Rolling Thunder

Chapter 12

“Your dog needs therapy,”she said to Evan when she opened the door. His chuckle brought an unwelcome rush to her insides. He stepped in, taking up all the space in her kitchen.

“What did she do now?”

“She prefers razors and toothbrushes as chew toys. That’s just not normal.”

He laughed, and at the sound, Abbey came skidding around the corner on the fake-wood floor and sliding into Evan’s leg, tail swinging in a wild circle. In her mouth was one of Kayla’s naughtiest lacey thongs.

Evan removed the panties from the dog’s grip and glanced up at Kayla.

“And worse, she’s a panty thief.”

He walked across the small kitchen to where Kayla stood leaning against the counter and sucked all the air right out of the room as he did. He’d melted her heart and then ridden off into the sunset without an explanation for three days, dumping his dog on her to boot. He was just like every man she’d ever known, no different from goddam Canyon Bill. She didn’t need another reckless cowboy riding off and leaving her life in ruins. But she had given him the cold shoulder the morning after. That didn’t give her much leeway to hold it against him.

Now that he was practically on top of her, her heart seized up like a clenched fist and then released a rush of blood through her veins, flooding her mind until she was half drowned and stupid. And then he did it. He just nestled her back into the counter until she couldn’t move and kissed her like he had nothing else to do all day. Like he had missed her. Like he wanted her in his bed again. And her traitorous body woke up and cheered. She didn’t want him to want her. She’d sworn it would be a one-night thing. She knew there was no hope for them.

He eased off her and caressed her face, and instantly, she remembered him carrying her down the hall like she was cherished. And he’d come back. She tried to slap herself mentally—he was only back because he lived on her street and she had his dog. He wasn’t back for her. She swallowed hard, trying to keep from looking into his face.

She was like a wraith living on the edge of the conscious world, hovering half-dead and merely a translucent image of whatever men wanted to see when they looked at her. She could be the glittering emotionless sex doll. She could drown her revulsion in booze until it died and she was nothing but the ghost left behind.

His fingertips traced down the sides of her face, pushing her hair back. With the gentle scrape of his callused fingers on her skin, his touch solidified her and transformed her into a living being. The bare floor was cold and smooth beneath her feet. She was pressed back against the countertop just like before, and the bodily memory of the last time they’d been together rushed through her as clear and real as if it were happening that instant. By his proximity alone, she could practically feel him inside her. She remembered the shuddering release, and her body throbbed for him. It wasn’t just lust. She longed for the warm, safe feeling she had when he held her.

“Do you want me to go?” he murmured in her ear. She wanted to feel his strength. She wanted a moment where she was his cherished possession, safe from the world. She wanted it so bad that the pain of the aftermath, when she had to face the reality that they couldn’t be together and she wasn’t what he thought she was, dimmed to the point she could momentarily block it out. She pushed it aside with the fantasy that somehow this could work out. Maybe he never needed to know about her past. Maybe she could just allow his touch to bring her to life and start over fresh on this day, with him.

“What do you want?” he asked, his mouth traveling to her neck below her ear. In answer, she grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and yanked it off. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. He made short work of her remaining clothes, peeling her jeans and panties off in one smooth motion. He spun her around and covered her hands with his, bracing her against the counter.

“I feel like you’re gonna cuff me,” she quipped, her sarcasm always bubbling up at the worst times.

“Any time you want, baby. I’ll give you anything you want,” he said, pushing her legs apart and scooping her ass into his capable hands. Her mind scrambled with doubt but her body had none. She throbbed and ached for him. He unbuckled, unzipped, and rolled on a condom at record speed, plunging into her.

“Oh God!” she gasped. He didn’t give her much time to acclimate. He fucked her hard and fast, and if her brain hadn’t caught up, her body had. She wanted more, so much more. She couldn’t move much, but he must have felt her urgency because he grabbed her hips, giving a quick jerk to satisfy them both. A frantic, wild need rose up inside her that only he had ever unleashed. Her body was hot and desperate for something only he could give. The loss of control was terrifying, and a shudder of fear ran through her and her knees threatened to buckle. He grasped her with a strong arm around her waist. She gasped air in frantic little puffs of breath, trying to steady herself.

“I got you,” he murmured into her skin. He kissed the back of her neck. Those three words knocked loose the boulder of fear that had lodged in her lungs making it hard to breathe. She gasped a full breath, the sudden oxygen made her lightheaded. A hot rush of awareness spread through her and without forethought, she ground back against him.

