Seeing You (5 page)

Chapter Nine

I was tempted to avoid Wade after crying in his arms like that, but on Sunday he showed up at the bunkhouse looking pale and nervous as he asked me if I was ready to go through Simon’s things. He didn’t mention the conversation from Friday night, or my tears.

I didn’t say it, but there are some things in life you’re just never ready for.

But I followed him over to the ranch house, feeling all the dread I hadn’t felt a couple nights ago when Wade first asked for my help. Why had I agreed to this? We were going to give my brother’s things to strangers.

Wade didn’t speak as we made our way through the house and up the stairs, and the sound of our boot heels hitting the hardwood floor was like a steady pounding drum. It echoed through me, and I forced myself to take deep breaths past the dread that was like a vise around my throat. I was scared I’d start choking any minute.

I didn’t know how Wade could be so calm about this, so collected.

We stepped into his bedroom and I noticed the bed was made, the brown striped quilt smoothed neatly into place. There were a couple boxes by the open closet door, sitting at the ready, waiting for us to pack up a life. We’d put Simon’s things into them and we’d haul them to town and some stranger would look at it all like it was just stuff.

Even if it was just stuff.

Still, Wade didn’t speak, and I looked over at him. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his Levi’s and he stood there looking around the room like he’d never seen it before.

No, he wasn’t calm and collected. He looked lost.

And then it wasn’t so hard to control myself. Every breath wasn’t a fight, and I didn’t have to lock my knees to keep from bolting out of the room. It didn’t take two guys to put some clothes into boxes. Wade had asked me because he couldn’t do it alone.

“Well, I guess we’ll start with the clothes. Is there anything you’d like to keep?” I asked.

“Um. Yeah. I think so.” Wade sounded so uncertain, and I watched as he walked over to the closet. He ran a finger along the clothes hanging there, pausing every once in a while, but he moved on until he got to his side of the closet. Then he stood there unmoving in front of the clothes for another minute before finally uttering a pained little laugh, shaking his head a bit, and turning to look at me. “No… I guess not. His hat’s downstairs. I’ll keep that, but…this is just stuff.”

“Yeah, clothes don’t maketh the man.” I briefly closed my eyes, wondering why I always do that. Expecting to see a scowl on Wade’s face, I opened my eyes and instead caught his small smile.

“No, they definitely don’t. Especially not when Simon had such…interesting taste.” Wade fingered the pink fishnet shirt I’d given Simon.

I couldn’t hold back a smile at that either. “But Simon didn’t pick that out. I did. As a joke.”

“Yeah, but Simon liked it, I think. If he could have gotten away with it without getting his ass kicked, I think he would have worn it. It was the artist in him. Different time, different place and I think he would have shocked us all.” Wade grinned.

“Yeah, Simon always was…colorful.” I had a grin of my own, thinking back.

Wade snorted. “Yeah. I always told him that’s why I preferred to work with charcoal. He used up all the color in our lives before I could get to it.”

I chuckled, recalling a time or two when I’d heard Wade say that. Simon had always sniffed, careful not to let Wade see his smile. I opened my mouth to speak, but Wade’s sigh cut me off.

“Some days I wonder if I’ll ever get that color back.” And just like that, the smiles were gone. He walked over to the window before continuing. “But then some days I wake up, and the world looks like it’s about to burst, there’s so much there.”

I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. Good moments and bad. A different reality to adjust to, and the underlying feeling that you’d never quite reach adjustment. I didn’t know what to say, but then maybe Wade didn’t really need me to say anything. Maybe he just needed someone to listen to him.

His back looked stiff, his muscles tense, as he stood looking out into the bright afternoon sun. Quiet for long enough to make me think he’d forgotten I was even standing there, he said, “Do you know what the worst time is?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Sometimes I have dreams about Simon. Almost like memories. He’s happy and so…alive. And then I wake up. I wake up and I remember. But it’s that transition from one second to the next, one where he’s still here to one where he’s not. It’s like losing him all over again and—” His voice broke and he went silent.

