. “What do you think?”
“We don’t have anything else going on,” she said.
“And it’s over by ten,” he said. “We can still get back here for the ball drop.”
“They don’t have an afterparty at the ranch?” She accepted her phone back from him. “And I can’t remember the last time I stayed up until midnight by choice.”
“We could go back to the ranch, if you want,” he said. “Or stay at Momma’s. She’d die and go to heaven, then come back and make us New Year’s breakfast.” Skyler smiled, and he suddenly wanted to do exactly what he’d outlined. Going to breakfast with his brothers had been really fun. And going to church had opened a door Skyler had closed a long time ago.
He knew it wasn’t as simple as just re-opening the door, and everything between him and the Lord would be magically okay. He thought of his own phone, and the call he needed to make later that day, wondering if he should tell Mal about it now or after he’d made an appointment.
His throat dried up, because he wasn’t even sure what to say when he made that phone call.
Maybe you should ask Mal for help.
The thought existed in his mind, and Skyler didn’t want to dismiss it. “Mal?”
She looked up from her phone, her expression open. She wouldn’t judge him. At least he hoped she wouldn’t.
“I…I got the name and number of someone from my brother.”
Mal’s head cocked to the side. “Okay.”
Skyler realized that what he’d said was beyond vague. “A therapist,” he said next.
“A therapist?” Mal pointed to herself and then him. “For us?”
“No.” He sighed. He really wasn’t great at this. “For me. I get irritated really easily, and I don’t know. Jeremiah swears by his therapist, and I thought maybe it would help me work through some things.”
Mal put her phone back on the counter, her attention on him solely now. “Skyler.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I just want to not be so grumpy all the time. And you didn’t know Jeremiah before, but he was worse than me.”
Mal didn’t smile. Skyler didn’t either.
“Okay.”
“I’m going to call today,” he said. “And I wondered…what do you say when you call to get an appointment like that?”
Mal wrapped her arms around Skyler’s waist and leaned into him. “You just say, I need to make an appointment to see Dr. Mal.” She smiled then, though it was small and mostly playful. “They won’t ask you why. If they do, you say you just need to talk to a therapist as soon as possible.”
“Okay.” Skyler held
her—his wife—in the kitchen, glad he’d decided to say something. “Let’s go running. All these chimichangas are making me slow.”
“You don’t have to eat until you feel like you’re going to pop.” Mal swatted at his chest and backed up. Skyler laughed, glad he’d decided to confide in his wife. No, he hadn’t told her everything about himself or his past yet. But no one could drink from a fire hose.
They ran; he showered; he skipped breakfast as he usually did. When Mal went to get in the shower, Skyler pulled out his phone and tapped to Jeremiah’s text that held the information he needed.
He took a deep breath and tapped to make the call.
“Windsor Counseling,” a woman chirped, and Skyler wanted to hang up. He took another breath. He wanted to do this. He wanted to feel whole again. He pushed against the sheepskin he’d been wearing since the fiasco in Dallas, and cleared his throat.
“Yeah, hi,” he said. “My name is Skyler Walker, and I’m looking to get an appointment with Dr. Haskell.”
“Okay, is this for a medication appointment?”
“I don’t know,” Skyler said.
“Is this your first time in?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and at least Momma would be proud of his Texas manners.
“We’re booking out a couple of weeks right now,” the woman said. “Holidays and all that. Let’s see…I can get you in on January eighth?”
Skyler didn’t need to look at his calendar. There wouldn’t be anything on it. He’d already decided not to go back to school for the winter semester. He only had three semesters left to finish his degree, but he honestly didn’t need one. He could do the finances and keep the books for Seven Sons with what he knew now.
“Sure,” he said. “That works.”
“Do you know where we’re located?”
“No idea.” Skyler’s stomach growled, and he made his way toward the kitchen to get a protein bar.
“We’re in the new office building on the north side of town,” she said. “Third floor. Suite two thousand; it’s only one of two offices on the third floor.”
“North side of town?”
“Yeah, up by the highway that goes out to the ranches.”
“What town?” Skyler asked, realizations clicking around in his brain.
“Three Rivers.”
“Of course.” Instant irritation exploded inside him, but he managed to thank the woman, say he’d be there on January eighth at ten-fifteen, and hang up without shattering his phone.
“Three Rivers,” he said in disgust. But Jeremiah lived in Three Rivers, so it made sense that his therapist did too.
Mal came out of the bedroom, freshly showered, her hair still damp. Skyler said, “I got an appointment on the eighth. It’s in Three Rivers.”
“The eighth? When’s the hearing?”
Skyler’s heart shriveled and re-expanded in less than a breath. “Shoot.” He swiped on his phone, quickly getting his calendar open. “The tenth. Thank the Lord.” He didn’t want to make that call again, and he absolutely could not miss Mal’s hearing.
Mal’s whooshing breath met his ears, and he looked up at her. “Did you want to come with me? We can go to lunch beforehand. Go see if there’s something to do in Three Rivers after. Make it a whole day if we’re going to drive there.”
“Sure,” she said. “I need something to do.”
“You and me both,” he muttered. He’d never had a problem filling his time before. He didn’t have to account to anyone, but he didn’t want Mal to know he sometimes literally sat on his laptop, fiddling around with whatever.
Mal pulled a banana from the bunch and opened the fridge to get a piece of string cheese. “Okay, I’m going to go call my brother. Word on the street is that he got engaged over the weekend.”
