by K. C. Crowne
I’d taken the job and spied on him, collecting information that Amy could use in her attempt to milk him out of every penny he had. I’d played a huge role in the biggest source of stress in his life, and there was no way to take it back.
About forty-five minutes into the drive, a memory flashed into my brain. My eyes widened, and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I drove. After a moment of complete sensory overload, I pulled off to the side of the highway before I caused an accident.
Five-two-four Sterling Drive, apartment 3F.
I’d read the address on my license without any sense of knowing, but as I concentrated on the words, I began to remember. I focused on the address, and more memories returned to my mind the longer I did. I could picture the small studio apartment, which was sparsely decorated aside from some simple furniture and a computer workstation where I did my research. I lived there alone, no family, maybe no friends.
From there my memories spread – I could almost feel parts of my brain vibrating that had been dormant since the accident. I remembered my job, working mostly cases for jilted husbands and wives who wanted to confirm their spouse’s infidelity before filing divorce. I remembered long, lonely nights staking out houses or hotels.
And I remembered Amy.
The conversation returned, much clearer than before. She’d met me in public at some high-class bar. There, she’d told me all about Wyatt and the abuse she’d suffered while with him, how she’d been nothing more than a doting wife in love with a man who’d wronged her every chance he had.
Nothing about it made sense. Wyatt hadn’t been that man at all. In the days I’d spent with him, he’d treated me with nothing but care and respect and kindness. Sure, he was a rough cowboy, the kind of man who didn’t let people get close. But once he’d let down his walls with me, I had seen the good heart he possessed.
Amy had been lying. God, I’d been so stupid to fall for it. I remembered the money she’d offered and how I’d used it to overlook the strange feeling I’d had about the case.
I’d chosen money over my conscience. I’d screwed up, and I was paying the price.
More memories flooded my overloaded brain, small stuff, like the corner store where I’d buy the egg and sausage bagel sandwich that I had for breakfast most mornings because I couldn’t be bothered to cook, or the cozy coffee shop where I’d take my laptop when I needed to work but wanted to be out of the apartment.
Maybe it was the stress of what I’d just been through with Wyatt, or maybe it was the natural healing process, but the memories were coming back hard and fast.
After about thirty minutes, I felt confident that I could drive without being distracted, and I pulled back onto the highway. I was close to home, but it was getting dark and I wanted to get back. It was early evening when I reached Houston city limits, and knowing I had a destination in mind put me at ease.
As I drove, my phone buzzed on the seat. My heart skipped, hoping against hope that it was Wyatt. I quickly snatched the phone and checked the incoming message. My contacts hadn’t been restored, so the number was without a name.
“What did you tell him?”
Keeping my eyes on the road, I fired back a response of who is this? The reply was instant.
“Amy. Where are you?”
No doubt she wanted answers as much as I did. As much as I didn’t want to see her again, to put all this behind me, she was the only way I’d get to the bottom of what had happened.
“On my way into Houston.”
“Good. I want to meet tonight. Three o’clock at the Red Gable Inn. I’ll be at the bar. Don’t be late.”
I sent a confirmation text and set the phone on the seat. Uneasiness crept through me at the thought of meeting with Amy. She’d been the source of all this trouble and cutting ties and trying to piece back together my life might’ve been the smart move, but I still felt as though I owed Wyatt a debt.
I had to make things right.
After typing in the address for the Red Gable Inn, I decided to go ahead and drive to the hotel since I wasn’t familiar with it. I would arrive about thirty minutes early, which would give me time to scout the place. As the thought flitted through my brain, I wondered if some of my PI training was coming back to me.
I didn’t trust Amy. The more information I had before I walked in, the better. I wished I had my laptop with me, but my phone would have to do. Amy’s social media looked like a spoiled princess whose daddy paid for everything she did. No, I reminded myself. Wyatt had paid for it. If she had a job, I couldn’t find it, and like me, she didn’t seem to have any family.
A few minutes before three, I saw Amy pull into the parking lot. She walked into the hotel like she owned it, though she didn’t really fit in the inelegant spot. I climbed out of my car and headed into the inn.
The bar was bright and modern with mellow jazz playing over the speakers. The slender, pretty blonde was seated at the bar, a martini in front of her. She locked her bright blue eyes onto me the moment I stepped in, and I walked to her with resolution in my heart.
“Jesus,” she said as I sat down next to her. “I was worried you’d dropped off the face of the earth.”
“Kind of what went down.”
She narrowed her eyes into slivers, blue peeking through. “Your memory. What happened?”
“I still don’t really know. As far as I can tell, I was on the ranch property and fell and bumped my head. I forgot nearly everything,” I said with a shrug. “It’s only now starting to come back.”
If she was concerned, she sure as hell didn’t show it. “I hope that means you’re still on for the job. Because Wyatt’s looking more and more like he’s taking me to court and I want to be ready for him when he does.”
I had to make my next moves carefully, getting as much info as I could without letting it slip that I was on Wyatt’s side. “What you told me about Wyatt, him being abusive and controlling and a drunk…that’s all true?”
