Chapter Eleven
W hen Boone woke up the next morning, coffee was on in the kitchen.
And he could smell bacon.
It was Sunday, but he still had ranch work to do. He wondered if Wendy...
Yesterday with his family had been a whole trip. He had been so close to pulling her into his arms on multiple occasions, and yet he had known he couldn’t. Because what was the point of it? But she was here today.
He walked downstairs, and there she was in the kitchen.
“Good morning.”
“What are you doing over here?”
“I decided to make you breakfast.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Do the girls think you’re having an early shift?”
“You’re hilarious. It’s the weekend. The girls aren’t going to know anything until sometime after 10 a.m. But, anyway, I’m not worried about it. I told them.”
“You told them?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Not that we were banging on every surface in the house, but that I liked you.”
“That you liked me.”
“Yes. That I like you like you.”
“And how did that go?”
“Fifty-fifty. But I wasn’t asking anybody’s permission.”
“Okay...”
She held up a hand. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“I figure I probably should.”
“There’s not much to say.”
“Well. The thing is... I thought you were leaving in a month.” He’d reminded himself of it every day. The reality of it. Of the situation.
She was still married.
She had kids.
She was leaving.
“I keep telling you, I’m not necessarily leaving. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. What do you need?”
He looked at her dumbfounded. “What?”
“Boone, what do you need? You’re retiring, you’re starting this ranch. Do you want to take over the commission?”
“I told you, it doesn’t really matter what I want—”
“Why not? Why do other people get all the consideration? Your father doesn’t need you to take over the rodeo commission. That’s about want. His. So why does it outweigh yours? Or why do your wants not even get to be up for consideration? I don’t understand that. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“Because what the hell else am I going to do with my life, Wendy?”
“I was thinking about that the other day. And I was thinking about what your dad said. That I could represent the other cowboys. I know we didn’t talk about that for very long yesterday, but I could do that. He’s right. It’s just a matter of going out and making the most of my connections. I’m really good at this. Representing people. I could do you too. But the thing is, opportunities don’t just come to you. And I’ve understood that when it comes to agenting. But I haven’t always been great about that in my personal life. And you’re great. You’re wonderful with the rodeo, you’ve got this property, all of that. But do you know... Do you understand that you can’t just let life carry you down a current? You have to—”
“Yes I know that,” he said. “I’m not just drifting. And I resent the hell out of the suggestion that I am.”
“That isn’t what I meant. I just meant you can’t wait for things to fall into place. You have to get them. And you have to care.”
“I care. I care so much that I have shoved everything I’ve ever wanted to the side. For my mother. For my father. For my friendship with your idiot husband.”
“Well, Daniel isn’t our problem anymore.”
“He’s the father of your kids. He is still our problem.”
She shook her head. “I don’t love him. I haven’t for a long time. I don’t love him, and I don’t want that life back. I don’t. It costs so much. And I didn’t even realize it. It was so expensive to stay in that marriage. I thought it would be too expensive to leave it. But that isn’t it at all. The real expense was in staying there. I wasn’t happy. I liked being in that house by myself. I didn’t like being in it with him. I didn’t like him . I like being alone more. I convinced myself that I liked him, but what I felt was a holdover from what we used to have. What I liked, I think, was the part-time nature of it. I don’t love him. And I was going to just...let duty or honor or the fear of change hold me there.
“I’m not sorry that I didn’t do something disreputable. I’m not sorry that we didn’t... I’m not sorry that I was faithful to him. I’m not. But I am a little bit sorry that I convinced myself somehow that doing the right thing would be what made me the happiest. When I say the right thing, what I mean was this idea of the right thing, this idea of what marriage vows were, this idea my husband didn’t even agree with. I convinced myself it had to be the best thing, it had to be fate. It’s not about fate. It was about fear. Fear of change. Fear of finding out if I left him, I’d have nothing, but that’s a terrible reason to stay married. We get to make choices. And we get to demand more. We get to demand better. Anyway, I’m just... I’m deciding. And I’m here to have breakfast.”
“Breakfast and demands. That’s a whole thing.”
“Well, I’m a whole thing. But I don’t actually want to make demands.”
