Chapter 12
twelve
The fear on Cordy’s face stopped Chance dead in the doorway. He wanted to tell her it was okay, that she shouldn’t be afraid, while also marching her out of this house as fast as he could.
She was sitting at the table with Holden, the both of them drinking coffee. It looked perfectly innocuous.
It made Chance want to throw up.
“What happened?” She put a hand to her throat. “Are you hurt?”
Funny thing was, he was hurting. Not from the run to the house, but from seeing her next to his father. Chance never wanted Holden’s shittiness to touch her. Chance was supposed to keep her safe, damn it.
Why hadn’t he thought to tell her to keep away from the old house?
“I’m fine.” Chance tried to catch his breath to look less wild. His hands itched to grab Cordy’s hand and pull her away.
What the hell was he going to say to her? Get home? What do you think you’re doing?
He had no right to say any of that to her, but his mouth was about to run off with him.
Iggy trotted in, snaking around to plaster himself next to Cordy’s leg. The hair on his back stood straight up, and his lip pulled back. He was ready to guard his mama.
That made Pard crawl from under the table and stand next to Holden. He wasn’t as keyed up as Iggy, but he knew something was going down.
Seeing two of the most ridiculous dogs Chance had ever met facing him down cooled some of his wild temper. If he was scaring the dogs, he needed to pull back.
When Cordy’s hand sought out Iggy’s soft neck, stroking his fur with trembling fingers, Chance’s stomach twisted. He needed to get her out of there before she got any more upset.
“I’m okay.” He gentled his tone. “I was just… I didn’t expect you to end up here.”
Her brow wrinkled with confusion. “I was out for a walk. Should I have not…?” She looked at Holden and then back at Chance. “Is everything all right?”
No, it wasn’t, but Chance had no idea how to explain that to her without tearing open old wounds. Without scaring her even more.
“We’re fine.” His tone was edging back toward irritation. “Maybe we should?—”
“I told you to be careful.” Holden’s cold words tore Chance’s attention away from Cordy.
Chance’s back snapped straight. “ What ? I didn’t knock her up.”
Cordy gasped.
Chance felt like an ass. That wasn’t what he meant, damn it, but Holden always brought out the worst in him.
“Sure.” Holden snorted. “Met her at the Swing Inn, same as the rest. Guess you couldn’t kick this one out.”
His hands curled into fists. “You watch your tone around her. She’s not like that.”
“Right. Pregnant and living with you, but it’s not yours.” Holden’s expression said exactly how much he believed that. “One of ‘em finally tracked you down.”
Cordy was going whiter and whiter and if Holden didn’t shut up, Chance was in serious danger of decking him.
“Listen—”
Holden rolled right over Chance. “You couldn’t tell me I was going to be a grandfather?”
Christ, the crack in his father’s voice—you’d think the old man actually cared.
“You’re not,” Chance said bluntly. “Reed Saxon is the father.”
Holden’s chin wobbled. “Then why isn’t she with Reed?”
Chance ground his teeth. “Because he’s dead. Don’t you remember?” Chance tossed his hands up. “You quit drinking, but you still can’t remember a damn thing.”
Fuck. Chance’s mouth was out of his control—it spit this stuff out without him even trying. The words spilled like they had been waiting for this moment.
“I’m not getting a grandbaby?” Holden looked genuinely sad.
Chance ignored the tightness in his chest. This was the old man’s own fault. Lane was just straight gone, his own son completely out of his life, and Holden was worried about a grandbaby? Where did he get off?
Chance struggled to find something to say that would finally get through to the old man, although it was probably hopeless.
Cordy gently cleared her throat. “He’s telling the truth.” She wouldn’t meet Chance’s gaze. “Reed is my baby’s father. And yes, he passed several months ago. I needed a place to stay—Glenn kicked me out of my apartment—and Chance offered his place. We’re roommates, like I said.”
Chance hated she was seeing and hearing this, but it was too late to stop. She would have questions, and he owed her some answers.
“Cordelia.” Chance forced his voice down, though couldn’t quite make it gentle. I’m sorry. He wasn’t saying that in front of Holden, though—he’d sworn never to. He’d tell her later. “We should probably go.”
Her chest jerked as she pulled in a breath. “I’m fine. I’ve been fine.” She reached for her chair but didn’t sit down. “We were having coffee. I wanted to see the goats.”
And Chance had come barging in and fouled everything up. Although he did wonder if Holden was capable of entertaining a guest. He said odd things these days, moving back and forth in time in his mind. Who knew what crazy shit he’d said to Cordy?
