37. Augustus
THIRTY-SEVEN
AUGUSTUS
June 7th, 2024
Life has always let Stetson down—abandoned her, disappointed her. And I’m beginning to think I’m doing the same.
It’s fucking me up.
Stetson is the one person I don’t want to disappoint or hurt, and yet, I think that’s all I’m doing. When did my love for her get so lost in translation? When did I become such a coward?
We are meant to be together—the villain who gets the girl. But not if I don’t get my head out of my ass—and soon. Like, today.
I have to tell her today.
If I don’t, I know I’m going to lose her forever. She has been so inexplicably withdrawn, ever since the rodeo, and I can’t wrap my head around why. I know everything is piling up, but I thought we were finally getting somewhere. But as each day passes, I see that for the lie it is.
I might not have the perfect words, the perfect plan, but anything is better than being shut out completely. I know she’ll be shocked, probably even pissed off and sassy in that way only she can be, but that I can handle, that I can rationalize, talk down, fuck out of her. But silence? Rejection? Hopelessness? I can’t live with that.
Once she sees she is not alone—never has been and never will be—she will open up.
She has to.
Boots whinnies, the shrill noise pulling me from my thoughts, and I pause. My fingers are tangled in her dark mane, her silken neck soft against my callouses.
“Thanks girl.” I lean forward, sinking into the comfort of her warm neck. She leans back into me slightly, her version of a hug, and I smile into her hair. “You’ve always been my best friend, even when I don’t deserve it.”
She knickers her agreement as if to say, “You’re right, you don’t deserve me,” her body shaking slightly, and I smile. What can I say, I like my girls sassy.
“You’re supposed to be agreeing with me, not calling me out, ole girl.”
She snorts, yanking her head up, eyeing me with her giant black globes. “Fuck that. And who are you calling old?”
The thing about Boots is, she provides me peace and comfort, even when she’s calling me out. She sees me and accepts me for my flaws, even if they piss her off.
So much like Stetson, it hurts.
Stetson makes my dark soul feel at peace, but alive. I won’t let her go, no matter how hard she shoves me away, but I also don’t want to hurt her or disappoint her.
I lean into Boots again. “She hasn’t said five words to me in days.” I even texted her from my burner phone last night, and she ignored it completely. I regret doing it—“the stalker” most likely another barrier between us—but I’m getting frantic.
Aside from talking to me, she barely looks at me, and when she does, it’s filled with questions and expectancies, but I don’t know how to decipher. If she would open up and tell me how I could help her, nothing in this world would stop me from doing it.
Nothing.
Boots whinnies again. “What have you done to make her feel like she can trust you? What have you revealed about yourself to make her feel like she can trust you?”
How can a horse be so wise?
“I know, girl. She will love me, she just has to see I won’t leave. That nothing in this world or the next will pry me from her.”
Boots eyelashes flutter, and then she lifts her nose, pushing me away.
I go about picking up the brushes scattered around my feet and feed Boots and the other horses their nightly grain. Boots pauses her munching, small flecks of grain sticking to her pink nose, and stares at me intently. I know if she could speak she’d be telling me off at this point, saying something close to ‘ hurry the fuck up, you are just being a pussy’.
How right you are, ole girl.
I pat the stall door once and slink toward the house, nerves consuming my stomach. It’s now or never.
Sucking in a sharp wheeze, I halt, staring at the bike parked in the driveway. His bike . I take in the scene before me for only a minute before I sprint, boots spraying sand as I tear a path toward the house.
When did he get here? How the fuck did I not hear the bike?
I jump the deck stairs completely, yanking the screen door open. At first, I can’t hear anything above my pounding heart or ragged breathing. I try to still both, to make out any other sounds, and then curse when I hear two voices—two voices I hoped I would never hear in the same room.
“Gus?” she calls, her voice hesitant. McCrae’s throaty chuckle floats through the doorway, and I stomp into the kitchen without a second thought, plastering on one of my nonchalant grins. Stetson’s eyes zero in on it, annoyance flickering across her face before it fades.
This is a fucking disaster.
“Gussy-poo, so good to see you,” McCrae drawls, his voice teasing, but his eyes snap with anger. Tonight he looks even more tired than he did when he came weeks ago, and I try not to wonder why.
What is making my brother worry so much?
Then I remember this isn’t a friendly family meeting, and I don’t care what is going on with him. Stetson’s head swivels between us, her brows raised toward her golden hairline.
“I, uh, didn’t know you invited your brother for dinner. I would have made something better than pizza,” she states, turning her back to us. I cut my brother another glance, his teasing smile gone, replaced with a hollow expression.
I open my mouth to speak, when McCrae shakes his head—disappointment etched into the jagged lines of his face.
“He’s always been forgetful, Stetson. You’ll have to forgive him for that.”
Stetson looks over her shoulder, her silver eyes snapping to mine. I can see her silently asking me if I am okay, and I smile wider—I don’t want her to know how absolutely freaked out I am. She scowls, not buying it.
“Stetson was just telling me about all the work you’ve done around here. Seems like you’re really motivated to fix this place up, and finally make something of yourself. Tired of looking in the mirror and seeing a washed-up cowboy? Needed a new obsession?” I stare at McCrae, silently pleading with God that this moment will end differently than I’m currently imagining—this is not how I want Stetson to find out.
Stetson doesn’t seem to be paying much attention, her back still toward us as she works on spreading mozzarella.
“Nothing to say?”
“What can I say, McCrae? I found something worth working toward.”
“Or needed a new angle to get the girl.” The words hang between us, and my skin vibrates—with anger or anxiety, I don’t know.
Stetson whirls around, grabbing a handful of diced onion off the counter, and then pauses, staring directly into McCrae’s assessing gaze.
