Depths of Lake (14 page)

But what I’m really doing is waiting to see if Lake comes back.

That has to be what happened last night.
 
We’ve both gone through something bad.
 
We’ve lost a man who meant a lot to us.
 
We’re dealing with our issues.
 
And Lake has misinterpreted it as romantic feelings.

It isn’t real.

That has to be what I’m feeling.

Because I can’t fully deny that there is something inside of me.
 
I feel complicated things when Lake is around.
 
Comfort, excitement, dread, and a whole slew of emotions.
 
But that’s all it is.
 
Recognizing kin in pain.

It will pass.
 
We’ll both recognize that there isn’t anything between us.
 

So what I will do for now is pretend like it never happened.

And besides, better to deny that there’s anything between us, than risk anything and have Lake
turn
up dead.

That is if Lake hasn’t run away from me.

Somehow I’m not really surprised when I hear his truck’s tires crunch over the gravel and park at the side of the barn.
 
His door squeaks and then slams shut.
 
Boots on the dirt.

And then he stands there in the entryway of the barn.

His hands are tucked into his back pockets.
 
His shoulders are relaxed.
 
He wears a red plaid shirt and, as always, jeans.
 

But once again, his eyes are impassive.
 
Those walls that he obliterated last night are back up.
 
Reinforced with steel.

I’m not sure if I’m grateful for that or not.
 
Something does squeeze hard and tight in my chest.

“Dinner with your family?”
I ask.
 
My voice is small and unsteady.

He nods.

“Good.”
 

I shouldn’t have said that.
 
Like
it’s
good that was the only reason he was gone all day.

“Mom’s coming home tomorrow,” I say.
 
“I’m picking her up in the afternoon.”

“’K,” he says.
 

My eyes drop to his lips.
 
I noticed last night, how they always look slightly pursed.
 
Like he’s ever ready for another set of lips to be pressed to his.

“I’m going to head to bed,” I awkwardly say, leaning the broom against the wall.
 
“This morning was pretty brutal, so I…”
 
I leave it at that as I awkwardly make my way around him, stepping out the door.
 
“I’m…I’m tired.”

His eyes follow me, impassive and empty.

I give a little, weird wave as I start back for the house.

When I get to the door, I look back.

Lake still stands there, watching me from the entrance of the barn.
 
I can’t see him well.
 
It’s getting dark, and the bright light from the barn casts him in silhouette.
 
But he’s gone.
 
Again.
 
The real Lake McCain that I caught a glimpse of last night.

As I close the door behind me, blocking his view, I have to consider how this looks to him.
 
It’s one of two ways:

He thinks I was so drunk last night that I don’t remember what was said.
 
Alcohol in large quantities has a way of wiping your short-term memory.

Or two—he knows I haven’t forgotten what was said or what happened, and I look like a total bitch for completely ignoring the fact that for once, he opened up.
 
He laid his feelings out.
 
And I’m acting like it didn’t happen.

I’m not sure which is worse.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mom’s head hangs low and she doesn’t meet my eyes right away when she comes down the escalator at the airport.
 
She does a little swallow, and her eyes don’t rise any higher than my feet.

It breaks my heart, seeing my mom, the sweetest person I know, feeling such shame for something that wasn’t her fault.
 
She was just trying to protect me.

And I handled it like a brat.
 

I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her, hugging her to me tight.

“I’m sorry,” she says in a quiet voice.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, squeezing her tighter.
 
“I’m sorry, too.”

The ride home is quiet.
 
We pass through Renton, on to Bellevue, through Redmond, and then into old downtown Duvall.

Just as we pass the library, Mom finally speaks.
 
“That developer, his name is Lance Kipper, he’s coming by the ranch this afternoon to talk some more.
 
I just thought I should give you some warning.”

My throat instantly tightens.
 
I try to clear it, but nothing happens.
 
I just give a little nod.

When we pull into the driveway, Lake is just dumping the morning’s stall pickings into Mom’s compost pile.
 
He looks up at us from behind his sunglasses.
 
We park in the garage, and I help Mom haul her suitcase out of the back of the truck.

“Raelynn,” Lake says as he takes his gloves off and walks over to her.
 
I’m not sure if I’m surprised or not when she wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace.
 
