by Karina Halle
I don’t bother responding. Not sure when Shane decided he was in charge of the damn place but last I checked this wasn’t his ranch, nor was this his house. Until our father is gone, it all equally belongs to all of us and not just Shane because he’s the rancher around here and the apple of my father’s eye.
I head down the upstairs hallway, my head feeling heavy, this weighted anger in my chest, like cement blocks tied to a sinking dead body. I rarely come up here. I don’t like the vibes, the feeling I get. Things in this house changed after my mother died, as things do with time. But this hallway, my old bedroom, everything looks and feels like it did before.
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I pause by my old bedroom and lean against the doorway looking in. It’s pretty much empty, just my old bed in the corner and a dresser. At one point I had posters on the walls, of cars and pretty girls and the usual teenage thing, but those have been taken down by someone at some point.
But it’s not my teenage days that I’m remembering when I’m here.
It’s when I was a kid.
It’s always the day when my mother died.
It’s always what I said.
“I hate you.”
I close my eyes, take a shaking breath through my nose.
I hate how much the past still has a hold on me, has its claws in me, serrated and razor-sharp. I hate that I’ve not been able to move past it, that no matter what I’ve done in my life, it won’t let me go.
I see that little boy and I know I could have done more to save her, to help her. If I had been better, she wouldn’t have killed herself.
If I hadn’t told her I hated her…
The world seems to swim and I open my eyes, refusing to sink again, refusing to feel this pain.
I keep going down the hall until I’m in my father’s bedroom.
It’s strange now that he shares it with Vernalee. I don’t dislike her by any means but I guess it’s strange to see him with anyone. Thankfully Vernalee has redecorated the place enough and my father remodeled the bathroom so it doesn’t feel exactly like I’ve stepped back into the nightmares of my childhood.
I open the medicine cabinet, rifling through the large collection of prescription pills that all old people seem to accumulate over time and never throw out.
Finally, I find the prescription opiates and open it, shaking two out into my palm and popping them into my mouth. Then I decide to just pocket the whole bottle. He won’t even notice.
“What are you doing?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I turn around and see Shane staring at me, standing in the door way.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I ask him snidely.
“Like you’re stealing pills,” he says. “What was that?”
I shrug. “Something for my headaches. I ran out of my prescription.”
“What headaches?” he asks suspiciously.
“The ones I get,” I tell him, heading toward the bedroom door. “From stress. From people like you.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t get out of the way. Just folds his arms and stays where he is.
“Get the fuck out of the way,” I growl at him. I’m having a flashback to one of many times when we were younger and our arguments usually ended in a fistfight. Or at least my fist striking him. He could be passive even when I was slamming him to the ground.
“What the hell is your problem Fox?” he asks and finally, finally there’s an edge to his voice. I’m actually getting under his skin.
“You, being in my way,” I tell him, taking a step closer until I’m right up against him. “Now move, or I will make you move.”
But he doesn’t move. The fucker stands his ground. I shift tactics.
“How is it that you can still live here?” I ask him, staring at him point blank, scrutinizing every movement of his face.
He gives me nothing, his features impassive. “What do you mean?”
“Here, Shane. On this ranch. After our mother died, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. Neither could Mav. But you, you Shane, you didn’t seem to care. You never even moved. You just stayed. Why is that?”
The muscle ticks along his jaw. “You’re not yourself Fox.”
“I wish that were true,” I tell him. “I wish I were anyone else but me. Do you know why that is? Because she died, Shane. And maybe you don’t understand that because you have no memories of her. Maybe that’s why this house doesn’t mean anything to you, because she didn’t mean anything to you.”
Something dark comes over Shane’s eyes and for a moment I think I may have taken it too far. I swallow, my body primed in case he tries to punch me.
“Are we actually talking about this now?” Shane asks, his voice hard and steady.
“Talk about what?”
“About her. About us. About your fucking problem with me.”
I can’t help but grin and I know it’s coming across as bitter as it feels.
“I have problems Shane, but they aren’t with you. Now, if you don’t mind, get the fuck out of my way.”
He stares at me, nostrils flaring, and then, just as quickly as the anger came over him, it leaves. His face goes blank and he steps to the side.
I step past him as he says, “You have problems with everyone Fox. That’s why you’re turning into a drunk and a druggie.”
I freeze in my tracks, not believing my ears. Turn around to look at him.
“Excuse me?” I’m nearly whispering and it’s hard to hear my words over my heart throbbing in my head.
“You heard me,” he says, the shadows from the lights above falling on his face, making him look sinister, like someone else. For a weird moment I think that maybe this isn’t even Shane at all, that he’s been replaced. He’s not even making sense.
“Stealing fucking medication from our father,” he says, practically spitting. “You’re in your thirties, Fox, you need to grow up not act like a fucking emo teenager anymore.”
My fists curl, the muscles on my forearms popping as I try to rein in the need to punch him in the face. “Do you know what I do for a living?”
