Page 35 of Broken Reins (Whittier Falls #4)

Twenty

Ford

“ W ell shit.”

It’s not that I hadn’t expected some blowback.

I knew the car was a move, maybe even the move—the kind you only get to play once, and you better hope the other person reads the rules the same way you do.

I thought she’d be happy, or maybe that she’d at least laugh at my expense.

Instead, she’d looked at me like I’d handed her a flaming bag of cash with a court summons inside.

I ran my hand through my hair, slicking it back until my scalp tingled. She’d be pissed off for a while. Maybe a day, maybe longer. Either way, the ball was in her court. I had to let her make the next move, or risk looking like the world’s most persistent stalker.

I turned my collar up against the cold and started walking. The air was sharp and clean, the kind that snapped your brain awake and made your skin tingle. Main Street was drenched in sunlight, but it didn’t do much to stem the October cold.

Downtown Whittier stretched three blocks wide and four blocks long, and even that felt generous.

The Campfire Bakery was alive with warmth, sunlight glinting off the windows as the staff prepared for the upcoming rush of afternoon customers.

The only other hint of activity came from the Whistle Stop Diner, where two high schoolers lounged in a booth by the window, their faces illuminated by the glow of their phones and the sickly green neon sign flickering outside.

They didn’t even glance up as I walked by.

Every window along Main Street was adorned for fall: artificial leaves clinging to the glass, cheerful pumpkins lining the sills, and hand-painted signs advertising seasonal specials.

A wistful nostalgia hung in the crisp air, making me feel both grateful and melancholic all at once.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Lily was peering out at me from her window, or if she was talking shit to Caroline about how stupid and presumptuous I was.

A lone pickup truck rumbled past, the driver showcasing a bushy mustache that could have graced a cowboy movie.

I reached the end of Main without encountering another soul.

Turning back felt like stepping into a void I wasn’t ready to confront again, so instead, I slipped into an alley behind the taxidermist and emerged onto the side street by the corner of the Dusty Barrel, seeking refuge in the familiar atmosphere of the saloon.

The sign out front buzzed and flickered, the B in Barrel permanently dead.

I went inside, letting the smell of beer and old wood wrap around me like a damp blanket.

Nobody looked up. The bartender was a guy in his fifties maybe, with a shaved head and the forearms of a man who’d once been able to deadlift his own bodyweight.

He nodded as I slid onto a stool near the end.

“Whiskey,” I said. “Neat.”

He poured two fingers without a word. I knocked it back, enjoying the burn. The taste was cheap, but the pain was free.

There was a couple at the other end of the bar, fighting in hushed tones about someone’s mother. In the corner, a jukebox played a song I couldn’t name, probably something that’d been on repeat here for twenty years. There was comfort in the monotony.

I stared at my reflection in the bar mirror, picking apart every flaw: the bruise on my jaw, the stubble that never quite lined up, the eyes that never looked as blue in real life as they did in other people’s stories.

I tried to picture how I’d looked at Lily today—if there’d been any hint that I meant well, or if I’d just come off as some rich guy who wanted to fix her problems with money and a smile.

I ordered another whiskey. The bartender poured it slower this time, watching me with the patience of someone who’d seen every flavor of sad sack come through his doors. I raised the glass in his direction.

“To bad decisions,” I said.

He grunted, which I took as agreement.

I sat there, nursing the drink, letting the silence swell and break in gentle waves.

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the window panes.

I thought about texting Lily, then decided against it.

She deserved time to be mad, to feel what she needed to feel.

I couldn’t take that away from her, no matter how much I wanted to make things right.

I was two sips in when the door banged open and a gust of cold air announced Walker Anderson’s arrival. He paused just inside, cowboy hat tipped back, hands on his hips like he’d just surveyed a whole new frontier.

He clocked me immediately, grinned, and zeroed in. Walker had always walked like the world was his own living room, and today was no different. He plopped onto the next barstool and gave the bartender a lazy point.

“Hey there, Ernie. I’ll have a Rainier and whatever this sad fella’s having.” He thumbed at me, then swung his arm around my shoulders, all casual. “Ford Brooks, man of the hour.”