Rye shoved past Chance, coming in as silently as usual. “Everything all right?” He addressed Cordy and Holden, ignoring his brother. “Dad, you should lie down.”
Holden shook his head, then closed his eyes. He suddenly looked a decade older, and he’d already looked close to death.
“Are you okay?” Cordy asked in a panic.
“He’s fine,” Chance growled. She didn’t need to waste her sympathy on Holden or the rest of them. Ought to save it for someone more deserving.
Rye sighed. “Chance, do you want to take Cordy home?” He glanced at her. “If it’s okay with you.”
She nodded jerkily, trying to smile reassuringly at Rye. “Yeah. Let me just say goodbye to this sweet boy.”
Cordy reached over and gave Pard’s ears a gentle rub. He closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure.
“Pard likes you,” Holden said, still looking terrible.
“He’s a very good boy.” Cordy straightened up. “It was nice meeting you. I hope I can come visit again.”
Chance snorted. The part about how nice it was to meet Holden was a lie. Chance would make damn sure it never happened again.
“Same here.” Holden’s expression softened. “He is a good boy. I’m glad you appreciate him.”
His father really did love that dog. Too bad he never spoke like that about his own sons.
“I’m ready when you are,” Cordy said quietly. She didn’t meet Chance’s eyes. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Once she was out of the kitchen, Chance felt himself take a full breath. His stomach was still knotted and his heart didn’t feel right, but at least she was clear of all this.
“Rye.” He pointed to his brother, then to his father. “He needs to go to the doctor. Also, if you catch Cordy coming up here again, don’t let her in. She doesn’t need to be talking to him.”
Rye’s mouth compressed. “I made him an appointment last week. Quint’s taking him to Fordsville on Thursday. I didn’t ask you because I knew you were busy with Cordy.”
Chance narrowed his eyes. If anyone but Rye had said that in that tone, he’d have thought they were getting pissy with him. “I can take him. Just tell me when.”
“I told you, it’s handled. As for Cordy, I’m not her keeper. She can do what she wants.”
Okay, Rye was definitely getting pissy with him. Which was the last thing Chance needed right now.
“What the hell is going on?” Chance demanded. “Did I forget your birthday or something?”
“Don’t come stomping in here.” Rye slung his father’s arm over his neck and helped the old man up. “She was just fine. And you upset him for nothing.”
Guilt made Chance snap back, “He’s the same as he always was. And you heard him with Cordy. Accusing her of shit.”
“ I accused you . And I’m sitting right here.” However, Holden wasn’t as frightening as he wanted to be, not with him hanging off Rye. “Boy, you need to check that attitude. I’m still your father. I have a right to know what’s going on. Especially if you’re having a baby.”
Holden didn’t have that right at all. As if checking out and right into a bottle for years made him a father.
Look at what Cordy was doing for her kid and the baby wasn’t even here yet. She’d never disappear on her kid. She’d be there through thick and thin—another reason she didn’t need to be around Holden.
“I’m not having a baby,” Chance said flatly.
“Even if it is Reed’s,” Holden said, “you’re acting like it’s yours.”
Red flashed through Chance’s vision, but all he said was, “Don’t call the baby ‘it.’”
“Come on.” Rye tugged at Holden’s arm. “This fussing isn’t good for anyone.” He looked at Chance. “She’s out there waiting for you.”
For a moment, Chance considered pressing the issue. Holden needed to understand it wasn’t any of his damn business. He couldn’t be talking about Cordy like that, he couldn’t be putting his nose into Chance’s life, and he’d damn sure better stop calling that baby it .
But then Rye’s last sentence cut through his haze. Cordy was out there, probably upset, maybe scared, and definitely wondering what the hell had just happened.
Chance ought to be with her and not opening up old wounds with his old man.
The tramp of boots told Cordy that Chance was coming toward her.
She stared fixedly at the goats, her arms wrapped tightly between her boobs and her belly, the only place on her torso small enough for her to hold onto anymore. The massive oak shaded her and Iggy, but she couldn’t hide from Chance.
She told herself everything was fine. Nothing that went on in that house was any of her business.
Hadn’t Chance told her last night he’d be no good for her? That all he could offer her was a place to stay?
Repeating all that didn’t make her believe it, though. She desperately wanted to know what was going on back there. Holden was clearly ill and had once been an alcoholic, and Chance was… completely freaked out about it.
Chance came to stand next to her. He said nothing, just stared at the goats. From the corner of her eye, she caught his stony expression. He wasn’t smiling now.
“Thanks for breakfast,” she said softly. “You didn’t have to. Especially the decaf coffee.”
“I did.” His tone was grim. “You gotta eat.”
“I can feed myself.”
