When We Were Us (A Timber Forge Series Book 1), page 22
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
wrenley
Wren
SOS
Ginger
What’s going on? Are you ok?
Wren
Define “ok.”
Ginger
Are all of your limbs intact? Do you require stitches or mouth-to-mouth?
Wren
If I needed mouth-to-mouth, would I be able to text you?
Ginger
Valid point.
So, you’re conscious, and you haven’t lost enough blood to keep you from texting me. That leaves jail.
Or you need my help burying a body. Possibly both.
Wren
No jail and no burying any bodies.
Ginger
Oh, thank God. I mean, I love you, but I look really bad in orange, and digging a body-sized hole sounds really hard! Plus, I just got my nails done.
Wren
God, I miss you. 😭
Ginger
Ok. Whose ass am I kicking?
Wren
Mine.
Ginger Calling…
“So, let me get this straight,” Ginger says and clears her throat like she’s getting ready to address congress or something. Her faux formality makes me chuckle.
“This man has been looking out for your granddad in some way, shape, or form for the last five years?” She puts a dramatic emphasis on the last three words.
“Yes, at least that long.”
“Grumpy people are not generally in the habit of doing nice shit for people,” she says, confused. “I thought you said he was grumpy?”
“He was.” I settle onto my bed, leaning against the headboard with a pillow in my lap.
“But he’s not anymore?”
“No.” I quickly tell her how I’d fallen apart on him that day in the yard, how he’d comforted me, and how I’d felt a shift in us both that day. The anger that had been there was just gone. For both of us.
“Got it,” she says with all the pomp of a detective gathering facts. “And you not only saved his horse but also rescued a cow together?”
“The cow rescue actually came later, but yes.”
“And how did you end up with your tongue in his mouth and his hands on your tits?”
I let out a laugh, because this is just like Ginger, all rapid-fire questions with plenty of snark. She always knows just how to lighten a situation or mood that could otherwise be heavy or awkward.
“We were at the bar, and he didn’t like me dancing with someone else. Then, he kissed me. It all kind of escalated from there.”
“Wait,” she says abruptly, and I can hear the excitement in her voice. “Was there threat of bodily harm to the guy he didn’t want you dancing with?”
“There may have been mention of knocking out teeth, yes.”
A low whistle comes through the phone. “That’s some romance novel shit right there.”
I huff out a laugh. “Ginger, be serious. This is important.”
“Ok, ok,” she laments. “Then what?”
“Then, the morning after we basically mauled one another behind the bar, Finn told me he doesn’t date.” I pause. “Like, ever. Because of me.”
There’s silence on the other end. I’ve either shocked my best friend into silence or she’s having a stroke. Maybe we lost connection? I pull the phone from my ear, but her name is still on the screen, meaning the call is still active.
“You still there?” I ask.
Her voice comes out incredulous. “He hasn’t dated anyone since you left?”
“There was one woman he was seeing. I don’t know the details, but apparently, it’s been years. And his brother said he never brought her around. Has never brought anyone around. In almost twenty years… How is that possible?” Sitting forward, I shift so I’m sitting crisscross before rubbing at my temples with a thumb and forefinger.
“Well, it’s definitely not impossible.” I can almost hear the gears in her brain working. “But it is kind of unbelievable.”
“Right? And, Ginger, that isn’t like this family. They are so close, they hang out all the time, with family dinners and everything. If he was seeing someone—someone he loved and wanted to make a life with—wouldn’t he bring her around? I mean, his mom even invited me and Finn to join them for his dad’s birthday tonight.”
She blows out her breath. “What did you say? To Finn, I mean. When she told you?”
I drop my head back, looking at the ceiling. “I mean, what could I say?” I shrug. “I was just as shocked as you are.” I chew my lip for a beat. “Ginger, what if it’s true? Did I really wreck Hank so badly that he can’t even date?” I flop back on the pillows.
“Have you asked him about it?”
“What would I even say? ‘People say you don’t date, and I heard it was because I shattered your heart into a million little pieces when I left?’” I ask and then pause with a sigh. “And there’s something else.”
“Oh, God, there’s more?” She groans.
“I think I still love him.”
“Girl, you say that like you ever stopped.”
“I— Wait, what?” I ask, bolting up on the bed.
“Wrenley,” she admonishes like she’s speaking to one of her boys, her voice soft. “I know you. Or did you forget that we’ve been through seventeen years together? He was your first love. And even though his name doesn’t come up in conversation as much as it used to, I know you never got over him. And so do you.”
I swallow hard. Tears well up in my eyes and I frantically brush them away, but they just keep coming.
“What’s wrong?” she asks softly.
I roll my eyes to the ceiling and hold them there, trying to clear my vision and will my voice to come out clear. It doesn’t work. “He said he wants to be friends.” I half laugh, half choke out and swipe at my eyes again.
“Do you really believe that?”
