Chapter Twelve
H e didn’t know what to do with himself. He had just done the dumbest thing he’d ever done in his whole life. And he rode bulls for a living.
He let her go.
You had to.
Why?
These were the rules he had set out for himself all these years ago, this embargo on hope, and now what were the rules doing for him? What had they gotten him?
He’d hurt the woman he cared for most.
And he’d devastated himself.
It hadn’t protected him.
He felt like that boy, crumpled outside a hospital after being told his little sister was dead. He hadn’t tried to hope and he still felt that way.
Because it won’t last. It won’t last.
And nobody understood that half as well as he did.
Screw Buck. Honestly. And cancer and everything else. Everything that had ever taken something from him.
He couldn’t breathe.
He walked out of the main house, and stood there in the middle of the driveway, considering going to the cottage. To what end? Because what the hell was he going to do about any of it?
She was right. He was afraid. But he didn’t know how not to be. And why did somebody like Daniel—heedless, reckless—get to have her? Treat her lightly, hold their love loosely and shatter it almost intentionally?
How are you any different?
Dammit .
And how was he any different than Buck for that matter? Who had run away rather than trying to sort it all out. Who had shut his family out, shut out everyone who cared about him.
How was Boone any different?
He wasn’t different.
He’d just built a different wall around himself. He called it responsibility. He let himself believe it made him different than those he didn’t respect.
It hit all the ways that he was the same.
He texted his brothers.
Because he had to fix this. He had to fix himself. And one thing he knew was that he couldn’t do it alone.
But the biggest difference between himself and those men was that he was going to fix this.
He was going to fix himself.
Because otherwise, it was only hurting other people to protect yourself.
He wouldn’t do that to Wendy.
Because he loved her. And if there was one thing he knew, it was that.
She agreed to meet with him. Finally.
This was the last little pocket of fear. The last foothold. She was done with it.
Because what did she have to lose? She went back to the house that night, and she texted Daniel, and told him she wanted to meet in the middle. So the next morning, she took the girls to school, and then got onto the road, headed a few hours west to where he was stationed—not their house, somewhere out on the rodeo circuit—and walked into the diner that he suggested, feeling oddly calm.
There he was. Her husband of all those years. She was still mad at him. It was impossible not to be. He’d lied to her. Nobody felt good about that. Ever. Nobody liked to be tricked.
But she wasn’t in love with him, and she was clear on that. She wasn’t in love with him, so it felt...it felt not painful in that specific way.
He looked up from the mug of coffee in front of him and half waved.
“Hey, Wendy.”
“Hi. Looks like you got your truck fixed.”
“I just got a new one. I mean I traded it in.”
That sounded like Daniel. Why fix what you had when you could just trade it for something new?
They were different that way. It was sobering to realize. All the ways in which she had ignored this.
“I want to see the girls,” he said.
“I’m not keeping them from you. I realize it might feel that way because I left. But you go this long without seeing them all the time.”
“I know that. I know I’ve been a pretty shitty partner and dad. I mean, there’s not even anything to say about what kind of husband I was. I don’t know how to explain... But it was like I had two lives. And it just felt easy. To go from one to the other.”
She almost laughed. “The sad thing is, I understand what you mean. It’s just that I had a different life than you. But I pretty much felt like a single mom while you were away, and I kind of enjoyed the time to myself. I didn’t think about you much when you were gone. And I thought that was healthy. To not miss you. To not be clingy. I realize now that maybe there was just something missing.” She chewed on the next couple of words for a long moment. “I did want to be with someone else. I just didn’t do it. I let that make me feel superior to you. But the truth is, my heart wasn’t with you the whole time. And I’m not saying that to be hurtful or cruel.”
“I know,” he said.
“You know what? That I’m not trying to be hurtful?”
“I know you want someone else. I know you and Boone... I know there’s something between you. There always has been.”
And then she felt ashamed. He’d known that the whole time, and they never talked about it. All the things she and Daniel had never talked about. They hadn’t had a marriage. They were roommates with kids.
