Page 45 of Hung Up (Shadow Ridge #1)

BILLINGS

an unwelcome visitor

I’m packing up my work bag, the coffee cup from the shop in Aspen Creek that Jesse stopped at this morning, sitting on the table with his handwriting on the sleeve.

You’re the best part of my day.

It brings a smile to my face every time that I look at it.

I’ve come to accept my circumstances. I’m done fighting it and feeling guilty about the decisions I’ve made.

Will I still feel guilty when all is said and done?

Absolutely. But for now, I’m just going to live in the moment and enjoy Jesse Hayes for the remaining time I have him.

But I will admit being in Aspen Creek with him made me see him differently in a way that makes my feelings a little more complicated.

There’s a certain comfort that being at home brings you, and it was glaringly evident that he’s most at peace on his family’s ranch. Seeing him like that, so at ease, laid back, and totally in his element, brought an onslaught of emotions rushing through me.

I was a little bit envious, a tiny bit upset, and a whole lot disappointed.

Envious because he gets to feel that way every time he goes home.

Whereas when I go home, I maybe only relax a tenth of what he does.

Upset because I know that will be the last time I ever step foot on that ranch and experience such a beautiful landscape and peaceful way of life.

And disappointed I’ll have nothing but a memory of Jesse in that capacity.

Which is most likely why I woke up crying from the dream I had last night.

It had started with Jesse waking me up with breakfast in bed, and when I rolled over, I noticed there was a photo of us resting on my nightstand from what appeared to be our wedding, and when I looked down at my hand, there was a beautiful oval diamond resting on my finger.

Once we finished breakfast, he had to go help his brother, so I went to the main house and baked with Loretta for a couple of hours before Stevie came to grab me and took me horseback riding through the mountains.

Upon our return home, Jesse was waiting for me and brought me back to his house— our house —for a nice, homemade dinner before we ended the evening on a blanket in the backyard gazing up at the stars.

It truthfully was the first dream I’ve ever had of him in that way, and it was overwhelming to say the least. Was this god’s way of trying to tell me that there’s a different ending to this than I thought?

Is my brain trying to prove that I could have it so much better?

Could it be both? Either way, I’ve been a confused mess this morning.

But one thing is for certain: I’m not walking away from him before I have to.

I’m just about to zip my bag and head to the arena when there’s a knock on my door.

My brows furrow as I glance down at my phone, no texts from Rylie, Jesse, or even Kai stating they would be swinging by.

Straightening my lace white top, I walk over to the door, not bothering to look through the peephole before I pull the door open, but once I do, God, do I wish I had.

Because in the hallway stands my father.

He’s wearing a plain light grey tee with dark jeans and a pair of white tennis shoes.

His hair is a little more white than I remember it being the last time I saw him, the wrinkles on his face starting to appear more defined to show his aging.

But his blue eyes—the one trait I seemed to get from him—are still bright and sharp as he studies me.

There’s a smile on his face as he steps into the room, closing the distance between us and pulling me into a hug.

I hesitate, not reciprocating before he pulls back.

“How’s my little girl?”

A light frown appears on my face as he pushes past me, taking in and judging my hotel room like he does whenever he swings by my apartment. “Umm, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I came to take you to lunch. Or an early dinner, I suppose.” He turns to face me.

“I haven’t seen you in months, shortcake.

I was missing you. Plus, I figured I’d come and see for myself what all the hype is about.

One of your articles went viral, and now everyone and their brother seem to be watching this bull-riding thing. ”

“I wish you had called,” I tell him, letting the door fall shut behind me. But I don’t step further into the room. “I was just about to head to the arena. If you’re staying, maybe we can grab breakfast tomorrow instead?”

“No can do, shortcake.” God, I hate that fucking nickname . “They didn’t have any rooms left, so I’m heading back tonight.” How he planned on ‘seeing what all the hype is about’ then is beyond me.

I sigh, finally pushing past him to grab my work bag before giving him my attention once more. “Well, then we’re going to have to plan some other time. I have a job to do.”

