Live for Me (Hallow Ranch)

Chapter Eleven

Abbie

I didn’t know how long I’d been standing on the porch, staring at the horizon, waiting for the sunrise. I didn’t know how much sleep I’d gotten. I didn’t know what to feel or what to do. I didn’t know if I was going to see Beau or not today. If I had any say, I hoped I wouldn’t.

Being around him was a torture I’d never thought I would have to endure.

After spending half the night tossing and turning in a bed that felt too much like the past, I’d gotten dressed, tip-toed downstairs, and headed out to the porch when the moon was still out and wolves could be heard howling in the distance.

Inhaling an unsteady breath, I tried to regain control of my emotions. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind, and I was still waiting to wake up from this nightmare. I was losing my grip on reality, drowning in the one place younger Abbie felt the safest.

The front door of the house opened behind me, causing me to jump, but I didn’t look over my shoulder. I knew who it was. Cowboys rose before the sun, after all. The familiar clink of spurs filled my ears as the cowboy approached me. I said nothing, remaining where I was, against the pillar, my eyes on the pale pinks and deep purples painted across the sky.

He came to stand beside me, his black hat towering over me as the smell of coffee filled my nostrils. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him raise the baby blue mug to his lips, taking a healthy sip. It was still early, still quiet. The world hadn’t quite woken yet, allowing me to hear him swallow. He lowered his cup with a quiet sigh and rolled his neck.

“Want some?” he offered, his voice gruff with sleep.

I shook my head, wrapping my sweater tighter around me.

He grunted, taking a second sip.

Over the tree line, a hawk soared, barely missing the tops of the trees as it headed away from the sunrise. It cried out, the beautiful sound echoing over the empty valley, signaling the dawn. I watched it fly over the field, its wings moving effortlessly as it scanned the ground for food. Suddenly, I desperately wished I could fly. When it was out of sight, I focused back on the sunrise, the pink sky turning into a pale orange, chasing the shadow of night away.

Before I could stop myself, I whispered the truth, letting it hang in the sweet summer air. “I never thought I’d be back here.”

Mason was quiet for a moment. “That makes two of us,” he murmured.

His admission slammed into me, compelling me to look at him.

The bull rider wasn’t looking at me, though. His gray eyes were on the field, his jaw tight. “Fucking hated this place, Abbie,” he continued, voice thick with emotion. “There were days I wanted it all to fucking burn.”

The tears came then, tears I’d been fighting to hold back since Beau brought me here yesterday morning. They fell onto my cheeks at a steady pace with no signs of stopping. “I know you did,” I rasped, my breath hitching.

John Langston may have been a great cowboy, but he was shit father, taking out his anger and pain on his youngest son, the one whose looks favored the woman he’d lost.

Mason looked at me then, his brow furrowed. “What did you just say?” he asked, breathing out the question in confusion.

I looked back to the sunrise, wondering if I should confess this to him, but then again, what else did I have to lose? “You may have done a good job hiding it from everyone else, but to someone who was being abused at the same time you were, Mase? There was no fooling me.”

I felt his stare burning into the side of my head. Still, I didn’t look at him. “You never said anything.”

I lifted my shoulder slightly, giving the scene in front of me a sad smile before looking to my bare feet. “It wasn’t any of my business.” Silence fell between us for a minute or two before I added, “Besides, I didn’t want to put you into more danger than you were already in. I was a nobody. What the hell could I have done?”

He said nothing, and after a few more seconds of silence, he moved to the opposite pillar, leaning his shoulder against it as he downed the rest of his coffee. The sun began to peek over the tree line then, its rays stretching over the land, dusting the tops of the trees and causing the morning dew to sparkle on the green grass.

“It’s funny,” he said, setting the mug on the porch railing.

“What’s funny, Mase?” I asked, looking at him and wiping my cheek with my sleeve.

He pursed his lips, looking out to the field again. “This place was your safe space, and it was my own version of hell.”

A lump formed in my throat.

Those wild, storm-filled eyes met mine again. “And now, the roles are reversed.”

Hallow Ranch was heaven to some but hell to others.

My tongue felt heavy, weighing a thousand pounds. I tried to swallow, but it was no use. And when the bull rider pushed off the pillar, taking three steps to close the distance between us, a chill skated up my spine. I lifted my chin to keep eye contact as his gaze hardened.

“Like you, Abbie, always have, but I need you to understand something, yeah?” he rumbled, darkness curling at the end of his words.

Slowly, I nodded.

His eyes scanned my face. “You hurt Beau again, I’ll ruin your life.”

The threat come out like a swift punch to the gut, causing me to jerk back, eyes widening. “Mason, I’m not here because I want to be.”

“Don’t give a shit,” he returned, stepping back and readjusting his cowboy hat. “You hurt Beau again, I’ll ruin you. He barely fucking survived the last time. I was halfway across the world and could feel his pain when I had my check-ins with Jigs. Now, I’m here, and I’ll be damned if I have to watch you destroy him again.”