“We either die in the gutter we fall into or climb out of it. It’s always easier too, when you are no longer weighted down with others misplaced expectations. Gus works hard, harder than anyone I know—” she waits, and when he says nothing, she turns around to spread the onion on the cheese. “I’m sure you’re very proud of him for everything he has accomplished here, and all those years rodeoing.”
Her words pelt against my chest, making it constrict so tightly, I have to reach a hand to rub it. No one has ever stood up for me— Fuck, I love her.
McCrae stares at Stetson’s back, his face devoid of emotion, but then he shifts, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of him, and I see a single emotion flicker there. It’s so quickly gone, I might be making it up, but I could swear he looks disappointed, sad even. And that is more confusing than his need to sweep in and destroy my life.
“So, McCrae, what do you do?” Stetson leans back in her chair, a beer hovering over her pink lips.
McCrae contemplates his answer for several seconds, before he leans forward, brushing his hand through his hair. “I’m the devil, don’t you know. The crusher of dreams, the ruiner of happy memories, the slave driver of forgotten ambitions.” His voice is flat, but the anger underneath is anything but.
Stetson is not impressed or intimidated. And I want to kiss her for it.
“That’s not exactly a job.”
“Isn’t it, though?” McCrae’s eyes narrow. He turns, pinning his frustrated expression on me, and then he continues. “For years, I was a nanny, chauffeur, law enforcer, jail breaker, and daddy. And then poof.” McCrae snaps his fingers, the sound cutting through the growing tension. “I wake up to a note saying my little brother is leaving. He didn’t want to ride wild horses anymore, didn’t want to travel anymore, didn’t want to spend another second with me , anymore.” McCrae punches a finger into his chest at the word ‘me’ .
Upon reflection, I should have told him to his face. But fuck, McCrae is the only thing in this world that terrifies me. I had to get out, start my path to Stetson, and at the time that seemed like the only way I would be able to do it.
It’s clearly coming back to bite me in the ass— just my luck.
The room is silent save for our mixed breaths, everyone too afraid to set the bomb off, ticking between us. And then McCrae continues, uncaring of the casualties, “So, Stetson , I’ve done some odd jobs here and there to stay alive, but I never stopped doing my first one. It was a life sentence, being this boy’s older brother. And I personally believe the devil deserves to live out his days fulfilling his duties, no matter how painful they may be. The job never stops, even now. ”
“McCrae—” My voice is a whisper, and neither of them turns to look at me as Stetson cuts me off.
“Interesting analogy,” Stetson huffs, setting her beer down with a clank. It’s all it takes to set McCrae completely off, and I prepare to jump in front of her, shield her from the evil that will no doubt spew from his lips.
“You know what’s interesting? I devoted my life to helping my brother be the best, pushing him to be the best. And he found some girl and then everything I worked for was just gone.”
“Stetson,” I try again, this time going for the other ticking bomb.
She ignores me again, not sensing how close she is to the danger zone. “Now, I don’t know. It sounds like there’s more to it than that, maybe?—”
“Maybe you don’t know what you’re talking about. And if you did, you might not be so quick to defend.” McCrae spits the words, and I flinch.
That’s enough. I can’t be afraid of him, not when Stetson is on the line. I’m not the weak boy I used to be—Stetson has made me grow into so much more than that.
“That’s enough,” I hiss, my voice louder than before and not the least bit shaky.
“So, he does fucking speak. Does he speak about his little obsession?” McCrae’s eyes never leave Stetson’s reddening face.
You know how they say the world stands still during the worst moments of your life? For me, this is one of those moments. The fuse has been lit, the explosion already detonating around us, and I am helpless to save the one I love from the heat.
Holding my breath, I watch Stetson, no longer caring about stopping McCrae. There’s nothing that could stop him at this point, anyway. I can’t prepare her or protect her. I can only hope that she will let me pick up the pieces when this is all over.
Stetson doesn’t respond, the fact only pissing McCrae off more.
If this wasn’t one of those horrible, destructive, pivotal moments, I’d bow at her feet. I’ve never been more in love with her—this woman who does not fear the demons in the dark, facing the only monster I’ve ever been afraid of. Not just facing him, but taking him on.
For me.
I’ve never had anyone protect me; I’ve always been the protector, and something about Stetson standing up for me breaks my heart in the most excruciating and beautiful way. Is this what being loved should feel like?
“Does he speak about how he has beaten people to a pulp, sent them to the hospital, destroyed any chance of them walking or talking again because he can’t control that caged beast inside his chest?”
A growl rips past my lips and I go to move toward Stetson, but she holds up a hand, halting me.
She’s fucking incredible.
“Maybe not in so many words. But I’ve seen the beast there, and it doesn’t scare me.”
I nearly sag to the floor at her words, my blood pounding hot in my veins. I look back at McCrae, his face now split into a feral grin—the one saved for the victims of his retribution and punishment.
“Well, then, you guys are close. How cute. Tell me, does he talk about how he’s had an unhealthy obsession with the same girl for over ten years? Stalking her, controlling her, manipulating her? Even right this second?”
“Get out,” I hiss, my voice quivering now. McCrae stands, never taking his eyes off Stetson’s frozen face, his work here done.
I’ll never understand why he’s doing this. I’ll never understand why he hates me—but I’ve never felt it more clearly than at this moment.
“I guess not.” He lifts his gaze to mine, his eyes now hollow and empty, his face and body devoid of life and happiness, like the confession sucked everything from him.
“I warned you to stay away from them. It is my job. But you didn’t listen, just like you never do. And now you’ll know what it is like to be the devil to the only one who you love, too.”
Love? He doesn’t understand the first thing about love.