Chapter Fifteen
Beau
“Were you ever going to tell me about the cabin?” I asked Pop as we both leaned on the corral fence, the afternoon sun beating down on us as we watched Mason try and break a new horse. The beast bucked, trying to throw him off, and in the distance, I heard the bull rider’s rough laugh.
Mason was bat shit crazy.
Then again, all the Hallow Ranch cowboys were given what we did for a fucking living.
“Truth be told, Son, I didn’t tell you when you were a kid because I didn’t want you to hurt anymore,” Pop said, not looking at me, chewing on a toothpick. “Your mother caused you enough pain. I didn’t want to make you live in the home meant for the three of us.”
I looked away from him. “Why did John Langston build that cabin for you?”
John Langston was painted as a good man for the longest time. I grew up respecting him, even idolizing him. He avenged his wife’s death, something my father helped him with, and kept the Hallow Ranch legacy intact. Then, the dark truth was revealed a couple years ago when Hallow Ranch was in danger and Mason came home for the first time in over a decade.
John Langston was a piece of shit.
“It was his gift to me after helping him avenge Jane,” Pop answered simply, his voice distant. “I didn’t take it because of the pain it would’ve caused you.” He looked over to me. “I still haven’t taken it because of the hate I have for the asshole now.” He looked out to Mason and the horse. “John was my best friend. Losing him was a hard, but finding out what kind of monster he was—how he treated Mase? That gutted me. I felt blindsided. I knew Mason had issues with his father, but I figured it had to do more with John putting Denver on a pedestal. Never in a million years did I think John would lay a hand on his own son.”
I remained silent, grinding my teeth.
My father broke it a few minutes later. “I spat on his grave. Did I ever tell you that?”
Slowly, I turned to face him, my brows coming together. “You spat on a man’s grave?”
He chuckled, plucking the toothpick from his teeth. “Men don’t hurt children, Beau. Or women, for that matter.” He turned to face me, studying me for a few moments before giving me something else. “Denver came to me and asked if I still wanted it. Of course, I told him no. I’m fine living out the rest of my days in the bunkhouse.”
I sighed. “Pop, you deserve a home.”
After Abbie and I were out of school, he’d ended up selling my childhood home and moving to Hallow Ranch. We never spent much time there anyways. There was no point when our lives were here.
The old man tilted his head to the side. “Son, Hallow Ranch is my home.” I opened my mouth to speak again, but he cut me off. “I told Denver to give it to you. When the time was right, of course.”
The horse neighed loudly, and both of our heads snapped back to Mason, finding the horse on his back legs. We watched as he dropped back down on all fours, remaining still for the first time in over half an hour. The beast’s powerful breaths were the only things that could be heard as Mason leaned down, patting him. “Good boy,” he praised gruffly.
The bull rider looked over to us, a smirk on his face. “Kiss my ass, Beau.”
I glared at him. The last new horse we got, it took me a week to break it, and this fucker broke this one within hours. “Eat shit, Mase,” I shot back.
He chuckled, snapping the reins. The horse moved then, slowly walking over to us. I shook my head at the beautiful animal. “You couldn’t have made it just a little harder for him? Thrown him off at least once?” The horse did nothing, staring at me with his dark eyes. I rolled mine and pointed my finger at him. “No damn apples for you.”
“He’s getting apples,” Pop deadpanned from beside me, his lips twitching.
“An entire bag,” Mason added, scratching his scuff.
“Beau.”
I turned to find Denver emerging from the barn, wiping the back of his neck with a cloth. He’d taken his usual flannel off, his black t-shirt underneath soaked with sweat. I lifted my chin, and he looked to my father. “He caught up?” Denver asked.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Pop answered.
Denver nodded, removing the rag from his neck, his gray eyes meeting mine. “Saddle up then.”
As he disappeared back into the barn, Pop put his hand on my shoulder. I looked back at him as he said, “Going to need a favor from you, my boy.”
“What is it?” I asked as Mason dismounted and guided the horse to the water bin.