He shook his head like she was making no sense.
The goats watched them and chewed their cud. It was almost cartoon-like how aggressively they did it. Like mean teenage girls giving someone the hairy eyeball and snapping their gum like their lives depended on it.
The silence stretched on, deepened until it became a pit between them. It made her itchy under her skin, but Cordy would wait.
He’d been the one to cause a scene. He could start explaining it.
Chance shuffled his feet, cleared his throat. Cordy braced herself for more small talk.
“So you met him.” Chance’s voice was gruff. Not at all affectionate.
That had been his father in there, but there was no love for the man in Chance’s demeanor.
Cordy swallowed hard. She and her parents weren’t close, but she would never talk about her dad in that tone. “I didn’t know who lived there. I was only curious.”
“Not blaming you. You didn’t know.”
“Because you didn’t tell me.”
Chance shoved his hands into his pockets and stuck his chin out. He couldn’t have clammed up any harder if he’d been wearing a shell.
Cordy huffed out a breath. She wasn’t owed the entire story, but after that scene, she deserved something .
Holden had looked older than she had expected. Much more tired and confused, too. And there was the comment about his drinking problems, but Cordy wouldn’t bring that up unless Chance did.
“He’s ill,” she asked, “isn’t he? Is he… is he dying?”
“Maybe?” Chance shrugged like he didn’t care. “No one knows. Probably faster than the average sixty-some-year-old, but not fast enough for his taste.”
The anger vibrated through him. Chance acted above it all, but there was deep pain here. If Cordy had to guess…
Pieces started to come together in her head, forming a picture from the puzzle of Chance’s behavior—at the bar, at his house, and back in the kitchen.
Everything was a joke to Chance. But his father was the one thing that Chance didn’t crack jokes about.
“He wants to die?” she asked. “But why?”
The man had five sons, a massive ranch, and a dog who loved him. Holden had so much to live for. Cordy couldn’t understand.
She cupped her belly, felt the baby kick back in reply. No, she would never give up on this kid, and she hadn’t even met them yet.
“Have you ever been to Lovers’ Cavern?”
Cordy blinked at the change in subject. “No. I know the story, but I heard it’s hard to get to.”
She’d planned to make the hike at some point—it was exactly the kind of place she loved to explore—but she’d found out she was pregnant before she could. And then everything she used to do for fun had fallen away in the aftermath.
“From this side of the mountain,” Chance said, “the trail isn’t so bad. So you heard the story?”
“Parts of it. There were some teenagers back in the Wild West days who were in love, but their parents said no. So they ran away together, but they died. It’s how the town got its name, from the ‘star-crossed lovers.’”
Sam had told her that story the first night she’d met him. He’d been pleased to be the first to tell her. Sam was convinced the story of the town’s name meant that his and Janine’s off-and-on relationship was destined to be something more. What better place for true love to overcome all obstacles than Star Crossed Springs?
The tale had been charming from Sam, but Cordy guessed Chance’s version would be less so. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be bringing it up.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, “that’s basically it. Except the boy in the story was a Kessal. Jesse Kessal.”
“A relative?”
“A great-great-great uncle of mine. He fell in love with Ida Buckland. Hard.”
The twist he put on hard hooked into Cordy’s chest. There was something important here—this was more than simply a family story to him.
“The same Bucklands that own the salvage yard?” she asked. Cordy had no idea they were involved, too.
He nodded. “They were traveling peddlers back then. The kind of people the heir to a ranching family shouldn’t associate with, much less marry. But Jesse saw Ida, and it was love at first sight. He’d have her for his wife or…”
“Or nobody?” Cordy prompted.
Chance shook his head. “Not even that. It was Ida, and that was it .”
The stamp Chance put on that was so definite, so permanent, Cordy felt it in her bones.
Cordy was surprised Chance could talk about love like that. It ought to be completely unknown to the king of one-night stands.
“The families tried to keep them apart,” he continued, “but it didn’t work. They would secretly meet up at Lovers’ Cavern. They carved their names in the rock there.”
Cordy couldn’t help her wistful sigh. She wished she’d made it up there to see their names. Maybe she could plan a hike once the baby was here.
“Finally,” Chance said, “Jesse’s father told him he would be shipped back East for school—and to get him away from Ida.”
“Jesse wasn’t going to do that.” Cordy could see the ending of this sad story coming, her heart already in her throat.
“No.” Chance wouldn’t look at her. “Giving up Ida wasn’t happening. Jesse took some gold from his father’s safe and ran away with her. But a freak blizzard came up, and they died. The searchers found them together.” He swallowed hard. “Ida was still in Jesse’s arms.”
