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Ryland shrugged. “Just…” He swore and looked away. “Being a Bridgestone isn’t always easy. People expect things. Good things. Bad things. I think I’m better at the bad things.”
“Like drinking and crashing vehicles?”
Ry’s head shot, and Cal noted the surprise. “Who told you?”
“It doesn’t matter who told me. What matters is that there are people concerned about you.” He waited a few seconds. “You going to tell me what happened?”
“Like you care.”
“I do.” That burn in his gut flamed something fierce, and he moved toward his brother. “I know it seems like I don’t. Look, I can apologize for ghosting this family until my face turns blue, and it still won’t be enough. I know I screwed up. I figured you were all okay. That Benton had everything in control.”
“Well, you figured wrong,” Ry shot back, clearly angry.
“I did. I got caught up in a life that’s insane on any given day, and it was just easier to deal with that than worry about what was going on back here. I want you to know that if I had any inkling things were headed south, I would have come back sooner.”
“And canceled your tour? Disappointed all those folks you seem to like more than us?”
What did Cal say to that? On some level, his brother was right. Cal Bridgestone the singer was a big machine, and there were a lot of cogs that made the wheels turn. He was responsible for the livelihoods of hundreds of people on his payroll. Canceling shows didn’t just mean ticketholders were screwed, it meant that Dave, who worked behind the soundboard, or Janice, in charge of his light show, didn’t get a paycheck, or any of the other men and women who worked his tour.
“I would have tried.” His response sounded lame even to his own ears.
“Sometimes I think everything is crazy. Like all these pieces are moving so fast, but not clicking into the right place. Does that make sense?”
Cal slowly nodded. “Yes. I feel the same way sometimes. It’s why I have Ivy pretty much running my life.”
Ryland shook his head and looked away. “I don’t want to be like Dad. Like how he was before. How I was when I got into that accident.”
“You’re aware that it could be a problem,” Cal replied. “That’s a good start.”
“Is that why you hate him so much? Is Dad the reason you never came back?”
Shit. This conversation had taken a turn. He considered his answer and decided honesty was the way to go.
“He’s part of it. A big part. After Mom died and the booze took over, he was the meanest drunk in the county. You were young, and we kept a lot from you. But you must have heard the fights. Seen the holes in the walls. The black eyes and bruises. I know he was hurting, but our dad took out his hurtin’ on the ones he should have been protecting. I knew I had to get out, or one of us would end up dead.”
Silence followed his words, and then Ryland moved so that he was straight and facing Cal. “You said he was only part of it. What was the other reason?”
Huh. Now they were entering real personal territory. The old Cal would have let it go and changed the subject, but Ryland looked so damn invested in this conversation, the first real conversation they’d had in years, that Cal kept the ball rolling. He was all in, and for once, it felt good and right.
“Millie Sue and I…we were having problems. I knew my head wasn’t in Montana. Knew I wasn’t gonna be a rancher like Bent, but she was on that path. She was talking about fixing up the Founder’s Cabin and living there. Having babies and writing music and living life like there was no tomorrow. Her corner of the world was enough for her, and a part of me envied that, but the other part didn’t understand it.” He smiled, a small sad sort of thing as memories rolled across his brain like an old movie that had lost its color.
“She’s so good, you know? Her voice is pure and unique and full of soul. Everything inside her spills out, and it’s a fucking joy to listen to. To witness. She can hold a crowd in the palm of her hand like no one I’ve ever seen, including me. And on top of that, the girl can write.” He grinned. “She was always doodling in notebooks, filling them up with drawings and words, and she’d make it all work and sound like magic. I never understood why she didn’t want anyone to see it. To hear it. Why she was happy to play every weekend at her dad’s place, or around a campfire with our friends, but nowhere else. It wasn’t enough for me, and we fought about it until it ended us.”
“She’s real special,” Ryland said, getting to his feet. “You love her.”
“I…” Cal was speechless. Where the hell had the little punk-ass kid with the attitude gone? Ryland Bridgestone looked and sounded years older just then, and his gaze was direct as he chuckled.
“It’s okay, bro. Love isn’t a bad word. Especially for someone your age.”
Love? Was he still in love with Millie Sue Jenkins? Cal swore and ran his hands across the stubble on his cheek as the band across his chest tightened. Had he evernotbeen in love with her? Wasn’t it a fact that every long song he’d written had been about her? That all the women who’d come and gone in his life, the ones he’d used and left behind, had been a lame attempt to fill a hole only she could fill?
“Geez, you got it bad.”
“What?” Cal said, staring across the room at his brother.
“Millie Sue.”
There was no sense in denying it. “It seems to be a bit of a problem.”