“Come on, Faith. Surely you can have someone else step in for you for one night.” The look he gives me can only be classified as puppy dog eyes, but on him, they just look pathetic. “Please? I never get to see you anymore.”

I tip my head back, looking up at the ceiling. You’d think I’d be so used to these guilt trips by now that they wouldn’t have any impact on me. But unfortunately, it doesn’t matter how old I get—I’m always going to be a people pleaser, it seems.

“Let me text Rylie.”

I turn my back on him and grab my phone, not wanting to see the triumphant look on his face I know will only set me off.

Me

I’m going to need you to step in for me tonight.

Me

I have an unwelcome visitor.

Rylie

Uh oh…do I even want to know?

Me

Drinks later?

Rylie

…it’s your father, isn’t it?

Rylie

What the fuck is he doing here in Billings?

Me

Guess I’m about to find out.

“Well?”

It takes every piece of willpower that I have not to roll my eyes. “Yeah, let’s go.”

We end up at a sports bar, which is fairly packed for four o’clock.

But when we sit down and I glance up at the television, I see the pre-event talk for the Pbr on the screen.

It shouldn’t surprise me that Billings is one of the places where bull-riding is more popular, but it only makes me feel a pang of disappointment that I won’t be there to experience that in person tonight.

“So, work has been going well, I see.” I nod, staring at the menu. “I’m surprised you haven’t given it up yet.”

“And why does that surprise you?” We’ve only been here a few minutes and already he’s pissing me off.

“I don’t know.” I lift my gaze, narrowing my eyes on him slightly, but he’s looking down at his menu, too. “It just seems beneath you, is all.”

I scoff, averting my gaze. “Like you’d know what is or isn’t beneath me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hello, my name is Melody, and I’ll be your waitress for the evening.” Thank god for this disruption. “Can I get you started off with anything to drink?”

“Just a water, thanks,” I say, forcing a smile on my face as I glance up at her.

She nods, turning to my father. “Do you have a tap menu?”

Shaking my head, I turn to the television to see they’re talking about Kai, tuning out my father.

If there’s one thing that always brings back unpleasant flashbacks, it’s him ordering something to drink.

He was never an alcoholic by any means, but when he did drink, he got angry, and it never boded well for my mother or me.

And while realistically I know we’re in public and he’ll only have one, it doesn’t bring any peace to my now frantically beating heart.

“I have news,” he announces once the waitress leaves to get our drinks. He stares at me eagerly, waiting for me to ask him about it, but I just stare at him instead. “Alright, then,” he murmurs. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

“Oh.” I’m unable to hide my surprise. “That’s?—”

“And I asked her to marry me.” My eyes grow to the size of saucers. “We’re getting married in June, a small ceremony. And I want you standing up there with me.”

My mouth opens and closes, no words coming out as I try to wrap my head around what he’s told me.

Thankfully, I’m old enough not to feel like he’s trying to replace my mother, but it wouldn’t bother me even if he was.

What still bothers me is how they stayed together in the first place.

Replacing her then would’ve been a blessing.

But is he out of his mind? I know when you get older, sometimes the process and timelines shorten for things like this, but I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, don’t even know her name, and he wants me standing up there with him?

“I’m—” I cough, trying to clear the lump in my throat. “I’m going to need a little more information.”

“Like what?” He seems genuinely upset and offended that I didn’t simply agree.

“Gosh, I don’t know, maybe what’s her name for starters?”

He says something under his breath that I don’t quite catch. “Her name is Savannah.”

“Okay, and—” I stop, the name finally registering, and I feel my cheeks heat for a moment. “Did you say Savannah?” He nods. “You don’t mean?—”

“Savannah Johnsen? I do.”

Savannah was my best friend in high school and all through college until she sent me those photos that showed my first boyfriend had been cheating on me.

Yup, that was her. I’ll admit I didn’t handle it well.

I not only went off on him, I took my anger out on her, too, but once word got to me that she had known for months and never bothered to tell me, I felt one hundred percent justified in my anger toward her.

After that, we were no longer friends. That was the moment I knew I had to keep my circle small.