“Except you want to know what I want.”
“Let me care about that. Please. If you won’t.”
But he didn’t have words. He didn’t have anything. Nothing but a weird, pounding sense of panic moving through his chest, so he leaned in and he kissed her. Because it was better than talking. Because it was better than just about anything. Because when she asked what he wanted all he could think of was her, and everything else felt like details. Everything else felt like it might not matter.
He kissed her because she was what he wanted. Because she was everything.
Because she always had been.
He kissed her because it was like breathing.
It didn’t much matter if it made sense. It had never made sense. He held her against his body, and growled.
“There’s bacon,” she said weakly.
“Fuck the bacon.”
She blinked. “Okay.”
He backed her up against the wall, kissing her, consuming her.
“I want you, Wendy. And none of it matters. None of it matters.”
“Yes,” she said.
Except that was wrong. It was wrong that he just... It was terrifying. Because it couldn’t last. Nothing ever could.
He could already feel himself losing her. He could feel it in the dissatisfaction she was expressing this morning. In her asking for things he didn’t know how to give.
He could feel it in the way his heart pounded when he tried to imagine forever, but could only picture his house empty.
He was losing her.
By inches.
Because that was what happened when someone was close to you. As close as a person could be. They had to start moving away at some point.
It was the natural order of things. An inevitability.
It was inevitable and he knew it.
He knew it.
It was just the way of the world. But right now, he was holding her. Firm against his body, and he was holding her so tight he was shaking.
And it would never be enough.
That was the other problem. When you cared about people, no amount of time could ever be enough.
There was no good cut-off point to a relationship. There just wasn’t.
But sometimes things were terminal. And you had to accept it.
It would never feel like quite enough. And he was so unbearably, horribly aware of that as he pressed her soft body against the hard wall of his body and poured every ounce of his need into the kiss.
It was somewhere beyond need. It was desperation.
He stripped her shirt up over her head, but it got hung up on the apron because he couldn’t think. Because he couldn’t do things in the right order.
Hell. That seemed like a metaphor.
He untied the apron and threw it down onto the floor, taking the shirt with it.
She had on a sexy, lacy bra, not the normal kind of thing she wore.
And it was for him. And that mattered more than the bra itself. That she was wearing it for him, and he knew it.
All of this was for him. The coffee, the bacon, the sex. It was his.
And why did that feel terrifying?
Why did this feel like the beginning of the end? He didn’t have an answer for that.
All he had was need.
So he kissed her like he was dying, because he thought he might be.
Because the idea of having to answer the question of what he wanted beyond what he’d already said seemed like a gallows.
And when he had her naked against the wall, he freed himself from his jeans and lifted her leg up over his hip and slid deep inside of her.
He watched her face as he began to move, as he moved deep inside of her, he wanted her. Wanted this. He wanted it to go on forever. But nothing ever did. Nothing ever did. His climax came on too hot, too strong, too fast.
He resented it.
And so he held back, bit the inside of his cheek so he could keep on going. Until she cried out, until her internal muscles pulsed around him. Until she was coming apart all over him, because he needed her to be as shattered as he was.
He needed to gain some control.
He put his hand between them, stroked her, brought her to climax again. He withdrew from her body, and sank to his knees, burying his face between her thighs and licking her until she shattered again.
He would do whatever he had to, to keep this going. Until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Until he was so hard it hurt. Until the memory of what it had been like to be buried inside of her became too much, and he pulled her down onto the floor and over top of him, down onto his length, letting her ride him for two easy movements until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Until he reversed their positions and pounded hard into her. Losing himself in this. In her.
Losing himself entirely.
And that moment felt endless. And over all too quickly.
And when she shattered again, he lost his own control.
He growled, letting go. Of everything. Absolutely everything.
And it felt like a loss when it was done.
And all she’d asked him was what he wanted.
But it had broken something inside of him.
“I love you.”
And that was it. That was the beginning of the end.
Because this bright, white light tried to ignite in his chest and it was the one thing he could never accept. Not ever.
“Wendy...”
