33. Presley
Chapter 33
Presley
My heart pounds as the song “Honky Tonkin’s What I Do Best” by Marty Stuart and Travis Tritt flies out of me and the warm vibrations of my fiddle echo through Night Hawk. The people on the dance floor sing along, dance, and clap as I lose myself in playing the last song of the night.
I’ve felt a lot of things onstage before, but nothing quite like this. I feel…exhilarated. Stronger, confident, and more capable than I ever have before. Part of that has to do with the fact that I’m doing what I love, what I was born for—and my heart is rejoicing, almost bursting from my chest. And the other part has to do with the man I left at the ranch. The man I still haven’t seen hide nor hair of.
Sweat drips from my brow as I play the last few notes, looking to the audience where Kade said he’d be one more time—but he’s still not there. My good feeling ceases, but then the song ends, and the cheers of the crowd drown out my thoughts for a moment.
“Everyone give a big round of applause for our special guest, Presley James!” Andy, the lead singer, says into the mic. More cheers and hollers erupt, and a flush appears on my cheeks as I bow, soaking in this moment of happiness before I motion for everyone to clap for the rest of the band.
After more clapping and bowing, making my cheeks turn so red I probably look like a red color swatch, the music over the loudspeaker starts up, and I’m walking off the stage feeling several different emotions.
“Presley, that was fucking killer!” Jake shouts, giving me a hug I would normally find awkward but one I find myself leaning into, another thing that’s changing about me.
I pull back with a chuckle, my fiddle still in one hand. “Thanks, Jake.”
“No, thank you. You were incredible.”
With a gentle smile on my face, I search for Kade again—but still, no dice.
“He’s not here,” Jake says.
I think I become redder than I already am, which should be impossible. Of course Jake knows who I’m looking for.
He glances over the crowd as well. “I was about to text him.”
I attempt another smile at Jake. I looked for Kade several times throughout the night, and every time I didn’t see him, I tried to tell myself it was a good thing, that dinner went well. But now that the adrenaline of being onstage is wearing off, something doesn’t feel right. He promised he’d be here—and Kade doesn’t lie.
With Jake’s eyes on me, I pull out the phone I had tucked in my back pocket to see if he’s texted, but there’s nothing there. At least not from him.
There is one text from Derek, which only adds to the growing anxiety I’m feeling. I bite my lip and click it open.
DEREK: I’m on probation. I hope you’re fucking happy.
I delete the message, and with a few quick taps, I do what I should’ve done when I first moved here: I block him. I didn’t have the strength or the bravery to do it before. In a way, Derek was like a cigarette—cancerous and bad for me, something I knew I shouldn’t have done but did anyway. But I don’t need him, and I don’t want him.
As I slide my phone back in my pocket, a weight lifts from my shoulders, and I breathe a sigh of relief. My asshole ex isn’t part of my life anymore; he’s part of my past. One that I’m learning to let go of so I can focus on my future, a future I hope involves a man who isn’t here.
Fear sours my insides. “Do you mind if I take off?” I ask Jake. I glance at the large crowd. “I can stay to help if you need me.”
He shakes his head. “Go check on him,” he says. The hint of concern in his voice only serves to feed my anxiety, though he quickly covers it. “You’ve worked hard enough for tonight. But I think this might have to be a regular occurrence.”
“Hell yes, it does!” Andy appears at Jake’s side. He’s got a dusty-colored cowboy hat on over his red hair. A moment later, the guitarist, bassist, and drummer flank him, all grinning widely at me.
“We actually wanted to talk to you about playing with us more,” Andy says. “You’re extremely talented, and we all had fun tonight.”
“What Andy wants to say is that we’re going on a little tour around Texas after Christmas,” the drummer, Brent, says. “And we’d love to have you join us.”
Excitement sparks in my veins at the prospect of it, of being back on the road and playing my fiddle every night, feeling the vibrations of music in my soul once again. Like I did tonight—and with a band that’s been nothing but kind and supportive of me since I’ve met them.
Every part of me wants to say yes, but then I feel my message-less phone burning a hole in my pocket. Kade’s smiling face swims before my vision, and my excitement dissipates. Where is he?
“It’s just some shows in honky-tonks, but we have a couple in Dallas and even one in Nashville down the line if we all jive together outside of gigs,” Andy adds. “Which I’m sure we will. ”
I smile at him and take out my phone, giving it to Andy. “Can you put your number in? I’ll think about it.”