Cordy shivered at the image. So much love wasted for nothing. Ida and Jesse could have been happy and raised a beautiful family, but instead, they’d become a tragic story.
She hugged herself tighter. “That’s an awful story.” It was more than awful, but it had also been a long time ago. “But… but I don’t understand what it has to do with your father.”
And you. There was a key to Chance and what he called his mess here, but Cordy couldn’t see it.
Chance finally looked at her. The bleakness in his warm brown eyes staggered her. If she wasn’t holding onto herself, she might have stumbled backward.
“It has to do with all the Kessal men.” He tapped his chest. “Me included. When we fall in love…” He sucked in a breath. “It’s all-consuming. It’s forever. We find our one, and that’s it. We’re gone.”
Cordy’s chest ached. He made it sound like a curse.
Had Chance ever been in love? Was that why he avoided commitment? His heart had already been broken?
That made her heart feel like it was breaking. She hated the thought of him hurting like that. But she couldn’t ask him—she was almost afraid of the answer.
“All the Kessal men?” She forced the question out.
Chance lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “It happens with every one of us. Jesse killed himself, Augustus built an entire second back porch because his wife didn’t like the view, my grandpa sunk a second well so Grandma could have her garden and orchard where she wanted. Hell, great-uncle Peter got his wife a zebra that damn near killed him. She thought it was pretty.”
Cordy didn’t know who any of those people were besides Jesse. But Chance spoke about them as if they were very real and very present to him. As if he’d been raised on these stories and they never left his mind for long.
She’d never had anything like that. Her parents didn’t dwell on the past, and they never told stories about their families. It was always about the places they’d been and where they wanted to go next.
Iggy pushed his head against her leg, asking for pets, sensing she was upset. Cordy patted him without looking, thankful she had him. No matter what, she always had him.
“As for my dad…” Chance ran his hands down his face. His expression was haunted. “After Mom died, all he did was drink.”
His throat worked like the rest of what he wanted to say was caught there. Chance blinked hard.
“What about Quint and Ruby?” Cordy wanted to ask more about his dad, but that seemed safer. “They seem… Well, not exactly blissfully happy. I don’t totally understand what’s going on, but I know there’s something wrong.”
Chance’s jaw muscles tensed until they stood out stark in his face. “Quint… Quint is the problem there. They’re unhappy, but my brother can’t let her go. He’ll die before he lets her go. Except he can’t change enough to make her happy either.” He lifted his hat and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s a fucking mess. And it’s why I’ve never brought a woman into this situation, and I never will.”
Finally, she was beginning to understand. Jesse, Holden, Quint… and Chance. The mess was his father, his brother, the rest of his male relatives. Chance avoided commitment all thanks to this family… curse… or whatever it was.
Chance never wanted to fall in love. Not even a little bit. And he was too good a man to never fall in love.
She could say some trite words about how his partner might not die, that he might meet someone and be perfectly happy for decades and decades. But wasn’t her own situation proof that fate could strike anyone at any time?
Reed had been young, healthy, and ought to be here getting ready for the birth of his kid. But he was gone, just like that.
So no, Cordy wouldn’t spout some polite lies about how Chance was wrong.
Cordy tried to swallow down that knot of gray feeling.
“Ruby is Quint’s one.” Her voice caught, and she couldn’t make it come unstuck. “And your mom was your dad’s one. But then she passed.”
Poor, poor Chance. So young, grieving his mom, and then his dad went and disappeared into alcohol and grief. Chance must have felt like he was losing both his parents.
Chance reached for her hand. When their palms met, he gave her fingers a fierce squeeze. “Don’t cry for him.”
She was crying for Chance, but all she did was nod.
Chance gave her hand another squeeze. “When she died, Dad wanted to die too. He didn’t feel like he had anything left to live for.”
Not even his sons? Cordy sniffed angrily, biting back her words.
It explained so much, more than the story about a curse on the men of the family. Chance wasn’t afraid to love because he’d fall too hard—it was because the person who should have loved him the most had let him down.
“He tried to kill himself with alcohol,” Chance said, “but it didn’t work. Most days, he just… wasn’t there.”
Cordy scrubbed at her eyes with her free hand. “How old were you?”
“Eighteen when Mom passed. Rye was thirteen, Lane twelve. Quint and I had to take care of them and the ranch and make sure child services never found out. I damn sure wasn’t going to let my brothers be taken away.”
Out of everything he’d told her, that hit the hardest. No wonder Chance had stepped up to help her—he’d been doing it for years.
God, when she thought about how she’d treated him at first… but she hadn’t known. No one in town had breathed a word of this to her.
