Two weeks later, Alyssa and Sinclair were spending the weekend at her folks’ house. I was looking forward to the respite from the tension. My mother was in her granny unit watching TV, so I had the house to myself. But as the night wore on, I still felt agitated. The house was too quiet.
I grabbed my keys, deciding to take my truck and not the SUV because it made me think of Sinclair and our family. I headed out to Salvation Station. I hesitated as I entered, not sure I was ready to see Ryder. Luckily, he wasn’t at the bar.
“Hey, handsome,” the female bartender said. She wasn’t someone I remembered from growing up here. She was young and pretty, maybe early twenties.
“Whisky,” I ordered.
“Sure thing.” She grabbed a shot glass and poured.
“Two more with that,” I said, eyeing the little shot of liquid and knowing it wasn’t enough.
She quirked a brow. “Tough day on the ranch?”
“How’d you know I had a ranch?”
“You’re Wyatt Jones, aren’t you? I’m Samantha.” She gave me a smile that I suspected appeared in Salvation’s young single men’s wet dreams.
I held up my glass. “Cheers, Sam.” I downed my whisky.
“You know, I’m off in ten, if you want to go somewhere and talk. You look like you could use a friend.” She crossed her arms across her diaphragm and leaned them on the bar, which pushed her tits up. They were impressive and there was a time and place that I might have taken her up on her offer. But that time and place was long gone.
“I’m married.” I downed the next two glasses and wished the fire in my gut would burn away the pain.
“So?”
I looked at her. Did she really not care that she was hitting on a married man? I wondered how many men took her up on her offer.
“So, he’s married to my sister, Sam. Back off.” Ryder stepped up to the bar beside her.
The booze must have kicked in because I stood, leaned over the bar and grabbed Ryder by the front of his shirt.
“You knew, you fucking bastard, and didn’t tell me,” I roared at him.
“Whoa.” Samantha jumped back.
A few men around the bar stood and came over to me. “You need help, Ry?”
“No. It’s okay.” Ryder put his hand over mine, gripping his shirt. “It wasn’t my news to tell, man.”
I released him with a slight push. “Always with the excuses.” I hated him. I hated them both.
“She messed up, Wyatt. I agree, but so did you.” He straightened his shirt.
I glared at him, tapping my glass for another shot. He poured me another.
“You knocked up my sister and then abandoned her,” he said, putting the bottle away.
“I didn’t know she was pregnant.” Jesus, that was the whole point of all this. I didn’t know she was pregnant. I was being judged for not being there, but how could I be there when I didn’t know?
“You would have if you stuck around or told us where you were. Jesus, she was eighteen, scared shitless, and where were you? Nowhere that we could find you, and we looked, Wyatt. Every weekend she’d come home from school and we’d talk to your mom, or drive to other cities to see if you’d moved there. We even went to a recruiting center, but they hadn’t seen you.”
I couldn’t deny running off the way I did was shitty. I’d live with that regret forever. I’d already apologized to Alyssa for it. Thank fuck she was forgiving.
“I fucked up,” I said. “I know it’s my fault I wasn’t there for Alyssa’s birth or her first steps. Sinclair needed me and I wasn’t there. I get that and regret it.”
“Do you?” Ryder looked at me with disappointment.
“What about the last few months? We’re married for fuck’s sake, and she didn’t tell me. I asked her if I could adopt Alyssa.” God, that burned. “You all probably had a good laugh at that.” I gulped down the next shot.