“No. Yes. God, Ginger, I don’t know,” I say, tears coming hot and fast now. I hate this sense of limbo, the back and forth, not knowing how he really feels, and feeling so unsure of myself.
“Ok, forget about what Hank wants for a second,” she says, and her tone turns practical. “What do you want?” she asks. “You want to be with him, right?”
My heart is pounding when I nod, and my answer comes out just above a whisper: “Yes.” It’s the first time I’ve admitted it aloud and it’s a relief.
“Then you have to talk to him, Wrenley,” she says it slowly, like I might not hear her if she doesn’t.
My voice comes out clear this time when I say, “And what if he doesn’t feel the same?”
She lets out a long sigh. “Then you hightail your ass back here, and we figure out how you move on. Together.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
hank
I’m just pulling a shirt over my head when I hear the low hum of an engine. Saturday mornings are usually pretty quiet for me, but it’s not unheard of for Mom and Pop to take the UTV out and come to my place every couple of weeks just to ‘check on me.’ Like they don’t see me every day at the ranch.
Opening the door to the cabin and stepping out on the porch in bare feet, I expect to see them. Instead, it’s Hudson and his daughter, Paige, on an ATV, coming down the dirt path that breaks through the trees just beyond the ridge to the east.
The trail starts at the outskirts of the main ranch house and breaks off in a spider web of other trails, one of them leading here. From there, it's about a ten-minute ride back through thick pines and several small freshwater streams.
Paige is seated in front of her dad, with a pink helmet on her head, fastened with a chin strap. One of his arms snakes around her waist, holding her secure, and the other navigates the ATV out of the trees. Her tiny hands are gloved, and she’s reclined back against her dad’s chest, each of her hands resting on his knees.
I can’t help but smile because anyone who didn’t know her would expect her to be scared of a machine this big and loud, but she’s not. Even having grown up in the city, she’s as content on an ATV or a horse as she is in a cab in New York City.
She spots me from where I’m standing on the porch and sits forward. She tilts her head up at her dad, then points to me and wildly waves one hand above her head, bouncing on the seat. I raise an arm in greeting and Tuck comes racing outside and down the steps, his tail wagging a mile a minute.
He looks back at me and whines. “It’s ok,” I tell him, and he takes off like a shot, kicking up dirt behind him as he runs across the meadow toward the ATV. When he gets within a couple feet of them, he turns around and trots next to the ATV and all the way back to the cabin.
Hudson rolls to a stop next to the steps and kills the engine. “Morning.” He stands up on the footrest and swings a leg backward over the machine to stand next to Paige. She seems to struggle, so he lifts his hands to help her, but a muffled voice scolds him from behind the face shield.
“I can do it, Daddy.” Hudson shrugs and climbs the stairs to sit in the only other chair on the small porch.
“Morning.” Taking a seat, I pull on a fresh pair of socks and reach for my boots, watching as Paige tears off her gloves and finally unfastens the chin strap. She pulls the helmet off in a series of grunts and laughs, and her halo of dark hair is staticky and standing on end when she grins up at me from her place still seated on the ATV.
“Morning, Uncle Hank!” Her skinny legs dangle just above the footrests, but she manages to get her leg up and over the seat. Jumping off the side, she sets her gloves on the seat and covers them with her helmet.
“Morning, Pipsqueak.”
She barrels up the steps and slams into me, wrapping her arms around my neck. She giggles when I rub my scruff against her cheek and ruffle her hair.
“Your hair is dripping all over me!” She laughs and dances back, wiping the wetness from her cheek. “Why is your hair all sweaty?”
“It’s not sweat, you weirdo. It's from the shower.” I poke her in the ribs, and she rolls her eyes at me.
“Daddy doesn’t go outside with wet hair.” She crunches up her face and looks at me out of the corner of her eye.
I raise my eyebrows and frown with a tilt of my head. “That’s because your daddy is a pretty boy.”
She cuts a glance at her dad and then looks back at me, appraisingly. “That’s what Daddy calls Uncle Hutch.”
I raise a hand to my mouth and in a loud whisper, I say, “That’s just because your dad is jealous of Uncle Hutch’s hair.”
Hudson brings a hand to his chest in mock pain and smooths the other over his hair. He actually has a head full of thick dark hair, but he also has a bit of a widow’s peak. It's the reason he was chosen to play the lead in Dracula in seventh grade. Also, I just love giving him shit.
Paige pulls out a magnifying glass from her pocket and turns to Hudson with a grin. Lifting it to his hairline, she inspects it closely. He swats her hand away with a laugh. “All right, all right. I get it. Your Uncle Hank is hilarious.”
She dissolves into a fit of giggles, her wide smile revealing a missing right front tooth.
“Go torch some ants,” he says with a tip of his chin, and she throws both hands in the air.
“Yes!!” She takes off down the steps with a whoop and Tuck takes off after her.
“Stay where I can see you though!” he calls after her.
Pulling on my boots, I glance over at him. “What’s with the magnifying glass?”
