6. Romy
6
romy
I dozed in and out most of the night while I slept with the front seat reclined. At some point during the night, I climbed into the back seat to huddle beneath my jacket. It helped hearing the rush of the Deschutes River over the cool mountain breeze through the cracked window, but I couldn’t get Jude out of my head.
His damn crooked grin, those bright-blue eyes that seemed to look more piercing against his tan skin, that scruff along his jaw … what would it feel like to have it scrape along the inside of my thigh? And that peek of a tattoo on his neck. I knew he had more; I’d seen them when he was on TV. There was a large, black-and-gray bull skull across his back, and he had intricate details covering his arms. A full sleeve had never looked so sexy. I thought about what it would be like to gently trace every single one with my fingertip.
Despite the night air, my entire body flushed. My pulse echoed between my legs. I had to squeeze them together and shut my eyes in a vain attempt to push him from my dreams.
Thoughts of Jude morphed into thoughts of Hazel. Could she truly have murdered someone? There had to be some explanation. There had to be a reason Hazel would go to such lengths to hurt someone like that. The sister I knew growing up didn’t have a violent bone in her body, but shit if I knew. I didn’t even know whether or not she had been dating someone.
“What did you do, Hazel?” I whispered to myself over and over again. Trying desperately to wrap my mind around this.
I was deep in my thoughts—spiraling—while the sky lightened and birds began to chirp.
A rap came at the window and I jolted up to see who it was.
I froze.
Just like last night.
Jude stood outside, his hands on his hips. Even in joggers, last night’s hoodie, and headphones around his neck, he looked sexy as hell. He wasn’t wearing his baseball cap. Instead, his damp hair curled in waves across his forehead. I wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers through it. He had always worn it short or buzzed in high school. But longer looked good on him. Really good.
He also looked pissed.
I took my time, stalling the inevitable explanation he’d demand, swiping the sleep and smeared mascara away from my eyes. I peered in the rearview mirror. My hair was a rat’s nest from sleeping in the car. The humidity from the rain didn’t help. I ran my fingers through it, hoping I didn’t look too crazy. Shrugging on my jacket, I looked back at him.
He was scowling now. With a deep sigh, I opened the car door. Jude stepped back to let me out.
“This doesn’t look like Frank’s house,” he chastised. A deep furrow split his brow.
“It was late, and I didn’t want to disturb him.” Truth was, I had no desire to see, or speak, to my father. Especially not right now. “What are you doing here?” I turned it on him, pretending as though finding me sleeping in the car wasn’t totally embarrassing.
“You’re parked on Larsen land,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I am?”
I thought I was just picking a convenient spot off the road, but close enough to head to the ranch in the morning. I needed to pack up Hazel’s stuff and get back before work on Monday.
His head was tipped in confusion, like I should know I was. Maybe subconsciously I ended up here, not realizing it in the dark.
“So you’re checking the fence line or something?” I asked stupidly. After twelve years of not seeing each other, he made me nervous.
“I was out for a jog. Or at least trying to.” His shoulders sagged. Stepping closer, he slammed my door shut. “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I should head over to the bunkhouse and start packing up Hazel’s stuff.”
He didn’t turn around, just started walking, assuming I’d follow. There was a slight hitch in his step while his shoes crunched in the gravel. His ass looked phenomenal in those black joggers. I couldn’t help but stare before lengthening my strides to catch up.
“You’ll need to eat, and I’ll find you some boxes. I was going to make myself some eggs anyway.”
“Wait! What about my car?” I asked, husting after him.
“I’ll come back and get it for you later.”
We walked in silence that was anything but comfortable. His presence beside me was like standing on asphalt in direct sunlight on a ninety-degree day— blistering .
I tried my best to ignore him as he gave me sidelong glances loaded with unspoken words. I knew he must have some old, harbored grudge against me for how I left things.
We walked down the road as it wound along barbed-wire fencing. Cows and calves grazed in the nearby pasture. So many days growing up, I would come out here just to watch the cattle. I found it soothing while they lumbered along and chewed their cud.
Evergreens shaded the edge of wild grasses and sagebrush. Between the pines, I could see the rock cliffs that corralled the Deschutes, and beyond. Hills and valleys rolled toward the Cascade Range.
A feeling of homesickness I never felt while I was gone soured my gut. For all the times I wanted to escape this place, I forgot how breathtaking Oregon was.
The rain had stopped during the night, leaving the grass damp and seeping through my Converse. Puffy, white clouds floated across the blue sky, promising sunshine.
Jude turned right, the gravel road becoming mud where it needed to be regraded. His hand reached out to my elbow, guiding me to walk the edge of the road.
Our eyes connected then, and he sniffed a sharp inhale through his nose, releasing me as if I burned him.
“Walk on the side or you’ll get those white shoes dirty. Didn’t really pack for the ranch, huh?” He turned his head to look straight ahead, and I did the same.
I knew things would be different between us—awkward even—but I didn’t expect the ache in my heart seeing the hurt in his eyes.
“I’m only here for the day. My flight takes off early tomorrow morning.”