He hugs her back, hesitantly at first.
 
And then completely engulfs her with his huge size.
 
“How’s your sister?”

“She’s doing much better, thank you for asking,” Mom says as she steps back.
 
Just as she does, Jesse’s truck rolls up.

“How’s Trooper?” she asks as he starts to climb out.

“He’s doing really
good
, actually,” I say.
 
I hand Mom’s bag to Lake, meeting his eyes awkwardly for just a moment, before turning to go join Jesse.
 
“I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Sorry I’m so late today,” Jesse says as he carries his stuff inside.
 
“The Harrisons had an emergency with their mule this morning.”

“Everything okay?”
I ask, my brows furrowing together.
 
They only live a half a mile down the road.

Jesse shakes his head, his lips pursing together.
 
“Afraid not.
 
We had to put him down.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, true dismay in my voice.
 
We’ve only had to put a horse down once, and it was an awful experience.

“Yeah,” he says.
 
He sets his things down just outside Trooper’s stall and lets himself in.

It still isn’t pretty, but it is slowly closing up.
 
Where it was once a gaping, fleshy hole, it’s now only an inch wide and four inches long.

“Very nice,” Jesse says, pulling gloves on.
 
He sets about his work.

I should be getting to work, too.
 
But I find myself hesitating, words stuck in my throat.

“Hey, um,” I say, trying to dislodge what’s there.
 
“You should probably know.
 
You won’t be working with us much longer.”

Jesse turns and looks at me, his gray-green eyes piercingly bright under his furrowed brow.
 
“Are you firing me?”

“No!” I correct, shaking my head.
 
“Heavens no.
 
You’re the best.”

He gives a tiny chuckle and the smallest of smiles before his eyes go back to Trooper.
 
“Then what’s up?”

I take a deep breath, my eyes wandering about the barn.
 
I’m going to miss this place, and I’m pretty sure nowhere will ever feel like home again.
 
“We’re about to go into foreclosure.
 
Mom’s meeting with a developer this afternoon who is interested in buying the ranch out.”

“What?” Jesse
says,
disbelief in his voice as he looks back at me again.
 
“I thought things were going good this year.”

“I thought so too,” I say with a shrug.
 
“But there were some pretty bad things going on behind the scenes that I didn’t know about.
 
Mom couldn’t break the news to me.
 
So I found the mortgage statement spelling it all out.”

“And there’s no savings?” Jesse asks.
 
“Nothing left from your dad that you can pull from?”

“Apparently not.”

Jesse looks at me for a moment, his eyes darting between me and Trooper.
 
“I could loan you some money,” he finally offers with hesitance in his eyes.
 
Because he knows me.

My stomach turns sour.

I’ve always worked on the ranch.
 
I only ever worked somewhere else for a few months senior year.
 
So I’ve never really made much of my own money.

But I won’t accept anyone’s charity.
 

The James’s take care of
themselves
.

“No,” I say
, shaking
my head once and quick.
 
“Not happening.”

“Riley,” he says, turning to me fully now, one leg kneeling on the ground, the other bent at a ninety-degree angle.
 
“Is maintaining your pride really more important than keeping your home?”

“This isn’t just about me,” I say, getting ready to go.
 
“Mom wouldn’t ever accept it either.”

I walk out, because my blood is rising in temperature.
 

When Mr. Kipper arrives at three o’clock, all I want to do is run.
 
I want to take Radio, head out on the mountain trail, and just disappear for six solid hours.
 
But this is real life, and I need to be an adult.
 
I’ve got to deal with this.

We stand with him in the middle of the driveway, where we can best see the majority of the property.
 
Mr. Kipper talks loud and enthusiastically about his plans.
 

They’ll make a grand, country feel entrance at the head of the driveway, which of course they’ll have to turn into an actual road, widening it and paving the whole thing.
 
There will be a clubhouse where our house currently is, with a café, and a pool, and “the whole nine yards.”

The barn will remain as it is, as will the indoor practice arena and the outside one.
 
The owners of the homes can pay a fee to use the facilities.

Our garage will be torn down.
 
Mom’s garden is where the pool will go.
 
They’ll spread roads everywhere through the property, splitting everything into two acre home sites.
 
And “this is a compliment to the beauty of our land”—he will be building his own home at the edge of our lake.