Pop looked over to the main house for a moment and then back to me. “Give that girl some grace, yeah?”
My brows came together. “Excuse me?”
“Know she hurt you. Know the wound she left you with has been reopened since you brought her back, but you need to understand something, son: that woman is in pain.”
“I know she is, Pop. She has a fucking stalker. Her house was just destroyed, along with her art.”
He shook his head. “I’m not talking about that, Beau.” My mouth closed as something in my chest twinged painfully. He looked back to that house and sighed. “Just give her some grace, yeah? For your old man?”
Reluctantly, I nodded, thinking about the things I said to her before leaving her against that door. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I shouldn’t have exposed myself—my pain—to her like that. She didn’t deserve to know anything about me, not anymore. She stopped wanting to know anything about me years ago and I needed to get over that.
It was pathetic, the power she had over me.
I kissed her this morning for fuck’s sake.
“Alright, Pop,” I muttered, clapping him on the shoulder.
I could give her grace. I could play nice for a few days while Red Snake did their thing.
Then, when Abbie left Hallow Ranch again, I’d finally be free of her.
“Slow, boy, slow,” I commanded gently as I pulled back on the reins, following Denver down the small hill.
We were on the far side of the ranch, about four miles west of the main house and two away from Mason and Harmony’s place. The closest thing to us on this side of the ranch was Mags’ cabin, which was perched at the end of the next field over.
Denver waited for me at the bottom of the hill, and once I was beside him, he pointed northwest. “It’s hidden in those trees,” he told me.
My eyes followed his finger, and realization dawned. I looked back to him. “You mean to tell me this entire fucking time…” I trailed off, shaking my head.
Denver smirked. “Yeah, bud. This entire time.”
I swallowed, meeting his eyes. “You sure you’re okay with this?” I asked. “Knowing the history of this place?”
A deep, slow sigh left his nose as he looked towards the tree line. “You deserved to know about it years ago. You deserved to know about it the second Jigs said to give it to you. I just—” He cut himself off, looking back to me. “With everything that happened with Mason, I needed time.”
I nodded, understanding.
“There was a moment, during all the shit with Moonie and Mason, when I thought about giving it all up,” he confessed. “The second I found out about what my father had done to my little brother, I wanted to burn this place to ground.”
I held my breath, my heart nearly stopping altogether as his confession drifted through the warm air around us, shining in the sunlight for the whole world to see.
Denver wanted to give up Hallow Ranch?
“Of course,” he finally continued, looking back to the tree line. “Hallow Ranch wasn’t just my home. It was yours, Jigs’, the twins, Mags’, Caleb’s. I may be a selfish son of a bitch, but I could never be that.”
I stared at his profile for a just a moment. “Could never be what, Denver?”
His throat worked as a cloud above us blocked the sunlight.
“A monster,” he whispered before clearing his throat and snapping Ranger’s reins. The horse took off, following Denver’s wordless command, leaving me frozen on top of Spirit. I stared at my friend’s back, wondering what the hell I’d done in a past life to end up here, at a ranch sitting atop on a foundation of pain, run by two brothers who deserved everything but.
“Let’s go, boy,” I said softly, snapping my reins.
Spirit didn’t fight me, trotting forward for a few seconds before breaking into a run, carrying me across the field to the place meant to be my home.
After tying Spirit to a low branch beside Ranger’s in the shade, I turned to face the cabin.
It was simple two story cabin with a generous front porch that looked out into the field, giving whoever was sitting in the rocking chair by the door a beautiful view of the sunset every morning. It had a dark green metal roof, matching the front door, allowing the cabin to blend into the trees all around it. The front of the house had an even number of windows, two on the top and two on bottom. It looked like something out of the old storybooks Pop used to read to me as a kid. It wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small. Old pine needles covered the ground around it, but Denver was brushing a small paved path with his boot that led up to the porch steps.
My eyes drifted up, focusing on the trees looming above the structure and finding a hawk perched in a nest, staring down at me.
