My chest hurts hearing about the struggles my siblings have hidden from me. “I thought that I would spare them the same pain I had felt, Leigh. In my head, I thought that if I was gone, maybe the old man would be different to them. It kills me to know that they’ve been suffering. Why don’t they show me this?” My throat constricts and I have to blink back the emotion that wants to fall free.
She stands from her chair and I hold my hands out for her to sit in my lap. Her arms go around my neck and her forehead hits mine lightly. Her eyes are full of love, but I see the sadness swimming wet. “They both watched you suffer at Buford’s hand. They lost you because of his abuse. That isn’t something they could have ever let go. I have no doubt that they haven’t told you everything for the same reason you’re keeping your truths from them. To protect you.”
“God,” I breathe, closing my eyes.
“I’m not sayin’ it will be easy, baby, but you need to give them all of it. Let them have the chance to find their own peace with the truth. They’ve made peace with Buford—let them make peace with the reality of your mother too. The only thing you can do is be there for them, but I don’t think you will ever be able to put it behind you while keeping this from them.”
Her body shifts as she rests her head on my shoulder, giving me the silence for my thoughts but keeping herself close in support. My mind swirls and my heart pounds. I know she feels the rapid beating because she brings one of her hands to my chest to rub soothing circles.
“I don’t want to hurt them more,” I whisper hoarsely.
“Honey,” she cries softly, leaning up to look at me, “don’t you think that by knowing the truth it might be what they need to heal?”
“What, Leighton, the truth that I’m not really their brother? The truth that our mother was more interested in fucking cowboys and doing blow than her own children? How do I even justify keeping that from them? This pain that kept me away from all of you for too long, driving me to a life of regret and torment . . . how would giving them my reasons and truths do anything but crush them? What part of that would help them heal?”
Her hands come up, swiping at the tears that I can’t hold back. I close my eyes and try to calm down.
“Look at me, my handsome cowboy,” she softly demands. I inhale a deep breath before opening my eyes and focusing on her. “First of all, you are their brother. The fact that you don’t share their father will not mean a lick of shit to them. They love you, and that will never change. Second, your mother doesn’t deserve you keeping that from them. What she does deserve is to come face-to-face with the children she abandoned. She doesn’t deserve the peace that comes with Clay and Quinn not knowing her sins. They made their peace with Buford so that they could put it behind them and move on. His death was the best thing that could have happened to them. By giving them the rest, you’re allowing them the ability to finally get some closure on it all. You aren’t crushing them, honey, you’re healing them. You have to trust them to be strong enough to ride that out.”
I look away, glancing at Earl as he gives me a pissed-off look for pushing him from my lap to make room for Leigh. As hard as it is, I know she’s right. For the most part, she knows them better than I do. I haven’t been around long enough to see the sides of them that she’s describing. I don’t doubt the truth to her words.
Now that I’m forced to see what they haven’t wanted me to see, it’s as clear as day. If giving them this heartbreak means they can heal, the only thing I can do is make sure I’m there to give them the same support I get from Leighton—love—and if that means they have a chance to find what I have with this woman, I have to give them every chance to accept that love when it comes looking for them. I didn’t have this for so long that I felt the void of that loss burning in my gut daily. I don’t want that for them. I don’t want a life of loneliness for them because they’re too afraid to let someone get close enough. And if telling them the truth about our mother will help get them there, then I reckon I don’t have any other choice.
“You’ll be there with me?” I question, knowing it isn’t even something I have to ask, but needing the confirmation from her to ease my trepidation.
“I’ll be with you every step of the way, honey. Forever.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“I love you,” she says softly.
I choke down the lump in my throat, feeling my chin shake, and hold up two fingers. Understanding dawns on her face at the same time I lose my fight, wrap my arms tightly around her, and cry like a goddamn baby into her neck.
29
LEIGHTON
“How to Breathe” by Matthew Mayfield
For the past two weeks, after our conversation about telling Clay and Quinn the truth about their past, Maverick has been struggling. It’s not an obvious struggle. He hides it well, but not from me. He’ll be fine one minute, and the next, he’s just staring off into space. I know it’s because his mind is working in overdrive, worried about what the truth will do to his siblings. I hate it, but I know there isn’t anything I can do until he gets it all out. I understand his fear in telling them—causing them more pain—but because I’m an outsider looking in, I don’t have any doubts that this is something they need to hear to move on with their lives. Just like Maverick, his siblings are built from a formidable mold. It will sting, no doubt, but the Davis kids are born warriors.
“Are you okay, honey?” I ask the silent man looking out our front window. We invited Clay and Quinn over for dinner tonight, so that Maverick could have a chance to talk to them, and he’s been a hot mess, pacing the living room for the past half hour. I’ve given him his space, interrupting his taciturn brooding only long enough to give him a new beer when he was finished, but I can’t stand the heavy quiet any longer without at least trying to be there for him.
“Yeah, darlin’,” he sighs deeply, and I stand there wordlessly, waiting for him to get it all out. “I just hate knowing at the end of tonight, they might hate me.”
“Oh, Maverick.” I worry, closing the distance between us to envelop my big, strong cowboy in a hug. “They could never hate you. They might be hurt, but they won’t ever turn that on you.”
“I hope you’re right,” he muses.
“I know I am. Don’t doubt them.”
I feel him nod when his chin moves on the top of my head. I back up, give him a smile, and stand on tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss just as we hear a knock at the door, heralding their arrival.
A couple of hours later, I stand up to clear the table, shooing off Quinn when she stands to help.
“You’re being weird,” she mutters, rolling her eyes when I swat her with a dish towel again.
“I’ve got this, Q. Go sit with your brothers.”
“Weird,” she grumbles again, but complies, going back to the table to sit with a huff.