His fingers traced along her rear, gathering the wetness from their joining and pressing against her rear entrance, asking in gentle rhythm. It was the only thing that was gentle right then.

“Do you want that?” he asked, his voice husky, his breath on the back of her neck. He was asking, not taking. Asking her what she wanted, asking for her consent. And there had been so little of that in her life, it was a foreign concept. Its presence now was a glaring contrast.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done that.” She felt suddenly shaky with vulnerability. He had stripped her of every defense she had, stripped her and entered her and rocked her. Every nerve ending in her body stood at attention. He had slowed the frantic pace but continued to circle and press gently at her rear without entering. It seemed like he wasn’t just asking to enter her body anymore. He couldn’t, without also entering her mind, or her frightened, lonely soul. He had physical control of her that moment. He could have done with her as he pleased, but he was waiting for her.

She arched involuntarily.

“Tell me.” More, so much more. At last, she said the word her body was saying. The need was bigger than the fear.

“Yes,” she said, but when he moved again, she tensed.

“Relax, it’s okay,”he murmured, pressing a big hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the counter. She was completely at his mercy, but he continued to murmur soft assurances to her which felt like caresses to her frightened core. Gently, he tamed her until she did relax and allow him in. He was balls deep inside her pussy and now his thumb was in her ass. She was stretched and filled in a way she never had been before. The pressure was overwhelming—so strong she could focus on nothing but that. Every other sensation was doubled while her mind went hazy.

“You good?” he asked her gruffly. The only answer she could give was a gasp and a moan as she clenched around him. He stilled against her, his breath hot on her shoulder. The only thing that continued was his soft stroking of her clit. She panted, fighting against the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt. “Kayla?” he asked her again.

“Yeah. Good,” she muttered. Usually, it was so easy to fall off a black cliff in her mind into the pit where she felt nothing and pleasure was a superficial sensation. That had become her escape, and most times, men didn’t care. There was no escaping Evan. He controlled every inch of her. He was inside her in every way. She tried to hold back, and he pulled her right back into it with him. He wouldn’t let her slip away, he wouldn’t let her refuse to tell him if she was all right. She had a feeling he would immediately know if she was lying. He thrust into her again and the pressure and tension inside her triggered tiny cracks that were the beginning of an avalanche.

“Come for me.”

Her shoulders trembled where she was propped on her kitchen counter, impaled on him.

“I can’t come.” She whispered the confession to him. There was no lying or deceiving now, not when they were so intertwined they were practically one body.

“Yes, you can. Just let it happen,” he replied, slightly increasing the pace on her clit. She gasped, cried out, arched her back, and he urged her on. He withdrew slightly and plunged back into her and the shock of it triggered her into an explosive orgasm that gripped him so hard she knew she’d brought him there as well. He growled and fucked her, and ripple upon ripple of shuddering release whipped through her, as if drawn from him. As if they were two bodies sharing one orgasm.

At long last, he gently withdrew from her, and as soon as he did, she began to collapse. He caught her and once again scooped her into his arms, carrying her down the short hallway to her bedroom. He laid her on the bed and went into the adjoining bathroom.

“Shit.” His tone jolted her rudely back to reality.

“What?” she asked, sitting up.

“The condom broke.” A bloom of anxiety unfurled in her chest. It mixed with the already potent turmoil he’d unleashed inside her. And now, no fucking condom.

She needed a pregnancy scare like she needed another foreclosure notice—and that was before she thought about diseases. He’d already let himself inside her psyche during that unbelievably hot sex where she’d totally lost control to him again. She felt absolutely exposed, raw, and her emotions were unmanageable. Her throat closed, and hot tears filled her eyes and, yeah—this was worse. How to Make a Bad Situation Worse, by Kayla Daniels! Simply start crying on the guy you just fucked in your kitchen.

“Hey,”he said, sitting down beside her.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out.

“For what? I’m sorry.”

Somehow, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fake anything around him. She couldn’t put on a poker face. She couldn’t show him only what she wanted him to see. He put his arm around her. Why was he being so good to her? He kissed her temple. No. This had to stop.

“It’ll be okay. I’m tested, for what it’s worth.”