Andy takes my phone as Jake watches warily. I feel his questioning gaze on me, and I bet he’s wondering why I didn’t just say yes.
In the past, after feeling so great onstage—plus getting all that appreciation and love—I would have probably said yes and hoped this band was different from my last. And while I think they are, I have two good jobs here in Randall, a nice place to stay, and people in my life now that I care about. One person in particular.
The urge to find Kade gets stronger. When Andy gives me back my phone and I still don’t see any messages or calls from Kade, the overwhelming sense that he needs me hits me hard, and I have to hold off a shiver.
I force a smile as I nod at the band. “Thanks, I’ll call you later this week.”
“Great!” they all chime.
“Well, we see some ladies who want our attention.” Andy wiggles his eyebrows. “We’ll chat later.”
He shakes Jake’s hand, and the four men walk off, leaving Jake with me again. “When you find Kade, will you text me?” Jake asks.
“Yes, of course,” I say, looking into the dark-brown eyes of Kade’s concerned friend. Now I’m very worried. “I’ll see you later. And thanks for tonight.”
Jake squeezes my bicep. “No, thank you.”
I nod at him then step away to head toward the back room and pack up my fiddle. I try to call Kade, but it goes straight to voicemail. My hackles rise as I grab my purse, running to my car.
What if something happened? I think of what Kade told me at Devil’s Rock, how Gavin treated him this morning. Now I don’t know why I didn’t insist on staying with him like I had earlier. I can always play fiddle—there will always be gigs. But did Kade need me tonight, and I wasn’t there for him? Guilt roils through me. The first person to really care about me, and I’m already screwing it up.
I put my stuff in my car, and then I’m off, hurtling down the road. By now, I know the way back home like the back of my hand. It doesn’t matter that it’s dark—I could close my eyes and still know the way back.
The hairs on my arms stand on end when it dawns on me what I just thought. The song playing on the radio fades out, and my heartbeat thumps in my ears so it’s all I can hear. “Home,” I say out loud. “Home. I’m home.”
My already rampant thoughts flip about my head like they’re on spin cycle, and then I’m laughing. Home .
I reflect on my time in Randall, how I’ve pushed myself beyond my comfort zone. How I’ve smiled more than I have my entire life. How I feel like this dense fog that’s been suffocating me has lifted and I can finally breathe. Do I have my moments? Yes. I’m only human. But for the first time in a long time, I feel content. At home. Not just in myself, but here, in Randall. With Kade.
I let out a laugh again, one that frees up the weight on my chest that’s felt so heavy. Then I smile, Kade’s handsome, stubbled face filling my every thought. Every action he’s done over the last few weeks only makes me want to be with him more. To fill my time with him and all the things that I love.
Then I’m laughing again. Am I having a mental breakdown? Breakup? That’s silly. There’s no such thing. But I feel free. Holy crap, I’m happy. I’m in love. Not just with Kade, but with my life.
I step on the gas pedal and go a little faster, the spark in my stomach that’s telling me to get to Kade burning brighter. When the driveway to the Montgomery Family Ranch comes into view, I breathe a sigh of relief. I drive past the house and don’t see his truck there, so I keep going to the hands’ quarters, hoping that’s where he’ll be.
When I pull up and see his truck, hope lights in my chest. I park next to it and kill the engine before rushing into the house. My stomach drops when he’s not there—instead, an open whiskey bottle is sitting on the counter next to his cell phone. Crap. Crap. Crap. I try to think of where he might be, and for a second, I come up empty. But then it clicks.
I turn for the door and sprint to the barn. I see the light through the windows as I approach and suck in a breath. With the muscles I’ve built up doing ranch work, I pull the sliding door open with almost too much force, and it bangs against the frame. I wince but continue to where I know Kade is.
I run up the stairs, and when I reach the loft, I’m sweating, and my chest is heaving with shortness of breath, but I see him. He’s here. His broad back is to me as he stares out into the darkness through the open loft door, but he’s here.
There’s no way he didn’t hear me, but he acts as if he doesn’t, his body as motionless as water on a windless day.
“Kade,” I say quietly. At the sound of his name, his shoulders tense up, then in the next breath, they slump again. “Kade?” He still doesn’t face me, nor does he say anything.
I walk tentatively to him and lean on the wooden railing next to him. My arm gently touches his as I settle in and turn my head to look at him. He is staring off into nothingness while he grips his silver flask in his fingers so hard they’re starting to turn white. I attempt to study his face, to get a read on him, but his features are blank.