She scoffed. “What difference does it make to you? I’m paying you to get info on him, and that’s all I need from you. And if you’ve been spending the last few days with him, you must have something. I know he’s not perfect. Let’s hear it.”
There was a hard edge to her voice, and it was a total contrast to the helpless woman she’d shown me when we’d first met. Wyatt had said Amy was manipulative, and I was starting to see what he meant.
“He’s not perfect, but he’s not what you said either,” I said with a shrug. “There’s nothing. Wyatt’s a good man.” The last few words tumbled out of my mouth. And judging by the expression on Amy’s face, they didn’t sit well with her in the slightest.
“A good man?” she snarled. “You got up close and personal with him and that’s all you came away with? What the hell am I paying you for?”
Up close and personal. She didn’t need to know how true that statement was – I could only imagine her reaction.
“I don’t know what else to tell you. I staked him out for days and spent some time at the ranch. I didn’t find anything you can use in court. He’s clean.”
“That’s because he’s good at hiding that side of him,” she said without missing a beat. “He’s a liar, through and through.” She took a long swig of her drink before shaking her head in frustration. “You have to dig deeper, spend more time with him. He’ll show you who he really is. Get back to the ranch and find out what you can. And tell me as soon as you do. I’ll be in touch.”
She slipped a crisp twenty out of her purse and placed it on the bar.
“Don’t screw up this time.” Amy rose from her seat without another word and strode out of the bar, her heels clicking with each quick footfall.
There wasn’t any question about it – Wyatt had been right about Amy. She’d played the damsel when we first met, but she’d shown me her true colors. She wanted to take Wyatt and his family to the cleaners and didn’t have any compunction in stooping to whatever low she needed in order to get what
she wanted.
I sat at the bar for a time, debating whether I wanted a drink to take my mind of what had just happened. But by the time the bartender finally approached, I knew what I needed to do.
“Coffee,” I said. “And keep it coming.” He started off, but I stopped him. “And do you have a pen and paper I could use?”
He nodded before reaching under the bar and producing a pen along with a pad of paper, the logo and name for the hotel at the top. Wyatt most likely wouldn’t accept a phone call from me, but I needed him to know what I knew. An old-fashioned letter would have to do.
I put pen to paper and cleared my head, sipping the coffee to get words flowing. At first, I had no idea what to say. What words could possibly make things right after what I’d done? But I had to say something, anything.
One more deep breath, and I wrote.
It all came pouring out. When I was done, I was satisfied. It was a long shot, but it was the best I could do if I wanted Wyatt back.
And I knew that was what I wanted. More than anything.
Wyatt
Damn that woman.
The words had repeated in my mind over and over in the days after Jess had flown the coop. Funny thing was, the woman they applied to changed.
At times, they’d be for Jess. She’d spied on me at the behest of Amy, then left without a word. Still couldn’t believe she’d slipped out during lunch. But could I really blame her? I’d chewed her out something fierce. Sure, I’d given her a chance to explain herself, but with her memories gone, what the hell had I expected her to say?
At other times, the words applied to Amy. She’d been the one behind all this horseshit. She’d dragged this whole thing out. She’d hired Jess and put us in this godawful position.
I wanted to be angry, and I sure as shit was. But try as I might, I couldn’t lay that anger on Jess. It didn’t seem right. And every now and then, I’d have moments of clarity, realizing that more than being angry at her, I missed her.
But she was gone. Nothing to do about that.
Three days after Jess left, I was sitting in the house sipping some whiskey-spiked coffee. I’d been drinking more and more the last few days. Not enough to impede my work on the ranch, but enough that the shit I was dealing with wasn’t so hard.
It reminded me of my old man, how he wouldn’t talk about what was bothering him, but I’d be able to tell something was wrong when he’d reach for that bottle of Jack at the end of the night and pour himself one or two more drinks more than usual.
So I sipped my drink and watched the fire, trying to focus on what needed to be done over the next few days. Aside from the imminent Amy clusterfuck on the horizon, my life was returning to its usual routine. The animals needed me, and they wouldn’t wait for me to sort out my bullshit.
Speaking of, I realized I hadn’t checked on Red and Juniper in a few hours. The fire was inviting, but there was work to be done. I headed into the kitchen, poured my drink into a thermos, and headed to the stables.
The weather had cleared up somewhat, a few days over freezing causing any ice left to melt, leaving muddy grass behind. I missed the rainy days; they reminded me of Jess and our time together.
Once I reached the stables, I pulled open the doors and found Juniper and Red in their spot. The horses greeted me with a snort as I approached.
“Hey, girl,” I said, stepping into the stable and making a slow circle around the two horses. “How we feelin’ today?”
I dragged my hand along Juniper’s dark, shiny coat as I looked her over. She was a tough old mare, already back in fighting shape after birthing the foal. And Red was healthy too, already trotting around like an old pro.
Seeing him made me think about Jess, of course. Made me think about how I’d promised to take her riding but never did. I sipped my whiskey and coffee, wondering what might’ve been if we’d met under different circumstances. It was easy to picture Jess on a fully-grown Red’s back, that beaming smile on her gorgeous face as we rode side-by-side.