She nodded. “Me too.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I’ll take care of it,” she said, her voice clipped. Right now, she had to get away from him. Thinking about STDs and accidental pregnancy threw the lid off the tomb. It was a heavy concrete esophagus where she had locked her secrets instead of the dead. Now, the ghosts of the past reached for her with cold fingers that squeezed the air out of her lungs. Cold hands of secrets clapped over her mouth, numbing her lips, reminding her she must never speak. And they were dragging her away…away from the warm living…away from Evan.

The remote feeling of cold was a comfort, enabling her to act. She stood up, shrugging him off. She went into the bathroom, rinsed off, and yanked on some yoga pants and a T-shirt.

“I’m going to run to the pharmacy. I’ll get the dog food for you.”

She preferred not to bring men home, and this was why. When she wanted to cut things off, she couldn’t just dash out the door and disappear into the night. She had a good excuse to go out, which was his cue to leave.

“Emergency contraceptive?” he asked. She nodded.

“Okay.” He said it like he had more to say, but something held him back.

She returned to the kitchen, finding Abbey curled up, asleep, on her discarded clothes. It was sweet and slightly pitiful. For a moment, the sight of the dog broke through the veil that had dropped over her. She didn’t want to be alone anymore, to shoulder the burdens, to self-soothe with alcohol. When she was around Evan, she felt like she could have something else, and the loss of it was a visceral ache.

EVAN

Kayla opened a cabinet and pulled out the dog food bin for him. As he took it from her, she met his gaze for an instant. The connection was still just strong enough that he could see past the facade she was holding up for a second. Wanting to reach for her, he reached for the dog food instead. He couldn’t stand the loneliness and despair he caught a glimpse of.

She released the dog food and hastily turned away from him, heading for the door. She was obviously trying to brush him off. She didn’t seem to blame him, but maybe she was just being polite, because right now, she looked like she never wanted to see him again. All her signals were firing at him to stay back.

He began second-guessing himself even more. He half expected her to demand answers about his prison term. Dan said it had been all over the entertainment networks. It was probably just a matter of time until camera crews showed up at his doorstep. Maybe she did know? Had she just decided to have sex with him anyway, but now had buyer’s remorse? It was too much to figure out. She was obviously giving him the shove off, and he was letting her do it because short of confronting her, he didn’t know what else to do.

He was frustrated as hell that this was happening again. Something special happened when they were together. He wanted more of it. Obviously, she did too since she’d basically jumped his bones as soon as he got to her house. But just as quickly as the magic came, it went away. It was just as well. Maybe she was still seeing Trent and just didn’t want to tell him.

From the porch, he glanced down at the barn and saw an older man with a long biker ponytail carrying a ladder around the back of the barn. He looked like a character…somebody who had done some living. Evan knew the type. And he didn’t know how he felt about Kayla being alone out here with him.

“Who’s that?”he asked, a little more sharply than he had intended.

“It’s okay, that’s Canyon Bill. He’s…sort of family. I guess the closest thing I have to a grandfather. He’s fixing my barn roof without my permission.”

Evan was skeptical. “Want me to run him off?”

She looked wistfully down at the barn, where a hammer had taken up a rhythm on the roof. “If I know him, you won’t have to. He won’t be around long anyway,” Kayla replied, and there was a sadness in her tone that stabbed Evan’s heart. She didn’t know how sad she sounded. She turned to her truck. “See ya,” she said over her shoulder, emotionless.

That was the last straw. He caught her hand just before she was out of reach. She froze and turned slightly back toward him. The dull resignation in her eyes—knowing this drifter who had showed up would drift on—made him feel all the more like he wanted to be the man to show up for her. Which was crazy, especially considering five minutes ago, he’d been mentally ready to cut her loose. He bristled at the thought of her out here by herself, bristled at the thought of another man touching her. It all had to wait. He didn’t know what was going on in her head, so instead of trying to fix it with words, he drew her in to him.

All it took to restart the magic was some proximity, or better yet, a touch of skin on skin. She didn’t step back when he closed the distance to her and kissed her. She softened against him. He ran his hands through her hair and held her, wishing she wouldn’t to push him away like she was. The chemistry was hot. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. So why did she fight against an orgasm? Why did she shut down as soon as they had sex? Why did she keep running away from him when it seemed like she didn’t really want to?

He pulled her close and held her against him. She quivered slightly in his arms, and his mind immediately flashed to her bare back in a sheen of sweat as he fucked her in the kitchen, the shocked cries of ecstasy when she’d come, her trembling vulnerability letting him finger-fuck her ass. After the condom break, something had changed. She’d visibly drifted away. She fit perfectly against him even now, and when he reluctantly released her, he saw the light had returned to her, at least a little. She didn’t let go of him quickly. She didn’t want to.

