it, Dawson. No one’s stuck around in her life. Her mom left. Sarah died. Her dad was around but he wasn’t. Now he’s gone. Workers. Boyfriends. Friends. Neighbors. We all left her to do whatever it was she did. To handle whatever came at her all by herself. I think the guy who’s in love with her, who wants to spend his life with her, should do a little more than try to talk to her once.”
Fatigue swamped me. I hadn’t slept well for three days and it was late. Dad thought he had all the answers, but it was almost ten at night and I’d put in a fifteen-hour day. “What exactly do you think I should do, then? Go over there every day until I wear her down? When does winning her back become harassment? She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know what to do either. You’re both circling each other like dogs, hurt and wary of anyone else.” He circled the island and sat on a stool next to me. “So you’re on the right track. Figure out exactly what you want. Get over your hurt and how it makes you feel when she tells you to leave.”
“Get over myself, is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s part of it.” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “You know, when I have to fire someone, or sever ties with a company, I have to get over myself. I can’t send an email at five o’clock on a Friday and hope they forget about it by Monday. I made the decision, so I have to own it. I don’t want the conversation any more than they do, but I made the decision and I have to stand by it. I have to tell them in person and list my reasons why. I have to be available for questions and explanations because my decision affects their life.”
“Okay? I might be too tired to get the connection but what does firing someone have to do with Bristol breaking up with me?”
“The trust. You decided not to talk to her about it because you didn’t want to hurt her. But how much of that decision was about saving yourself from a hard conversation?”
Goddammit. I sank my head in my hands. Dad and his fucking wisdom. “If your goal was to point out how I fucked up even more than I thought, you succeeded.”
“Get over yourself, Dawson. You asked what to do. You need to figure out what you want, with Bristol, with the money, and you need to tell her. Then you need to be available for her. You don’t get to smile and joke and say something charming so everyone likes you. You need to stay for the hard conversation. Once she realizes that you’re not circling the issue and that your apologies are genuine, then maybe she’ll talk to you.”
He patted me on the back, then slid off the stool and went to his room upstairs. I was alone with my thoughts.
As much as I wanted to feel sorry for myself and slink off to bed, Dad’s words were sinking into my brain. Slow, like a warm cup of coffee resting on a snowbank. I wanted Bristol to trust me, but I had to prove I was trustworthy. To do that, I had to tell her the truth. To talk to her, I had to get her to let me hang around long enough to listen. And before I said a damn word, I had to give her more than an excuse about not wanting to hurt her.
She didn’t think I’d stick around. She might think that I was done with her.
I wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
So, what’d that mean?
I went to the office and grabbed my laptop. First, I logged in to my email and sent a message to our lawyer. Then I searched businesses in Billings and scribbled out a list. After that, I brought up a list of businesses in King’s Creek. I ran through all my conversations with Bristol since I’d found her shivering in the pasture.
It was time to back up my words with actions. Tomorrow, I’d ask Kiernan to cover for me while I ran to town. I might need him to fill in for me for a few days while I worked on proving to Bristol that I wasn’t abandoning her.
Once all that was done, I would be ready to find Bristol. And I’d back up everything I told her,