Chapter Three
Mags
Year Three. Hallow Ranch.
“Mags!”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Hell was likely going to freeze over before I could finish tending to my damn horse.
I looked over my shoulder to find Beau headed for me, the gravel crunching underneath his boots. There was a look of worry painted across his face, and something in my gut twisted. There were a lot of things in this world I didn’t like, and that look in Beau’s eyes was one of them. As he drew closer to me, my eyes shifted, looking over to his girlfriend, Abbie, standing by the bunkhouse. She was talking to Jigs, using her hands to explain something as the old man laughed.
Clearly, whatever Beau was concerned about wasn’t bad enough for them to worry.
“Denver needs you up at the house,” Beau said once he was a few feet from me, throwing his thumb over his shoulder.
I looked up at his face, waiting for an explanation. By now, he should’ve known I needed one.
He took off his hat and sighed. “It’s bad, Mags. Caleb’s mom is stirring up her usual bullshit.”
Of course, she fucking was.
Grunting, I looked back to Midnight’s horseshoe and hammered in the final nail before lowering it back to the ground. “There you go, girl,” I muttered, dusting my hands off and rising to my full height. I gave my horse a few pats and turned to face Beau. “Is she up there with Kings?”
Kings, as I’d come to learn, had been Denver’s call-sign in the Marines. This discovery was made when Denver invited everyone up to the house for dinner one night a year or so ago. Jigs, Beau, and I shared a good meal with our boss, and when the sun had set, Denver brought out an old bottle of his father’s whiskey. Jigs and Beau went back down to the bunkhouse, and my boss shared his story with me. I’d been working for him for a little over a year back then but we barely knew each other. I stuck to my roll and he stuck to his. It was simple—peaceful.
However, as Kings’ son, Caleb, started growing, I noticed the rancher craved connection, someone to talk to.
So that night, I let him talk to me, and I listened to every word.
By the time he was done, I knew about his childhood, the tragic loss of his mother, the fallout with his brother, and shit he had to deal with regarding Caleb’s mother, Cathy. She was a fucking piece of work, and no one on this ranch could stand her.
I was happy to find out I wasn’t alone in that. From the moment I saw her, I knew what kind of woman she was: a leech.
“No, she isn’t here. I would’ve sent her on her way already,” Beau said.
Thank fuck for that. I couldn’t stand the sight of Cathy. She was nothing but trouble, the kind of trouble that rotted you from the inside out.
“Alright. I’ll get Midnight put up and head up there,” I said as I wiped my hands with my bandana before tucking it into my back pocket.
The young cowboy stared at me, frozen solid. “I think that’s the most words you’ve said to me in three years, Mags.”
I said nothing, ignoring his sarcasm as I turned to grab Midnight’s reins and head into the barn.
“It was a good talk, Mags! We should do it more often,” Beau called out to my back as the sun beat down on it, irritating the sunburn on the back of my neck. Annoyance filled me then, and I had half a mind to break his jaw for being such a smartass. Sadly, I mentally reminded myself his mouth was half of his fucking charm. He, along with everyone else on the ranch, was always trying to bust my balls for not talking, but there was no reason to talk if I had nothing to say.
Majority of the time, I just didn’t have anything to say.
Once Midnight was put up, I gave her some fresh hay and an apple for being a good girl today. She neighed, the sound echoing through the barn, exciting the other horses as I gave her one more pat on the neck.
“Get some rest,” I murmured, looking into her black eyes. In the stall next to her, Ranger stuck his head out, searching for an apple. I shook my head at him before giving him one.
Minutes later, after all the horses were given a treat, I headed back out in to the sun to find Jigs, Abbie, and Beau nowhere in sight. Twisting my neck, I noticed Beau’s old truck wasn’t behind the bunkhouse anymore.
I’d been so focused on the horses, lost in my own head, that I didn’t even hear the truck start up. I’d knew they’d be leaving soon. It was Friday night and Jigs always took the couple to dinner somewhere in town so the three of them could catch up. Still, it bothered me that I didn’t hear Beau’s truck.
Maybe it had finally happened—I’d truly lost my mind.
Shaking my head, I shut the barn doors and locked up for the night. I turned to head up the hill to the main house and stopped in my tracks, my heart coming to a stop nearly as fast as my boots.
There, parked next to Denver’s old Chevy, under the old oak tree, was a navy blue Honda civic. There was only one person in my world who drove a piece of shit like that. And just like that, my day went to shit.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Goddamn it.
Those words repeated themselves over and over in my head until I was two feet from the front porch, the shitty little Honda sitting behind me, its owner completely unaware of how she affected me.
Diana Harper.
I came to a slow stop, staring up at the house, wondering what torture awaited me inside.
She was here—yet again.
After three months of peace, she was back in my little corner of the world, disrupting all I’d done to try and heal.