I knew exactly what he meant. I also knew… “But it’s also like having him all over again. The dreams, they’re the best times too.”

The muscles in Wade’s back relaxed, and he glanced over his shoulder at me. “I—yeah. The best times too.” He looked grateful, though I couldn’t figure out why. For listening to him? I hoped he knew what it meant to me too. I almost told him so, but my throat still felt too tight.

“All right. Let’s do this. You ready?” I didn’t have any trouble getting that out.

I could see Wade take a deep breath. He said, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

We worked side by side after that, folding up Simon’s clothes and putting them into the boxes, clearing half the closet and emptying drawers. At one point Wade turned to me, looking straight into my eyes, and echoed what he said a few months ago. “I’m glad you’re here, Dylan.”

He didn’t look as lost as he had when we first walked into the room. He didn’t look as pale either, his tanned face holding more of its natural color than it had all day.

For the first time in a long time, I was glad I was here too.

Barely a week later, I stepped out of the bunkhouse on my way to my truck. I was running into town to pick up pizza and a movie for Wade’s and my usual Friday night festivities.

It had been a good week. After we finished packing up Simon’s things, I drove with Wade into town the next day to donate it. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. It really was just stuff. We were keeping all the best things left of Simon.

The weather was getting cooler, the breeze carrying a distinct chill as we settled into fall. I spent the last few days helping the boys move cattle. I didn’t see much of Wade, since he spent the time cleaning up his office. I felt glad about that. Even if he had been keeping up the books, the last few months his desk had been covered in papers and his filing system seemed to have taken a vacation. It was good that he was picking up old habits again.

It felt familiar, which was nice.

Wade never mentioned the conversation we had last Friday night. More to the point, he never mentioned the way I felt about him, the way I had always felt about him. He acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and I was grateful. If I thought about it all, my stomach would start cramping.

But it looked like things were back to normal, or as normal as they ever would be.

I was just opening the door to hop in my truck when I happened to glance over toward the pond. Just beyond it and to the left a little, a lone figure stood in the shade of the big cottonwood tree on the grassy knoll where Wade’s ancestors were buried. Where Simon was buried.

I paused with one foot resting on the runner of my truck and wondered why my stomach flipped. I knew that Wade must visit Simon’s grave. Yeah, I must have known that.

So there was really no reason for me to feel like I just took a punch to the gut. Just because I was too chicken shit to face where we buried my brother didn’t mean Wade was.

I had managed to avoid the spot since I came back to the Lazy G, telling myself it didn’t matter. Why did I think Wade avoided it too?

Maybe it was just a simple case of needing to see it with my own eyes.

Shaking my head, I got in my truck before Wade could turn around and head back toward the house. I didn’t know what I would say to him just then.

I was still thinking about it, though, when I returned to the ranch. I thought about it during the drive into town and the drive back. Then I thought about it watching the movie. I couldn’t have said what we even watched. I ignored the puzzled looks Wade kept sending my way.

I thought about it as I got ready for bed, thought about it as I lay there and prayed for a dreamless sleep.

I was still thinking about it the next morning as I walked slowly over to my brother’s final resting place.

I stopped in front of Simon’s grave, a quick glance showing that the headstone was less weathered than those of Wade’s deceased family members. Looking up at the tree branches overhead, the leaves quietly rustling in the breeze, I tried to force my gaze back to the spot where my brother was buried, but I couldn’t.

This was much harder than I thought it would be.

The tree seemed as if it were whispering to me, though the language was foreign, and I stared until I had a slight crick in my neck. Still, I couldn’t look down.

Wiping my forehead with the back of my hand, I concentrated on taking deep, even breaths.

“I’m sorry.” My heart stuttered and I stopped breathing for a moment before I realized that I had said those words out loud. I thought that through, surprised at what I meant. A million reasons to be sorry, but only one that really mattered now.

Feeling awkward speaking out loud, but needing to get this out, I said, “I’m sorry I ran away. I was trying to outrun the pain, not your memory.” I felt something shift inside of me, settling. Standing there, I looked over at the mountains in the distance, picturing Simon smiling at me. “I miss you, brother.”

