Laughter [Garrett Watts x OFC]

[Hoping for the Best]

Garrett helped me every step of the way as we looked at house after house. It was the timeless tale of "You Don't Look Like Your Profile Pic", but with real estate. I was determined to keep looking until I found the perfect place, but life decided to throw a wrench in that plan. A big, shit-covered wrench.

It was the end of my fourth week at the hotel when a number I hadn't seen in over a year popped up on my phone. My stomach dropped to my ass as soon as I registered who was calling me. I inhaled sharply as I accepted the call.

"Hey, Mom." I was glad to be alone in the room, as I'm sure I looked like a panicked fucking mess. I couldn't stay still, so I just began pacing and biting the skin next to my thumbnail.

I'd gone "No Contact" with my parents right before I'd won the lottery; I wasn't even sure if they knew or not. We'd never seen eye to eye and it got to the point where I had to choose my mental health over trying to please them. Garrett was the only one who knew I wasn't close to my family, but I'd never told him the extent of it.

Growing up as the daughter of fourth generation ranchers in Montana was hard, and the fact that I knew from an early age that I didn't want to take over just made things harder. My dad was a silent man, only ever speaking up when my mom made him. My mom, however, had an opinion on everything. Especially me. From the electives I chose in school to the way I wore my hair, she had something to say. I tried for years to gain her approval, doing everything I could to make up for the fact that I didn't want to follow in her footsteps, but it didn't matter; I never lived up to her standards.

"You need to come home," she ordered into the phone. Pleasantries were never her thing.

"Uh? Why?"

"Your father died and I need you here for the funeral." My eyes widened and I had to sit. I may have not liked my parents, but I'd never wanted anything bad to happen to them, especially death.

"What?"

"Your father had a stroke while tending to the steer and the doctors couldn't help him. Funeral is this upcoming Thursday and you need to be here by Tuesday to help with the arrangements." My mom sounded as if she were just asking me to water the garden or some other random task. She didn't even sound upset.

"Are you, um, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just get here by Tuesday. The earlier the better. Your room is the same, so you can just stay here. I've gotta call the rest of the family, so I'll see you soon. Goodbye." The line went dead and I just stared at my phone in disbelief. I couldn't even get over the shock of everything to even feel sadness. I just sat for who knows how long, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

I called Garrett as soon as I was able to snap myself out of the shock. It was hard to articulate how I was feeling in a way he could understand since I knew he was so close with his own family. He understood why I had to go back, but couldn't quite get why I wasn't more affected. Nevertheless, he was more supportive than I could have hoped for, helping me pack and letting me use the storage unit he had for the items I couldn't take with me.

Time seemed to move at a glacier's pace and then at warp speed. My dad's funeral came and went, as did the phone calls Garrett and I shared. He had planned a trip to Japan and said he wouldn't be able to talk much, which was understandable. With him gone and me trying tirelessly to pull my weight around the ranch, we drifted apart. The others stopped messaging me, too, aside from Andrew. We didn't talk often, but he knew I had been struggling and, having dealt with his own anxiety and depression issues, would reach out every now and then. I couldn't bring myself to ask why Garrett had stopped talking to me.

Before I knew it, I had been gone for about a year. So much had changed in my own world and in the worlds of those I used to call friends and it put me in a really dark place. On the anniversary of my home burning down, I almost lost it. I was drunk, almost blackout, and had made my way to one of the barns. After maneuvering myself through the maintenance hatch, I found myself on the roof, looking down at the dark ground below me. I wondered if it was high enough to take me instantly if I were to jump; if I could just leap and then be painlessly done. A moment of clarity later, I was back inside the barn and sobbing into a pile of hay.

Things moved even more quickly after that. I packed up a suitcase, contacted a real estate lawyer to set up an emergency trust in case my mother was ever at risk of losing the ranch, and set up to be admitted into a mental health facility back in LA. I had zero plans of ever returning to Montana and I wanted to pick myself back up and start a life I could be proud of.

At the facility, I was diagnosed with Bipolar 1. When the doctors gave me the diagnosis and a rundown of the disorder, so many things clicked and a wave of relief washed over me. To have a name and explanation made me feel so validated. Adding in proper medication with psychiatric therapy had me feeling like an entirely new person; a person who could face her fears and the man she'd pushed away.

Andrew didn't know the extent of everything I had been doing, but he knew I was back in town and had been working on myself. I sent him a message asking him if he thought Garrett would be upset if I showed up out of the blue. As usual, he gave me an honest answer, which I appreciated. He told me that Garrett hadn't talked about me much during my time away, but when he did, his mood would change and he wouldn't be his usual bubbly self. His conclusion was that Garrett would either be really happy or really bothered seeing me. Either way, he thought we deserved a chance to reconnect and gave me a day when he would be at the house alone. I thanked him for being there to talk to me and told him I would keep him posted.

By the day Andrew had given me rolled around, I'd started settling into a new house in a quiet neighborhood. It was full of old houses that had been built in the 1930s and they all had tons of character. I'd just finished putting together my new bed frame when Andrew texted me to tell me he'd just left. My stomach flipped as I typed the address into Uber and the realization hit that I would be seeing Garrett in less than 30 minutes. I was prepared for the worst, but desperately hoping for the best.