He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill.

“I don’t know how much that shit costs,” he said, holding it out to her. Something clanged shut behind her eyes, so definitively it was almost audible. She recoiled from him.

“I don’t want your money,” she said, her voice strained and hard. What the fuck? Why did everything keep going off the rails?

He looked at her, but she refused to meet his eyes. He tried to understand why she seemed angry that he wanted to pay for the emergency contraceptive. He had no clue what her beliefs were. Maybe she didn’t want to take the pill?

“Look, if you don’t want to take the pill, let’s talk. I wasn’t trying to pressure you.” She shook her head, backing away. He considered catching her again, but she was anywhere but here. The closeness and trembling vulnerability that they’d shared for a few brief moments had evaporated like mist in the rising sun, and now it was as if it had never existed at all.

“It’s fine. It makes sense. I’ll see you around.” It was a shove-off if he’d ever heard one. She turned away and got into her truck. He gathered his dog and the dog’s things. That couldn’t really have ended much worse if he’d written a script for the worst-case scenario. The temporary euphoria of hot sex had been only a brief distraction from the train wreck that was the rest of his life. Seeing her had turned out to be an equally bad train wreck. He drove toward his house thinking this chick was more trouble than he could stomach right now.

KAYLA

Standingin line at the pharmacy, Kayla came to her senses and felt guilty for being nasty to Evan when he was just trying to be a standup guy. Remorse had prompted her to go through the food aisle, and now she stood at the checkout with emergency contraceptive, a pile of honeybuns, and a box of instant coffee. These were things she never used. Everything but the contraceptive was for Canyon Bill. She currently had two men in her life who, for whatever reason, were trying to be good to her, and she’d been horrible to both of them.

When she got home, she hopped the broken-down rusty fence to the adjacent five acres—which was much easier to do sober in daylight—and left the honeybuns and coffee in front of Bill’s tent. Then she went into her house, took the pill with a big cup of coffee, and texted Evan:

I’m sorry.

There was no response, so she steeled herself to get on with her day and get on with her life without him.

She managed to ride three horses before the pill obviously began doing its job, because she’d had to get off the last horse and vomit into the tall grass at the back of the arena. She straightened up, suddenly feeling as though she were melting into a pukey puddle in the sun. She turned around to lead the horse back to the barn and saw Bill paused mid-hammer-swing watching her. Great.

But it was about to get even worse. She saw that unmistakable green El Camino at her gate. As she headed up the driveway, filled with dread, she realized there were two people in the car today. Trent had brought her mother.

Kayla stopped ten feet from the gate, which was blessedly locked, still holding the horse’s reins.

“Kayla, hi,” Leanne said, stepping from the car. At least she had the decency to sound a little hesitant. Kayla could tell just by looking at her that she was using again. She looked thin, sallow, hungry. Of course, being in Trent’s car wasn’t a good sign either.

“Hi, Momma,” Kayla said softly.

“I need your help,” Leanne said flatly.

Trent got out and leaned on the hood of the car, watching Kayla with interest.

“It’s an emergency, or I would never ask,” she went on.

Anger unfurled inside Kayla. Like black ink in clear water, it spread out, blocking out anything beautiful. It was an emergency last year too. Last year, she fell for it. She dropped everything, drove her mother to rehab, and turned her life upside down to pay for it.

Kayla had been briefly mesmerized by the fantasy that her mother would get sober and they could start their lives over together. Despite Kayla mortgaging the farm to pay for rehab, Leanne checked herself out early and went right back to her old life, leaving Kayla high and dry with a huge mortgage she couldn’t pay.

“It’s always an emergency, Momma.” She dared a glance at Trent. Besides driving her mother here, she wasn’t sure what role he played in this. Was he moral support for her mother, or simply there to threaten her if she didn’t comply? Of course, he knew how much cash she’d left the club with the other night. What he didn’t know was that that money was already long gone, between the mortgage and the tab at the feed store.

“You don’t understand! You don’t know how hard it is for me! Trent is the only one who’s been there for me.” As if on cue, her mother’s crocodile tears began.

Kayla had seen this circus act before. Too many times to count.

“My boyfriend was beating me,” Leanne went on. “He threw me out in the middle of the night.”