A bird sang softly nearby and I finally looked down at Simon’s headstone. The words “He was loved” were engraved below his name.

I cleared my throat, ignoring the burning in my eyes, and said, “Yes, Simon. You were.”

Chapter Ten

Later that night I hesitated at the door of the bunkhouse. I had just returned from dinner at Erin’s house in town. When I had asked Wade to go, he claimed he still had to finish organizing his office. Which sounded like what it was: an excuse.

A couple of Wade’s lights were still on, and I made a quick decision, thinking about the disappointed look on Erin’s face.

I didn’t bother knocking, just walked in and headed for Wade’s office. Not surprised when I didn’t find him—or at how immaculate his desk looked—I headed for the family room. Wade was there, sitting in a pair of thin black sweatpants and watching what looked like, from a quick glance at the Duke,
The Alamo
.

“Hey,” I said. Wade looked over at me, surprised.

“Hey, Dylan. How was dinner?” He straightened up from his slouch and I tried to ignore the expanse of bare, tanned skin.

“Oh, you know. The usual.” I walked over and sat at the other end of the couch. “A regular circus.”

“I bet.” Looking puzzled, Wade was quiet for a moment, then asked, “How’s Erin?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. A talented ringleader, our Erin is.”

Wade smiled briefly at that. “Yeah, she is.”

When Wade didn’t speak again, I said, “Why didn’t you come to dinner?”

“I told you, I wanted to finish up the office. Get things done.”

“Wade. Come on. I just looked in there; it doesn’t get more organized than that, and I’m betting it was like that this morning when Erin called to invite us to dinner.” Wade started to interrupt, but I kept talking. “Why won’t you go into town for anything but errands?”

“I…I’m not ready. That sounds dumb, I know, but it’s the truth.” I could see the flush lining Wade’s cheekbones.

“No, I don’t think that’s dumb. But Erin and Mike are family. They miss you.”

“I, well, it feels safe here. Which sounds even dumber than saying I’m not ready, I know.” Wade’s voice had gone all soft and quiet, like when he was uncomfortable about something, and he was staring at his lap.

I wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t embarrass him more. I understood what he meant. The ranch was a comfort zone for him. Familiar. Someday he’d wouldn’t need that—maybe that would be how I’d know he was ready to start living again—but until then, I wouldn’t push it.

Much.

Trying to put him at ease, I said, “Well, I’m not sure how safe you’ll feel when I tell you that I invited Erin and Mike and the girls over for dinner here next Saturday. When Erin’s around, I don’t think anyone is safe.”

He looked up at me, but didn’t smile as I expected. “Dylan—”

I cut across his words. “Ya know, when it comes right down to it, she’s your sister, too. You can’t keep avoiding her. And don’t you miss your nieces?”

The look in Wade’s eyes softened. “Yeah, I do. It just…well, yeah you’re right. I do miss them, and I’m surprised Erin hasn’t come barging in here demanding to know why I haven’t been out to see her.”

“She’s shown admirable restraint.” I smiled at Wade, letting my gaze drop to his chest for only a moment. One weak moment. He looked really good sitting there—and completely oblivious to my roving gaze. “Seriously, though, she’s been giving you the space she thinks you need, but I don’t think it’s been easy for her. She misses you a lot, and she worries because you rarely leave the ranch.”

“I will. Just…not yet. You’re right, though. I’m glad you invited them.” Realizing I was staring at his mouth as he talked, wanting to move over until I was close enough to trace his lips with my tongue, I decided it was time to go.

“Good.” I stood and tossed over my shoulder on my way out of the room, “And look at it this way, Wade. The circus is coming to the ranch and we’ll have front row seats.”

His soft chuckle followed me into the chilly night air.

I pulled the roast out of the oven just as the screen door slammed at the front of the house.

“Honey, I’m home!” Wade sounded chipper, even if his words made me roll my eyes. Okay, so a tiny part of me thought they sounded kind of nice, despite the fact that I somehow got slotted as June in this episode.