“I know. Everyone knows. You’re the hero of the town. You’re out there risking your ass to save everyone. Then you come back home and you’re miserable. You’re closed in, shut-off and angry all the damn time and you’re constantly lashing out and pushing away the people who matter to you the most.”
I shake my head, my jaw grinding down. “You have no idea what it’s like to be me. No fucking idea. I remember my mother—”
“She was my mother too!” he interjects.
“Well you fucking don’t act like it!” I yell right back. “You were just a fucking baby and it was because of you that she became depressed.”
“So it’s my fault she died?”
No. It’s my fault.
I swallow, my throat feeling tight, thick, while the hot coals of anger simmer inside. “You just don’t know. You never had to experience loss like I did, like Mav did.”
“Then explain why Maverick is a fucking saint compared to you. Huh? Tell me why Mav has his shit together and you don’t. That means it’s all on you, brother, you’re fucking up your own damn life.”
I reach out and poke him squarely in the chest, hard enough for him to stumble back a step. “And it’s my own life to fuck up. It shouldn’t affect anyone but me, it shouldn’t be anyone’s business but mine. So keep your head down and fuck off.”
“It’s no longer just your life, Fox,” Shane growls, regaining his balance, his eyes glittering with dark menace. “It’s Del’s and your baby’s. And you have to get yourself under control for the both of them.”
I blink, staring at him blankly. “What?”
I’m not sure what he meant by that.
I think I know what he said but…
And for a moment it looks like he doesn’t know either. He straightens up, raises his chin, mouth clamping together. He doesn’t explain. He looks…scared.
“Shane?” I say hoarsely and for some reason my voice is trembling. My heart has started to race. “What did you just say?”
“Forget it,” he says, looking away. “I’m tired. I’ve got to go.”
With his head down he tries to walk past me but I grab him by the collar and slam him up against the wall, hard enough that the pictures along it shake.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I growl. “Del and…our baby? What baby?”
It doesn’t even sound right coming from my mouth.
Shane closes his eyes, breathing in deep through his nose, rubbing his lips together like he’s trying to maintain composure. “Fuck.”
My grip on his shirt tightens. “Fuck what, exactly?”
He sighs and looks off down the hall, his eyes looking pained. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything. She was supposed to tell you. I guess I thought she had…”
Fucking hell. “Tell me what? What?”
“I guess I’ve fucked up at this point so I might as well.” He pauses, his head going back and banging against the wall. “Shit. Fuck.”
I let go of him, waiting.
He absently smooths the collar of his shirt and says, “Del is pregnant.”
What?
I can’t…
Oh, fuck.
Oh, no.
No.
I’m suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. “She’s what?”
“Pregnant.”
“Are you sure?”
He gives me a wry smile. “Oh yeah. I had suspected it and got her to take a test. Then another one. I was there, I saw for myself. Then she went to the doctor and it was confirmed.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper, my hands going to my hair, making fists in them. I can’t seem to focus on anything, the pattern in the carpet is moving in and out. I lean against the wall, deadweight on my feet. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. So she’s been dealing with that. Only a few of us know. Me, Rachel, her mother. That’s it.”
“Del is pregnant,” I repeat. How could that even be? “She said she was on the pill,” I say meekly, as if that will just cancel the whole thing.
“It happens,” he says.
“Fuck.”
“I wish I wasn’t the one to tell you.”
I look him in the eye. “I’m not. I’m glad you did. I can fucking lose my mind with you…I couldn’t do this with Del.”
“If it makes you feel any better, she’s freaking out too.”
It doesn’t make me feel better. In fact, it makes everything that much worse.
“Why the fuck didn’t she tell me?”
Shane shrugs. “She was waiting for you to get back.”
“Yeah well I fucking got back and let her know and she didn’t even answer. She could have called me. Texted me. Now I feel like I’m the last to know.”
“You’re not.”
“You know, of all fucking people. My own brother knows before me. And why the fuck were you with her anyway getting her pregnancy tests?”
“I just was, okay?” he snipes. “Like you should have been.”
“She still should have told me. I can’t believe this. Is she, you know, going through with it?”
I know Shane knows. I know he knows everything about this, that he’s been through it all for the last three weeks while I’ve been gone.
“You should talk to her about this, Fox. Not me.”
“If she wanted that, she should have fucking reached out to me.”
“She’s been busy. She has the pub quiz night on tonight. Maybe she didn’t even get your text.”
But I barely hear him.
I can’t be here anymore.
I need to see her.
I need to hear it from her own mouth.
I need to know why she’s kept this from me for three fucking weeks.
I storm off down the hall, hearing Shane calling for me, saying I shouldn’t drive, but I don’t care. I get in the Jeep and roar off down the road, straight to the pub.
15
Delilah
“Jesus, Delilah, I’ve never seen this place so packed. You got some dancing naked ladies happening later?” Old Joe asks me as I hand him his beer.
“You wish,” I tell him.