“And Trent came to get you,” Kayla mocked. Leanne nodded, oblivious to Kayla’s deadpan tone.

The contest within Kayla raged on. Which would win out? Fear of Trent or anger toward her mother?

“First of all, Trent’s not the only one who’s been there for you. I mortgaged Grandma’s farm to put you in rehab and you’re fucking high again! Let’s just cut to the chase. I don’t have any money to give you.”

Trent’s eyebrows went up. Kayla wondered what surprised him more—that Kayla was standing up for herself or that she’d mortgaged the farm she inherited to send her junkie mother to rehab. Right now, she didn’t care. She just couldn’t care for one more second what these two low-lifes wanted from her or the long and twisted history they all shared. Trent and her mother were like a tar pit or quicksand. She was sinking in, and it always started slow and innocuous. But before she knew it, she would try to extricate herself, only to find she was paralyzed, helpless, and sinking right back down to the miserable place where they dwelled. She felt like she was going to be sick again, the hot sun cooking her skin, and she needed to hose this horse off. With Bill’s help, there was hope again that she could turn a profit on the farm and keep from losing it to the bank. Her mother was the opposite of hope. Her mother was the place where all hope went to die. Desperate to get away, she could already feel the sticky, sinking sensation of her mother’s hopeless lifestyle pulling at her.

“I’m not high, Kayla, I swear!” The desperation in her mother’s voice was like a branch snapping, the branch she clung to trying to save herself from the mire.

“I can see your track marks from here,” a man’s gruff voice interjected. Kayla realized Bill had come quietly up to flank her. Leanne stared at him in shock and silence for almost a full minute. In the nick of time, Bill had broken the spell. Kayla looked at her mother and Trent with fresh eyes and took a step back from them. Closer to Bill.

“What are you doing here?” Leanne demanded at last. He didn’t answer the question.

“Leave this poor girl alone, Leanne,”Bill said in a voice so low, it was nearly a growl.

Trent responded by straightening up and taking a meaningful step forward. Kayla cringed, waiting for him to explode, waiting for him to launch himself over the gate to grab her. Somehow oblivious to the rising tension between Trent and Bill, Leanne continued to shout.

“You have no right to any opinion here!” Leanne shrieked. “You of all people!”

“Me of all people? I’m here bustin’ my ass to help this girl get the place running again. She didn’t ask me to, neither. She was out here all by herself trying to make an honest livin’. What hole did you crawl out of to come down here and beg your daughter for money? It ain’t her job to take care of you. You’re making the same choices I seen you make since you was fifteen years old, Leanne. It ain’t no big surprise you’re gettin’ the same results. You want to get off the shit? I’ll take you to a meeting right now. Otherwise, we all got nothin’ more to say.” Kayla hadn’t taken her eyes off Trent. He seemed baffled that Leanne and Canyon Bill’s drama had somehow eclipsed him and he wasn’t the center of attention. Kayla was only half listening to them, the rest of her poised in case Trent blew.

“Well, you know where the money’s at, Kayla,” Trent interjected with a smirk.

She could feel Bill’s gaze travel from Trent to her, felt his wondering.

“Fuck you,” she blurted. Trent started for her. Cold sweat immediately broke out on her skin as her body prepared for the beating that would surely come now. She squinted at Trent, waiting for the inevitable strike. Instead, Bill stepped forward and leveled a no-nonsense stare at Trent.

“Time for y’all to go,” Bill said, straightening up to his full height. Kayla was surprised that there was unmistakable menace there; as if he’d thrown off the cloak of age, as if he forgot he was an old man. An even bigger shock was that Trent retreated. Bill had once been a formidable man. Once upon a time, he’d been a bear, who could strike fear into hearts of the baddest of men. Evidently, Trent could sense that in him, and instinctively retreated to the safety of his car. Kayla couldn’t think of a time she’d ever seen him back down.

Leanne lingered, glaring at Canyon Bill. Kayla looked from one to the other, wondering at the animosity.

“You got somethin’ to say, Leanne?” Bill asked her with a cool, level voice.

“You know I do,” she shot back, looking from Bill to Kayla as if considering her options.

“Well, get on with it or get outta here.”

Leanne’s mouth twisted into a sneer, and then she slunk into the passenger seat. Trent peeled out, slinging gravel that dinged the metal gate.

Bill softened, turned around, and took a long look at her. He looked like he had a lot to say. He looked like he felt sorry for her, and maybe also himself. She wanted to say thank you, but once again, she couldn’t make herself do it.

