Chapter 18
HART
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WE TRAVEL A good hour, making wrong turns and getting ourselves deeper into side roads. The guys settle in, and I start to unwind, finally catching my breath.
Then she slams the brakes—too damn quick. Quicker than the two times before.
I jerk the wheel and hit the brakes hard. The tires screech, and my brother’s howl collective objection from the back.
“Can you slow the fuck down?!” Levi is on his feet again, sliding and jumping. “If you kill me before I see my baby come into this world, so help me, I’ll haunt you to your death.”
There’s no room for additional haunting. I’m haunted every day by my past mistakes.
She makes a good right turn into a run-down gas station. The sun beats down on hard-packed ground. This place looks like it hasn’t seen a lick of care in years.
I don’t follow suit. My anger gets the best of me. I jerk the wheel, cutting it too close, sending the bus into a minor fishtail.
I hear Levi slam against a wall.
Secretly, I enjoy it.
“Dammit!” he shouts.
I throw the bus into park with a growl, the engine still purring angrily beneath me.
I’m done following Jade like some obedient dog.
Levi is on all fours when I cross the floor toward the door. He grabs my ankle and yanks my foot sideways. I fall face-first, my palms slamming against the floor.
“Fuck, Levi!” I grunt, looking to see my brother’s hands wrapped around my leg. “What the hell?”
I use my other leg to kick free, but he’s hanging on.
“You lost your damn mind?” he demands.
“Have you?” I quip back.
“My wife and unborn child are on that RV.” Levi’s face twists in a mix of anger and panic.
“Levi, I’m not driving that RV, you idiot.”
“No, but I don’t plan on dying anytime soon, asshole.” He climbs up my leg, dragging me back toward him.
“If you’re coming up here to punch me, so help me, I’m not responsible for my actions.”
I push him off with everything I’ve got. He stumbles back, but only for a second. Next thing I know, his fist is flying at my face.
I dodge, but it grazes my cheek. I grab his wrist and twist, throwing a punch into his ribs.
“Levi, chill.”
He’s right back in my face, throwing another punch, but this time it lands, right in my gut.
I grunt, wind knocked out of me, and we both tumble to the ground, rolling over the floor of the RV.
I get a knee up, shoving him off me, and scramble to my feet. He’s up fast, swinging again.
We’re tangled up now, both of us grunting and pushing, trying to land a hit. My fist catches him in the side, and he slams his elbow into my shoulder. It stings, but I don’t back down.
“Alright, now.” Dean grabs my arm, pulling me off, and Wyatt yanks Levi. “Calm the hell down, both of you.”
Levi’s face is red. “He’s gonna get us all killed.”
“You’re losing your mind over a couple of tight turns.” I realize I pushed the last one.
“You kind of are,” Dean says to Levi. “What’s going on?”
Levi scrubs his hands over his face. “Nothing.”
“Are you crying?”
“No.” He digs his fingers into his closed eyes.
“Yeah, you are.” Dean doesn’t sugarcoat it.
Levi slumps, and his shoulders sag as he drops his hands. “I’m freaked out.”
“Freaked out?” Dean asks.
“Yeah, you know, scared.”
Dean shakes his head. “I have no idea.”
Bloody hell.
“I’m having a kid. That’s a huge responsibility.”
Dean hits his shoulder. “You picked a trip Wheeler didn’t come on to have a mental breakdown? Levi, he’s a dad. You should’ve nipped this in the bud last night.”
“Last night I was recovering from our fight the night before.”
“Which you were more than willing to jump into.”
“Exactly. What the fuck was I thinking? I could’ve been stabbed or shot—”
Air hisses through my teeth. “Jump in, Wyatt.”
“I don’t got kids.”
“No, but Hannah does, and I’ve heard you’ve been hanging out with them.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “You have nieces and nephews.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It’s exactly the same thing. They’re my niece and nephew.”
“Oh fuck.” Bronx steps into the circle holding a phone.
“Hello?” Wheeler’s voice echoes in the RV.
“Levi’s having a mental breakdown,” Bronx says. “Soon to be daddy issues.”
I take the opportunity and storm out of the RV, the door thudding shut behind me.
Outside, the air hits warmer. But the anger doesn’t stick.
What sticks is the look on my brother’s face. The weight in it.
He’s not just stressed, he’s scared.
For a moment, I forget why I even stormed out.
Then I spot Jade beside the RV, leaning against the side with a paper map spread across the metal wall. A Stetson is perched low, casting a shadow over her face, but her eyes are focused and intent on the map as she traces a route.