“Only if it’s you, honey,” he says with an exaggerated wink.
I roll my eyes. “It’s pub quiz night, Joe.”
“You’re doing that again?”
“Do you not even pay attention to the board outside? I spend a lot of time on that. You think it’s easy to work with chalk?”
“All I pay attention to is what’s on the inside, and that’s you, sweetheart.”
I sigh and nod toward his table. “Go sit down before someone takes your booth.”
Terror strikes his wrinkled face and he takes the beer, shuffling off quickly to claim his territory.
A few weeks ago I decided to bring back pub quiz night, something I used to do a few years ago but then stopped because people lost interest. Because the slow season is now in full affect and I have a baby I have to think of, which means I need more money to support said baby, this could be a great way to bring in more customers and extra income.
And so far it seems to be working. The place is pretty packed and I got Rachel and Riley to help me out with creating the quizzes for everyone and giving me some extra help at the bar. I didn’t ask them to but they insisted on helping out and won’t take any money in exchange for their time.
It’s been a welcome distraction, no matter what. After seeing Julie leave Fox’s this afternoon, my heart has been in fucking knots. Even after he texted me later, telling me he was back in town, I’ve been too messed up to reply.
I’m angry. And hurt.
And yes, according to my mother, jumping to a million conclusions. Normally I’m a fairly straight-shooter when it comes to Fox (well, aside from never telling him how I really feel about him), and I’d like to think before the pregnancy I would have just called him up and asked point blank about her.
But now, I don’t feel like myself anymore. I am just all over the damn place and these hormones aren’t helping and it’s like the world is this big crushing weight over my chest that I just can’t seem to lift off.
So pub quiz night is turning out to be somewhat of a godsend and I’m keeping busy, though I think at this point Riley is starting to wonder why Rachel is acting extra concerned around me. I haven’t told her yet that I’m pregnant, only because I know she’ll tell Maverick and Maverick will probably tell Fox.
I also haven’t told either of them about what I saw today. I guess because I don’t know the facts, I guess because it might make it out to be a bigger deal than it is.
Even so, Rachel knows something is up.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asks me for the millionth time as I make someone a rum and coke.
“Just tired,” I say quietly, forcing a smile.
“But what about up here?” she asks, leaning over the counter to press her thumb into my forehead.
“My brain is tired too,” I tell her, noting that there are a few people sitting at the bar and listening to us.
She takes her hand away and lowers her voice. “You just seem sad, that’s all.”
Well my best friend and baby daddy that I’m in love with just had his ex-girlfriend over at his house and didn’t even tell me he was back in town.
But that confession wouldn’t go over very well the locals who are watching us. The last thing I want is for the whole town to have something new to gossip about and I know it’s no longer the 1950’s where couples are punished for having children (or even sex) out of wedlock but it would still be enough to get the tongues wagging. I would especially hate for anyone to think anything less of my mother. There’s no reason why they should but it seems to always be that way. The mother gets the blame.
And for the umpteenth time, I’m hit with the realization that…
Holy hell. I’m going to be a mother.
A mother.
Me.
I’m not ready for this. I am so not ready.
“I’m fine,” I manage tell her, sticking a wedge of lime on the rim of the rum and coke and hoping I can keep it together. “It’s a busy night and–-”
“Fox,” Rachel gasps just after I hear the front door swing open with a slam.
I look up from the drink and see him come in.
Only he doesn’t just walk in the bar, he storms in like he’s coming here for a battle, his sword sharpened and ready to strike.
Any conflicting thoughts I have about seeing him here are shoved away once I see the wild anger in his eyes. Anger directed at me.
Shit.
Shouldn’t I be angry at him?
“You’re fucking pregnant with my baby and you didn’t even tell me?” he roars, stopping right in front of the bar. “Does everyone know in here except for me?”
The room seems to hum with silence.
Every face is turned, staring at us in curiosity and disbelief.
“They do now,” I whisper to myself.
Fox’s face is red, his eyes flashing until they seem to realize what he’s just said and everyone that he’s said it in front of.
“Fox,” Rachel barks at him. “What the fuck is your problem?”
But Fox is a stubborn shit. He points at me. “I need to talk to you.”
I don’t know how I manage to stand my ground. I feel completely humiliated and ashamed and angry and defiant and scared. Oh, god, I’m scared because this wasn’t at all how this was supposed to happen, not even close.
I glance at Rachel. “Can you watch the bar?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Of course,” she says to me softly, then fixes a glare on Fox.
I duck under the bar-top and head toward the back room, not even looking at Fox and assuming he’ll follow me. I open the door, though I was tempted to fucking kick it down, and then go inside.
Fox appears right behind me, practically slamming the door shut.
Whatever anger he stormed on in here with though has been transferred to me.
“Thanks a fucking lot!” I yell at him, throwing my arm out. “That was supposed to be a secret!”
“A secret?” he says in disbelief. “It seemed it was a secret only to me. Why the fuck did I have to find out from Shane?”