Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alex stumbled outside, his brain full of static and his stomach full of razor blades. He should never have come to this little town. Should never have tried to work his way into a better life.
All it had done was show him everything he couldn’t have.
Family. Normality. The boots.
Greer.
She was standing on the front steps of her little Sunday haus, her dress blowing around her calves and her hair doing its best to work its way across her beautiful face.
With an impatient motion, she shoved it behind her shoulders and lifted a bullhorn.
“Hey, y’all!” Her excitement was evident in the volume and tone of her voice.
“Are you ready to find out the competition winner?”
People hooted and hollered. Stamped and clapped.
Alex stood at the crowd’s edge nearest the barn. If he won, it would be easy to get around the people to accept the prize. And if he didn’t…well, he’d deal with that if he had to.
“Before we get to that,” Greer said, “I want to do a few shout-outs. Lots of people around here who helped make this competition happen. Sawyer Gunn was generous enough to supply a dedicated food truck for the artists and the village visitors. And you can thank Bostick’s General Store for the port-a-potties.
To Raylene Pearce, I can’t tell you how much everyone appreciated your afternoon treats.
Where else but Prophecy can you get Nuts About You cookies and Everything but the Kitchen Sink granola? ”
A cheer went up to honor Raylene’s delicious snacks.
“To my brother, Cal Maddox.” Her voice hitched, and she scanned the crowd, her gaze landing on her brother, who was grinning up at her.
“Thanks for letting me use what our dad left us to build something for the entire community. Sure hope I’ve proven the Wild Card Artisan Village is a good use of it. ”
“And to—” Greer paused, breathed, and cleared her throat, “—Alex Villanueva. Thank you for inspiring this entire competition.” With a hand shading her eyes, she peered around the group and her gaze finally landed on Alex. “Without you, Wild Card would’ve never gotten off the ground.”
Yeah, and it—and she—would go on, no thanks to him. He broke eye contact with her. How was he supposed to stand here and look at the woman he was leaving, knowing he was screwing up her life more than she even knew?
When he snuck another peek at her a few seconds later, her face wasn’t nearly as animated, but she squared her shoulders and said, “Delaney Shields, the prophecy bootmaker, has the envelope we’re all waiting for.
The one that will tell us who you—the people of Prophecy—have chosen to win the ten-thousand-dollar prize. Y’all ready?”
The whistles pierced Alex’s eardrums and the stomps shook the ground beneath him.
He clenched his fists and stared down at his feet.
If she called his name, it wouldn’t change what couldn’t be between them.
But it would mean the difference between him taking Nicolás away from Texas without worrying a Tejanos Pintados member would track them down and take what they felt was due to them some other way.
“A quick reminder about the open house after this. You’ll have the chance to meet the artists and purchase items. And the competition winner is…Chad Holcombe.”
The breath Alex had been holding whooshed out, leaving his chest—his whole damn body—feeling hollow.
All the time, all the hard work, all the effort to fit in. For fucking nothing.
Nothing but the desire for a woman and a life he shouldn’t want.
And couldn’t have.
After she’d shaken Chad Holcombe’s hand, passed over the ten-thousand-dollar check, and posed for publicity photos, Greer looked out across the milling crowd to the spot where Alex had been standing.
Gone.
God, how disappointed must he be to have lost the competition? The money was important to him, but over the past few days, she’d begun to believe the town’s approval and acceptance might mean even more. Alex would see this as a rejection.
Knowing him, he was taking a few minutes to himself. Time to shake off the loss. So she chatted her way through the people still milling around the pasture and headed for the back of the barn. She knocked on his door and called his name, but there was no answer.
Her heartbeat sped up, but she tried to breathe away the thread of panic weaving through her.
Maybe he’d just sucked it up and headed straight back to his booth.
Still, she tried the knob. It turned in her hand, and she poked her head in to find the tiny apartment as spotless as it had been the day Alex moved in.
The air still smelled of him—cotton and leather—but the space felt still. Alone. Lonely.
And that shot Greer directly in the heart.
She dashed down the stairs, almost tripping over her boots in her haste. She caught herself on the rail, hit the ground, and exploded into a dead run.
He wouldn’t leave without a goodbye. Without a word. Would he?
She catapulted though the barn door, juking through the shoppers and ignoring several people who called out to her. When she made it ten feet from Alex’s space, she knew.
Goddamn him.
His work light was turned off. The worktables were bare. His tools were gone.
He was gone.
Just in case she was missing something, she walked inside the booth.
“Hey,” Delaney said from the aisle, “where’s Alex?”
Greer’s eyes burned as she looked at her friend. “Gone.”
If Delaney had a mean look, she was wearing it now. Hands on her still slim hips, mouth pinched, and eyes squinty. “What do you mean gone?”
“You know, like that Montgomery Gentry song.” Greer’s words hitched in a laugh-sob. A slob? “Gone like a freight train and all that.”
“That bastard.”
“He told me that he couldn’t stay. I got pissed off and left his apartment.
But afterward, I went to Dad’s house, just sat there with my parents’ boots.
It made me realize things would work out the way they were supposed to between Alex and me after he won the competition.
After he saw that Prophecy could be like a family for him.
But…but deep down, I believed he was the one.
” She noticed something clipped to the back drape.
Because it was black, it blended with the heavy curtain fabric. “He left his piece.”
Delaney strode into the booth. She reached up to release the piece of expensive leather from the binder clip he’d use to attach it to the curtain. “Hell of a way to treat his art.”
A scrap of paper fluttered to the ground, and Greer stooped down to grab it with an unsteady hand.
Greer, for you. Sometimes even the strongest people, the strongest feelings, can’t weather what the world throws at them.
But you, mi cielo, are an exception. I know how you feel about your own art, but I hope you can see what you’re doing here at Wild Card is a form of art. Art made from love and passion.
Alejandro
Still half crouched, Greer spotted something else under the table. She reached for it, and although it was a crumpled mess, she recognized the weight and feel immediately. Her already shaking hands trembled harder. The heavy cream linen was marked with tiny brown splotches. Blood.
“Delaney…”
“Shiiit.” Delaney sighed the word and closed her eyes.
All Greer’s earlier concern and panic congealed into a single ball of certainty, one that weighed so much, she had a hard time holding herself upright.
Greer knew she shouldn’t, that nothing good could come of it, but she sank to the floor, smoothed out the envelope, and pulled out the piece of card stock inside. Then she checked the other side of the envelope. Addressed to Alex Villanueva.
“They’re ready then?” Greer couldn’t even bear to look up at Delaney and forced the words into a monotone.
“God, Greer, I’m sorry—”
“You make the boots when it’s time. And this envelope gets delivered when it’s time.”
Delaney pulled out the folding chair and collapsed into it as though she were ten months pregnant instead of a few weeks. “What are you going to do now?”
Greer’s laugh was as bitter as a bushel full of red blackberries. “He knew exactly what this was. What it meant. And he cared so damn little that he didn’t even bother to toss it in the trash. He just left it here on the floor like a dead roach.”
“Maybe if I talked with him again—”
“We all still have free will. No one has to accept the future the boots hold.”
Which meant, in absolute terms, that Alex no longer wanted her.