I said nothing, letting more tears fall as I stared up at him.

His eyes tracked the movement of the tears as they slid down my cheeks, dipping over my jaw, down to my neck. He took a deep breath before he reached up and tipped his hat to me. “Enjoy the sunrise, Abbie.”

Then, he was gone, heading down the porch steps to his truck.

I managed to wait until his truck disappeared into the next pasture before falling to my knees, burying my face in my hands as sobs rocked my body.

Destroying Beau had never been my intention.

Hurting the only man I would ever love was the last thing I wanted to do.

They didn’t understand.

They would never understand.

All they could do was hate me, and it was what I deserved.

I didn’t know how much time I’d spent crying on Mason and Harmony’s porch, but when I lifted my head again, the sun had risen, and the air around me was warming up.

I’d missed the sun rise, the only thing I wanted to see.

“Stay strong, Abbie,” I whispered to myself, wiping my tears and let down my hair.

I just had to stick it out for a few more hours.

Then, I’d leave Hallow Ranch for the second and final time.

The sound of a guitar strumming inside caught my attention, and my head snapped to the front door, my lips parting.

I was still on the porch, right where Mason left me. The sun was nearly to its peak in the summer sky and sweat dotted my brow. I was certain my bare feet were starting to burn, but I couldn’t move. My brain wouldn’t allow it, keeping me frozen in place, because if I moved too soon, everything in me would break.

My phone dinged, snapping me out of the small daze the soft melody coming from the house put me in. Clearing my throat, I pulled out the device and I let out a breath, feeling hopeful for once.

Dave: I’m almost there. Meet me at the front.

I sent a quick text back, my thumbs flying over the screen.

Me: Thank you. I love you so much, Dave.

Dave: You fucking better. I missed out on a blow job for this.

A small laugh came from me as tears welled in my eyes, and I shook my head.

That was my best friend.

He’d save you anytime you needed it, but he wouldn’t let you forget all the sex he missed out on to do so. The horny jackass.

I rolled my shoulders, put my phone up, and turned, heading back into the house.

The music was coming from the living room, which was towards the back of the house. I walked through the narrow hallway of the foyer, coming into an open space with a large dining room on the left and a small office to my right. Still moving, I padded into the kitchen. There was a large bowl of freshly cut fruit in the middle of the island, along with a cast iron skillet filled with biscuits resting beside it.

My throat tightened.

Harmony Langston was one of the nicest souls I’d ever have the pleasure of meeting. She had a light inside her that was…everlasting. I could see it in her eyes that she’d been through pain, but she didn’t let that change her. I respected and envied that.

Her soul was still gentle.

Mine was frail, broken.

The pretty strumming stopped from behind me. “Good morning,” a raspy voice filled my ears.

I turned to find Mason’s wife rising from her spot on the couch, a bunch of discarded, balled up pieces of paper scattered all over the coffee table. She smiled at me. It was a soft smile; the kind of smile you give to someone you want to help. I said nothing as she set her guitar on the stand in the corner beside the fireplace and grabbed her empty coffee mug from the table.

“Would you like some breakfast?” she asked softly, walking into the kitchen, careful not to crowd me. She went to the sink and set down her mug. I took a second to study her and the way she flowed through the space. Her hair was a deep auburn, the color reminding me of a fire in the dead of winter. It was also wild, waves and coils trailing down the length of her back. It stuck out every which way on the top of her head. She had a blue head band in this morning to keep some of the curls out of her face. She was dressed in loose jeans and a flowy, cream tank with scalloped ends and lace detailing that stood out against the freckles dotted across her skin.

In a different life, I would’ve asked if I could paint her.

Harmony was a piece of art that didn’t deserve to be overlooked.

She turned back to me, a stack of small plates in her hands, her blue eyes shining with something I couldn’t decipher. “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” she softly told me. “I just know you didn’t eat much at dinner last night.”

“Kinda hard to enjoy a meal when I was brought here against my will.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, the harsh sound hanging in the air between us.

She said nothing, staring at me with her kind-blue eyes that were nothing like Beau’s. Thank God.

I looked away from her, finding the window above the kitchen sink, watching the grass sway back and forth with the gentle breeze for a few moments. I pushed my hand through my hair, feeling the waves from my braid I’d slept in last night as I pulled a chunk of it over my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “You have been nothing but kind to me. You offered your home to me when you didn’t have to. I appreciate that and all you’ve done for me, Harmony. Truly.”

“You don’t have to apologize for your anger, Abbie,” she returned, her rasp gentle.

I blinked.

“You’re allowed to be angry and express your feelings. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I heard what my husband said to you this morning.”

