Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(25)
“She’s not some girl.”
“Wyatt, Claire Tatum will do everything in her power to ruin our name.”
“Fuck her!” Wyatt yelled. “So she takes a few boarders away, a few lessons. Those people are not in our world, this is some game to them. Horse people will always come to the Dorans’.”
“You know damn well this is not about boarders.”
And it wasn’t. The Dorans were connected to several charities, most were concerned with animal rights, but not all. Having a partner such as Garrison Tatum empowered foundations that Camille’s family had either started or been a part of her entire life. Her son had risked more than his own farm with this love affair, and right now she didn’t know how to feel about that.
“I don’t give a damn about this farm!”
“Well, maybe you should. Maybe you should think of someone beyond yourself.”
“I am. Her.”
“Wyatt, we could lose it all and I don’t care. I’ve been there before. I’ll be there again before my dying day, but I swear to God that I refuse to let you go to jail over this girl. It’s over.”
“Go to jail, my ass. You’re overreacting. Nothing is over!”
No, she wasn’t. Her son was only weeks away from eighteen, and if Camille didn’t figure out how to separate them until Harley was eighteen, talk some sense into her son, Claire Tatum would no doubt come after Wyatt in some legal way.
“You stay in this room. You don’t move. You don’t make one sound until I tell you to.”
Wyatt didn’t say a word.
Camille stepped up to her son, glared up at him as she poked her finger at his chest. “You’re my son. I will not lose you over this.” Her voice dared to crack, almost quiver. That broke Wyatt’s heart, and his gaze said as much, but he didn’t move. Camille stormed out of the apartment.
Wyatt watched her walk to the main house through his window. Her head was held high. He knew his mother was walking into a battle zone, that Harley was in the middle of one and there was nothing he could do about it.
He felt like an ass for doing this to his mother. Both his parents had taught him long ago that your name, your integrity, were worth more than any dollar. Do right by others, and you will never go hungry.
He could see Harley’s room, her silhouette sitting on the bed, her mother pacing back and forth before her.
Downstairs, he saw his parents both talking to Garrison. They were not yelling, but their body language alone told him it was a stiff conversation.
Just before dawn, he dozed off at that window. He had seen his parents go to sleep, Garrison move to the guest room, the lights in Harley’s room go out an hour or so before, but he was watching for any signal from her, making as many deals and bargains as he could with the Man upstairs. He felt the weight of this hell fall on his shoulders.
Harley’s mother had spent the night berating her. She asked Harley a million times over if Wyatt had forced himself on her, almost demanded that Harley say such things. For the first time ever, Harley lost her temper with her mother, stood up and yelled that she loved him, not caring who in the house heard.
Her mother spent the rest of the night telling her that she was nothing more than a notch on Wyatt’s bedpost, that boys would sleep with anyone, that she was a fool if she thought he gave a damn about her, she was just another girl, a fast ticket to Easy Street, along with anything else she could think to insult Harley with. It was almost 4 A.M. before Harley was granted permission to shower, to wash the dirt from her legs. Harley dressed for the barn after that, prepared to run at any moment. She didn’t know where she was going to run to, what to do at this point, but she didn’t trust her mother.
She was terrified of facing her father. He wouldn’t yell at her, wouldn’t dare say any of the cruel, hateful things her mother had said. Garrison Tatum didn’t need to raise his voice; his stare was hard enough to make some of the most powerful men in the U.S. cower. Harley was holding on to the slim hope that he had heard her say she loved Wyatt, but she had her doubts that would win her any favor with her father. Harley doubted he had loved anyone in his life beyond her.
Her parents were far from faithful to each other. They played some kind of game of cat-and-mouse, silently pushing each other’s buttons. It had become even more apparent as Harley grew up. She knew that once she was eighteen, away at school, her mother would no longer have anything to pin her father with—the divorce would not be half as messy, if there ever was one.
Harley was more than sure her mother’s plan was just to wait for her father to die.
Neither one of them would understand how she felt about Wyatt, she knew that. Neither one of them would understand that right now she couldn’t care less about any family name or fortune. She would live on the streets if she had to. She had said as much in her outburst to her mother, which had earned Harley a slap across the face.
“You think this family is going to take you in?” Claire said through gritted teeth. “That you’re anything but a paycheck to them? What is your plan? To crawl into that overpriced stall with your horse—shovel horse shit for your keep? You know what will happen if you do that? You will watch Camille Tatum sic her son on the next rich girl that dares to come to this farm, and I promise you, as long as I am alive this farm will never have another client that is worth a dime. I will run it into the ground.”