“You only have one drink,” she said thickly, still trying not to cry.
His hand tightened on hers. “What?”
“At the bar.” She scrubbed her eyes again.
Chance handed over a crisp white handkerchief because, of course, he carried something like that and would have it right when she needed it.
“Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes. “At the bar, you only have one beer, no matter how long you’re there.” At his look, she said, “I notice these things. You’re nothing like him. And it’s not just the drinking.”
Chance ducked his head, keeping hold of her hand. “I never want to be like that. Brought so low I can’t even get out of bed. Not caring about any of the shit I should as everything goes to hell.”
“You won’t.” Which made his determination to be alone forever so much sadder.
“You’re not like him either.”
Cordy blinked. “What do you mean?”
Chance caught her gaze. “I mean, you had your life turned upside down, lost Reed, and you still came out swinging for this baby. You’d do anything for them, and they aren’t even here yet.” He gently tugged the handkerchief from her and wiped her cheeks. “You’re a fantastic mom already. I’m awed by you.”
They were holding hands in front of a pack of goats, her dog was asleep on her feet, but this moment felt more intimate than anything that had happened last night.
Acting purely on impulse, Cordy tugged him toward her and wrapped her free arm around him. With her belly she couldn’t get too close, but it was still a hug.
Chance didn’t seem to know what to do. His body was stiff against hers, and his arms hung at his sides. Cordy wondered when he’d last had a hug. It wasn’t like she was a big hugger, but he was just plain baffled.
Slowly, he put his hands on her back. His shoulders curved toward her. His head drooped until he was practically nestled into her neck.
Chance gave a great, heaving sigh that lifted Cordy up on her toes. He sounded like he needed this.
Well, so did she.
“Thanks,” she said roughly. “I needed to hear that, even though I keep telling myself I don’t.” She rubbed his back. “I’ll stay away from your dad’s house.”
“I overreacted. He won’t hurt you, but sometimes he says stuff…” Chance shrugged. “Well, you heard him.”
“It didn’t bother me. I was more worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
He wasn’t, though. He wasn’t at all, and it tore her up inside.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said quietly. “I won’t do that again. It wasn’t fair of me.”
The tension that stole through him was very different now. “Uh, let’s not be too hasty.” His tone went gravelly. “I, uh, I shouldn’t have shut you down like that. Maybe we could try again.”
Her blood went up in a whoosh of flame. Cordy had to step away from him because that was too much, and they were in full sight of the goats. There were some things livestock just shouldn’t see.
She wet her lips, realizing she’d never let go of his hand. “Um, okay. If you’re sure. If you’d be okay with it.”
His eyes were as hot as her face felt. “I told you last night I’d be more than okay with it. But I still need to keep you clear of my mess.”
“Don’t worry.” She gestured to her belly with their joined hands. “I’ve got my own mess going on.”
“You’re not a mess,” he growled. “And you’re not alone in this.”
“I know that now.” She swung their hands between them, just because. Holding hands like this was one of her favorite things; she hadn’t done it in so long. And she was doing it with Chance Kessal, of all people… if her emotions weren’t still churned up, she might have giggled.
They watched the goats for a bit longer, their hands still linked. Cordy sensed it soothed Chance as much as it did her.
“Can you take me to Lovers’ Cavern someday?” she asked.
“Sure. Probably better to go after the baby is born. The trail’s not bad, but if you slip and hurt yourself…” His mouth flattened. “I’m not letting that happen.” He sighed. “Come on, I’ll drive you back. I need to get back to this irrigation—I left Quint in the middle of the field.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “Iggy needs a nap.”
“That dog sleeps too much.” Chance turned and started for his truck, pulling her along with him. “He slept through me making bacon this morning. It’s unnatural.”
“You made bacon and didn’t leave me any?”
“Of course I did!” He glared at Iggy. “But it looked like someone was only pretending to be asleep and stole the damn bacon.”
“Ignatius,” Cordy chided. The dog cocked his head at her. “You’re not supposed to eat people food.”
“His full name is Ignatius?”
Cordy flushed. “No, I call him that when I’m upset with him. Or Ignatius Loyola when I’m really upset. Or even Ignatius Loyola Marymount when I’m really, really upset with him.”
“I’ll have to remember that the next time he steals the bacon.” Chance handed her up into the truck, then put Iggy in the back seat. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. And I’ll make dinner; you don’t have to worry about that.”
“We’ve got class tonight,” she reminded him. “Two more, and then we’re done.”
Chance tucked her hair behind her ear. “I remember.” He leaned in and brushed his mouth across hers, faster and lighter than the blink of an eye. “Let’s get you safely home.”