I bite my lip as I debate what to do or say. But I settle on silence, staring out into the night along with him.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
The sudden sound of his voice makes me jump. Then I’m hit with how much pain I hear laced through his words. I gently touch his forearm, feeling the lean muscles bunch underneath my palm, but I don’t move my hand.
“I bet you were amazing.” His tone is sad, the kind of sad that makes me want to pull him in my arms and hug him, tell him it will be alright. I keep the pressure of my hand on him steady and inhale an easy breath as if any sudden expression will spook him.
“Kade, what happened?”
He clenches his jaw, his eyes moving from the night sky to his flask. “I think I need help, Presley.”
His statement stuns me, words I didn’t expect to hear sinking through me like a stone to the bottom of the ocean. I swallow and try to maintain my composure. “What do you need help with, baby?”
The endearment slips easily from my lips, and he finally turns to me. His hardened gaze dips to my mouth as if he can’t believe I said it, either, then his composure fractures. His features relax slightly, and he starts blinking rapidly as he struggles to stop tears from falling.
“I don’t know.” His voice cracks, and my heart shatters at the confusion in his words. I want to give in to my desire to pull him into my arms. I want to comb my fingers through his soft hair and tell him that it’ll all be okay. But Kade isn’t someone who appreciates lies, and the truth is, I don’t know that.
I trail my hand up his arm instead and rest it on his elbow. “It’s okay,” I assure him. “We can figure it out together.”
His eyes stay glued to mine for a moment. Then as quickly as the softness in his gaze arrived, it leaves. His expression turns hard. “You should go.”
He pulls his arm away from me, and I shake my head. “I’m staying.”
“Presley.” Kade sighs. “Please go.”
I don’t move, and I’m not planning to. He can say whatever he wants to me, but I’m not going to leave. The Presley that arrived in Randall would’ve, but not this version of me and not after what we’ve shared together. Not after how he’s stood by me and helped me work through my own hardships.
“Presley,” he says again. “I don’t want you to see me like this.” He whispers the second part, but I hear it all the same .
“Like what?”
His head drops to his chest, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer me. But then he barely whispers, “Weak.”
If my heart wasn’t already shattered, it would be obliterated now, because the man before me is anything but weak. Gently, I grab the wrist of the hand still holding the flask. He looks down at it, and I stroke the soft skin over his pulse.
“Tell me what happened to make you feel that way.”
Kade presses his eyes shut then releases a sigh. “They didn’t want to talk about the dude ranch. They wanted to talk about my, um…”
I don’t say anything as I wait for him to finish, though internally, I’m livid for him. The fact that they lied to him again only makes my blood boil, and I have the urge to run up to the house and give his family a piece of my mind. It’s a feeling I haven’t ever felt to this extent before, the desire to protect someone with my whole being.
I squeeze Kade’s wrist to assure him once more that I’m here. At the touch, his tired eyes meet mine again. “They wanted to talk about my drinking—about my depression.” He says the last part with such shame in his chest, which only serves to make me angrier. I hate that he feels the need to be ashamed of it or his coping mechanisms.
While Kade hasn’t said he has depression to me outright, I understand he struggles with it and have known since I met him. Our night at Devil’s Rock, what he shared with me about his life and his accident only deepened my understanding of it, of him. And while I haven’t lost a loved one or been faced with a failing business like he has, I know how it feels to think nothing will ever be okay again, like nobody would care if you were gone. My parents have only ever proved that to me time and time again.
“Kade—”
He pulls his wrist from my touch and starts to pace the loft floor. His steps are heavy as he drags one hand through his messy hair while he grips the flask in the other. Eventually, he stops and holds the flask out to me, his hand trembling.
“I didn’t even drink anything. I haven’t—God, Presley. I haven’t even been drinking at all. I told you at Devil’s Rock I was trying, and fuck—” He pulls at the ends of his hair.
Unable to hold myself back any longer, I take a few steps to him and wrap my arms around his waist. His body stiffens, and I think he’s going to pull back, but then he sinks into my arms like a deadweight and begins to shake.
The clunk of the metal flask falling to the floor seems to vibrate up through my feet as Kade’s arms wrap around me. He grips me so tight against his chest that my breath whooshes from me and I gasp for air, but I don’t care. I crush him tighter to me as he hides his face in my neck, his wet tears dropping to my skin.