And now my ex-friend—who is my age, mind you—is marrying my father?

What the actual fuck?

“You’re out of your fucking mind.” His face goes from neutral to pissed the fastest I’ve seen it do in years. “You’re thirty years older than she is.”

“Twenty-nine, actually.”

“Oh, ‘cause that’s better, you’re right.” I shake my head in disbelief. Am I being punked? Because it really feels like I’m being punked. “Is this some kind of midlife crisis or something? ‘Cause you know buying a sports car might be a better option.”

His fists clench on the table in front of him. “You’re being ridiculous. We love each other, Faith. And it’s not like I’m asking for your blessing. All I’m asking is for you to support this.”

“No.” The decision comes easily. He’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks I’m going to stand up there while he marries an old friend of mine who could be his daughter. It’s sick. “Absolutely not. I’m sorry, but no. You’ll just have to marry your daughter-bride without me.”

“Then you’re going to have to talk to Adam.” My eyebrows skyrocket. “I told him he’d be your date to the wedding.”

“You told him—” I stop, holding my hands out in front of me for a moment as I tilt my head, trying to get my anger under control. “You know what, I just remembered I don’t have to force myself to sit through this meal. I’m going to go.”

He tries to reach for my hands, but I pull them away and grab my bag. “Quit acting like a child, Faith. It’s not a good look.”

“I’m sure you know all about acting like a child, considering you’re marrying one.

” He looks like he’s about to snap at me, but I hold a hand up, silencing him.

“When you realize what a mistake this is, finally realize that you need to stop trying to get Adam and me back together, and actually respect what I do for a living and the choices I make, then we can try this again. Until then, well, don’t contact me. ”

I slide out of the booth just as the waitress returns with our drinks, her eyes on my back as she watches me go. I wait ‘til I’m outside to order an Uber back to the hotel since my father insisted on driving, typing out a very long text to Rylie to tell her what just happened.

I only wish I were there to see her face when she reads it.

My Uber arrives rather quickly and I’m back in my hotel room before I know it.

It took longer to drive five streets than it did to get from the restaurant to here, the arena only a couple of blocks from the hotel.

Changing into a pair of lounge shorts and a ratty tee, I throw my hair up before I crawl into bed and turn on the television.

Unfortunately, I missed Jesse and Stetson’s rides, but the rest of the boys haven’t gone yet.

They’re just announcing Wyatt when there’s a knock on my door.

I ignore it, thinking it might be my father wanting to continue our conversation.

It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens.

When there’s another knock, I grab the remote and turn up the television, trying to tune it out.

It doesn’t matter how much he knocks, I’m not getting out of this bed.

My phone buzzes beside me, and when I glance down, I see a text from Jesse.

Pretty Boy

I hear the television. Let me in, Sweetheart.

I jolt out of bed and head toward the door, pulling it open with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t ignoring me,” he responds with a gentle chuckle. “I was about to go into a panic trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

“Nothing this time.” I open the door wider, letting him walk into the room. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to bring you back to my place.” I’m about to protest when he holds out a hand to silence me. “No ifs, ands, or buts, Sweetheart. You had a shitty time with your father and deserve to spend time in a space that’ll help you relax. I’ll drive.”

I sigh. “What about my car?”

“We’ll be back tomorrow.” He walks to the corner and grabs my toiletry bag, disappearing into the bathroom where I hear my glass bottles clanging around. “My mom has dinner waiting for us. It’d be rude to turn that down.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Jesse steps out of the bathroom with my bag now full and tosses it into my suitcase. Once it’s zipped, he picks it up and carries it toward the bed, grabbing the remote to turn off the television.

“So, what do you say?”

My heart skips a beat as I stare at him.

Time and time again, this man has shown up in moments I didn’t even realize I needed him, offering me an escape from the mess that runs through my mind.

It’s such a simple, easy gesture, but one he does so flawlessly, where I feel suddenly jealous of whatever woman gets his affection after me.

“Why not?” He beams, reaching for my hand and interlacing our fingers together. “I can’t say no to a home-cooked meal.”