“From what I heard you act like you have money, so everyone would have found out.”
“How so?”
“Word has it you had a silver spoon in your mouth from the day you were born. It makes me sick.”
“You know nothing about me.”
“You are a squirt,” he spat out at me.
“Name-calling? Okay… well… as far as you going to your daughter for money? That is pretty pathetic.”
“She owes me money. She is the reason why I lost my wife.”
“What?”
“Because of her, my wife died. She died during childbirth. And for nothing.”
“From what I heard, Breigh has taken care of you a lot throughout her life, even paid bills for you.”
“Because she feels guilty.”
“You’re a real piece of work…” The anger filled my chest and I had to fight the urge to swing at him, hitting him across the jaw. He was completely delusional and liked to play the victim. I had already known that though. This wasn't my first run-in with Greg Foster.
I began again, “Here is a thought, maybe you feel guilty for all you have done wrong and that is why you stay drunk…or is that on Breigh too?”
“Get the hell off my property!”
“Don’t ever try to use Breigh as a pawn to get money from me again. It won’t ever happen. I work for every penny I have, and I would suggest you do the same. Shame on you for the things you think about your own daughter, blaming her for her mother’s death.”
“You know nothing about me or my daughter.”
“I know I’m in love with her, and I plan to spend the rest of my life making sure she doesn't have to put up with your pathetic conniving self.”
When our eyes met that last time, following the last words I had spoken, I felt a second of hurt in my heart. My anger had overridden the calmness I am usually able to maintain. He had brought up something in me that was hard to sustain.
To think I was going to give him a check and tell him to never ask his daughter for money again…
I guess that took a turn for the worse, and now I had to explain it to Breigh and hope I didn't piss her off to high heaven. I knew I was overstepping, but I had to do something to try to protect her.
That was my job.
As I pulled away from the trailer, I knew one-hundred-percent I was in love with Breigh Foster.
18
WYATT
Some people enjoyed going home; pulling up to the house they grew up in, and instantly feeling like they never left. They missed it and the loved ones around it. But I was not one of those people. I loved where I grew up, but I hated people knowing I was rich and had money. I was looked at differently my entire life because of what I had been born into. Something I wasn’t proud of. I wanted to be a man of honor, not something the Galloway name stood for.
The dark iron gate opened slowly, just as it always had, making me wait in frustration until I was driving in. Thankfully, I didn't see my father’s car, a BMW 7 series, jet-black. Every car he ever had had been black. Like his soul. Or my brother’s car, a Land Rover. Neither was there. I said a quick thank you to the man upstairs for that blessing.
I texted my mother, notifying her I was here and I would meet her at the barn. Granted, her barn was nicer than most single-family homes and larger.
“Hi, Son.” She was dressed to the nines in her riding gear, smiling with a grooming brush in her hand. She startled me and I jumped, shocked at her presence. We gave each other a hug and for the first time when I pulled back, she didn't let go.
“Are you okay?”
“Never better.” She smiled. “Why?”
“You’re holding a grooming brush. I thought John did all the grooming.”
“I know how to groom a horse, Wyatt.” She looked better for sure. Her smile hadn't left her face since our hug.
“Ready to ride?”
“You bet.” Mom handed me the lead for one of the horses, Colton. He was already tacked up and ready to go. “I had to knock off all the cobwebs on your saddle.”
“It has been a while,” I commented in agreement.
I led the horse out of the barn and jumped on him, ready for a ride. The weather was pleasant and a perfect day to get back in my saddle. I gave him a nice pat then kick in his side to get him to move.
Mom joined in, ready to go.
We rode side by side without much of a conversation at first, just taking in the time together. The serenity of the land, the green freshness that was welcoming.
“Let’s see if you’ve still got it.” Mom smiled and took off in a trot then to a canter, making me chase her. She was challenging me, which I was always up for, but being out of practice riding, it took me a bit to get into gear.
I met her at the top of the property, looking over a pasture that was empty having been recently baled.
She was a little out of breath as she began to talk, but not as much as I was.
“You still got it, Wyatt.”
“Yeah, well, not like you.”
“I’ve always enjoyed riding with you.”
“Me too, Mom.”
“I wanted to bring you out here to ride with me because this is one thing we did. This and do you remember our dances?”
We had led the horses into an easy walk as we talked. They seemed to enjoy the leisure break.
I smiled. “Of