He pulls a hand down his face with a chuckle. “Pop gave it to her. He was trying to read the other morning and she wouldn’t stop asking him questions. So, he told her to go find bugs. She hasn’t put that thing down since.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Want coffee?” I stand and head inside.
“Sure.” Hudson follows me inside but stands just inside the door so he can still keep an eye on Paige.
“She’s fine out there, man.”
He nods and pulls on the back of his neck before coming to stand next to me at the small kitchenette counter. We make coffee in silence for a few minutes. The only sounds are the birds outside, the soft clink of metal on ceramic, and Paige's laughter a few yards off.
“How’s she doing?” I turn and lean against the counter.
Hudson shrugs as he blows on his coffee and takes a sip. “She’s good. At least now that we’re here.”
Tristen, Paige’s mother, left them a year ago. She and Hudson met in college at NYU. Halfway through his four-year bachelor’s program at Stern, he met Tristen, who was finishing up her third and final year at Tisch.
According to Hudson, she had just come back from a summer abroad in Paris and he was completely obsessed with her. She was so different from anyone he had ever dated—sophisticated, elegant, cultured, and from a wealthy family. That last part never mattered much to Hudson, but coming from a small town like Timber Forge, someone like Tristen was bound to be appealing for a small-town kid. Or, at the very least, fascinating.
After graduation, Tristen started with the New York City Ballet while Hudson finished his degree. They dated on and off for the next seven years, and when Tristen found out she was pregnant, they’d moved in together.
According to Hudson, the pregnancy had been mentally and physically too much for Tristen. She struggled with muscle depletion and stamina, all perfectly normal for a pregnant woman, but it wasn’t acceptable to Tristen.
Over the next three and a half years, she became more and more immersed in dance until she was rarely home and sometimes traveled six months out of the year. When Paige was two, they finally married. At that point, Hudson had already been working his ass off for two years to get his bar off the ground. He’d spent the previous six or so years managing bars throughout the city and making money for someone else.
According to Hudson, she had never been the most attentive mother when she was around. Since she never once came with when Hudson brought Paige back to visit Timber Forge, she hadn’t been the most attentive partner either. Only Nat, Hayley, and Hutch had met her on a trip to New York one year, and even then, it was only briefly.
So, it hadn’t come as much of a shock to anyone when she’d left for France last year and told Hudson she wasn't coming back. Paige understandably took it hard, and she's been seeing a child psychologist once a week for almost eight months. Tristen had made plans to come back to the states a few months ago for Paige’s fifth birthday, but she was a no-show.
Watching her through the window now, it’s nice to see her being a carefree kid again.
“She looks happy,” I say as we leave the cabin and take our seats back out on the porch. He watches her over the rim of his mug and then glances at me. I can tell there is something he isn’t telling me.
I take a sip of my own coffee and watch Paige spin in a circle as Tuck tries to jump up to lick her face.
He blows a long breath out through his nose. “When I was putting her to bed last night, she asked why we couldn’t stay here. Live with Mom and Pop.”
I blink over at him. “Shit.”
I know how hard my brother has worked in the last year to create a stable and loving environment for his daughter since her mother walked out. That can’t be an easy burden for anyone to carry, let alone a newly single guy who owns a bar and is away from home most weekend nights.
He tips his head back against the chair and shakes his head, letting his eyes drift closed with a sigh. “It’s not like I can just pick up and move, right? The bar is our livelihood, you know? It’s been my blood, sweat, and fucking tears for five years. But she is my life.” He shakes his head again. “And it kills me that I still can’t make her life easier without her.”
I know Hudson loved Tristen, but what is a relationship when there is no give and take? No mutual respect for the other person? In some respects, it has to be easier without her. At least he knows she isn’t coming back. There is finality and closure in that, no matter how painful. Then again, until a month ago, I never would have expected Wrenley to blow back into my life and completely fuck my shit up.
“Sorry, man. That’s a shit situation.”
He lifts his head and gazes out to watch his beautiful daughter, who continues to twirl in the sunlight.
“I’ll figure something out.” He lifts his coffee mug and takes a long swallow. “Finn is going to spend a week with us in December, and we’ll fly back here together for Christmas. Between this summer trip and Finn’s visit, hopefully it’ll be ok and buy me some time to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.”
“Are you actually considering moving back?” I can’t imagine him doing that, but if it meant his daughter’s happiness, he just might.
“I don’t know. It’d be a hell of a lot easier with family around. She’s got me and Charlotte, but she just got engaged and I don’t relish the idea of looking for another nanny. It took me a good three months to find this one.”
For all the shit my brother gives me, I’ve got to give him kudos. He’s a hell of a father to that little girl and he’d move heaven and earth for her.
Just then, Paige comes ripping up the steps, with Tuck hot on her heels.
“Daddy! Uncle Hank! You guys have to see this! There’s a praying mantis eating a giant bee!” she hollers as her boots clomp across the porch. She motions impatiently at us with her hands. “Hurry, before he eats it all!”
