Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Wesley

It was a long day that is turning into an even longer night.

I thought parents with children claim to be so tired at the end of their days that they could practically face plant onto their beds the minute their kids are asleep. At least that is what I have heard from Aspyn and Jace over the years.

I guess that won’t be my experience.

Most nights since Ariel has come to live with me have been marked with interrupted sleep, including extended periods of staring at the ceiling. My thoughts typically swirl round and around. What am I doing right? What am I doing wrong? Am I doing anything right? I am quite sure that I am doing plenty wrong.

To be honest, sleep has been a problem for me for years. I know exactly how and why it started, and everyone figured it would eventually work itself out the further I got from the situation, but it hasn’t, and I have learned to deal. I still have a prescription of sleeping pills available for when times are especially rough, but they will have me drooling on my back—dead to the world—for 10 hours out a time, which is a hard “No” now that I have a five-year-old to take care of.

Sighing, I crawl out of bed and go check on her—which has also become the norm. Maybe because she looks so peaceful and relaxed, like a little doll. I am always comforted in some way that she is relaxed enough to sleep well.

At least one of us should.

Gah! What am I doing? I am as determined not to let Erik down as I ever was, but can I do it? It’s not like I hadn’t known that I had to make choices about every aspect of her life. I knew big decisions had to be made, but we were focused on more immediate matters up until now. With the memorial over, it’s time to get down to brass tacks.

The biggest concern right now is if she can handle a permanent change in moving away from Crystal Creek. Maybe we should move here and back into what is safe and familiar to her. I could work mostly from home and make occasional trips to the office.

If I moved back, more of my family would be around to help me too. She would have an aunt and a grandmother to do the emotional stuff, the girlie-girl stuff that she likes . Pfft. I can’t even do more than brush her hair so that it hangs smoothly down her back. If it had not been for my mom staying with us and braiding her hair every night, it would have been a tangled knot every morning.

The idea of moving us makes me frown, though. I love my—well, our—home.. I bought it for its seclusion from the city (close enough to all amenities that one would need or want, but far enough to give me desperately needed solace), and I poured everything I had at the time into the design and renovations. It has plenty of acreage for a small dude ranch, which makes a little extra income from tourists. Not that I need the money, but if I am going to invest in something, I need to get some return. I am a businessman after all.

Secondly, moving back to Crystal Creek has one other, more important, drawback.

It’s too close to the O’Briens.

They—he--would constantly be up in my business trying to get close to Ariel, I would not be allowing it, the town would be eating up the drama, and I just do not have time for that mess in my life. She most certainly doesn’t need it in hers.

I try to imagine staying here and living peaceably with them...nope. Can’t picture it. Instead, I see the confrontation we had in the parking lot of the dining hall after my little speech this afternoon.

I knew it was about to hit the fan by the thick silence of the crowd and the deadly glare of his parents. I was not about to apologize or take anything back, so I scooped Ariel up and headed for the door. My family didn’t have to follow me, but they did.

Unfortunately, so did Jack O’Brien...

*******

“Hawthorn! Hawthorn! Hawthorn, I know you can hear me! Don’t you walk away when I’m talking to you!”

I was hoping to get to my vehicle and at least have Ariel safely inside before he caught up to me, but that was not meant to be. I stop to answer him when he blocks my way forward.

“You’re not talking; you’re yelling,” I say calmly as I can. With Ariel against my chest, I know every bit of anger will transfer to her if I am not careful. “If you want to talk, you need to wait until she is in the vehicle away from the conversation.”

“I will not wait! Who do you think you’re talking to, son? She’s my granddaughter, the last link I have to my son. Do you really think I would hurt her?” he snaps.

I feel Ariel’s body start to tense and shrink into me at the strange man that is standing in our space. Since I am well over 6 feet tall, Jack isn’t towering over me, but he is eye-level with her, and she does not like it at all. I take a step backward.

“You are hurting her right now with your tone of voice and by standing so closely to us. You are a stranger to her--”

He interrupts and jabs a finger in my face. “Whose fault is that?” he snarls.

“Yours!” I spit through clenched teeth. “Now please step back until she is settled inside the vehicle, and she can start to calm herself.”

“Nonsense! She does not look at all upset, and she has nothing to fear from me; she can sense that. Can’t you, little girl?”

