Riders block, p.25
Rider's Block, page 25
His insincere and ultimately too late expression of care sends me over the edge. The pit in my stomach is replaced with an inferno. This fuckwad.
“First of all,” I say with a much steadier voice than I thought I was capable of, “you don’t get to call me Mia. Not anymore. Second of all, don’t pretend to care anything about me now.”
“Mia, I’ve always cared—”
“I said don’t call me Mia—”
“I’ve called you that since you were in diapers, I think I’m entitled to address my own daughter by the name I gave her—”
“Looks like you got a second chance at naming a daughter. Did you ever think I might want to know I have a half-sister?” I hear a gasp from across the room that I know to be from the woman who was sitting next to him. It must come as a real shock to her to know she married someone with offspring her age.
His face goes from ghostly white to a deep red I know means he’s about to start one of his rants. He doesn’t disappoint me, for once.
“Listen here, Mia, I know this is a shock, but you have no right to—”
“You know what? Save it. I’ve moved on. You may have walked away from us, but I moved on from you a long, long time ago. I can’t say that I wish you well, but I can say that I don’t think about you half as much as I used to.” I turn to walk away but am hit with a conviction that is so fierce it scares me. That little girl’s face flashes in my mind, and I know I used to look at him like that. Like he could fix anything. Like he thought I was valuable. Like he’d be there for me. I don’t know this girl, and if I’m honest with myself my first gut feeling was jealousy. But if I can make her life better than mine, I have an obligation to.
Turning back on my heel to face him, I get just close enough for only him to hear me. “I’ll just say this. If you ever, ever also refer to that little girl as an accident, then you deserve every evil that falls on you.”
His face blanches of all color again. “You heard that?”
With a resoluteness that every Randall sibling would be proud of, I square up my shoulders and face him head-on when I answer, “Every Goddamn time.”
The receptionist, to her credit, pretends that she didn’t see the showdown of a lifetime in the lobby as she walks me back to the doctor’s room, but I’m reeling. I caught a glimpse of his new woman’s face, and she looked just as shocked as I was. I didn’t have time to check to see if there was a ring. But what would it matter? If the little girl is as old as she looks, then he wasted no time in finding a replacement for my mom.
My mother, who would have moved mountains for him. And he filled her role without batting an eye. He filled my role without batting an eye. Who could do that? He never seemed like a scumbag when he was around, he just seemed…distant. I used to look at him like that little girl—my half-sister—looked at him.
I don’t get to wallow too much in my thoughts before the doctor comes in to examine my arm. My cast is removed, and my skeleton of a forearm is exposed to fresh air once again. Watching Eric’s signature cut through with the saw has my heart hurting a little bit.
After demonstrating that my wrist is capable of rotating in no less than thirty different directions, I’m finally cleared to leave and move on with my life. The damage that stupid tree limb inflicted is officially healed.
A weird, weird sentiment.
Looking down at that cast reminded me the summer was real, that the signature written in all caps right at the top where I could see it most was from someone who was very much real. It feels absent and wrong having that reminder removed.
By the time I get home, with my sandwich in my purse, I finally let the onslaught of emotions hit me. I cry. Big, fat tears. I haven’t cried since my dad walked out, so it’s only fitting they’d return after seeing him. I cry so long I’m surprised my skin isn’t pruney. But I can’t stop. The man who said a family is the reason he wasn’t successful in life up and started a new one. Threw us out like a used car in favor of a newer model.
I cry for my mom. My sweet, devoted mother. Her love was so pure. So innocent. And it wasn’t returned. No matter what she did, he still chose to leave us all. And he gave that love to someone else. I don’t know this other woman’s story, I don’t know if he’s as distant with her as he was with my mother, but I hate her and pity her at the same time.
Chester curls up in my lap after an hour staring at me sobbing from across the room. He’s never been a lap cat, much to my regret, but he knows I need it. And I do.
I really do need it.
I cry for me. I feel so weak. I let this man make me feel like my presence on this earth wasn’t supposed to happen. I let his frustration with my existence prevent me from living and pursuing the type of goals it took years for me to finally work toward. Does he even know my name has been on a New York Times Bestsellers list? Probably not, and that makes me cry a little more. And then I cry because I don’t feel like I should cry over him anymore, but I can’t help it.
What feels like a lifetime later, I finally pull myself together. That asshole can’t have a hold on me anymore. If I’m honest with myself, his face as I walked away gives me a little bit of peace. It’s petty to take so much comfort in his discomfort, but I’m beyond caring.
But what finally pulls me out of my thought spiral is the ring on my phone. Knowing who it is, I do my best to remove any evidence that I’ve been crying. But I should have known better. It took not even two seconds after answering the phone for Eric’s facial expression to shift.
“Baby, why are your eyes red?” is how he greets me when I answer his call.
“Welp. Thought I could hide that better.” If my red eyes hadn’t given me away, then the shakiness of my voice would have.
I see Eric shift from where he’s sitting leaned against his bed. He sits in the same spot when he calls me every night, so it’s a familiar sight by now. “What the hell is going on? Red, what happened—”
There’s no way of getting around it, I know that. “I saw my dad today.”