“What was that you of all people about?” Kayla asked timidly. She didn’t want to know. Bill was here. He was acting like family. And God help her, she didn’t want him to go. She knew that look of her mother’s. She knew it meant madness and destruction. Everything she wanted to leave behind.

“I reckon you’d have to ask her. I never could understand what makes your momma tick.”

They stared at each other. His expression was pained and guarded. She wanted to demand information, but even more, she didn’t.

In the end, neither said anything, and Bill walked off down the driveway back to the barn. After a few moments, she heard the hammer strike up again.

Kayla knew all too well the cold grip of doubt in her gut, that moment of terrible reckoning when she realized she’d trusted the wrong person. Canyon Bill was a lot of things, but he’d never been cruel. Growing up, she’d known him to be sometimes unreliable, sometimes drunk, but always kind to her grandmother and her. Grandma Kay had loved him with all her heart, despite his shortcomings. She remembered her saying, “Sometimes you just have to love the person you know is in there.” Kayla had sometimes believed that. Other times, she thought loving anyone was too big of a risk to take. Now, she hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in trusting Canyon Bill.

EVAN

A text popped up on Evan’s phone from Kayla. I’m sorry. That was all. Considering their face-to-face communication had been abysmal, if there was any clarity to be had, it wouldn’t happen by text.

He rolled up to the gate, keeping his motor quiet, and sat there idling. He could see her in the distance working a horse in the round pen. She was concentrating and didn’t look his way or acknowledge she heard the bike. But the old drifter emerged from the woods to the left of the driveway and stopped, staring at him. Evan jerked his head at the old man to get his attention.

He stopped and squared his shoulders, bringing himself to his full height. Evan could see in his stance the echo of the man he had been in his prime, and there was more than a little glint of danger there. The drifter began walking up the driveway with a slow purpose. Evan could see immediately that he was being sized up and mildly threatened. He would have been angry if he hadn’t been relieved that someone else on this farm had Kayla’s back when he wasn’t around. He cut the engine, stood his ground, and met the gaze of the oncoming man calmly. In prison, Evan had perfected interactions with dangerous men. It was like the ritual behavior of wild animals. Neither could show weakness or indecision. Both had to showcase the aggression they could unleash, but in such a way that immediate conflict could be avoided, because neither really wanted to fight unless there was no other choice.

Bill came to a stop a few feet from the gate, eyeing Evan openly.

“You the new boyfriend?” he asked without preamble.

“I don’t guess she’s called me that. But I guess I am,” Evan replied casually. Then he reached an outstretched hand through the gap at the top of the gate. “Evan Holton,” he said. Bill eyed the hand, eyed Evan himself, then stepped forward and gripped his hand in a firm shake.

“Canyon Bill,” he replied. They sized each other up silently for a moment. Then Bill gave a short nod. Evan had passed the unseen test, and Bill unlocked the gate for him.

With an experienced flickof her wrist, Kayla tossed a long rope toward the horse in the round pen. Evan watched as it just grazed the horse’s rear, and the animal took off at a smart canter around her. The horse tossed its head and kicked its heels up in her direction.

“Oh yeah?” she muttered, and tossed the rope again, pushing the horse still faster.

“What are you doing?” Evan called.

She remained focused. “I send the horse away. Make him work. As many times as he says he doesn’t want to cooperate, I send him away. And when he says he’s tired of that and maybe we should talk, then I’ll let him have a break. When he says he wants to be my partner, I’ll let him come and be my partner.”

“How the hell do you have a conversation with a horse?”

“See how his inside ear is locked on me now?” Sure enough, it was. “He’ll drop his head in a minute. He’ll drop his head and start opening his mouth. Those are signs that he wants to come and be with me. He’ll let me know when he’s ready to stop running.”

This all sounded like a bunch of witchcraft to Evan. In a moment, though, the horse did everything she said it would do. And a few moments after that, she relaxed her posture and turned slightly away from the horse. It walked straight to her, hesitantly at first, but then it reached her. She turned and walked toward Evan at the fence, and the horse followed a step behind her like a well-trained dog, even though she had no halter or rope on it.

“Now he wants to work with me. Now we’re partners.”

She turned and headed for the gate to the round pen, and again, the horse followed docilely behind her. Evan watched her halter it and open the gate, leading what had recently been a semiwild animal as if it were now a pet.