Before I know what is happening, he reaches out to grab her hand, and she freaks, snatching it away with a strangled whimper as if her arm is on fire. She curls her entire body into my neck and chest, her breath starts turning into the familiar panting breaths, and I. See. Red.

“Get away from her!” I can no longer contain my anger, which is only making Ariel’s angst worse. “Mo-?”

I do not even have to call for her; my mom is already taking Ariel from my arms, rushing around to the other side of the SUV, my dad close behind. Aspyn has her own son in her car, but she is standing outside of it watching us –in case I need help or something; I don’t know.

“How dare you?!” I yell. “What is wrong with you? What part of, “Step back,” possessed you to think it was OK to grab her hand?” I fight the impulse to lay him out with a real right hook to the chin with everything I have.

To his credit, Jack does look a little shaken, but not enough that I am ready to even think about forgiving him. His next question just adds exasperation to my rage.

“I--why did she react like that?” He is trying to look into the back window of the SUV where my mother has Ariel buckled into her seat and is trying to comfort her. There is tint on all the windows, but I still step in front of the door to block his view.

“Don’t you listen?! I told you that you are a stranger to her. She doesn’t like strangers, and she doesn’t like to be touched. It takes time for her. Time that—trust me—you are never going to get.”

That gets his attention.

“I repeat she is my granddaughter! Mine! She is the last link to my son! Mine!” His face is starting to turn an impressive shade of red.

“Oh, now you want to claim them!” I scoff. “Where were you five years ago?”

He keeps ranting as if he didn’t hear me. “She is not yours to have! Never was and never can be!”

I roll my eyes. “No? Well, I have the papers that say otherwise. I have your son’s,” (I put sneering emphasis on the word, ‘your,’), “last words giving her to me. Making me promise that I would never let you get your hooks into her.”

“She is not yours! She is mine!” he yells again.

“Wow, you really don’t listen. NO. SHE. ISN’T! The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better off we will all be!” I snap back.

His eyes take on a challenging light. “Don’t test me, boy! You know who I am. You better remember the influence my name carries in these parts of Texas! My legal team is second to none!”

Is he serious? I’m not sure if he thinks he is talking to the same kid he knew twenty years ago or if he is doing the same ego trip he has been doing all my life and truly doesn’t know how to do anything else, but neither he nor his money scare me.

I get it; he is quite wealthy, coming from a family that owns a prominent chain of car dealerships in the area, and the O’Brien name has always carried a certain status around this region. Has some rumblings around the local political scene. But he clearly has no idea how much power my name carries—around the world—or how much money I am worth. I could buy his legal team, every dealership and him personally without my accountants batting an eye. And his legal team is definitely second to mine.

Either way, I have had enough. I see some of the people we left behind in the dining hall start to make their way out to see what is going on, and I need to finish this before someone calls the police or pulls out a cell phone to start filming.

“Whatever you have, come at me; I’m not afraid of you.” I step forward and lower my voice. “You will only get Ariel on one condition.”

Jack steps forward also so we are now toe-to-toe. “Name it.”

“ I suggest you shut your mouth and open your ears because I’m only going to say this once. You... will get Ariel... when you...literally...step over my dead body!”

Jack’s eyes blaze, but I don’t flinch. I return his stare with resolve to make sure my point gets across. Then I swing around to jerk my driver’s door open and slide into the SUV. I shift to drive and roll down my window for a parting shot.

“You better get back to the sidewalk, Mr. O’Brien. Wouldn’t want you to get run over.”

He steps out of the way, and I steer out to the road, but not before I see the glare that lets me know he understands my true meaning...

**********

Moving here is out of the question. Crystal Creek is not big enough for both of us. At least not until one of us caves to the demands of the other. We are both stubborn as can be, but I have more to fight for.

I am not fighting to own Ariel. I’m fighting to keep her safe from that man’s clutches.

I reach out, running a finger along her forehead, noting that we did not have time to tame her hair before she knocked out for the night, and I make my decision. “Ok, Baby Girl. It’s going to be you and me against the world. Are you up for that?” I whisper. “I promise I’ll figure it out, but do you promise to forgive me when I don’t get it just exactly right?”

And I will figure it out; all of it.

I should start with how to take care of that hair...