“You sure that’s enough time?” he asked.
No, I wasn’t sure, but I needed to get this done and leave. “It will have to be,” I said.
We passed the large, whitewash sign. The letter T brand, which curved into bull horns, topped the green lettering and date:
THORNbrUSH RANCH, EST. 1934
Home of Willows Rodeo Champions
Home. The ranch had always felt more like home than my own. Hazel spent more time at Thornbrush than anywhere else, and because she was here, so was I.
Then it became, since Jude was here, I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Memories of us racing our horses through the fields and along the bluffs overlooking the river. The power of my horse beneath me while the wind rushed through my hair. I felt free. I hadn’t felt that way since?—
My feet stalled. The double-wide Jude had moved into his junior year when Chuck had moved into the big house to help Lloyd stood surrounded by uncut grass and a grove of pine trees. It looked nothing like I remembered. It was now painted white with a covered porch running the length of it. Fern baskets hung from the cedar awnings. It looked surprisingly cute. It was hard to imagine Jude as the one living in this charming, little house—at least not the Jude I used to know.
I followed him up the porch steps to the front door. The door was now matte black with a brushed-bronze door handle.
I paused on the steps. It looked different, more modern, but I still remembered running out that door feeling like a fool for sleeping with my best friend. I never thought I’d be back here.
Jude pushed open the door and peered over his shoulder.
“You coming?” he prompted.
Was he remembering the same thing I was? Did he ever think about that night? It scared me shitless to still obsess over it, even more so to think he didn’t think of it at all.
I still recalled how we crashed together, hurrying to strip each other of our clothes. We couldn’t seem to get them off fast enough. His firm hands on my hips as he lifted me and threw me on his bed. How he crawled up my body, the brush of his skin against mine sending shivers in his wake. How his lips made me moan as his mouth trailed along the inside of my thigh. We started out just touching each other and kissing. It wasn’t until that moment that I knew my body could feel that way.
I hadn’t planned for it to go farther than that. I kept telling myself I shouldn’t be doing this. We were friends. I was leaving and this was horrible timing … like most things in my life. I couldn’t deny him anymore, though. He was driving me crazy with his tongue and fingers. Any doubt I had in that moment was buried with heated want. As he lowered kisses down my stomach and spread my wetness over my clit, I thought I might fly off the bed. I remember him hesitating, asking me if I was sure. And for the first time ever, I had decided I wasn’t going to be indecisive and took what I wanted. And like a fucking, stupid, eighteen-year-old, I rolled him over, found a condom in his bedside drawer, and climbed right on top of him.
And like the coward I was, while he slept, I had snuck out and ghosted him.
Now I bolstered my courage and nodded, following Jude into the house.
“Oh, wow,” I commented, looking around.
It did not appear to be the same double-wide at all. The floors were now gray plank with colorful, Southwestern-style rugs. Walls had come down to create an open-concept kitchen and living room. The kitchen had white cabinets and quartz countertops. The same brushed-bronze hardware on the front door was also on the drawers and cabinets, even the faucet over the farmhouse sink. A brown, leather sectional faced a large, flat-screen TV. Steer skulls and canvas prints of cows and horses decorated the walls. Jude had done some work. From where I stood, I could see the short hallway off the entry leading to two bedrooms, one made into an office, and a full bathroom.
“Yeah, I hired some guys to fix it up thinking Lina might move in here, but she still prefers her room in the big house.”
I remembered little Lina Larsen, Jude’s cousin. She was fourteen when I saw her last and seemed to be following in Hazel’s footsteps as a barrel racer. She was funny, bright, and always up for fun. Always pushing her big cousin, Jude, into doing stupid shit. Like riding one of the older colts bareback until he was bucked off. She would be sitting on the fence posting of the round pen, crying with laughter, while Jude lay on the ground, sputtering. I’d be right there keeping time with a stopwatch. As soon as he caught his breath, he would call out, “Time.” I’d tell him how many seconds he stayed on, and the idiot who never backed down from a challenge would be right back on that son of a gun, attempting to beat his record. Pretty sure Chuck yelled at all of us and made us muck stalls for a week after that.
“What’s Lina up to now?” I asked conversationally, anything to help break the awkwardness.
“She’s on the circuit—barrel racing. She’s at a rodeo in Indiana this weekend.”
I nodded, following Jude into the kitchen. He set his headphones on the counter and began rummaging through the cabinets.
“Do you come home often?” I asked. He seemed unfamiliar with the layout of the kitchen.
“This is my first time back in twelve years.” He found a pan and straightened to look at me. Pointedly.
Yep, because of me.
That’s what that look told me.
I gulped. “Jude, look …” I began.
“Romy, I knew you were leaving. I was leaving, too, but you didn’t respond to any of my calls. You ignored my texts. We never went a day without talking to each other, and then that just stopped completely.” He set the pan down on the gas range. “You vanished on me—on everyone—except, apparently, Uncle Chuck. Why would you ask him to keep that from me? We were best friends. We were …” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ve been worried for years, wondering if you were okay.”