“When’s the last time someone has been out here?” I asked, pulling my eyes away from the momma. She had nothing to fear from us. We weren’t here to bother her.
“Once a month,” Denver answered, pulling out a key from underneath the worn, faded mat in front of the door. “Since Mason has been back, we both take turns.” He looked at me over his shoulder. “You know, turn the water on, check the lights, air it out.”
There were more questions on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask them. Instead, I took a deep breath and walked up the porch steps. Denver turned the key and pushed the door open, letting it go. He stepped to the side, holding out the key to me. I took it, muttering a thank you.
He jerked his chin to the doorway. “Go ahead.”
My fist wrapped around the key as I walked by him, stepping over the threshold. I expected to smell something rotten, but instead, the scent of fresh pine greeted me. The stairs were directly in front of me, a row of hooks on the wall to my right, the living room to my left. Denver stepped in behind me as I surveyed the small living room, sunlight poking through the drawn curtains. He flicked the light switch, and something settled on my shoulders as I took in the brown leather couch against the window, the armchair in the corner, the empty bookshelf on the wall.
“There are two bedrooms upstairs and a full bath. The half bath is down the hall, past the kitchen,” he informed me, stepping into the living room and pulling off his hat. He turned to face me, towering over the handmade coffee table beside him. My eyes dropped to it, recognizing the handiwork.
“Mags?” I asked.
Denver nodded. “He finished it this morning.”
A small huff of disbelief left me, and I looked out the doorway, shaking my head.
“I know you don’t like secrets, Beau,” Denver said gently. “But this wasn’t my secret. It was your father’s.”
“That’s not—” I cut myself off, feeling the key digging into my palm, wishing it would draw blood. “That’s not why I’m upset.”
Denver remained silent, either waiting for an answer or worse—he already knew the fucking answer, because he, like his brother, got his happy endings, his woman.
“Pop was saving this cabin as a wedding gift, wasn’t he?” I asked roughly, my voice thick with pain and anger. I slowly twisted my neck to look at Denver. “Wasn’t he?”
He nodded. “Yeah, Beau, he was.”
A harsh laugh left me, and I pulled off my hat, wanting to throw the fucking thing. I’d had enough bad luck in my life; what was a little more going to hurt? I looked down the floor, my jaw working as the life I could’ve had with Abbie in this cabin played out in my head.
“Beau?”
“She would’ve done her master's thesis right there,” I murmured, pointing to the center of the couch with my hat. “All her damn research, books, and supplies would’ve been spread out all over the damn coffee table—which we would’ve gotten from Mags years ago as a wedding present.”
Denver said nothing, staring at me with anguish in his eyes.
I looked over the armchair. “And I would’ve sat there every fucking night and watched her work without complaint, because watching her is better than any fucking game that would’ve been playing on the TV I would’ve hung up on the wall behind you.”
I swung my arm out, pointing my hat to room on the other side of the stairs, where a small dining room table sat, four chairs perched around it. “We would’ve had our first meal in this house there. Every week, Pop would’ve come by for some of Abbie’s peach pie. We’d invite the twins over for game night, and Lawson would’ve hated how good she is at poker.” I shook my head, and my voice began to shake with fury. “Hell, Abbie would’ve helped Caleb out with his goddamn homework right the fuck there if she hadn’t fucking left me!” The last word came out as a roar, and I threw my hat out the front door.
Denver took a step forward. “Beau—”
“—would’ve put the Christmas tree behind you in that corner. I would’ve chased her through this fucking house, laughing with her. I would’ve made love to her every fucking night in the bedroom upstairs, turned the spare room into her studio, painted the bathroom whatever fucking color she wanted because she would’ve changed her mind over a thousand fucking times during our first year.”
My chest was heaving now, and I put my hands on my hips, letting myself drown in the pain of what could’ve been. I bent my head, staring at the floor, knowing that, without a shadow of a doubt, we would’ve been happy here. “We would’ve had a good life, with or without kids, because she was always on the fence about having them. Either way, I would’ve been fucking happy because she would’ve been mine, Denver. She would’ve been my wildflower, and I would’ve been her Beau.”