KAYLA

She hookedher arms on the gate and raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.

“Bill let me in.”

Oh, he did, did he?

“I saw the work he’s doing on the barn,” Evan continued. “If he was the guy who fucked up your breaker box, he’s a heck of a lot better with a toolbox when he’s sober.”

She nodded. Now that Evan had mentioned it, she had not smelled the waft of weed from his campsite or seen him with any booze. Had he actually gotten sober?

But why was Evan here? This was probably the send-off. At least he was man enough to do it in person.

He was always something to behold, but this afternoon, he sported a black bandanna pulled down to the top edge of mirrored sunglasses, a black wifebeater showcasing well-muscled and intricately tattooed arms. He jangled slightly between his boots and his wallet chain, and it was just the icing on the dark cowboy cake. His expression was unreadable behind the sunglasses, and he made no gesture toward her. She waited, arms crossed. Let him say his thing and be done.

“Look, about the other day, if it seemed like I was trying to pressure you—” he said.

“You didn’t. And it’s done, no problem,” she interrupted. If he was just here to ease his conscience, she could help him out with that and send him along.

He nodded a little.

Fuck. Maybe he’s being decent. Put your hackles down.

“You trying to get rid of me?”

“No,” she blurted, faster than she’d meant. But she was, wasn’t she? Apparently, her subconscious had jumped up and volunteered to answer before her better judgment could intervene.

A little self-satisfied grin quirked the corner of his mouth.

She kicked the toe of his boot. “You don’t have to look so fuckin’ smug about it,” she muttered.

A deep chuckle rolled in his chest. It was all the invitation he seemed to need. He stepped in, grabbed her by the belt, and kissed her. For a second, it was too soon after Trent had just been the man at her gate, and she froze. He felt it, evidently, and eased off kissing her. He flipped up his shades and looked searchingly into her eyes.

“I can’t figure you out. I’m not like those horses, Kayla. You throw a rope at me and tell me to beat it, and I will. You’re sending me some crazy mixed signals here.”

“Well, I am like the horses. Sometimes I have to run around crazy for a while before I can figure out who I can trust,” she said softly, alarmed by her own admission.

“But luckily, we’re people, and we have words,” he said suggestively.

“I’m not looking for anything serious,” she said quickly, trying to cover her ass for having given him a true glimpse of her. Run him off before he had a chance to do it himself. That was her mother’s policy for living, and it worked famously well for her. Every day, Kayla told herself she wouldn’t see him again, but as soon as he was near her, it dissolved as surely as her willpower not to drink. The burning question, though, was if he was as bad for her as the liquor.

“Okay,” he replied. “I’m not really trying to ask you to marry me. I’m more trying to figure out if you want me to call you again.” He said it with that same little quirk in the corner of his mouth and twinkle in his eye that made her want to laugh or kick him or both.

“You can call me,” she said. “Can I call you?”

“Anytime, baby.”

Now it was a slow smile that melted her. Apparently, he saw that too, because he leaned in and kissed her, thoroughly taking her breath away. In an instant, she was ready for him again.

“I got more horses to work. I’ll walk you out,” she said, spinning him toward the gate.

He stopped and turned back to her.

“We’re flipping a house with a really nice pool. Wanna go cool off later?”

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

She led Evan out and relocked the gate behind him. Returning to the barn, she wrapped up all her chores just as the sky started to darken, then went inside to clean up and get some dinner.

A light in the trailer across the pasture caught her eye and took her breath for a moment. The old trailer had been just a dark hulking shell on the other side of the property, reminding her of her mother. She hadn’t gone over to it a single time. Tried not to even look that way. But the lights were on now, and the sound of an acoustic guitar strumming a mournful riff drifted on the night breeze. Bill was playing his cards close to the vest, but to be fair, she hadn’t asked him if he was all right. Kay’s death had to be a mighty blow to him. The light across the dark pasture was like a tiny spark of hope.

Tonight, her domestic masterpiece was a frozen pizza that she’d reheated. Did he have food? She had no idea. That thought grabbed her heart as she remembered Gram Kay in this very house, looking out at that same trailer, wondering if Kayla had enough to eat. Gram Kay always made sure that she had. The least she could do was make sure Bill had supper.

Kayla piled a few slices onto a plate and walked out the side door. It was an awkward balancing act to get through the horse gate with a plate of pizza, but she succeeded. Only the desire to do something her Gram would have wanted for Bill was enough to overcome the dread of walking up those rickety porch stairs to the single-wide she’d once shared with her mother. She heard a clang and a curse from inside.