My boots hit the ground hard, the gravel crunching beneath each stomp.
I’m taking the lead.
My muscles are tight, and the patience I had left is hanging by a thread.
“So, where exactly are you taking us?” My voice is sharper than I intend, and not sharp enough.
I don’t want her to think she’s winning. But when she glances up from the map with a little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, I know she does.
“The rodeo.” She taps the map. “We’re taking the scenic route. Didn’t really think I had to spell it out for you.”
“We’re not on vacation. We’re on a tight schedule, and we have deadlines to meet.”
I glance at the open road, empty and endless, then at her finger, planted dead center on the map.
We’re lost.
“You’re headin’ the wrong way.” Irritation creeps into my tone.
“Says who?”
“We’re not here for sightseeing. We’ve got a rodeo to get to, booths to set up.”
She doesn’t flinch, not one bit.
Instead, she just shrugs, like I am the crazy one. She folds up the map and tucks it in her back pocket.
Who the hell uses maps these days?
I get it; the area has shoddy cell phone reception, but if she’d kept us on track, we wouldn’t need an ancient paper map.
“This isn’t my first rodeo.” She slides aviator-style sunglasses over her eyes and struts past me, slow and deliberate.
She drives me fucking insane.
“But I am sorry,” she calls over her shoulder, her voice laced with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize we were in such a hurry. Should we skip all the beautiful country and take the quickest, most boring route instead?”
Isn’t that what I’ve been saying?
“You know, like a miserable, rushed drive to a corporate meetin’?”
I ain’t no corporate meetin’ kind of guy. I’m a rancher. My boots are made for dirt, not boardrooms. The only numbers I care about are the ones on the cattle, not some fancy spreadsheet.
That’s not true. I do love me a good spreadsheet.
But I’d rather be out in the fields, knee-deep in mud, than stuck in some sterile room, listening to people talk about profits and projections.
Aw shit, another lie. I’m good at profits and projections. Actually, I’m fucking amazing.
I clench my jaw and follow her.
My footsteps are heavier than hers as I stomp to catch up. When I reach her, I don’t slow down, just push open the door to the gas station with more force than I probably should. The thing nearly rattles off its hinges.
“It’s not a vacation.” I stand in the doorway, my hand propping the door open. “If you haven’t noticed, this isn’t some leisurely drive through the Grand Canyon. We’ve got people depending on us to get there and set up for this event.”
She doesn’t look at me, or at least I can’t tell through the lens of her shades. She squeezes between me and the doorframe.
“Relax. The whole world’s not a stopwatch.”
She slips inside like she has no intention of rushing through anything. If I weren’t in such a sour mood, I might appreciate this chill side to her. I remember this girl, the one who was never in a rush.
Her boots click against the peeling linoleum floor. Every movement exudes the kind of calm we don’t have time for.
I follow her inside, on her heels now, trying not to let my temper get the best of me.
She makes it impossible.
“Wasting time isn’t charming, it’s reckless.”
She reaches the cooler and grabs a bottle of water. “Someone’s a little cranky. Maybe you should’ve stayed in the office if you can’t handle a little detour.”
I swallow hard.
“I handle detours just fine. Just not when they’re getting in the way of what actually needs to get done.” I clear my throat. “Wouldn’t the clipboard Queen of Schedule Deadlines agree?”
She grabs a bag of licorice on her way to the front. “You know, you didn’t have to come, but now that you’re here, I guess you’re just gonna have to deal with a few bumps in the road.”
She still has that smug grin on her face.
I grab a bag of chips, primarily out of frustration.
“You’ve had your fun, but it’s over. I’m taking over from here. No more random stops or scenic routes. We’re sticking to the original route.”
“How cute. You think you’re the one calling the shots now?”
Cute?
My insides cringe.
I step closer, closing the space between us.
She’s so close now, I can feel the heat radiating off her skin, and when she breathes, her breasts brush against me.
My pulse kicks up a notch.
“I am, darlin’, and if you don’t like it, tough shit.”
Then a song comes on the radio and punches me in the chest. Not just any song—our song. Pointer Sisters. Slow Hand.
I see her flinch, too. Her cocky armor slips, and I know it’s slicing into her.
I haven’t heard this damn song in years. So, of course, it shows up now, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. And with her.
Then the air goes weird. Thick. Awkward.
I don’t know how the faint rumble catches my attention, but I glance out the window into the parking area—
“What the fuck?”
“What?” Her head spins.
We watch her motorhome kicking up a cloud of dust as it speeds away, with brothers waving out of the back window.
Those fucking assholes stranded me here with Jade.