Damn, Wyatt. You’re gettin’ soft as hell.
It was true, much as I hated to admit it. I’d still find myself thinking about the sex, how fucking sexy the woman was, and how much fun we’d had knocking boots. But the more we’d hooked up, the more I’d realized something else was broiling between us. The last few times we’d screwed, it hadn’t been about two people into each other like crazy having some fun – there’d been…passion.
Shit. The word struck me as strange as hell, but it was the only one that fit.
Time passed as I sat on the bale of hay, watching Juniper nuzzle Red. The sight calmed me – watching the animals always did. After a while the door to the barn opened. My glance shot over in the direction of the noise, part of me thinking it might be Jess.
Damn fool thought. The woman’s gone.
My eyes adjusted to the light and I saw Silas. He shut the door behind him and meandered over to the stall. He glanced at me, shifting his feet before speaking. “You look like a man who’s doin’ some thinkin’ he shouldn’t be.” He spat meditatively, as men are wont to do. “The ruminatin’ kind, not the useful sort.”
I let out a snort of a laugh as I shook my head, knowing he was right. “You know I got a lot of shit on my mind,” I told him, my eyes still fixed on the horses.
“You do, you do.” He reached over and tapped the side of my thermos. “And you know that’s not gonna help matters in the long run.”
Again, he was right. “You come out here for an intervention?”
“Nah,” he said, his gaze fixed straight ahead. “Mama G does all the frettin’ on that score. Came here because I have somethin’ for you.”
I cocked my head to the side, confused. “Oh yeah?”
He nodded slowly before reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a clean, white envelope. “Got a letter for you.”
“Lord, tell me it’s not some lawyer shit from Amy.”
“Doesn’t look like it, unless Jess passed the bar in the last few days.”
“Jess?”
He held the envelope out, and I grabbed it. Sure as shit, Jess Whitman was front and center on the envelope.
“She sent a letter?” I asked. “Why the hell’d she do a thing like that?”
“Same reason anyone sends letters, I suppose,” he said slowly. “She has something to say and wanted to make sure she had the words right.”
I pulled out my Leatherman, flicked the blade open, and sliced the top of the letter. Right as I reached in to take out the contents, Silas rose.
“Not sure what you’re gonna read in there, but I’m guessin’ you’re not gonna want company when you do.”
He patted me on the shoulder before leaving the barn. Silas was good like that – letting you know he was there if you needed him but not crowding you until you asked.
I took the letter out and unfolded it. The writing was neat and feminine. Something about it screamed Jess even without me knowing it was from her. I leaned back against the stable wall and set to reading.
Wyatt,
I’m back in Houston. I’ve been sitting at this bar for hours, trying to think of the right way to say what I’m thinking. Problem is, I know that as soon as I finish and seal the letter and send it off, the perfect words will come. So I’m just going to write and hope what comes out does the job.
I’m sorry. I suppose that’s as good of a place to start as any. I could give you the same crap about how I don’t remember anything, act like it wasn’t my fault for doing what I did. But memory loss or not, I made the decision to spy on you. I violated your trust, and I don’t know if there’s any coming back from that. All I can do is apologize and hope that means something to you.
I met with Amy. And after I did, more memories resurfaced. I remembered what she said about you during our first meeting, how you were some callous, manipulative liar, how you were a man not to be trusted, how you were abusive and cruel.
Funny how I believed it at the time, and even
stranger to think about how the man I met couldn’t be any further from what she’d made you out to be. Wyatt, you’re a kind, loving man, a man who’d do anything for the ones he cares about – human or animal. It pains me like nothing else to know I might’ve once been counted among them but that I threw it away with a stupid lie
I’m done with Amy. Meeting with her one more time told me what kind of person she really was, and now that I know, our working relationship is over. It doesn’t matter how much money she waves in front of my face, it’s not worth it. Not worth risking doing more to you than what I’ve already done.
I’m sorry. I’ll say it again and again. Maybe you’ll forgive me one day. But I’d understand if you didn’t. If one day you find it in your heart to accept my apology, my number’s below. But if you never do, I’ll understand, and I’ll always miss you.
Love, Jess.
Below was a number with an area code I recognized as being from Houston. My eyes lingered on the number for a long time. Jess had gone, but I could contact her if I wanted to. Without thinking about it, I took my phone out of my pocked and prepared to dial the number. But before I moved my fingers on the keypad my eyes returned to the last two words in the letter.
“Love, Jess.”
Love. Maybe she’d written it without thinking. Love was a pretty standard way to end a letter. But then again, nothing about the letter seemed accidental. Every word appeared thought out and purposeful.
Love.
Did I…love her? I sure as hell had affection for her, cared about her like crazy. But sitting there holding that letter, I realized I’d never thought about if I loved her.
But the more I thought about that, the more I understood what a load of bullshit it was. Love. It’d been bouncing around the back of my mind since the moment I’d laid eyes on her, like a BB in a tin can that someone was shaking. I was attracted to her like a madman, and my feelings for her had only been growing by the day. Love, on the other hand, was the thing I’d been trying to ignore.