CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rusty
R usty's boots thudded against the worn wooden floor of his cabin as he paced back and forth. Shadows danced on the walls from the flickering flames in the hearth. His mind raced with thoughts of Janice. Despite the warmth of the fire, a chill ran down his spine.
Ever since reading that old letter, Rusty had been contemplating contacting Angus, Janice's controlling father.
He couldn't let it go on any longer—Janice deserved justice. She deserved more than a life of forever hiding from him, afraid that he might show up and make her life hell with no warning. She deserved to feel like the amazing person she was, free from the constraints of her father's manipulation.
Rusty knew Angus, after all. He wasn’t the sort of man to accept defeat. It was only a matter of time before he found his daughter and dragged her back to Scotland, or dragged her name through the dirt, or did whatever it was he planned on doing to her. He probably already had a dozen private investigators on the case, closing in on Littlecreek Ranch by the second.
Plus, and maybe this was even more pressing, Rusty wanted the chance to stand up to Angus. For the past ten years, Angus had been bailing out Rusty’s family ranch in Colorado. His cousins still lived out there, and Rusty’s heart broke at the thought of them no longer having a place to live. But Rusty was fed up of feeling like a coward. He was fed up of living in fear of Angus and what he might do to destroy Janice’s life and his own.
He wanted to do something he should have done ten years ago: man up and fight Angus.
He clenched his fists, determined to give his love for Janice a fighting chance, no matter the consequences. He glanced at a photo of him and Janice, taken years before their abrupt breakup, and he sighed. He needed to help the two of them find their way back to that place—safe, secure, happy.
If he didn’t, it would eat them both up. The guilt, the worry, the insecurity. The last few days, Rusty had been so preoccupied with the worry and stress of how to deal with the situation that he’d clearly upset Janice. He didn’t want that to happen anymore. He needed to set things right.
He grabbed the phone, his heart pounding in his chest. He dialed Angus's number, ensuring he used a withheld number to avoid being traced. The dial tone buzzed in his ear, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, Angus answered.
"Hello?" Angus's gruff voice echoed through the line. “Who is this?”
"Angus, it's Rusty Maguire," he said calmly, despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him. "I'm calling about Janice.”
“Maguire," he said, his voice like ice. "I should have known you were involved in this. Where's my daughter? I’ve had seventeen men out looking for her with no luck. What have you done to her?”
“She's safe,” Rusty replied, determined not to be intimidated by the horrible man, “but she's come back into my life recently, purely by chance."
"What's the purpose of this call?" Angus demanded, suspicion lacing his tone.
"I want to ask for your blessing," Rusty replied, his voice steady. "Janice and I have been given a second chance, and I want us to live our lives without fear. We both deserve that much."
"Is that all?" Angus asked, his voice seemingly dripping with disdain.
"Please, Angus," Rusty implored. "She's got a right to make her own decisions without being belittled for them. She's grown up, and so have I. We're stronger together."
The wind whispered through the trees, their branches swaying like dancers in the fading light. Rusty's heart raced as Angus's voice on the other end of the line turned from curiosity to anger.
"Are you still a pervert, Rusty? A—what was it—dominant daddy?" Angus spat, his words like venom. "You think I'd ever give my blessing for you two to be together like that? You must be as stupid as you are sick."
"Angus, it's not like that," Rusty tried to explain, but his words fell on deaf ears.
"I’m glad you called,” sneered Angus. “Because now I can stop bailing out that pathetic excuse of a ranch of yours. Your cousins can wave goodbye to their comfy homestead. And as for Janice. Well, the girl is dead to me.” With that, Angus hung up.
The silence that followed was heavy. Rusty took a long, shaky breath, sliding his back down the wall as he sat down on the ground in exhaustion.
Well. That didn’t go great.
So, what now?
A knock at the cabin door interrupted his thoughts, and Rusty's heart sank as he realized it must be Janice. He opened the door with a forced smile, trying to hide his inner turmoil. "Hey, Janice."