The way his jaw flexes has me mentally thanking the creators of the iPhone for having such detailed frontal cameras. “You saw your…you saw your dad? Where?”
“At the doctor’s office.” I take a deep breath. “I got my cast off today, and he was there…with his…with his new—” I try to clear my throat, but it’s obvious that I can’t keep my emotions in check. And Eric makes me feel safe. Makes me feel like I can share this kind of stuff. “He was with his new family.”
“That fuckwad.”
“You know, I thought the same word in my head.”
“I just…fuck, Red. When you say family, do you mean—”
“He had a daughter.”
“Oh Lord…”
“I have a half-sister I’m just learning about—”
“Damn, baby. What can I do? What do you need?”
“I don’t know…it just caught me off guard.”
“No shit. That’d catch anyone off guard.”
“I threw a few jabs though…”
The tilt of his mouth hikes up in that smirk that settles me. “Oh yeah? Are we talking physical jabs, or did you throw one of your sassy remarks his way?”
“Well, I couldn’t risk my other hand, so I had to stick with words.” I don’t know how I’m able to joke, but I have the man on the other end of the line to thank for it. “But I told him if he called that little girl an accident, he’d deserve every evil headed his way.”
“Damn straight he would, what did he say?”
“He just turned three sheets of white and acted like he was surprised I’d heard him call me an accident.”
Eric is quiet for a moment, but the look in his eye is murderous. If we were in the same state as my father, I’d fear for that scumbag’s safety. Marginally. Actually, not at all.
“What do you need, Red?” he repeats as his look softens a bit.
“I don’t know. Talking to you helps,” I admit at a lower octave, subconsciously hoping he doesn’t hear me. “And Chester finally sat on my lap. That helped. He never does that.”
“Well, now I’m really worried—”
“It’s okay,” I cut him off, surprising myself even further with my ability to chuckle. “I’m just trying not to move so he doesn’t move. I’ll sleep on the couch if I have to. It’s a comfy couch, anyways. How’s everything back home—at the ranch?”
Fuck me.
I get emotional for ONE DAY and refer to the ranch as home.
If I thought I got away with it, Eric’s beaming smile reveals I did not, in any way, get away with it. He heard me, but he’s going to let me think he didn’t.
I get a play-by-play of the preparations for the upcoming rodeo in Montana. I’ve never been to that part of the state, but apparently, it’s Eric’s favorite. He asks me what I have coming up this week. He hasn’t officially asked me to come to this rodeo, so I don’t know if I’m going or not. Christine and Penny have been hounding me about it, but I still have the rest of the week to decide if I’m headed to Bigfork, Montana, or not.
I’m waiting for Eric’s cue. He’s been diligent in calling me every night. He shows me he cares every day. But seeing my dad today reminds me of that feeling of being unwanted, a burden. If I learned anything today, it’s that I can barely handle that feeling in a father-daughter relationship.
Romantically? There’s no way. I thought my time with a therapist fixed me, but I think it’s more of an ongoing process than I realized.
Eric ends the call telling me he’ll call me tomorrow, and after three weeks of proving that sign-off correct…after today the doubts crawl into my subconscious more than ever.
Chapter thirty-three
"I'm Gonna Getcha Good," Shania Twain
Two days later, a plane ticket shows up in the mail. An honest to God, printed out plane ticket with an information packet and a note from Eric that simply says, “See you in four days, Red.”
This man. This gorgeous, thoughtful cowboy, who needs to learn about email and digital tickets, made the decision for me. He had two other rodeos since I left. I watched what I could from whatever channel I could connect to, but he let me have my time. Christine and Penny gave me the guilt trip for not attending those.
Penny, who is now openly admitting to falling in love with Dean.
We’ve talked on the phone two or three times a week, and we spend most of our time going over every interaction the two of them have. She’s still been going to the ranch dinners while I’ve been away, and apparently Dean’s taken full advantage of that as an opportunity to win her over. So, she wastes no time in telling me that I should be sitting next to her and Christine at the two rodeo events I missed.
To my credit, both of those rodeos have been far away from any accessible airport. This is the first rodeo close to an airport big enough to get to in only two stops.
But as I stare at the airplane ticket in my hand, I can feel Eric’s impatience through his handwritten note. He wants to see me. And I cannot deny I’m dying to see him. I want to see him.
Talking on the phone every night, he’s become, in a weird way, equivalent to a diary entry for me. He knows every aspect of my day. What I’ve eaten, how I’ve worked out, how I feel while I wait to hear back from the publishers. He knows it all. He listens to it all. He’s my sanity through it all.
The thought of getting to see him in person again has me giddy. It hasn’t even been a full month since he kissed me goodbye, but man do I want one of his hugs.
I text him a photo of the ticket with a link to an article titled “Digital Airline Tickets for Dummies” and he replies with a simple “I’m not sure who’s more excited, me or Roper?” with a photo of him and my favorite horse on the planet. My first thought is to make the photo my background, but I let that thought peter out before acting on it. But Eric looks so good, and Roper looks so sweet.
