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I hadn’t been happy in ten years—apart from being with Caleb. Unfortunately, there’s more to life than fatherhood, and I was unhappy in every other way.
“What do you want, Cathy?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.
“Is the ranch alright? Cattle okay?”
I barked a laugh, shaking my head. “Don’t pretend to give a single shit about Hallow Ranch. We both know you’re a terrible actress.”
Her brown eyes flared. “I wasn’t a terrible actress ten years ago, Denver,” she spat.
My blood ran cold. I didn’t like talking about that night and I sure as shit didn’t like talking to her about it. My eyes flicked up to the barn. Caleb was still inside it. I moved then, leaning over her and caging her in.
“You weren’t anything to me, Cathy. I needed a warm hole to bury my dick in, and you were more than willing to spread your legs as well as your fucking lies,” I growled.
Her face paled. “Den—”
“You don’t get to come here and sit on my fucking porch like you own it. Your ass only belongs in that swing if my brother’s ring was still on your fucking finger. It isn’t. That shit was ripped off of you like he was ripped from me. So. Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Porch.”
She nodded. “Den, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just…”
“What?” I clipped, pushing back and stepping away from her. “You got another wild hair to make us a family?”
She shook her head. “You made it perfectly clear you never want that, Den.”
I bared my teeth, coming at her again, my boots stomping on the wood below me. “You don’t get to use my nickname, Cathy.”
She looked away and nodded. “Sorry. I just…”
“Cathy, I swear to Christ if you don’t just spit it out,” I hissed.
“I wanted to see if Caleb wanted to have lunch with me,” she blurted.
That was a lie.
She wasn’t here for that.
She was here for something else, and she was afraid to move further because I shut that shit down.
“Caleb is here with me. Summers he will be here.”
“No kid wants to be on a ranch all summer,” she retorted, standing up.
“My kid does. This will be his one day. All of it will be his,” I said, gesturing out to the land around us. The glory. The beauty.
“I know that.”
“His, Cathy. Not yours,” I clipped.
She huffed. “I know that. I just wanted to take my son into town—”
“He is coming fishing with me this afternoon. After a storm, the creek is usually higher. My boy wants to fish. He doesn’t want to go have lunch and then go back to your apartment. All he is going to do there anyways is watch TV while you smoke on the balcony.”
She winced.
“Anything else you wanna try today or is that it?” I asked, leaning against the house.
“I guess not,” she spat.
I unfolded an arm and waved. “Then get off my porch.”