"Hi, Rusty," she replied hesitantly, her red hair framing her face like a halo. "Can we talk?"
"Of course." Rusty stepped aside, allowing her into the cozy space. As she entered, the scent of fresh-baked bread filled the air, a small comfort amidst the storm brewing between them.
“I brought you some homemade sandwiches,” she told him. “Nanny Clara ran a baking session for us in the Nursery and I thought you could use something to eat. I’ve noticed you’ve barely touched your food at dinner lately.”
“That’s kind of you, Janice,” said Rusty awkwardly. He took the sandwiches and put them down on the table.
"Something's bothering you," Janice observed, her green eyes searching his face. "What is it?"
Rusty hesitated. It was hard to know where to begin with his thoughts. He wasn’t good with big conversations. He was a simple man, who liked to ride horses and breathe in the country air. But he had to try, for Janice’s sake.
“Take a seat on the couch, Janice,” he said.
Janice did as he asked, and Rusty went over to the wooden chest that held his memories. He pulled out the old letter from Angus, knowing that it was about to change everything.
“Ten years ago, your father wrote me a letter,” said Rusty, sitting down beside Janice. “He told me that if I didn’t leave you, he’d find a way to ruin your life.”
He handed Janice the letter and she took it with trembling fingers. Rusty watched her eyes scan it, filling with tears as she did so.
"Rusty," Janice choked out, "how could you keep this from me? Do you have any idea how much I've struggled, thinking you just didn't want me anymore?"
Rusty felt his heart constrict at the pain he'd caused her. He reached out to touch her arm, but she shied away. "Janice, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I thought I was protecting you, but I see now that I only hurt you worse."
"Protecting me?" Janice scoffed, her anger and hurt boiling over. "By making me feel cherished one moment and rejected the next? By running away instead of telling me the truth about my father's meddling?"
"Please, let me explain," Rusty pleaded, his hazel eyes shining with desperation. "I never meant to send mixed signals or hurt you. I was scared, Janice. Scared of losing you, scared of not being strong enough to be your rock. Frankly, I was scared of ruining your life."
Janice stared at him for a long moment. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but resolute. “Rusty, I appreciate your honesty," she said, wiping her eyes. "But I need time to process all of this. I need to figure out if I can trust you again, if we can really make this work."
With that, Janice turned and left the cabin. The door clicked shut, echoing like a gunshot through the empty room. Rusty stared at the worn wooden floorboards, his hands trembling with the aftershocks of their confrontation. He clenched his fists, the pain in his knuckles a welcome distraction from the swirling doubts tormenting his mind.
"Damn it," he muttered angrily, kicking the leg of the couch they had just sat on moments ago. The furniture barely moved. "Should've told her about calling Angus," he whispered to himself, pacing back and forth across the small space.
Would she ever forgive him for hiding the truth? Had he lost her for good this time?
He ran his fingers through his hair, the tension knotting in his shoulders. How could he have ruined things all over again?
"Maybe I can fix this," Rusty murmured, pausing to consider the possibility. He envisioned riding Midnight out to find Janice, sweeping her up into his arms and promising to make everything right.
But even in his daydreams, the specter of Angus loomed over them.
She’s dead to me.
That’s what Angus had said. But what did that mean? He was cutting her out of the inheritance? About to destroy her reputation? Or just setting her free, letting her live life on her own terms?
Rusty had either done something sincerely good . . . or very, very bad.
"Who am I kiddin'?" he sighed, slumping down onto the couch. "I'm no hero, not like those cowboy heroes in the movies. Janice deserves better," he admitted quietly, his heart aching with the bitter truth. "She deserves someone who can protect her, not make her life even worse."
As Rusty sat there, lost in his thoughts, the night wore on and the cabin grew colder. The fire had long since died, leaving only ash and embers where once there had been warmth and light. It seemed like an all-too-fitting metaphor for what had become of his relationship with Janice.