When I first came to Hallow Ranch, I’d thought the universe had given me a break amidst everything I’d been through. It was the least I deserved. Then, that all went to shit the second I laid eyes on her. In that moment, the peace I came here to find and had only gotten a taste of was shattered.
Peace was unreachable now, a myth, a sham.
As long as she was in my orbit and I in hers, I would never know peace. I’d traded one jail for another. After all the trauma, torture, and agony I’d endured growing up and serving my country, none of that could be compare to the agony of being around her. So, over the last few years, I tried to get used to her presence, and thankfully, she didn’t come around often.
But when she did, my insides burned, set ablaze by the way I longed for her.
“Denver, I can take care of this,” her voice sounded from inside the house, pulling me out of my thoughts as the wind picked up. I looked up to the sky, finding dark clouds looming towards the east. A storm was coming.
“I can send out a C&D and—”
Her sweet, intelligent voice was cut off by Kings’ harsh one. “Diana, that woman is never going to fucking learn her lesson unless I do this. She can fuck with me. She can try and fuck with what’s left of my fucking ranch, Diana, but so help me God, she does not get to fuck with our son.”
Cathy.
Fucking hell.
I sighed through my nose as my jaw jumped, ignoring the thunder rolling through the air. That damn woman. Instead of focusing on being a good mother, she was hellbent on making Kings’ life a living hell.
“Think about this for a moment, Denver. Please,” Diana begged, her voice louder than before.
A second later, Kings came barreling onto the front porch, still dressed in his work clothes. His gray eyes landed on mine, hat in hand as he pointed at me with it.
“You got plans tonight?” he clipped.
He knew the damn answer to that. I shook my head once, leaving my hands hanging down at my sides despite how uncomfortable I was. I couldn’t let him or, God fucking forbid, her, see that. So I put on my mask and did my best to keep my composure. I didn’t want to be here.
I wanted to be in the bunkhouse, taking a fucking shower, and then going to bed to pass out. I kept my eyes on him, silently hoping his lawyer would remain in the house.
Out of sight, out of mind, or whatever the fuck the normal people say.
I couldn’t see her, not today. I was still trying to get over her last visit—three months ago. The way she laughed at Jigs when he’d cracked a stupid joke, the way she lit up the entire ranch the second she unfolded herself out of her shitty car, and that damn dress she decided to wear—it was all still burned into my mind. The dress was simple, but because she was wearing it, smiling in it, laughing in it, the dress might has well be a fucking ball gown.
Everything about her, from her simple gestures to her compelling arguments, were burned into my brain, and I needed it scrubbed. Actually, I was highly considering a lobotomy.
“Good,” Kings clipped as he marched down the porch steps, putting on his hat. “Caleb is inside. Need you to watch him for a few hours. I’ll be back before he goes to bed.”
I tipped my hat to him, and his eyes cut to the storm clouds, his expression unreadable for a moment.
“Is everything alright?” I asked, turning when he walked by me, heading for his truck. He stopped his in tracks, and, behind me, I heard the screen door ease open.
Then, all I could feel was her.
“Denver, please, just—”
Kings raised his finger at his lawyer, his bearded jaw tighter than I’d ever seen it. I’d been on this ranch for years now, and never once had I seen the man this wound up. Smoke was practically pouring from his ears. “I don’t need anything else from you today, Diana. You did your job. Now go the fuck home,” he bit off.
My shoulders tensed as my back snapped straight. Denver was my boss and I owed him everything, but I sure as fuck didn’t like the way he was speaking to her.
“Cool it, Kings,” I warned without a second thought.
His eyes shot to me, and I stared back, unafraid.
A second later, he blinked, his anger slightly diminishing. He sighed, adjusting his hat and looking to his boots for a moment as he collected himself.
Smart.
I wasn’t in the mood to break my boss’ nose today.
I didn’t have to look back at Diana to know her eyes were on me, burning into my back. Everything about her made me feel like I was on fire. Everything about her presence had my entire body running on hyper-drive.
I was in hell, and every time she came to Hallow Ranch, it was just confirmation.
Even though I’d only been around her a handful of times, I couldn’t get a lock on it. This feeling in my chest, the way my heart sped up, the way something stirred in the dark depths of my scarred soul.
To make matters worse, every single time I saw her, she’d changed in some way—her style, the color of her hair, and, most importantly, her weight. Now, thankfully, she had some of it back. Her hips were fuller than they had been months ago, and there was more color in her cheeks, more life. Last winter, she’d shown up at the bunkhouse with papers for Kings to sign, and I’d hardly recognized her, she’d lost so much weight. For weeks, I lost sleep thinking about all the reasons why she would be losing weight like that. It was none of my fucking business, of course, but still, it worried me.
