Western Flame

Chapter 43

Liana ran her hand through Tanner's hair, his head on her lap, out cold on the bed beside her. He had stayed after everyone else had left, and none of the nurses had said a single word except "awww" when they ducked in to check on her. She had loved all the visiting, the gifts, especially Jake's pillow which was going on the couch in her salon.

The joke on it was in terrible taste, but somehow, as she read it, and laughed, the heaviness from her actions lifted, if only temporarily. Every single person in that room had told her, with their presence, that she mattered, and they told her how proud they were of her for fighting back. Later on she could let it all out, and Caitlin had already said she would get her in with her therapist in Calgary as soon as she wanted.

They had bought out the cake and pie slices in the cafeteria to celebrate that they could now officially talk about Caitlin's baby. Caitlin was beaming by the end, Brady completely forgiven for how he'd told his family.

Tanner let out a small snore, and she shifted her lap. He threw an arm over her legs and his feet twitched. He was so tired, and she should wake him up, but driving home in his state was not an option. She'd asked for one of those cots to be brought up, but the orderly hadn't arrived yet. He was likely still peeved at Caitlin's stunt. She'd let Tanner stay by her side all night if it wasn't for the fact that he was big, the bed was small, and she was worried about the damned catheter leaking.

She looked over at the side table, the spiky outline of the aloe plant Liz had brought catching her eye. Another great addition to her salon, once she got out of here. The letter that had been tied to her bear was tucked below it, and she reached over and slid it out from underneath. Sleep was eluding her, so she might as well read it.

Unfolding it as quietly as possible in the dim lamp on the wall, she smoothed out the pages, expecting to see Tanner's messy cursive. The writing wasn't familiar, and the letter wasn't addressed to her. She squinted and scanned to the bottom.

"Oh my God," she whispered, glancing at Tanner who was still peacefully asleep. He was sharing something really personal, and obviously difficult. How he must have felt when he opened it... She wasn't even sure she should read it, but curiosity won, and she waded in, biting her lip.

Tanner,

I am assuming right about now the punch you wish you could throw in my direction. I deserve every single hypothetical blow. What I've done will hurt you the most and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I never told you about the lump in my head. So many times as we rode out to check fences, or cattle, I wanted to tell you, to say goodbye, but I never did. I didn't want any pity, or coercion to get treatment.

I never even told Peony, and she, if you'll pardon the drama, has become the love of my life, more so than Jake's mother, or your mother. She was privy to many of my secrets, but not this. I couldn't burden her. She would've told me off. She can bring me to heel like no other. Perhaps I should have said something. It's too late now. These letters as my last confession will have to do. I wish I'd had more time with her.

Please take care of her, and Elizabeth. They are part of our family forever. Your mother would want that.

The day your mother died, I wasn't sure what would happen. My world crumbled. I lost her, and in that, lost my safehold. I'll let Brady explain it to you if he wants, but for the longest time, your mother and I weren't close. She stayed with me because of you, but we were not a husband and wife for many years. She was my wife in name only, there to support the ranch, and raise her sons. I did love her, in my own way.

So when I threatened you that day, I was doing so as a grieving man for his life, not for the woman who had given me you and your brother. I wanted the reminders of what we had built to stay close, to be by my side, and reassure me that I hadn't just lost everything.

I knew you wanted to go to college, to have a life outside of working the land. I saw how you were with that girl, how in love you were, how much she meant to you, the future plain in front of me. You were likely going to marry her and leave here. Leave me.

It scared me, son. I didn't want to lose the one foothold I had left. You were what was left that was alive and tangible. The ranch survived, as it always would, but in my haze of regret and resentment, I didn't think it would without you there by my side. I felt alone.

So I said what I said out of greediness, fear, and contempt for the situation I saw in front of me, blinders firmly in place. I punished you for the sins of your mother. I should have never forced you apart from that girl, or stopped your college applications, because I saw what it did to you. You became hard and unbending, just like me. You gave up everything to follow my wishes. Over time, and my own pride, I never brought it up, never apologised for forcing you into that decision. But it killed your spirit. I saw it, year over year. You kept yourself from her, and never looked beyond the horizon, doing everything in your power to be what you thought I wanted you to be.

Now, as I face the end of my life, I have so many regrets, and how I forced you is one of them. Jake is another, and one I hope is rectified by bringing him home to where he needs to be. I hope against hope you'll be at the very least friends. But those walls you built that summer after your mother died are high, and if he's anything like us, I can only imagine the tempers that will flare. Jake has instructions to hand it all back over to you and make the will null if that is what you wish.

I hope he stays, and helps run this place, with you. He's an astute businessman, from what I was told. You could use someone like him, perhaps.

Find love, maybe with that girl I made you give up. She's done well, far better than I ever expected her to. She was good for you, and only in hindsight did I know that. This ranch is not a substitute for the love of a good woman. I found out the hard way, son.

I love you, always have, even if I didn't know how to show you, or raised you without the ability to show it yourself. I'm proud of the hardworking man you have become. You're one hell of a rancher, loyal and steadfast to your family and crew. You do me credit, where none is deserved.

Your father,

Brett

Tears were pouring out as she finished reading it, her heart breaking all over again for the boy who had been given that impossible ultimatum. Had she known, had any of them known, it would have been so different. She ran her fingers over the lettering, wondering at the man who wrote it. She was angry at him, but also felt such sadness for a man who could never reconcile his sins the way he should have. From Jake, to Brady, now to this, he had shaped and moulded them under the fog of secrets and his own regrets.

Tanner had lost his father. Brady had found his, and Jake had found them. It was huge to think that a man on his deathbed had, with a letter, tossed all that Tanner had known out the window, but allowed his legacy to gain so, so much.

She was thankful in that moment for how it had ended for all of them, because they were a strong and loving family, from what she had seen tonight. Stronger for the struggle. She hoped Brett was pleased with the result, wherever he was.

She put the letter down, sniffling. Tanner shifted, opened his eyes, and sat up as he saw the tears.

"Crying again?" he murmured, thumbing over a cheek. "Why?"

"I read the letter you left with the bear," she sniffled. "Oh Tan, I wish you'd told me when we were kids."

He leaned in and carefully kissed her as new tears tracked down her cheeks.

"All this time, you denied yourself. I denied you. If we'd just talked, we could have—"

He hushed her and planted another gentle kiss on her lips, and then sat back, studying her eyes, his own full of emotion. He hadn't let go of her face, and she leaned into his palm.

"We have now, Li Li," he murmured and took a shaky breath. "I love you."

Liana's heart skipped a beat. "I love you. So damned much," she whispered back, more tears following her words. A tear slipped from his eye as well, followed by more. He swiped at it, and let out a watery, gasping breath.

"I'll never be able to make up for the past, or the decision I made. But I'll do my damndest to try."

"Okay," Liana replied. She pulled him closer, her forehead against his. "I'll hold you to that, cowboy."