Of course . . . I’d made it clear that I was severing our relationship for good when I’d left here so many years before. Had there been anything to fight for? Maybe not.
My stubborn old father grunted, looking off into the horizon again.
I ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t even know her.”
“You know what you need to know.”
I shook my head, feeling weary, sad, angry, frustrated. I couldn’t marry Isabelle. It was ridiculous. We’d spent one night together, and she lived here and I lived in New York. Nothing was going to change that. Hell, I didn’t want to change that, not for either of us. It simply wouldn’t work. Nor did I want it to. “Isabelle belongs here at Graystone Hill,” I said. “I hope you find a way to convince her to accept it. That’s how you can take care of her. She’ll have a home, stability, something to call her own, and she’ll have the horses she loves.” I paused. “What you do with the bourbon is up to you. I won’t beg for it.”
My father and I locked eyes for a few tense beats before he finally looked away. “All right then,” he said, his tone dismissive, final.
“All right then,” I repeated. I hesitated a brief moment. This was it. The last time I
’d see Harrison Talbot. There should have been stories to swap, memories to reminisce, plans to make. But there was nothing. There was nothing left to say. All right then. I turned on my heel and walked toward the front door.
“Look her up,” my father said from behind me.
I paused, knowing the “her” was Isabelle. “I already know what happened to her,” I answered.
“You don’t know everything,” he mumbled. He was wrong, though. She’d been honest with me. I knew it in my gut. If there were details she’d left out, it was because they weren’t important.
“Goodbye, Dad,” I said, opening the door and closing it behind me. Two words. Two final words to the man I’d once admired and loved dearly. The sum of his life with me had been finalized in two words. I felt like shit, but I also felt too angry to say more.
Fifteen minutes later I was showered, shaved, and packed. I went to the kitchen where May was at the counter writing out what looked to be a list. I set my travel bag by the door. May looked up, furrowing her brows when she glanced at my bag. “Are you leaving, Brant?”
“Yeah, May. Pretty sure I’ve worn out my welcome.”
“Nonsense. This is your home.”
Not anymore. “In any case, business calls.” I gave her a smile and it was sincere. I’d always liked May. “I’ve gotta get back to New York.”
She got up from the stool she was sitting on. “When will you be back?”
I shook my head. “I won’t be back, May.”
She put a hand to her cheek. “Oh dear. That can’t be true.”
“It is. I’m sorry. I’ll miss you.”
Tears welled in May’s eyes, but she didn’t try to convince me to change my mind, and I was grateful. I felt like I was on a razor’s edge at the moment. She put her soft hand on my cheek and gave me a smile. “You take care of yourself, you hear?”
“I will.”
After a quick hug, I left May standing in the kitchen. I considered going upstairs to see if Isabelle was there, but figured if she was, she was sleeping. And that’s what she should be doing. Or maybe I was just a coward making excuses. You going to marry her? As if marriage was something I’d ever consider after what I’d seen of the institution. As if moving back here was even a remote possibility . . . no. I’d enjoyed rediscovering this land, and it had been a good way to say goodbye. I cared about Isabelle, but she and I were an impossibility. She’d be fine here, better than fine. She was a survivor and had everything she needed right here.
I ducked quickly into the office, grabbing a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from a holder on the desk. I scrawled a note to Isabelle, folded it up, and left it on the computer keyboard.
Then I gathered my things and headed to my rental car. A few minutes later, Graystone Hill was nothing more than a fading dot in my rearview mirror.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Isabelle
“How’s he doing this morning?” May asked as I took a seat at the counter, wrapping my hands around the mug she slid in front of me.
“Pretty good, I think, though his lungs sound a little congested again. I put in a call to his doctor but I’m still waiting for a call back.”
May nodded. “And how’s the other man in your life?”