“Feel whatever you need to feel.” I repeat the words he’s said to me so many times now. “Let me take care of you.”
His shoulders shake in silent sobs, and I rub my hands down the length of his back as his heart releases all the emotions he’s been holding in. Regret riddles me when I think back to Devil’s Rock, how he expressed to me he wasn’t sure what happened the night of his accident. I should’ve paid more attention to his words, to what he wasn’t saying. He’s been through a lot in such a short amount of time—it’s no wonder he’s having a hard time, why drinking and women became a crutch for him. I’d want to numb myself, too.
“Kade,” I say against his ear. “Listen to me, alright?”
He doesn’t respond; he just grips me tighter.
“You’re not weak.”
He starts to pull back then, but I don’t let him.
“You’re not.” My voice is firmer now. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Being vulnerable doesn’t make you weak. Having depression doesn’t make you weak. You asked for help—that’s more than a lot of people do, baby.”
His watery eyes stare into mine, and I bring one of my hands up to cup his damp cheek. “Tell me how I can help you, and I will. I’ll drive you to the hospital, I’ll stay with you all night, I’ll follow you around twenty-four hours a day—just tell me what you need. I’m here for you, Kade, and I’m not leaving.”
“You’re too good for me, Presley.”
I shake my head. “Then you’re too good for me.” He tries to pull back again, but I just grip him tighter, making him look into my eyes. “Stop thinking.”
He blinks at me, then a hint of a smile curls at the corners of his lips. “You’re using my own words against me, Lemon darlin’.”
The weight on my chest lightens a bit at his use of my special nickname. “Is it working?”
He turns and kisses the inside of my palm before resting the weight of his head against it. His heavy eyes close, features warming as if he’s drawing in my strength.
“Despite what you think of yourself right now, Kade, you’re a good man. You’ll get through this, and I’ll be there to help you, I promise.”
His eyes flutter open, and I see a tear clinging to one of his long lashes. “Why?” he asks. “I couldn’t even keep my promise to be there for you tonight. I’m a fuckup, Presley. I stared at a flask for I don’t know how long instead of being there for you—I’m not any better than your asshole ex.”
I shake my head fiercely. “No, you’re not, Kade. You’re nothing like him.”
“You don’t know me that well. I’m—”
“But I do know you, Kade. You’ve shown me who you are. You’re not what your brother or anyone else thinks of you. I can see through your bullshit, and I’m not buying it. I’m not going to let you push me away. So please. Just stop.” I suck in a breath as I try to hold back tears now.
“But I don’t deserve you, Presley.” He exhales.
I take his face in both my hands now. “Do you think I would allow someone who didn’t deserve me to tie me up? That I’d trust them with my body like I trust you? Do you think so little of me?” My words come out angry, but I need him to hear me, to understand.
A sound of protest leaves his mouth. “No, Presley, I fucking love you, I think the world of you, I—” He stops, mouth and eyes wide.
We stare at each other, and my shattered heart begins to mend as his declaration wraps around me like a fierce embrace.
The rough brush of Kade’s thumb against my cheek has me blinking, and I realize I’m crying now. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Lemon. I shouldn’t have said that—”
“Can you say it again?”
Kade doesn’t hesitate. “I love you. Fuck , I love you, Presley.”
I want to swallow down the sob I feel bubbling out of me, but I can’t contain it. It bursts forth like a dam that’s broken, and my tears fall in earnest now. Kade crushes me to him, and I lay my head down on his chest so my lips are at his neck.
“Nobody has ever said they loved me and meant it before.”
Kade’s lips press to the crown of my head, and the next words that leave his mouth are said with conviction. “I mean it, Presley. I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything.”
A shiver works its way through my body, and I look up into his eyes.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he adds. I know it’s early, but I wanted—no, I needed —to say it.”
More tears spill from me as a gentle smile plays at my lips. “I love you, too, Kade.” My words are as sure and strong as his were so he can hear the truth in them.
The muscles in his throat work as he swallows, fresh tears blurring his awed stare as he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. I squeeze my arms around his waist.
“You deserve me, Kade. And you deserve to be happy. Whatever it takes, I’m going to make sure you are.”
Kade leans his forehead against mine and continues to hold me. I don’t know how long we stand there, but we take comfort in each other, and I relish in his steady breaths against my cheek .
While I don’t know what the future will bring, I do know one thing: The Montgomery Family Ranch isn’t what makes me feel at home—it’s Kade.