Page 38 of Slow Burn

I pour us both a glass of iced tea, condensation almost immediately forming on the glass in the late May afternoon heat.

“How’s the work been treatin’ ya?” He asks.

“It’s been good,” I say. I don’t exactly want to tell Wade the truth, that I’m wading through a pile of trash, an absolute dumpster fire of his doing. “It’s coming along.”

“I feel bad, you know. Leaving this mess to Beck,” Wade gazes out over the yard pensively, his white eyebrows knitting together. “I’m glad he has you to help him. I feel like I should be doing more. I wasn’t there for Beck growing up the way I needed to be. I wasn’t there for any of the kids. And clearly, I left the ranch in shambles too, so some days I think I failed at everything.”

“No, you didn’t. You did the best you could with what you had at the time.”

“I’ve finally come around. I see why Beck resents me, and now my stupid old heart won’t let me put in the work I want to do to make it up to him.” Wade's eyes are misty, but the stoic set of his jaw tells me he’s not about to let himself cry. Just like Beck.

Our conversation gets interrupted by the sound of gravel crunching as a car rolls down the drive. As it nears, I can just make out the woman in the driver’s seat. She has sandy blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and a wide mouth that always seems to be in a permanent smile.

Tessa.

She’s obviously here to see Beck, but whether she’s showing up unannounced or he’s invited her is beyond my knowledge. I wouldn’t be surprised either way. Even though Beck told me he isn’t interested in rekindling their romance, the on-again-off-again nature of their relationship tells me the door is always open a crack.

Jealousy licks up my spine, hot and sticky. Beck’s relationship status is none of my business, and it certainly shouldn’t make me jealous. I don’t want to get with Beck if Tessa is even remotely in the picture. But after last night, I haven’t stopped thinking about how close we were, how I could have kissed him if I just leaned in an inch…

It’s probably for the best that Beck left so abruptly. Getting caught in the middle of whatever is going on between them is not my M.O.

When I look back at Wade, he’s studying me and I feel exposed. He’s a typical dad, and he raised three whole people into adulthood. He sees through anything. Whatever it is he thought he saw on my features, he doesn’t bring it up. Not directly. He clicks his tongue, and then stares off at the brake lights in the distance as it nears the barn.

“That Tessa. Beautiful girl.” He says it like it’s a shame. “She’s probably here to make plans for Beck’s birthday next weekend.”

I didn’t realize it was Beck’s birthday. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would even acknowledge it. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever known Beck’s birthday, despite having known him almost my whole life.

“What’s the deal with Beck and Tessa anyway?” I ask. I can’t fucking help myself. I have to know. Only so I can avoid awkward interactions with Beck. I’m not jealous.

Wade gives me a soft smile. “Tessa is sweet on Beck.”

“But…”

“But I don’t think she realizes the relationship is one sided,” he finishes. Of course. Of course Beck would string along a woman like Tessa, giving her puny little morsels, bread crumbs that keep her following after him like a puppy dog following a trail of treats.

“Why doesn’t he end it?” I ask, trying to conceal the anger bubbling up my throat. But a memory flickers in my mind. I never have the right words. He’d seemed almost frustrated with himself, and I wonder if Beck struggles with the same affliction as me–communication issues, but from the other end of the spectrum.

“You know Beck. He’s stubborn as all hell, he’s as loyal as a golden retriever, and he’s determined to make something work once he’s started. He forgets to listen to his heart sometimes. He isn’t honest with himself about what he really wants.”

“Which is?”

Wade looks over at me now, a strange expression on his face. One that I can’t quite read the way I normally can.

“Beck wants someone who knows their own mind, who challenges him. That’s not Tessa,” Wade explains. “Not to mention, it’s hard to give your heart to someone else when it’s still holding on to the past.”

I let out a curt hm sound, as Wade stands and starts piling up the dishes on the table.

“Hey, do you have any scraps from that salad you made?” I ask.

Wade stops mid-task. “Of course, they’re in the bin on the counter for compost. Why?”

“I want to take them down to the barn to give to Kenny Rogers,” I say with a smile.

Wade finishes stacking the dishes. “Oh that old goat? He’s got nine-lives, and he’s spent almost all of ‘em. Spent ‘em all being an ornery old fart, too.”

I laugh, because Kenny Rogers might be eerily similar to someone else I know.

“I don’t know. I think he’s misunderstood. There’s something sweet behind those horns.”