My stomach turns in knots the entire time he talks.
 
My fingers ball into fists inside my pockets as he lays out his grand plans on how to destroy my home.
 

He tells us his offer price.
 
It’s even more than the amount he told Mom before.
 
We won’t be making out like bandits, but it will give us enough to get a start in a small, suburban home.
 
Or wherever we end up after this.

Where will I go?
 

I can’t even imagine.

“I hope you’re as excited about this as I am, Mrs. James,” Mr. Kipper says with a huge smile as he shakes Mom’s hand.
 
“You have the written offer.
 
When you have had time to look it over and are ready to accept it, just sign the documents and call.
 
I’ll come over to collect them and get the ball rolling for you.”

“Thank you,” Mom says with a pained smile and a nod of her head.
 
When she lets go of his hand, she wraps her arms tight around her waist.

Mr. Kipper extends his hand to me, and I do my best not to try and crush it when I shake it.
 
I try to remind myself that he is not a villain.
 
He is technically saving us from complete financial ruin.

“Please get those back to me by Friday,” he says as he starts walking away.
 
“I’d like to get this all moving while we’ve still got plenty of summer.”

How nice.
 
It’s June first.

I turn to head for the barn, but Mom’s hand catches my arm.
 
“Riley, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I say, glancing back at her.
 
My blood is boiling.
 
Something needs to be done about Travis.
 
“It’s okay.
 
I just need…I just need to feed Radio, and then I’m going for a drive.”

Lies.

Mom does, however, let go of me and I stalk my way to the barn.

I didn’t think about what time it is.
 
Four-fifty.
 
Dinner time for the horses.
 
Which means Lake is feeding them right now.

And instantly, the second I see him, as soon as I remember that red X drawn over him—the fire seeps out of me.

Lake doesn’t notice me right away, so I stand there and watch him.

He’s wearing a black tank, his dog tags clinking slightly as they slide back and forth.
 
His arms flex as he carries the hay bale to the middle of the aisle way.
 
He pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the twine.
 
Each of the horses gets a thick flake.
 
Trapper gets oats.
 
So does Radio.
 
Just cause he’s mine.

“Hey,” I finally say, breaking the easy quiet with one breath.

Lake looks back at me as he puts Sir Devil’s hay in his feeder.
 
“Hey.”

“I guess I need to talk to you,” I say, crossing my boots and leaning my shoulder in the door frame.
 
“That developer was by, telling us his grand plans and leaving a written offer.
 
So, it just got real.”

He finishes feeding everyone.
 
Lake grabs the twine on the floor and balls it in one hand.
 
“Oh,” is all he says.

“We have until Friday to accept his offer,” I say, my eyes falling to the ground.
 
“But it looks like there isn’t much of a choice.
 
Mom’s set on accepting it.
 
I guess it’s the right move.
 
Better than foreclosure.”

“You don’t sound too convinced of that.”

I look back up, holding his eyes.
 
They may be impenetrable and unreadable, but they are observant.

I just shrug.
 
“Anyway, this means we’re going to start dissolving everything.
 
We’ll start calling owners to come pick up their horses soon.
 
So, you can go whenever you want.
 
I guess we don’t really have a job for you anymore.”

There’s a flicker of something there in his expression that says he’s thought about this before.
 
And he doesn’t like the idea.
 
“You want me to go?”

His question takes me off guard, and for a second, I feel like someone’s pulled the rug out from under my feel.

Because suddenly, I realize that
no
, I don’t want him to go.

“There’s nothing to stay for,” I say quietly.
 

Long and hard, he stares at me.
 
He chews the inside of his cheek, presses his lips together into a thin line.
 

I’m seeing a crack in that wall he recently re-erected.
 

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

I shake my head, feeling emotion trying to surface.
 
“There’s no point, Lake,” I say.
 
“It’s all about to come to an end, so let’s just leave it where it is.
 
Okay?”
 
And you’ll be safe if you leave,
I think to myself.

Lake has seen plenty of war, and there’s one going on now inside of him.
 
It’s easy as day to see.
 
He doesn’t want to leave, and the main reason why is the person standing in my very own skin.
 
But he’s also worked this land.
 
He’s been happy doing it.

In every unexplainable way, Lake belongs here, too.