“Oh, Ward, please remember to take off your boots, or I may have to skimp on your ‘hunka’ dessert.” My ‘50s housewife impression left a lot to be desired, although I could try to warble with the best of them.

Wade was chuckling as he walked into the kitchen. “Aw, June, have you been slaving away at the stove all day?”

I liked that Wade got my sense of humor, and I liked even more how genuine the sparkle in his eyes was.

He seemed…happier this last week, like maybe packing up Simon’s things had done him some good, deep down inside. His eyes looked warmer, if that was possible, and the jokes came more readily. Wade just seemed…easier in his skin.

I was glad.

And if I was a little frustrated that sometimes Wade would level a look at me—intense, possessive, full of heat—before turning and walking away, well, I wasn’t thinking about that. Much.

I just wish I knew what to expect from Wade, whether I was coming or going with him these days.

Well, I knew I wasn’t coming, that was for sure. But it would be nice to know whether I was going to get the buddy-buddy-Wade or the I-want-to-fuck-you-but-I-still-need-time-Wade. Considering they both came with a dream ranch, no batteries required, and matching horsies, I should probably be happy playing with either edition.

“Yeah, Erin and Mike and the girls will be here any minute. And so will the ‘special’ guest.” Erin had invited one of her employees, a kid named Scott who was home for the summer before he finished up his final year at MSU-Billings. She had said on the phone the other night that she felt bad for him, his parents didn’t seem thrilled with his existence—according to him anyways, but that could be leftover teenage angst—and he didn’t appear to have many friends. I was used to Erin bringing home strays over the years, so I told her to bring him along to dinner.

Only now it felt just a little bit more formal than it would have been with just family. Thus my meager attempts in the kitchen. I wasn’t a great cook, but I was a damn sight better than Wade, so I’d been giving it my best shot for the last two hours. Not too shabby, actually, if I did say so myself. The roasted carrots and potatoes looked really good.

There was a knock on the front door, and I turned to Wade and said, “They didn’t barge in, so I’m assuming that’s Scott. Erin gave him directions so he didn’t have to ride with the girls. You should go wash up unless you want to impress him with your eau de stables.”

As I went to move past him, Wade hooked his arm around my neck and pulled my face up against his neck. “You sayin’ I stink?”

Yeah, he had a bit of the stables about him, but he also smelled like sweat and man. I resisted the urge to rub my nose against him as I took a deep breath to savor the scent of Wade, resisted the urge to dip my tongue in the tanned hollow of his throat. I shoved away from him before my body started to tell him how very appealing I found this headlock. “Definitely no dessert for you now.” He left to go get ready.

Answering the door, I was surprised. I had been expecting some awkward, pimply-faced kid, not blond-blue-eyed-All-American-Joe-next-door. “Hi, you must be Scott. I’m Dylan.” The kid met my eyes confidently, returned a strong handshake. This was the kid that nobody liked?

I didn’t have time to pursue that thought because Erin and family arrived then, and there was much shrieking and giggling that took place as I squeezed the breath out of Amelia and tossed Molly into the air, straining a bit. She must have been getting too old for that, because the other option was that
I
was getting too old, and wasn’t that a scary thought?

“Hey, you,” I said as I pulled my sister into a bear hug. I lowered my voice and said against her ear, “So, why did you really invite that kid?” She didn’t answer, the sneak, and I had been her brother long enough to know that something was up.

The greetings finally over, even after repeating them a second time when Wade came down the stairs fresh from his shower, I ushered everyone into the dining room to eat so the food wouldn’t get cold.

We sat down, Wade at the head of the table, Scott on his right and Erin on his left, said grace, and I left everyone else to make small talk amidst the sound of clanging silverware and closed-mouthed chewing. Well, looking at Molly, maybe not closed-mouth chewing for everyone. I contemplated Scott.

“So, tell me, what are you studying, Scott?” This was probably Wade’s best attempt at dinner table conversation.

