Chapter 9: Chapter 9

WREN

Lance storms Tad and grabs his shirt with one hand while landing a solid punch with his other. He rears back to strike again when the crew reaches him.

As they pull him off, Tad lands a punch to Lance’s eye.

Both crews are working hard to separate the two men and finally succeed. Paul and his buddies push Tad toward the bathroom while Lance and the others move out front.

“Let me go!” Lance yells.

Finally he breaks free in the parking lot and storms off. The guys all look at me. I nod my thanks and move toward my truck. “I’ll pick him up, thanks for the help.”

They all wave and say no problem as I fire up the truck and take off.

I lean over the seat and roll my passenger window down as I pull up to Lance, who is power walking away.

“Get in,” I say. Lance looks at me but keeps walking. “Get in, dummy.”

He sighs and finally opens the door, pulling himself in before slamming the door.

After a few minutes, I pull onto the highway, heading toward the ranch.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, you know,” I say, just hoping to break the tension.

“Jesus, Wren, that’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’” he says, and my heart twists a little.

“What were you fucking thinking? That dude is so unhinged, he could’ve hurt you before anybody even touched him!”

I sigh. “I know, I know, I just...needed the money.”

“So get the advance I offered or ASK ME FOR HELP. You don’t rob the biggest prick in Bryxton!”

“I didn’t rob him! I’m not a fucking criminal.” Tears well up in my eyes.

I hear Lance sigh but I don’t look at him.

“I know you aren’t, I’m sorry, it just...scared me,” he says. I see him wipe his face on his shirt sleeve. I look over and see blood smeared on his face.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” I say.

“It’s just a scratch,” he says.

Twenty minutes later, we pull into the ranch. I park by Big Red then turn to him. I grab his chin and examine his busted eyebrow. It’s deep but fairly clean.

“We need to close this up. Where’s the nearest first aid kit?”

“My house,” he says, then opens his eyes to see me looking at him.

“Oh...kay...”

“I mean the one in the garage is a little insufficient, and I’m not going in the bunkhouse or main house looking like this.”

“Right, okay.”

We walk down to Lance’s house, the guest house nestled in between the main house and the bunkhouse.

As I’m waiting on the porch, I see the patio to the main house to the left. It’s got a huge fire pit, outdoor kitchen, and lots of lounging furniture.

To the right, the bunkhouse is still aglow and music and laughter can be heard through an open window.

Finally, Lance opens the door and walks into the dark room. I stand at the entrance waiting for my eyes to adjust as the lights come on.

Like everything else on the farm, the house is absolutely stunning. A large leather couch, ottoman, and chair sit in the living room which leads right into a gorgeous kitchen and dining room.

A reading nook in the far corner has another leather chair, flanked by bookcases and a small bar. There’s a large staircase next to it that I assume leads to Lance’s bedroom.

I attempt to distract myself as Lance fishes a first aid kit out of his pantry and plops it on the counter. He presses a towel to his still-bleeding eyebrow.

I open it and locate some liquid skin and a few butterfly bandages. I also grab some antiseptic wipes and gloves but can’t find any lidocaine.

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“Lidocaine, this liquid skin stuff hurts like a bitch.”

“I’ll be fine, come on.”

Lance leads me into the bathroom on the other side of the staircase where he sits on the closed toilet. I sit on the counter next to him so I can get a good look at his cut.

I dab the antiseptic on it, doing my best to ignore how good Lance smells.

“How’s it look, doc?”

“I hate to tell you this, but you aren’t going to be an eyebrow model.”

Lance laughs which makes me smile.

“Damn, and I just booked a gig with The Eyebrow Depot.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. ~So he does have a sense of humor~.

“Okay, now for the un-fun part...”

I open the bottle of liquid skin and prepare the butterfly bandages.

I pinch the wound close with my gloved fingers and paint some liquid skin on. I know this is painful, but Lance only clenches his jaw and is otherwise still.

I gently blow on the liquid skin to get it to dry faster before putting the bandages on. My right hand is resting on Lance’s left shoulder, and I swear I feel his pulse quicken.

When it looks dry, I place the butterfly bandages on it.

“All right, Rocky Balboa, you’ll be good as new in two to four weeks.”

“Right, er, thank you.”

“Thank you. Sorry you had to get involved.”

“It’s not my first run-in with Tad, as you might have gathered.” Lance pauses and squeezes his eye shut a few times. “You want a beer? I could use a little numbness.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Meet you on the patio.”

I’m waiting out on the back patio when I hear Lance come out.

My elbows are propped up on the railing of the deck as I look out at the dark valley in front of me. The moon isn’t out, which makes the stars look ridiculously bright.

Suddenly, I feel a blanket wrap around me. Then Lance places a beer on the railing next to me.

“Cheers.”

“Thank you,” I say, pulling the warm, knit blanket around me. It smells like cedarwood and bourbon. It smells like Lance.

“Thought you might be cold,” he says matter-of-factly.

We sit in silence for a few minutes.

“So...where’d you learn to shoot pool?” Lance finally asks.

I can’t help but smile. “My dad. No matter where the military took us, he moved this old pool table around with us—much to my mom’s dismay. It was our way of staying connected when he was home.

“Well, that and working on cars. My sister was the girly girl, so I was the tomboy.”

“Ah, well, you’re pretty good.”

“I didn’t realize you were watching.”

“I know Tad has a dangerous temper. As soon as we walked in and saw you break, I knew something bad was coming.”

“I feel shitty. I didn’t mean to cause any—”

“It’s fine, Wren, really. Though if I ever see him again, I might black out from rage. I can’t believe he attacked you like that. How’s your neck anyway?” Lance turns to examine my neck, but I wave him off.

“It’s totally fine, don’t worry about it.”

Lance nods.

Another pause.

“How do you know Tad?”

“Everybody knows everybody in Bryxton. We go way back—to middle school, actually. The awkward thing is he dated my ex through most of high school, probably why he has a special distaste for me.”

“You mean that little blonde thing from the coffee shop?!”

He scoffs and swigs his beer. “Yeah.”

“Weird. I mean, I don’t know anything about her, but he does not seem like her type.”

“She likes power, whether physical or otherwise.”

A small silence settles on us as I decide whether to ask the question bouncing around my head.

“Is...that why you broke up? After the accident?”

He sighs. I hold my breath while I wait for him to respond.

I know this isn’t my business, but I’m dying to know more. I’ve been struggling to picture Lance and Emma together since I saw her the other day.

“We broke up because she liked being taken care of...and she couldn’t handle the roles being reversed, even temporarily.”

My heart fractures a little. I imagine Lance, broken and in pain, being abandoned by the one person who should’ve been there for him. I can’t imagine how someone could be so cold.

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it was a real eye-opener for me. Thank God it happened before we got married.”

“All right, I gotta ask then, what did the note say?”

He looks down at the beer in his hands. “That she wanted to talk...and she missed me.”

He scoffs again and takes another swig, disgust written all over his face.

“My turn,” he says, and my stomach tightens.

“Whose rings are on your necklace? The one Tad broke. Your folks’?”

I sigh. I guess I’ve run long enough.

“No, they aren’t my parents’ rings.” I take a deep breath. “They belong to me...and my husband.”