“No,” she said. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t argue with me. Don’t disagree with me. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. You don’t need to answer me right now, you don’t. We can take our time. I’m sorry, I’m jumping ahead. But I don’t know how else to let you know that I don’t want to have a time limit on this.”
“But everything has a time limit,” he said. “Nothing lasts forever. It’s better this way. If we can just decide on an endpoint and—”
“It’s been sixteen years. It’s been sixteen years and I want you more today than I ever have. It has been sixteen years since you walked into that bar right after I married my husband and ruined my life, Boone. You ruined me. I have not wanted another man since. I haven’t even entertained the idea.”
“Except the man you were married to.”
“That’s different. It should have gone away, and it would’ve gone away. With time. You know, with the fact that I had children with somebody else. That I was supposed to love him and honor and cherish him for the rest of our lives.”
“The only reason you didn’t is because of him.”
“I know that. I know that. You don’t need to tell me why my marriage ended. You don’t need to tell me what happened. I am well aware.”
“I’m just saying, you were with somebody else and now you’re not. And I’m an itch.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t cheapen what we have. If you have to run away from this, then at least take it like a man. Don’t belittle what we have. It’s not fair. I deserve more than that, and so do you. Just be honest. Be honest about the fact that you can’t cope, or that something’s holding you back, or that you just don’t feel the same as I do, but don’t make it about me. I spent my whole life afraid, Boone. I’m just tired of it. I’m done. I don’t want to leave a legacy of fear for my daughters. I don’t want to be small and reduced because of something somebody else did to me. I want to live. I want to live, and I really, preferably would like to live with you. Yes, I came into this thinking there was no way it could be more now. How could it be? How could it be when you and I both know what a stupid idea it is to jump into a relationship at this point in my life? But I actually think it was stupid for us not to be together the whole time. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it had to be this. Maybe this is our timing. Whether it makes sense or not, maybe this is what’s right for us. We didn’t get here by betraying anybody, or by hurting anybody. We got here because it was where the road led us, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe that’s what fate is. And now we have to grab hold of it.”
“I love you,” he said. “I do. I have. But it can’t look the way that you want it to. It just can’t. I’m not the right man to be in your daughters’ lives. I don’t want the responsibility. I have too much already, you know that. Because the thing is, I could never be Daniel. I could never go halfway. I can never mess up like that. I—”
“No. That’s a lie, Boone. I know you. You can’t love me and want to walk away.”
“But I do. Because there isn’t another choice. Not for me.”
“Why?”
“Because everything ends. Everything. I can’t live that way. If you’re out there, and I love you, that doesn’t end. But if you’re here, if you’re with me...you have to be realistic about these things.”
She nodded. Slowly.
“I get it. Because I know what it is to be afraid. You’re afraid. And you have every right to be. Life is crazy. And hard. You never know what’s coming. But you can cling to what you want. You can fight for it. It doesn’t have to be...” Suddenly something in her softened, even as she broke. “It’s easier to want what other people want. To try and do it for them, because if you want something then you’re the one that’s going to get hurt. If you want me and you can’t have me, you can love me but... You don’t want me to love you. Because that’s what you can’t trust.”
“That isn’t it.”
“It is. You don’t trust me. You don’t trust the world. Because it took a lot from you. You trusted your brother, and he left you. You were just a kid, and your sister died. Of course you don’t trust in things to last. Of course you don’t trust in people not to leave. Boone, I married a man because I felt passion for the first time, and then I was pregnant. And I didn’t want to be alone. I entered my first relationship out of fear. Now I’m not afraid. And I’m not afraid to be alone.”
“I thought she wouldn’t die,” he gritted out. “My parents told us she would. They said...they said the kind of cancer she had there was no chance. I didn’t believe it. They were honest, but I couldn’t deal with it. When she was gone I... I fell apart. I hoped. I hoped and I believed...past reality, and it damned near killed me and I knew I could never do that again.”
She wanted to weep. For the boy he’d been. The boy that was still in him now. Who was afraid to hope. Afraid to love.
