CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR COEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
COEN
A blonde woman in her fifties in an expensive workout set pulls open the door. Her eyes widen, giving me an intense up and down stare.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” she says. “Are you the reason my daughter was crying earlier?”
“Yes, probably. But I’m not sure why, so I came to find out.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to slam the door in my face, but she steps aside and lets me in.
A goldendoodle appears and gives me a suspicious stare, head down and ears perked.
Feeling like I’m about to be interrogated, I follow Sabrina’s mom down the huge hallway into the kitchen.
Her mom and stepdad do well for themselves.
We turn the corner. My heart about stops.
She’s in a big sweatsuit, hair piled on her head.
And yes, her face is puffy. She stops mid-conversation with a graying man at her side.
Her stepdad is the quintessential, almost-retirement age businessman.
He’s leaning on the counter, shooting me a stern look, like I did something wrong.
What’s going on here? Sabrina and I were fine one second. The next, she just fucking up and left.
“Hi,” I say.
She sniffs. “Hi.”
Silence, except for the dog panting.
“Sorry I ran away,” she says, voice quivering.
“Uh, it’s fine. I was just wondering…why you left.”
It’s incredibly uncomfortable to have this conversation with her parents staring me down.
I’m also starving, haven’t showered, and I was sweating bullets on the plane because they didn’t have the air conditioning on.
Then, I ended up having to walk ten blocks to get an Uber to her house.
I was hoping my gesture might come across as more…
well, like something that would impress her, convince her to hear me out.
I’m a little worried I just look desperate and un-showered.
“Can we talk somewhere else?” I ask.
“We can go to my room,” she says.
“Oh, no, you can’t,” her mom says.
“Hey,” says her stepdad, putting his hand on her waist. “Sabrina’s twenty-four. It’s alright.”
Her mom is clearly the bulldog in this relationship, but she backs off, lifting a hand in acquiescence.
“I just want to talk,” I say.
Sabrina nods, turning and heading to the staircase. I skirt around the dog and go after her, following down an expansive hallway into a lavish, cream-colored room with a canopy bed. She shuts the door and turns to face me.
“Your dad called me,” I say.
Her pupils blow. “What? Why?”
“He asked to talk, so we did. He asked to talk to you, and I said I didn’t know where you were,” I say. “He was pretty mad.”
She bites her lip.
“Your dad has it out for me.”
She clears her throat, looking away. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. But I asked Jamie to go back there and check on things.”
Her eyes flick back to me. “Really?”
“Yeah. I know you’re worried about being away from the ranch. Jamie knows your dad already, and he’s used to wrangling difficult people.”
She doesn’t correct me. We both know Bill is, in fact, difficult. There’s a long silence, then her throat bobs.
“Sorry again,” she whispers.
I go to her, taking her by the hands. “Why did you leave?”
Her chest heaves. “Because…I don’t know where this goes. And I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?” I press.
We both know the answer, but I need to hear it from her lips. She tries to look away again, but I take her face in my hand and make her look up at me.
“I like you,” she whispers. “But I can’t be with you.”
My stomach turns cold. “Why?”
She shrugs, tears gathering. “Because you’re Coen Taylor. And I won’t leave the ranch. Dad needs someone, and I already made a big choice that affected Serena in staying with him. I can’t leave. I’m the reason she’s living there and not here—”
“Is that it? Just logistics?”
She stops. “No.”
“Then what?”
Her eyes fill with tears in earnest. One drips down over my fingers.
“I’m scared Dad is right,” she whispers.
“About me?”
“Yeah. Logically, in my head, I don’t think you’d do anything like that. But if you did…I can’t do that.” Her voice strengthens. “I’ve spent my life paying the price for a man who cheated. I won’t do it again.”
I’m not sure what the right thing to feel is right now. My knee-jerk reaction is to be offended, but I know this isn’t intentional. She’s not accusing me.
She’s just really fucking hurt.
It kind of makes me want to haul back and punch Bill. If he were twenty years younger, I just might. The consequences of what he did hurt his wife, but they also hurt his daughters. Now, years later, they’re hurting what we have too.
It's strange how one thoughtless choice echoes for generations.
I’ve always known that. It made me careful, paranoid sometimes. But right here, right now, I am willing to go all in on this girl. I’ll regret it forever if I don’t. I don’t care what it takes. I want to figure this out.
So, I say that, as serious as it sounds.
“I want you,” I say. “And I won’t hurt you. Please, Sabrina.”
Her lips quivers. “What about the ranch?” she whispers.
“Hell, I’ll build a studio out there, I don’t care. Just don’t leave.”
Her mouth curves in a watery smile. “I kind of like it when you beg.”
“I’ll beg for a chance. I don’t have any pride. Not when it comes to you.”
Taking her hand, I sit on the bed and pull her between my knees. She wipes her face again. I put my hands on her hips, remembering all the times I’ve touched her over the last few weeks. I’d like to hold her so many more times, I lose count.
“I need to say something, but I don’t want it to sound like I'm blaming you,” I say gently.
She balks. “Okay.”
“I am not Bill, and I need you not to listen to him on this,” I say. “That sounds bad, but I think your mom and stepdad would be better people to give you advice here. I won’t hurt you, and I want a chance.”
She nods.
“I want a chance too,” she says.
I lean in and rest my chin on her lower belly, looking up at her. “So we take a chance. A real one.”
“Yeah?”
Her voice breaks. I lift her shirt and kiss her bare skin. My teeth graze her hip bone. Her fingers trace through my hair.
“Don’t get too frisky,” she warns.
“I’m not,” I say. “I missed you. Don’t fucking leave again.”
“I was gone for seven hours.”
Pulling her into my lap, I brush her hair back and kiss her mouth. “Seven hours too long.”
She kisses me softly with her hand on the back of my neck. When she pulls away, I still see that little quiver of anxiety in her eyes.
“Baby, I will do whatever you need to feel better,” I say.
She takes a deep breath. “Then take me home so we can figure this out. Back to Wyoming.”
Without hesitating, I say yes, of course.
She sinks back into me, and I hold her tight against my chest, thinking about the future.
If I want to take a break like I told Jamie I did, this will take a lot of work to bring all my projects to a halt.
Some things will have to be wrapped up. Contracts will need to be fulfilled.
But it doesn’t seem so bad knowing she’s on the other side of it.
I want to call someone and tell them. If Mom was still alive, I’d call her and say hey, I met someone, and I’m coming home. Yeah, she’s great. And I’m taking a break finally. I’ll see you when we get back. She’s gonna be so excited to meet you.
A hint of bittersweetness hits. Some things change, but they don’t always leave. For the first time, I hold that bit of grief without pushing it down.
I have someone. I have something good here.
And I’m going to hold on with both hands.