Page 18 of Redemption

“Mom, please. He’s too much in the public eye. I don’t... I can’t...” I sniff as a new wave of tears makes my nose run. “I can’t stand the thought of anyone knowing what I went through. They’ll either judge me or pity me, and I don’t want either. Besides, with his connections, who do you think they’re gonna believe if I start pointing fingers? It’s my word against Sebastian’s, and in their eyes, he’s their messiah. I got away. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I do know I’m never going back. That’s what matters.”

“Presley...”

I hold my hand up. “I know it’s hard to understand. Unless you’re in the middle of a situation like that, there’s no way to truly understand why some people do what they feel they have to do. But... I just want to put it behind me. I have to believe karma will get to him one of these days.”

She gets out of her chair to envelop me in a hug, careful not to jostle my shoulder. “I don’t like it, baby, but you’re a grown woman. Just know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

“Thank you. I—”

“Damn, Ma, I hope you have extras because that smel—”

Both mine and my mother’s head lifted at the sound of my brother’s voice.

His jaw drops. “Presley?! What are you doing here? And what the hell happened to your face?”

I just sit here like an idiot, blinking as he looks me over in confusion.

My mom places her hand on his chest and starts gently pushing him out of the room. “Clayton, shush. We’ll talk later.”

“What the hell, Ma? Somebody needs to explain what’s going on. Why does she look like that? Who do I need to kill?”

I can hear them whispering as she’s ushering him out of the house. After about a minute, she comes back in and starts washing dishes like the whole thing never happened.

“Mama?”

“Don’t worry about your brother, baby. His lips are sealed. He’s working this evening, but you two can catch up at dinner tomorrow night.” She turns around and throws a dishtowel over her shoulder. “Speaking of catching up... there’s something you should know, Presley.”

The look on her face tells me exactly who she’s talking about. “Why didn’t you tell me he was back?”

Her eyes widen. “You knew?”

“I saw his truck this morning. I couldn’t actually see him, but I knew he was the one driving it. Is he visiting his dad or something?”

Sadness washes over her face. “Oh, no, honey. Dave passed away about five years ago. Died in his sleep of a heart attack.”

“Oh.” I rub at the sudden tightness in my chest.

Mr. Armstrong was like a second father to me. The fact that he died years ago and I had no idea doesn’t sit well with me. Poor Beck. He was really close with his father.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

My mom frowns as she retakes a seat. “Presley, you told us on more than one occasion you didn’t want to hear about what was going on here, especially not any news related to Beckett. The last time I tried, you practically bit my head off through the phone, and I didn’t hear from you again for almost a year. What was I supposed to do?”

I remember that phone call. It was the morning after an awful beating. Sebastian had just left for work—he was the deputy mayor back then. I felt sorry for myself and really needed to hear my mama’s voice, so I called her. Within the first minute, she brought up Beckett, telling me she had some important news, and I completely freaked out on her. I never did find out what she was trying to say, but I assumed at the time that maybe he was getting married, and she was trying to break it to me gently. She sounded so sad, I couldn’t think of anything else she could possibly have to tell me.

“I still wish I knew.”

“He’s buried at the old cemetery. When you’re... feeling better, maybe you can go for a visit and make your peace.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I half-heartedly agree. “I still don’t understand why Beckett’s here. I thought he was going to make a career out of the military.”

Despite my refusal to talk about Beck, my brother felt compelled to sneak some bits and pieces in. We’d be chatting about something totally unrelated, then bam! He’d slip in some information about Beck and go right back to the previous topic as if it never happened. I’m surprised he didn’t find a way to tell me about Mr. Armstrong’s passing.

“Well, as you know, sometimes, plans change.” My mom shrugs. “Once Beck was... uh, once he had some time to grieve his father’s passing, he asked about the foreman’s position. Your daddy and I couldn’t think of anyone more deserving or qualified for it.”

Beck always did want to be a rancher.

“Well, I guess that worked out well then, huh? Good for him.”

---