“Boone, it took bravery to decide to be with you. I wasn’t running from something. I was running to it. It’s different. And I know it is. And no, I can’t promise you that the world won’t continue to be harsh and hard. But I can promise you that I am in this forever. Because if my love was so easily destroyed, then I would’ve gotten rid of it a long time ago. But I can’t. I can’t. I love you. And it’s only right now, standing here, that it feels like a clear sky filled with stars. It was always cloudy until now. My love was there, but it couldn’t shine bright. I couldn’t see it clearly. But now I can. Now I do. It’s been love all along.”
She could see in his eyes that he knew it too. It was the thing that terrified him. Knowing he was afraid didn’t help this hurt less, but it did make her feel resolved. She wasn’t going to be afraid. She wasn’t going to flinch, not now. Because she could see the fabric of her whole life, stitched together by this fear. Fear of scarcity. Fear that there just wasn’t going to be enough love to go around. That there wasn’t going to be enough of anything. It had driven her into her relationship with Daniel, and it had kept her there. It had made her cling to the companionable, the unobjectionable. It had made her ignore any red flags that might’ve been there, because she didn’t think she deserved to see them. Didn’t think she could afford to. She wasn’t going to do that now.
“We’ve both been given a lot of bad things,” she said. “We have both been given a lot of bullshit. But we have a chance to have each other. We have a chance to have something new, something different, and I’d like to take that chance.”
“I want you to be happy,” he said, his voice rough. “More than I want anything in the whole world, I want that. But I can’t...”
She looked at him, and she felt pity. “I can be happy without you.”
Something flashed through his eyes, and she saw the contrary nature, the complexity of it all. He wanted her to leave him be because he was afraid. He wanted her to be happy, but he also didn’t. Maybe he wanted them both to be a little bit sad all the time because they couldn’t have each other, but they could have the possibility of it. Maybe that was the problem. If she was out there, away from him, he would be able to think about what might’ve been. Instead of trying and failing and knowing what couldn’t be.
But he didn’t understand that her love would cover all the failure.
“Sorry,” she said. “But it’s true. Because I have Mikey and Sadie. And that means I’ll be happy. Because I have a life. Because I have skills. Because I am going to move forward in this work that I’ve enjoyed doing. Because I’m happy enough with myself. That doesn’t mean a part of my heart won’t be broken. My life would be better for having you in it. But I won’t be miserable. I’ll never love another man the way that I love you. I don’t even have any interest in it. My life is full enough without a man. It will never be full enough without you, though. But life is complicated. In the same way I was able to be committed to my marriage while knowing the possibility of you and I existed in the world, I will be able to be happy if you can’t get yourself together. You’re not going to hold my heart hostage. Not all of it. A piece of it. Yes. You might hold my body hostage too. I think I’m set for sex. Unless it’s you. So yes. Part of me will be crushed. Part of me will be devastated. Part of me will never get over you. But you can rest in the knowledge that I’m out there happy in the world. You can rest in that. And you can love me from a distance. We can have half. We’ll be fine. We did it for all these years.” She swallowed hard. “But why? Life breaks us enough, why should we break ourselves? Why, when all we need is a little hope?”
“I can’t believe in impossible things anymore. I have to believe in reality.”
“Why is a sad ending more believable than a happy one?”
He said nothing.
She dressed, slowly and methodically, and she began to prepare to go.
“Wendy...”
“Don’t say anything else. Because you can’t say anything true. And I’m done with lies. I get that the lies are to yourself. But I just... I can’t.”
And when she walked out, she did cry. Real tears, falling hard and fast. And she felt like something in her chest was irrevocably cracked.
She stood there for a long moment, examining the difference. Between losing Daniel and losing Boone. Between knowing that it was over with him, and knowing it was over with Daniel.
The problem with Boone was he’d been there, a possibility, a distant fantasy, for fifteen years.
He had been the other part of her marriage. A piece of herself that she held back. Reserved for him. And now she’d given everything.
It was horrendous. And it hurt.
And she wouldn’t trade it.
Wouldn’t trade going all out. Wouldn’t trade taking the risk.
She only hoped that in the end it was a lesson. If not for her, then for Mikey and Sadie.
That even if it was improbable, and even if it would hurt you, even if other people did not understand, you had to try for everything.
Because you were worth it.