“I’m not accepting responsibility for your behavior, and I want to make that really clear. But we were not good together. We didn’t fight. We weren’t ever toxic. The most toxic thing that happened was me breaking your headlights. But we shouldn’t have been married. I thought because we didn’t fight, because you weren’t cruel to me, that there was no reason to leave you. But we weren’t in love, Daniel.”
“I loved what we had,” he said, and he did sound miserable.
“I believe you. I did too. In a lot of ways. But there was something... We can have more. You’ll find somebody someday that makes it unthinkable for you to be with anyone else. Someone you feel passion for.”
“I guess I don’t understand what that means. I wanted you. And that was real. It always has been.”
“Just not enough to not want other people.”
It didn’t hurt her feelings; it didn’t make her feel insecure. She had a man who wanted her in that deep, all-consuming, specific way. She didn’t need Daniel to want her that way. Not now. It would’ve been nice if he had when they were married. More than nice. It would’ve been right. But that ship had sailed. And she’d moved on.
“I’m not with Boone, I would like to make that clear. It’s not happening right now.”
“You want it to.”
“I do. I’m in love with him, Daniel. And I have been. I mean, I guess not really, because I didn’t let myself know him well enough to have called it that when you and I were married. I tried very hard to protect our marriage.”
“I didn’t,” said Daniel. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You didn’t. But I can’t be mad, not about that specifically. I’m mad that you tricked me. I’m mad that I had to find out the way I did. But we were never much for honest conversations. So it had to get to a place where it came to that, I guess. I’m sorry. I don’t think you were all that smooth. I just let you get away with it, because I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You were a good wife, though. I just didn’t want to be a full-time husband. It’s as simple as that, and I convinced myself I didn’t have to be because what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I know you didn’t want to hurt me. I actually know you’re not a malicious man.”
“I don’t know if I feel all right about you being with Boone.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter what you feel. I have slept with him. Just so you know.” A part of her, a small, mean part, enjoyed the bit of shock and hurt in his eyes. “He doesn’t want to be with me, though. So don’t worry about it.”
“So you’re just going to leave it at that? It’s hard for me to believe he doesn’t want to be with you after... He cut all ties with me over this.”
“Boone has his own issues. And I’m not going to talk about them to you. I’m just letting you know the status of the situation. If it changes, and I hope to God it does, I’ll let you know. But you and I need to be very clear with each other. And we have to figure out how to parent the girls. Because if Boone and I do end up together, there doesn’t need to be a story from them or from you about how I tried to replace you. Not in their lives. You’re their father. I want them to forgive you. I want them to have a relationship with you. Because the one good thing we did was them.”
“It was. It is. I promise you, I’m going to do a better job. And I’m going to prove to them they can trust me as a dad.”
“Good. For now, I’m staying in Lone Rock. I’m happy there. I need to find another place to live, but the girls are doing well at the school.”
“I’m all the way in Bakersfield...”
“Not all year. And maybe you’ll see fit to move, I don’t know. Houses are cheaper up here anyway. You can get something big.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay. Well, I need to go because I have to drive back, and I have to get the girls from school. But I’m glad we could talk, Daniel.”
“Me too.”
“Maybe now that we aren’t together anymore we’ll be able to do that.”
She said goodbye to him, and she didn’t feel any pull to go back.
She hadn’t thought she would, but it felt healing and clarifying to face him.
It was the right thing. She’d done what she needed to do for her daughters.
For herself.
When she got into her car and started back to Lone Rock, she cried. Because she still didn’t have Boone, and she wanted him.
This was heartbreak. It was a strange thing. Her marriage had dissolved only a month earlier, and her heart hadn’t been broken at all. It was losing the possibility of Boone that had done it. But at least she knew she could survive that.
She didn’t have to be afraid of anything. And maybe in that small way, Daniel had done her a favor. He’d set her free from fear. And it was like that thread that had held her together—that thread she thought had held her together—all these years had suddenly vanished. And she didn’t feel so much like a patchwork quilt now. She just felt whole. And like herself.
She knew that every choice she made from here on out wouldn’t be because of fear.
It would be because of love.
That was a gift. And if it was all she took away...it would have to be enough.