HERS |Tris Morgan x Jack Marston |Book III of HIS Series

"Bridges and Olive Branches"

Warning: this chapter depicts an image of the 'reader'. If you want to skip it, scroll past the ***

Arthur couldn't believe what he had witnessed. His daughter, his little Tris, with Jack. The anger and betrayal he felt were indescribable, driving him from home and into the Van Horn saloon where he was trying to numb the emotion.

He had always been fiercely protective of her, watching her every move and making sure she was safe from harm. His past had given him every reason to be like that. And yet, he had failed to spot what was happening right under his nose.

His fingers clench around his glass threateningly.

He wanted to kill Jack. The rage that burned within him was like nothing he had ever experienced before. He had had the gun in his hand, and it would have only taken one shot to take him out. But he knew he couldn't do it. Tris loved Jack. She would never forgive him.

I'd have lost everything.

He huffs, wondering if maybe he already had lost everything.

The thoughts in his brain were so conflicted. Jack was like a son to him, which made this whole thing so complicated and confusing.

"God damn it," Arthur mutters to himself, swallowing down the whiskey while signaling the bartender for another.

"Go easy with those mister." The man says softly sliding the bottle across the bar.

Ignoring him Arthur grunts and fills the glass passed halfway. He tips it down his throat in one, licking the burning amber liquid from his lips.

"Ya got kids, buddy?"

The man nods, resting his hands on the bar. "Two sons. You?"

Arthur hums, considering this for a moment before he leans forward, leveling his gaze. The whiskey was beginning the hit him and his vision was becoming hazy.

"I got one of each." he wipes his face, trying to clear his head. "But I screwed up with my eldest. The daughter."

"Ah." The man hums knowingly. "Daughters are tough I hear. My brother has two, his hair is already grey. 'M sure she'll forgive ya. What you do?"

"Caught her in the barn fooling around. Tried to shoot the fella."

The bartender's eyes widen in shock. "Bit extreme, don't you think?"

Arthur shrugs, feeling the weight of his actions heavy on his shoulders. "Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have done it. But I just couldn't control my anger. She's my..." Arthur hesitates, his chest tightening, "...my little girl."

The bartender nods sympathetically. "I get it. But you can't let your anger control you. You'll push her away. My brother tells me if they like a guy, the more you resist the more they run into the fella's arms."

Arthur nods, taking a deep breath. "I know. I just don't know how to handle it."

The bartender leans in closer. "Maybe you need to talk to your daughter. Hear her side of the story."

Arthur shakes his head, feeling the anger rising up again. "What could she possibly say to justify what she did?"

"Maybe she needed someone to talk to. Maybe he helped her with something. But you won't know unless you talk to her."

Arthur considers this for a moment before nodding slowly. Maybe the bartender was right. Maybe he needed to hear Tris out before he could fully understand the situation.

"Thanks for the advice," Arthur says, standing up from the bar.

He flicks a dollar to the man, wobbling as he rights himself.