“I’m an English Literature major.”

Scott looked earnest and I didn’t think I should chime in with something along the lines of, “What the hell are you gonna do with that?”

“Ah. That’s interesting. Seems like Erin’s coffee shop is a good place to work,” Wade said. I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Was Wade even trying? And was this how the whole evening was going to go?

I glanced around the table, taking in Mike, who was studiously applying himself to his second helping of roast, the two little girls who were conducting a whispered conversation, and finally Erin, who was looking at the exchange between Wade and Scott with interest. I looked back to see Scott blushing slightly and smiling shyly at Wade. Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. This time I didn’t bother to refrain from rolling my eyes.

“Erin, could I have your help in the kitchen?” She shook her head no, an evil grin on her face. Little sisters were still the pits no matter how old you were. “Please?”

“Dylan, you know I’ve never been a hit in the kitchen.” Erin was truly evil. If I had said that about her, I wouldn’t have turned my back on her for weeks. I opened my mouth to agree with her, damn the consequences.

And cue Mike, ever the diplomat. “But you do bake a fine chocolate cake. Doesn’t she, girls?” The girls must have known which side their cookies were frosted on, because they stopped whispering long enough to agree with their father. As for Mike, he just smiled at his wife, and I cringed, thinking there was something unnatural about seeing a man look at one’s baby sister like that, even if they had been married for nine years now.

But back to the matter at hand. “Oh, you know me, I’m just hopeless with desserts. I try and I try and still, it eludes me. How
do
you get your chocolate cake so chocolate? I think that’s where that whole mystique problem came from. Betty’s cake was just never chocolate enough.” Erin rolled her eyes, but finally followed me into the kitchen, probably eager to tell me to shut up before I scared off young Scott.

I grabbed the store-bought chocolate cake out of the fridge and pulled out a plate to put it on, trying to keep my voice quiet as I said, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I
was
eating dinner until you rudely demanded my help.” I’d seen that butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth look too many times over the years to be fooled.

“No. Scott. He doesn’t look like the misfit type to me.”

“He is, actually. Small town, most of his high school friends moved away. His parents are pretty hateful, though they pay his tuition.” She started to say something else, but then bit her lip.

“So you thought you’d bring him out here for dinner, throw him in front of Wade, and sit back while the magic happened?” I turned around and braced my hands on the edge of the counter, consciously relaxing the muscles in my shoulders and back so Erin wouldn’t know how much the idea bothered me.

“No, you dolt. Actually, I brought him out here thinking magic might happen with
you
.” Her voice rose on the last bit, and I glared at her over my shoulder.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Oh, like they really think I’m helping you with your cake.” Her voice sounded annoyed.

“Whatever.”

“Dylan.” She sounded hesitant. “How long are you going to stay out here, playing house, waiting for Wade to look at you and realize he’s ready to move on?”

It didn’t surprise me that Erin knew how I felt about Wade. “Is that what you think I’m doing out here? Just waiting for my chance?” I’d poured blood, sweat, and even a few unmanly tears into this place over the years, and I’d worked damn hard these last few months to save that. Besides, Wade was my good friend, had been before he and Simon ever got together.

I felt her come up behind me, lay her hand between my shoulder blades, a gentle reminiscence of our mother, and say, “Not at first, no. And maybe not even completely now either. I’m not blind. I see the work this place needs. But… I’m not blind. Wade’s not broken anymore, you know?” She paused, and I closed my eyes, both unwilling and desperate at the same time to hear what she had to say. “He’s going to wake up someday soon and realize he deserves to be happy again, and he’s going to go looking, and I’m just scared he might not go looking for you. I love you, Lynnie, and I just don’t want you hurt.”

I bowed my head and tried not to think about how much the idea hurt. Erin hugged my back, probably feeling bad, and I turned around to return the hug properly. For all the teasing, Erin was a gentle little thing, and she’d always hated to see anybody hurt, but most especially her brothers. “Don’t worry about me, Erin. I’ll be fine.” I sure hoped so, anyways.