Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
isaac
Something is up with my fake wife.
She doesn’t look at me when we get on the plane. Not once.
Hair swept up, makeup scrubbed off, the white dress replaced with jeans and a soft sweatshirt.
There’s a little shimmer on her cheekbone, a stubborn trace from the ceremony still clinging to her skin.
But her eyes? Empty. Distant. Not the woman I danced with under string lights and made love to last night.
Not the one who recited heartfelt vows and kissed me like it meant something.
I know she’s a good actress, but this is like flying home with a completely different person.
“Wanna take the controls?” I ask gently, sliding into the cockpit beside her. “Might help take your mind off—”
“No, thanks,” she cuts in, gaze locked on the horizon. “Just ready to go.”
Okay, then.
The silence between us hangs heavy the entire flight. She doesn’t gaze out the windshield or reach for my hand like she always does. She just sits there, jaw clenched, arms folded across her chest, eyes far away and avoiding mine.
I don’t push. I get that she needs space, and her family is a lot. This whole situation is a lot.
I keep checking on her from the corner of my eye, hoping she’ll say something. Crack a joke. Yell. Cry. Anything but this endless nothing.
Five hours of nothing. Makes me grateful I sprung for the more expensive, much faster Lancair years ago instead of a Cessna.
By the time we touch down in Paradise Valley, it’s almost dinnertime. My mom, Ivy, Willow, and Sutton greet us by the hangar like a homecoming parade.
Ivy hugs us both and asks to see pictures of the ceremony.
When Elena mumbles that one of her family members took photos but we haven’t seen them yet, Ivy backs up to give her some space.
She’s radiating strong stay the fuck away from me vibes. I thought it was just for me, but apparently it extends to everyone.
“We thought we’d throw you a little reception,” Ivy says, looking less excited and more uncertain. “Just us. Dinner on our back deck. Dessert courtesy of Laurel.”
I’m starving. We didn’t eat before we left New Mexico, and I only stopped once for fuel and to grab Elena snacks she didn’t eat.
But Elena steps back. “I’m exhausted,” she says quickly. “Sorry. Could we maybe do that another time?”
“Oh,” Ivy says softly. “Yeah. Of course.”
“I’m just going to go lie down. If you’ll excuse me.”
I wave the well-meaning women in my family off and tell them I’ll check in tomorrow and let them know.
I start to follow my wife, thinking we’re heading home. But she turns toward the guest cabin.
“Elena? You okay?”
She clears her throat. Glances at my family behind us. “I think I just want to be alone tonight. And maybe we shouldn’t cohabitate. Keep this already messy situation as uncluttered as possible.”
“Uncluttered?” I repeat.
She nods. “I’ve just played fake bride all that I can manage right now. I’m sorry. But it’s better this way,” she says flatly. “So, we don’t forget this isn’t real.”
My heart drops. “Elena—”
“Let’s not complicate things any further, Isaac” she says, sad eyes flicking anywhere but my face. “You live at your house. I stay in the Lazy Bear cabin like I was always supposed to. We maintain boundaries.”
Her hands shake when she picks up her bag. And her voice breaks on the last word. Barely there, but I know her now. I’ve seen her come undone. This isn’t indifference. This is armor.
I carry her bag to the cabin’s front porch, set it down and step aside, giving her as much space as I can.
“Did someone say something?” I ask, jaw tight. “Your mom? Someone in your family? Diego?”
I saw them. Talking outside. Standing closer together than I would’ve preferred.
But it didn’t look romantic, and she mostly looked annoyed or maybe even disgusted by him from what I could tell. By the time I was heading outside, he was driving away. But then she never mentioned it. And she’s been out of sorts ever since.
“No.”
“Then what the hell is this?” My voice rises. “We got married, Elena. I get that it was supposed to be fake, but none of it felt fake to me.”
She stiffens. “Well, that’s your problem. Another reason for both of us to stay where we belong.”