His last words were like a shot to the heart. He was worried about me? I felt guilty asking Chuck not to tell him we talked. Honestly, I assumed, at some point, he would have said something to Jude.
I’d been selfish, confused, and ashamed. Now being back here, facing him, all those old feelings rushed to the surface. “I was just messed up in my head back then. After my mom died, my dad and I were not getting along, and kids at school … I just felt like I needed to leave, start fresh and find myself, you know?”
He scoffed. “Fucking find yourself? ? That’s your explanation? I had to wait twelve years for you to tell me that. You couldn’t say that to me then? You were my best friend, Romy. What was I to you if you felt like you had to fucking cut me out of your life so you could fucking find yourself? ?”
He turned to wash his hands in the sink, as if he couldn’t stand to look at me. I slumped down on the stool at the counter. I wanted to wash the shame away and watch it circle down the drain.
He didn’t know that the other reason I never returned was because of him.
“That’s the last of them.” Jude grimaced as he stomped on the stack of cardboard boxes in the truck bed.
“Is your knee okay?” I was hesitant to ask, but I had noticed he favored his right leg as he climbed the ladder to pull down broken-down boxes from the garage loft.
The garage in the big house was larger than my apartment in California. The four-car garage held Chuck’s and Lloyd’s trucks, and an old vintage Chevy. The fourth bay was set up as a home gym, complete with treadmill, weight bench, pull-up bar, rowing machine, a rack of weights and exercise bands, a heavy bag, and the mat where Jude used to wrestle Rob and Christian.
“Tore my ACL and meniscus. I had surgery four months ago.” His words were short. Clipped. They had been since chewing me out before breakfast. I suppose I deserved it after my bullshit excuse for leaving him.
My temper flared. I was tired of the ice out, and I didn’t need to explain myself to him. “What the hell, Jude? Then you shouldn’t be doing all this for me.”
“I’m fine.” He waved me off.
“Shouldn’t you be wearing a knee brace at least?”
“I depended on it too much and it weakened my muscles. I just wear a sleeve now when I work out.”
“Are you training to get back in the cage?” Despite my frustration, watching him struggle caused my heart to ache. He couldn’t possibly think about returning to MMA. I saw how much punishment those athletes experienced during a fight.
“Don’t know.”
He shuffled out of the truck bed, gingerly climbing down to protect his joint. I couldn’t help but wince with sympathy.
Horse hooves clopped up the paved driveway, and I turned to see Chuck’s signature salt and pepper mustache shaded beneath his Stetson. I’m not surprised he was still wearing the same ol’ hat.
“He better retire after a third knee injury,” he grumbled as he approached.
“Chuck!” I waved, smiling brightly, happy to see the old man who was more like a father.
“Hi, darlin’,” he drawled. His warm, brown eyes caught mine, giving me another gut twist of homesickness. “Is it possible this one got even prettier?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Jude.
My cheeks flamed.
Jude just scoffed behind me. I ignored him. Did he think I was prettier, too?
I shook my head. “Three knee surgeries! You have to know when to quit.” I knew I was goading him. But I wanted something—anything—from him, even if it was a return of his anger.
“You know Jude. That’s why they call him ‘The Bull’ now. He charges his opponent and screw the circumstances.”
That sounded exactly like Jude. Just like that stallion he rode, he never backed down from a challenge.
“Plus, he has that mean mug of his. Not the most approachable, if you ask me. Probably why he’s still single, too.” He winked at me.
My heart leaped just an inch with that little tidbit of information.
“Laying it on thick, huh, Uncle? I’m right here,” Jude complained.
Chuck shrugged, then swung his leg over the saddle to dismount. “Do you need help with anything?”
“Just need some packing tape and the key to the bunkhouse,” Jude replied.
Chuck handed me the reins as if twelve years was only a blip in time. “Hold on to Gus. I’ll be right back.”
The horse was beautiful. A red bay with a white blaze down his nose.
“Gus?” I asked Jude after Chuck disappeared into the house.
All the horses were named after Disney characters. Lina had started it after she came to live with the Larsen men when she was ten. Her mom and Chuck were never together, only dated when he was on the rodeo circuit, and Lina had been a surprise. She bounced back and forth between her mom’s Portland home and the ranch, but her love of horses eventually kept her here.
“Yeah, after Gus-Gus, the mouse from Cinderella .”
“Ah.” I nodded, reaching out to stroke Gus’s nose. He smelled like hay, dust, and horse sweat, and that feeling of longing washed over me again.
The house door shut behind us, as Chuck came out through the garage.
“Got it,” he said, tossing the tape to Jude. “Follow me.”
I handed the reins back to Chuck, and he effortlessly hoisted himself back into the saddle. Jude slammed up the tailgate, causing me to flinch. I was not looking forward to this. I followed him, hoisting myself into the passenger seat.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. It must have been more audible than I thought because before I could open my eyes again, Jude had grabbed my hand and squeezed it. His eyes found mine, and they were softer now, full of sympathy and what I hoped was forgiveness.
“I’ll be there with you, honey.”
My breath caught. Honey. He used to call me that.
It was an olive branch, and it helped center me for what I was about to face.