She knocked on the door. “Bill?” she called.

“Yeah!” came a winded response. It was the kind of yeah that indicated she should come in. So she turned the knob and let herself into the kitchen of the old trailer. Bill was on his back, halfway under the sink, banging and clanging and cursing.

“You all right?” he asked, scooting slightly enough that he could see her.

She held up the pizza. “I just brought you supper.”

“Goddam, you’re the answer to a prayer,” he said, pulling himself laboriously out from under the sink. There was an old card table and folding chairs in the kitchen. Kayla didn’t recognize them. Where had they come from? She sat down warily with Bill. “I boxed up some of your momma’s stuff,” Bill said around a mouthful of pizza. Kayla nodded noncommittally.

“Thanks,” she murmured. She didn’t want to see it, couldn’t bear to relive anything that was related to her mother right now. An old polaroid caught her eye, poking out of a discarded hiking pack that looked like it was from the seventies on the floor. It was Bill—back when he was young and blond, with some other young men and a mountain backdrop. There certainly weren’t any mountains in Florida.

“Where was this?” she asked.

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Used to go back and forth between Slab City and the Grand Canyon. I led mule-string tours of the canyons for a while. Slab City—they usually give you some kinda name to remember you by. I was always coming back from the canyons, so they called me Canyon Bill.”

“What’s Slab City?”

“No-man’s-land outside LA. Bunch of drifters camp out there and turned it into a little bit of an outlaw community.”

“Oh.” Sounded like the kind of place Canyon Bill would go.

“Why’d you come back now?” she asked softly. She hadn’t planned on asking it, but he’d been gone a long time… Ten years by her estimation. He’d come and gone many times before, but he’d never stayed gone a fraction of this time. The other question burning her up was, Why did you stay gone this time? That was a harder question to ask.

“Quit drinkin’. Started seeing things more clearly.” He cleared his throat. “Reckon I’d hoped to make amends to your grandma.” Kayla’s eyes shot to his. There was no lingering smell of pot in the trailer. There were no liquor bottles sitting around. Suppose he really had quit drinking? “Reckon I was too late.” The regret was so heavy, she could taste it in the air. Like smoke from the dumpster fire so many people had thrown their unwanted troubles into. She reached out impulsively, touching his hand.

“I was too late too.” she said. “She kept calling me to come visit, and I didn’t.” Her voice broke a little.

“We’re only as sick as our secrets, kid. Can’t change the past. Trust me when I say you ain’t the only one wishing you could.”

“I know I can’t change it. That’s the worst part. I can’t ever fix it.”

“Yeah, you can. You can take care of yourself. You can take care of this farm. That’s all she wanted. I think she knows.” When had Bill become the sober fountain of wisdom? She didn’t know, but this conversation had become way more than she’d bargained for. She just wanted to give the man some supper, not do impromptu family therapy. The emotions welling up now were way more than she felt equipped to handle. She cleared her throat.

“I’m whipped. I’m calling it a night,” she announced.

He met her gaze for a second, and she saw his understanding. He nodded. “Night, fire ant.”

She smiled a little. “Night, Bill.”

She walked across the dark pasture, enjoying a night breeze ruffling her hair. The stars were brilliant above her, and she stopped a moment, looking back at the glow of the light in the windows of the old trailer. “Quit drinkin’. Started seeing things more clearly. We’re only as sick as our secrets.”

She’d spent her teen years watching her mother snort, shoot, and pop anything she could get her hands on. In defiance, Kayla had refused it all. Even on the worst morning of her life, when she’d come stumbling home bruised and broken, sobbing for her mother’s sympathy. What she’d gotten was a cynical look through cigarette smoke and her mother’s bony hand pushing a pill across the table at her.

“Take this. It’ll calm you down.What did you think was gonna happen, Kayla?”

She shook her head, leaning up against a scratchy wooden fence post, trying to remind herself she was now twenty-four. She was here on the farm, and no one was hurting her.

“I don’t want your fucking drugs, momma!” Her sixteen-year-old-self had cried. And she’d been telling herself all this time that she was different because she only drank. Was she so different? She was still drinking her way through her pain because she couldn’t cope. Was that any better than what her mother did? The idea of a future formed in her mind. Evan, Bill, and her horses. That was a life she didn’t have to drink her way through.