I heard him move, and a few seconds later, his boots were just a foot away from mine. I looked up. He was dusting off my hat, his eyes guarded as he studied me. Once he was done, he held it out to me.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
“Don’t apologize to me for being human, Beau,” he said.
I took my hat, letting it hang at my side as I swallowed the lump in my throat, keeping my eyes on the pine trees outside. A gentle breeze came through, pushing the branches, causing more pine needles to fall to the ground. “When I heard she was in danger, I had tunnel vision,” I confessed, my voice cracking. “I don’t even remember the drive into the city, just the pain in my chest, the fear in my heart.” I let out a shaky breath. “When she opened that door, all the healing I’d thought I’d done erased itself. Seeing her in another man’s t-shirt wasn’t as painful as hearing her say my name again. That felt like a kick in the gut, Den.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
My head snapped up, meeting his eyes. “Yes, I do,” I murmured. “Because if I don’t, I’ll never be able to live with myself. I made a promise to protect her long ago, and I’ll be damned if I break that promise now.”
“Red Snake can handle this case, Beau. They can put her under their protection, and you wouldn’t have to worry—”
“—I’ll always worry about her,” I said, cutting him off. “I was put on this fucking planet to worry about her—to love her.”
A short wave of understanding washed over his face then as his brow line softened, his eyes filling with a form of pity I’d never thought would be directed at me. I didn’t even have the strength to hate it. I was running on fumes, had been since I brought her back into my life.
“She can stay at Mason and Harmony’s,” he offered, trying to yet again, give me an out.
I shook my head. “She stays with me.”
He took a deep breath, nodding to himself before turning and walking into the kitchen. Reluctantly, I followed, shoving my pain down. The kitchen was modest and comfortable, with an “L” shape layout and a small bar with two stools in the middle. He walked through the kitchen in silence, leading me back to the utility room that housed the water heater and washer and dryer. “Water pressure in the upstairs bathroom isn’t the best, but I’ll try to work on that tomorrow,” he noted gruffly.
“There’s no need for that, Denver,” I told him. “I got it.”
He shot me a smirk. “Figured it was the least I could do since you fixed my sink.”
“The least you could do,” I muttered in disbelief as I walked back into the living room, across the foyer, and into the dining room. “As if the fucking man hasn’t let his ranch become my fucking home.”
I stood at the head of the six-seater table, admiring the two windows, the sunlight trickling in, highlighting the wood grain. Denver cleared his throat from behind me, and I looked over my shoulder. He tilted his head. “There’s an office right there,” he informed me as I looked over to the closed door in the corner.
Moving to it, I held my breath.
I pulled the door open and was greeted with a view of one of the many streams that ran down the Langstons’ mountain, nestled in the woods behind the cabin. The back wall of the office was windows, mix and matched, the trim of the windows painted different shades of greens, blues, yellows, and oranges. In the center of the wall was a pair of antique French doors, the light pink trim stirring something inside me. The sunlight wasn’t direct in this room, but the natural light was addicting. I turned, finding an antique desk and chair perched in the corner. I bit down, grinding my teeth.
Fuck me, she would’ve been in this room for hours at a time, getting lost in her paintings. I would’ve had to drag her out for dinner. I knew that down to my bones.
My wildflower would’ve loved this room; a vase for her to bloom and grow in.
I didn’t say anything as I turned, shutting the office door and heading up stairs. The master had a king bed and as I stared at it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept in a bed that wasn’t my cot in the bunkhouse. The second bedroom was directly above the office, having the same view of the stream. There was a queen bed and a small bedside table. The bathroom was nothing special, and I knew Abbie would hate the white walls.
She would have to make do.
Then, when all this shit was over, she could go back to her house in the big city, filled with the colors that made her comfortable.
Ten minutes later, I was back in the saddle, flying through the fields, heading back to the main house with Denver on my tail.