I jerked back, Mason’s threat ringing loud and clear in my head. A shard of glass formed in my throat, the pain forcing me to keep my mouth shut as I stared at her.

She rolled her eyes, setting the plates down on the counter before pulling out a small spatula. “I’m sorry he said that to you. He had no right, and frankly, what happened between you and Beau isn’t his business, or anyone else’s on this ranch,” she explained, putting a biscuit on each plate and then scooping out the fruit next. Once the plates were made, she slid one over to me. “Whether you and Beau work your history out or not should be no one’s concern, and I’m going to remind Mason of that when he gets back later.”

I tried to picture her scolding the world’s top bull rider, the man who craved reckless danger and got off on it. A part of me wished I could be here to witness that, but Dave would be here soon. I needed to get to the main gate, and I felt like Harmony would be the one to let me do that.

“Thank you for breakfast,” I murmured, moving to the island and taking the plate.

She smiled at me before she turned and grabbed something out of the cabinet beside the stove. A second later, she was holding out a jar of honey to me. “Don’t thank me until you’ve taken a bite with a little honey on your biscuit.”

My eyes flicked down to my steaming biscuit and then to the honey. “That sounds good, actually.”

I pulled the biscuit apart, revealing a thick and fluffy center, drizzling some of the golden honey on top. Harmony did the same, and we both took our first bites together.

A buttery, sweet flavor exploded across my tongue, and I let out a groan, my eyes rolling back. “My God,” I whispered, licking my lips. “Those taste just like—”

“Jigs’ biscuits?” she guessed, a warm smile teasing her lips.

I nodded, taking another bite. “Exactly like his.”

Color tinted her cheeks, and pride flashed in her eyes. “I’m really glad to hear that, especially from someone who knows his biscuits. The twins have never had them, Mason doesn’t remember, and Denver is always busy.”

I took a third bite, savoring the flavor and nostalgia. Jigs used to make biscuits and gravy for the entire bunkhouse every Sunday morning before he left for church. By six in the morning, he would be covered in flour, and by nine, he was dressed in a brown suit, his church hat sitting on top of his head.

He went to church every single Sunday, without fail.

“How did you manage to get the recipe?” I found myself asking, moving on to the fruit.

Harmony bit her bottom lip, looking sheepish. “I—uh—might have stolen it…from his recipe box.”

Jigs kept all his recipes scribbled down a cheap note cards or scrap paper in an old, wooden box. He kept it hidden in the bunkhouse kitchen, and then, he locked up in the trunk at the end of his bunk. “That’s…impressive,” I told her honestly.

“He left it out one night on the table. Everyone was outside watching the fireworks for New Years, and I went into the bunkhouse to get warm…” She trailed off, leaving the rest of hang in the air.

I looked down to my almost empty plate, remembering how secretive he used to be.

“And I can’t ask Beau for a taste test because he doesn’t know I have the recipe,” she said softly, laughing a bit at the end.

I closed my eyes, knowing that, in a different life, one where I didn’t have to make the choices I did, Harmony and I would’ve been friends. The best of friends, actually. We would’ve stolen more of his recipes, making them in secret, trying to perfect every single one. We would’ve had fun doing it too. Hell, we may have even had Denver’s wife roped into our little adventure…

My eyes burned then, my soul craving more than the life I had.

I cleared my throat and looked back up to Harmony. “Breakfast was lovely. Thank you for the food and the nostalgia.”

She could see the tears welling in my eyes, and I didn’t bother trying to hide them. “Of course,” she returned, turning and putting her plate in the sink.

“H-Harmony?” I called out to her back, my nerves suddenly on overdrive.

Her blue eyes met mine as she looked at me over her shoulder. Her brows come together in concern reading me well for someone who barely knew me. “What is it?”

I looked over to the foyer and then back to her, clenching and releasing my hands as anxiety sat heavily on my shoulders, settling in.

Mason’s wife turned to face me then, slowly coming around the island, the diamond on her ring finger glittering in the sunlight. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

She was kind to me.

She didn’t hate me.

She didn’t judge me.

She could help me.

“I need to get to the main gate,” I blurted.

Harmony stopped in her tracks, blinking. “You what?”

“My best friend is going to be here any minute to come get me. He said to meet him at the main gate, but I have no way of getting there without walking through pastures two and one. You and I both know the cowboys will see me and—” I cut myself off, the tears breaking free as my bottom lip trembled. “I can’t—I can’t—Harmony, please.”

She looked gutted, utterly tortured by the sight of me falling apart.

I worried she was going to tell me no, that me being here was the safest option for me.

When she didn’t, my knees nearly gave out, and I had to grab the counter for support.

“Get your things,” she rasped, emotion shining in her eyes.

“Wait—you’re not going to—”

“I’ve been a prisoner before, Abbie,” she said gently, giving me a pained, closed-mouth smile. “I’m not going to stand by and watch someone else be one too.”