I’m staring at the photo for far longer than I’d like to admit when I see a notification at the top of my phone pop up for an email that just hit my inbox.
From my agent.
I haven’t heard from her for a week. And that’s a lot longer than usual.
The email is simple: “Call me when you’re free.”
And that kind of lead-up has me calling her immediately.
“Well,” Sarah says from the other side of the line, after only two dial tones, “I wasn’t expecting a call this fast, but I’m glad you did.” Then with a dramatic pause that should earn her an Emmy, she finally says, “Amelia, you’re in a bidding war. I’ve got three of the Big Five that want this one.”
It takes everything in me not to pass out on the spot
***
Sarah and I go over the pros and cons of each offer, and ultimately it takes us the three days leading up to the trip to Montana to decide on which one to accept.
I haven’t told Eric yet. I’m waiting to see him in person. When I confirmed that I’d come see him in Montana he sent over a two-day itinerary of activities he’s planning to take me on. I told him he’d better schedule some time for practice, but he simply said he was a natural and had nothing to worry about. I wish I could have given him a hard time for such a cocky statement, but he’s not wrong. He’s won. Every time. It’s almost uncomfortable how much of a winning streak he’s on right now. I know if I were in his shoes I’d be nervous, but he couldn’t seem more content every time I’ve talked to him about it.
Apparently, the other aspect of him, Trevor, and Dean working out the responsibilities of the ranch included him passing off most of the ranching duties to his two brothers while he works to grow the horse training side of the family business. He already has a great reputation, but the more he wins the more his name gets out there. He says he wants to train racehorses someday if he can, but that’s an entirely different segment to break into.
There’s a feeling of excitement going into the weekend. Sarah and I send over our acceptance letter, and I get the confirmation as I’m packing my carry-on for a weekend in Montana with a guy I may or may not be falling in love with, and a group of people that feel like family.
I’m sipping my smoothie at my bistro table when there’s a knock at my front door. I don’t get many visitors at 10 a.m. on a Wednesday, so I assume it must be a neighbor who accidentally got another one of the packages Eric sent me or something.
It’s not.
It’s my father.
***
It’s only good breeding and manners that prompt me to invite him inside for a cup of coffee. I move around my kitchen silently. I have nothing left to say to the man. I’m not sure why he’s here, but I would be lying if I wasn’t curious as hell.
Chester is leery of him, too. I see my angel of a cat sneak in from around the corner to sit at my feet. He’s been a lot more of a cuddler recently, and I’m all for it. And my attempts to plump him up are finally hitting. He’s a lovely, rotund loaf of bread and I love him.
I set a steaming cup of dark roast in front of my father. I won’t start the conversation, so I’m waiting for him to. I’m still not sure how he got this address. I’ve never so much as sent him a Christmas card. I’ve never felt inclined to. I can only assume he got the address from my mom, and that thought has me souring immediately.
I’m about to kick him out of my tiny little bungalow when he finally clears his throat. “Mia—” He’s cut off when he sees the Eric Randall–approved facial expression sent directly to him. “Amelia. I wanted to talk to you about what you saw.”
“About which part, exactly?”
“The um,” he looks immediately uncomfortable, “the part about how you do have a half-sister.”
“No shit.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t mean to have her, that does nothing to help—”
“I didn’t mean for you to find out that way.”
“Well, sorry to ruin your big announcement after, what, four years? Is that how old she is?’
“She’ll be five in three months.”
“Right, and her mom, who I hope you’re actually helping out, is my age?”
“She’s older than you…” He has the decency to appear shy with his statement.
“Yeah, but not by much. I just need to know, are you going to stay around for them?”
“Yes.”
I don’t know whether that helps or hurts to hear. All I do know is my patience is gone. “Then why the hell are you here?” He looks around for a while, trying to decide on what to say next. He opens and closes his mouth a few times.
“This probably wasn’t a good idea.”
“Then why did you come?”
“Amanda said she’d leave me if I didn’t try.”
“Amanda being the woman who is of the age to be my sister, but who mothered my actual half-sister, I’m assuming?”
“Yes—” Every ounce of confidence is shriveled from this man. But he came here, to do this, for a woman. Not my mom, my sweet, innocent mother. But someone else. I want to throw up.
“I need you to leave.”
“Amelia, come on. Quit being dramatic—”
“Leave.”
“She wants you to come to dinner!”
“You can politely tell her I told you to get out of my house. Go. Please. You’re just making it worse.”
“But—”
“I don’t care if she leaves you! I don’t care that you fucked up another family! I need you to leave. And I need you to not come back. I’m done.”
My pathetic excuse for a father looks irate as he stands from my small bistro table and walks to my front door. I don’t care. Steam could be coming out of his ears, and I wouldn’t care. He’s only digging a deeper grave at this point.
By the time I’ve shut the door right at his heels, I find myself a blubbering mess again. This man. This careless jackass. How could he think an invitation to dinner with a family he left ours for would fix anything? I hope Mandy packs her bags and leaves him.