“All right,” Skyler said. She went back down the hall to her bedroom, and Skyler went toward his, already texting Jeremiah.
Thanks for warning me the therapist was in Three Rivers, bro.
I live here, Jeremiah said. Can you talk now? I want to know who you’re seeing.
Skyler sighed, because he barely wanted to talk to a therapist, and he certainly didn’t want to answer his brother’s questions.
“It’s Jeremiah,” he told himself as he crossed into his bedroom. “He’s your brother. He’s not going to judge you.”
He closed the door and tapped the phone icon, his chest laced tight. Only when Jeremiah said, “Sky,” did he relax. It was so nice to have someone he could say anything to and feel like he could show his face to them again.
And he had more than one someone like that. He had Wyatt and Micah. Jeremiah. And honestly, any of his brothers. His parents. They all loved him he knew.
You aren’t the black sheep.
“Hey, Jeremiah,” he said, and he tried to focus on the conversation. But his mind kept moving through the apartment to Mal, and if she could be one of the someone’s in his life that he could say anything to and still look her in the eye.
Chapter Seven
Wyatt held the box while Marcy stretched the tape across it to secure it. She sniffed, and Wyatt said nothing. He wasn’t sure what to say anyway. He and Marcy had talked about moving many times over the course of the past month.
She did want to move into the house at Church Ranches. She did. She’d insisted on it. She just had a lot of feelings about leaving the house where they currently lived. She’d bought it herself, and she’d lived on this street for thirteen years. It was the only home she’d known other than her childhood home, which she and her brother had sold a few months ago.
So, since Christmas, Wyatt had helped her go through cupboards and closets. He hauled things to Goodwill or the dump, and he listened whenever Marcy had a story to tell about something in her house.
Cleaning out his bedroom at the homestead had been easy, a thirty-minute job that was mostly him packing up his clothes and making sure he hadn’t left something crucial in the bathroom.
He’d been living with Marcy since their reconciliation right after Thanksgiving, and he fell more in love with her every single day.
Tomorrow was New Year’s Day, and they were moving into their new home. New year. New start.
Wyatt was terribly excited about all of it.
“I’ll get these in the truck,” he said. Even with his bad back, he could carry more than Marcy, usually in one arm. She was strong in other ways, but hefting packed boxes and getting them over the tailgate of his big truck wasn’t one of them.
“Okay.” Marcy sniffled again, and she bent to pick up the hamster cage, following him outside. They’d already gotten the keys to their place, and they were moving everything they could today.
Tonight, they’d spend New Year’s Eve with the family at the light parade, something they were supposed to have done last year. Wyatt didn’t want to dwell on what had happened exactly one year ago tonight, so he pushed the memories out of his mind.
“Buy me lunch?” Marcy asked as she put her hamster in the back seat.
Wyatt looked at her from across the truck bed. “Yeah, of course.” Wyatt liked going to lunch more than almost anything, and Marcy didn’t even have to ask. “This should be the last load, besides the furniture we’re taking.”
Marcy nodded and climbed into the truck.
“What do you want for lunch?” Wyatt asked, trying to get her talking. He didn’t like it when Marcy shut down, but he didn’t know how to avoid it.
She’s fine, he told himself. And it wasn’t his job to fix her anyway. This was just how she dealt with stress.
“They delivered the patio furniture yesterday,” he said. “And the new bed and everything for upstairs.”
“I know,” Marcy said. “I can’t wait to see it.”
Wyatt couldn’t either, and he reached over and took Marcy’s hand in his. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes still a bit teary. “Wyatt, I have to tell you something.”
&
nbsp; His heartbeat flailed for a moment, and the world around him swooped. “Okay.”
“Wait. No, not yet.”
“Not yet?” Wyatt’s curiosity exploded. “What does that mean?”
“It means I forgot I had a plan.”
“A plan?” Why was he repeating everything she said? “Marce, just tell me if you don’t want the house. Or if you want to split up once we get to our anniversary.”
“Wyatt Walker,” she said, her voice full of shock. “Of course not.”
“Well, you just said in this super serious voice, ‘Wyatt, I have to tell you something.’ It sounds bad.”
“It’s not bad,” she said, giggling. Ah, there was his Marcy, the woman he loved. He loved the woman who needed to work through her emotions too, the woman who wasn’t embarrassed to cry in front of him.
“Okay, well, what’s the plan?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, grinning at her. He lifted her hand to kiss her wrist. “Just give me a hint.”
“You’ll see at the house.”
He normally didn’t drive over the speed limit, but he suddenly wanted to get to the house. Quickly. He pressed down the accelerator, and Marcy squealed as the truck lurched forward.
He laughed with her, but he really did want to get there. Church Ranches was an exclusive, gated community in the swells above Three Rivers, and it normally took about twenty-five minutes from Marcy’s house to get there.
Today, it only took Wyatt twenty.
“All right,” he said, practically leaping out of the truck. “Let’s go see what we’ve got.”
“You’re going to ruin it,” Marcy said, following him much slower.
Wyatt chuckled and stepped to the back of the truck to collect a couple of boxes. “These go in the kitchen.”
Marcy took the hamster and opened the front door ahead of him so he could carry the boxes and not have to wrestle with the door. He walked through the huge foyer and then the living room to the kitchen, which sat in the front corner of the house, behind the garage.