“You want to go back to before? Suffering through training camp pretending we were strangers?” I ask. “Fine. But at least admit it’s because you’re scared. Say it’s because it’s easier than admitting you love–”
“It’s because I don’t want anything from you, Isaac,” she snaps. “At all. You’ve done enough. I just didn't want to lose my job or for the ranch to lose the location contract.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Her gaze skitters away from me. “Yeah. I do. Feel free to go back to screwing whatever tourist catches your eye. Actually, that would make everything easier and our eventual public breakup that much more believable.”
Her words are a whip across the face. Honestly, I’d prefer that.
“Maybe I’m not that guy anymore.”
She shrugs and huffs out a breath. “Maybe I don’t care either way.”
Damn, that stings.
I watch her go inside, and just stare at the closed door. Then say fuck this, because whatever that was, I didn’t see it coming this time.
Maybe her family is right and I’m just a dumb cowboy who refuses to accept the truth.
By the time I hit The Stillery, the crowd is thinning out.
Mick O’Malley raises a brow when I slump onto a barstool. “So, how’s married life?”
Word gets around quickly in a small town. I’d say good news travels fast but it’s not feeling too good.
“Overrated,” I mutter, then order a shot of whiskey. He’s already got it in front of me when I look up.
It goes down like liquid fire. But I’m okay with the burn. Better than the pain of watching her shut down on me, then shut me completely out.
I get it. It’s a lot to ask her to put all her chips in and bet on me. I don’t even know what I have to offer.
I’m on my third pour, elbows planted on the bar, forehead heavy in my palm. Mick slides another glass toward me without asking.
Old habits. New pain.
“Thanks,” I say. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, Mick.”
He and my dad were Navy buddies and he’d always been there for us kids since Dad passed.
“Might have to figure it out soon, son. Place might not be here much longer,” he mutters, wiping down the counter with a rag that’s seen better days.
I look up. “What’re you talking about?”
“Gettin’ harder to keep the lights on. Wild Coyote draws more tourists. No as much interest in an old-fashioned cowboy bar these days. And I’m not getting any younger.” He shrugs like it doesn’t gut him, but I know this place is all he has. “Might be time to let go soon.”
I stare at the wall of bottles, unfocused. “This bar raised half of us.”
“Doesn’t mean I can afford to keep her. Don’t have anyone in my family interested in taking over.”
That’s just the icing on the shitcake of today.
The door swings open behind me. I hear familiar voices calling out in raucous laughter.
“Holy shit, do my eyes deceive me, or is that Isaac Logan?”
Beau’s voice carries across the bar.
Brett’s joins in soon after. “Well, well. Look who finally returned to the land of fun. Thought we’d lost you to the other side.”
They sidle up to the bar, taking the empty stools on either side of me.
Brett nods to my shot glasses. “Three drinks deep. Looks like we have some catching up to do, Beau.”
I don’t say anything. Just motion to Mick for another.
Beau orders a round on him. “So how has life been? Thought maybe now that the Logans went Hollywood, you wouldn’t have time for us anymore.”
“If you missed me, say you missed me.”
Brett laughs. “For real though. Where you been, man?”
Beau nudges my shoulder. “Did you get lost in that pretty piece of—”
My hand strikes out like a viper, and I grip his neck without thinking. “Be real careful how you finish that sentence. Really not in the fucking mood.”
Brett clears his throat as I release his brother. “You seem a little high-strung tonight. What gives?”
Beau snorts like a wild boar. Jerks his chin toward the ring on my left hand. “You know what his problem is. But I don’t think we’re allowed to say.” He rubs the back of his neck.
I throw some cash on the bar. “Well this has been fun. But I’m heading home, fellas.”
Home.
Where she’ll be within walking distance. Where she doesn’t want me.
“Don’t be like that,” Brett offers. “Look, I’m buying tonight. Got a new job—some construction outfit building hi-rise condos near Bozeman.”
“Great.”
Beau frowns. “Come on, man. You owe me after Carly Rae. Come with us to the Sapphire Room.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re calling that in now? I told you I was sorry. I didn’t know how you were into her.”
“Seriously,” Beau says. “I’m calling it in. Besides, you got married without letting us throw you a bachelor party. So, you owe me double.”
I weigh my options. It’s this or sit at home and stare at the walls wishing she was there.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”