I tried not to flinch. “Walker. What brings you in here this early? Don’t you have horses to tend to?”

“Got some time to kill before I take the new Mrs. Anderson aka Dr. Cressley. We’re goin’ to an early dinner out in Tanytown.

” He made a show of rolling up his sleeves, which were already rolled.

“Caroline said she was meeting your lady for coffee, come to think of it. So now I guess I get to bother you.”

I snorted. “You don’t need an excuse for that.”

He grinned wider and clinked his beer bottle against my glass. “Damn right.”

Walker and I used to get in trouble together. The kind of trouble that started with a dare and ended with a sheriff’s deputy driving you home to your furious mother. He’d always been the wild one, the risk-taker, but it turned out he was smarter and kinder than anyone had given him credit for.

“Looks like you’ve had a day,” he said, eying my glass. “Bad, or just spectacularly stupid?”

“Bit of both.”

He leaned back, propping his boots on the rung of the stool. “Well, hit me. What’s eatin’ you?”

I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to say it out loud. But if there was anyone who’d get it, it was Walker. He was the king of reckless decisions before he got with Caroline.

“I bought Lily a car,” I said, not looking at him.

He barked a laugh so loud the couple at the end turned to glare. “A car? Jesus, Ford, what is wrong with flowers?”

“She needed it,” I said, heat rising in my face. “You know she walks everywhere with Noah? I thought?—”

“You thought you’d just fix her life for her without talkin’ ‘bout it, huh?” He grinned, then took a long pull from his beer. “Classic city boy move.”

I bristled. “I’m not a city boy.”

“You been gone twenty years, bud. You’re a city boy now. You’re also an idiot, but we’ll circle back to that.” He eyed me, smirk still present but softer. “How’d she take it?”

“I think she was conflicted,” I admitted. “Told me off in front of Caroline, too.”

Walker whistled. “Damn. That’s impressive. Lily’s got a mean streak when she wants to.”

“She looked at me like I’d insulted her, not helped.”

Walker shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Because you did. You made it look like she couldn’t take care of herself or her son. Women hate that, man.”

I shot him a glare, but he just kept smiling. I took a drink, wishing it burned more.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’d never think she couldn’t take care of herself or Noah. I just wanted her to be safe,” I muttered.

“Ford, she’s got more guts than the rest of us put together.” He lowered his voice, glancing at the bartender. “You know what she’s been through, right?”

I nodded, but it was more of a lie than I wanted to admit.

Walker let the silence hang for a moment. “You ever try talking to her about any of that?”

I shook my head. “A little. Didn’t seem like my place to push.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Sometimes, if you want to be part of someone’s future, you got to know a little about their past.”

I didn’t want to argue with him, but the words still itched. “I just—I like her. I like the kid. I want them to be mine and thought maybe I could help.”

Walker gave me a look that could only be described as fond exasperation. “Ford, you can’t buy your way into her heart.” He sipped his beer, then continued, “You want to make it right, you got to let her come to you. Otherwise, she’ll run the other way. Guaranteed.”

I glanced down at the bar, tracing the rings left by a thousand old drinks. “She deserves better,” I said.

“So do you. Just don’t be a dumbass about it.” He grinned, all teeth. “And maybe next time, start with something smaller than a new car.”

I laughed, despite myself. “Noted.”

He looked up, smiling but not really. “People always know when things are off, but they almost never say a damn thing until it’s way too late.”

I watched the sweat bead down my glass. “Is this about Lily?”

“It’s about all of us,” he said. “But mostly her.”

He took a slow breath and leaned in, voice dropping to a hush.

“Jim was one of those guys who wanted a picture-perfect life. I’m not saying he didn’t love Lily at one time, but he loved controlling her more.

Wouldn’t let her talk to her friends. Made her quit school.

Wouldn’t let her go to the store on her own.

He just wanted to keep her in arm’s reach at all times. ”

I felt my jaw clench. “Nobody tried to stop him?”

Walker shot me a look. “Plenty of people tried. None of us succeeded. You ever try to break up a rattlesnake and a rabbit? That’s how it was. She disappeared right in front of us.”