Her hair, usually a golden blonde, had been a light brown when I saw her last. I was too gutless to turn around and see if it had changed again, keeping my eyes on my boss. Darker hair looked good on her, just like every other shade, but blonde was my favorite. It brought out the green in her hazel eyes.
It was intoxicating.
She was a damn drug, and I was more than ready to become addicted to her, to live and breathe only her, to survive on nothing else. Hell, I didn’t need much anyways. She’d be more than enough. I knew it. My heart knew it. My broken soul knew it.
But I hated it, how much I craved her.
Denver lifted his head with a regret-filled sigh and gave Diana a soft look, one usually reserved for his son. “I’m sorry. I just…”
He trailed off, and I heard her heels clicking against the wood of the porch. When one of them hit the first brick step, I bit down, grinding my teeth until it hurt. Still, I remained where I was, the right side of my body humming from her closeness.
“Denver, let me do my job,” she begged, her voice cracking. “Please.”
Fucking hell.
I took a second to thank whoever the fuck was upstairs running this shit show, knowing full well if she’d ever said please to me like that, I wouldn’t sleep until I was able to place the world at her feet.
“You can draft up the C&D,” Kings said after moment. “But I’m still going to have a fucking discussion with her.”
“But—”
“No, Diana. This is my fucking life—my son’s life—she is disrupting. If she wants to be a mother, great. I’m not going to stop her, but this shit? This shit is unacceptable. My boy deserves better.”
Her perfume filled my nostrils as a breeze hit us, a flash of lightning following.
“I know he does, Den,” she rasped, ignoring the brewing storm around. “Caleb deserves the world.”
My boss nodded. “Then let me do what I can to make sure I can give him the world,” he said firmly.
Out of the corner of my eye, she took a step forward, wanting to say more, but he gave us his back and got in his truck. Her hair was still dark but no less beautiful. She would always be beautiful, and it pissed me off.
As the Hallow Ranch owner drove off in his old Chevy, dust flying behind him, I heard her mumble something about cowboys and stubbornness under her breath. If I wasn’t as fucked up as I was, I might’ve had the decency to laugh, maybe even engage in polite conversation with her. Hell, by now, I knew damn well I would’ve already taken her on a date or two, and if I was lucky, had her warming my bed every single night.
But I wasn’t lucky.
I was fucked up, and this was hell.
Therefore, I said nothing as I turned on my heel, climbed the steps without so much as a glance in her direction, and went inside as thunder clapped in the distance. I needed her to leave before the storm hit, because there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d let her go if a single drop of rain decided to fall from the heavens.
Diana Harper didn’t belong in the rain.
Diana Harper belonged in sunshine.
I spotted her bag on the butcher-block counter in the kitchen, but ignored it, heading into the living room where Caleb played with a stack of blocks in the middle of the rug. I stood outside of the make-shift baby gate Beau and I made a few months back. The toddler’s hand was unsteady, reaching up to the top of the block tower to place a blue block on top. He favored blue, I’d noticed, always saving the blue blocks last so they could be on top.
After a few moments, Caleb spotted me and he beamed at me, showing all his little teeth. I felt my lips twitch. “Hey, kid.”
He babbled as he forgot about the block tower, rising to his feet. He began walking to me, his bowed legs wobbling, still getting the hang of it. I watched him like a hawk, letting him do it on his own but being there if he needed me. The screen door opened a second later, and I heard Diana’s heels clicking across the floor, the sound changing when she hit the tile of the kitchen. The image of her was burned into my brain now, having looked at her a second longer than I should’ve.
Looking at her was always a mistake, one I repeated every time she was around.
I kept my eyes on the kid, not bothering to take my hat off until she was gone. I needed her gone, but of course, she wasn’t about to do that, not without saying goodbye to Caleb. She cared about Hallow Ranch, truly. I could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes whenever she was around.
The soft sound of her nails tapping against her phone screen was torture enough, but the small sigh of frustration that left her sweet lips nearly brought me to my knees. I tightened my jaw as Caleb’s hands clung to my pant leg through the baby gate, demanding my attention. As I blinked, he came back into focus with a smile that had the power to melt anyone’s heart plastered on his chubby face.
My lips twitched again. I didn’t smile much, but when I did, it was only at him.
Diana’s heels began clicking again as she walked out of the kitchen, and I silently prayed to…whoever that she wouldn't get near me.
A man could only take so much torture, even in hell.
My boots remained planted on the hardwoods as she came to stand next to me, bending over the gate to scoop up the little boy into her arms. Caleb shrieked with joy as she rose back to her full height, her hair brushing over her shoulder, the sweet scent of peaches filling my nostrils. “Hey, Caleb,” she cooed, smiling at him.
A lump formed in my throat, and I cut my eyes from her, focusing on the rocking chair in the corner.
“Your daddy is going to be back in just a bit,” she assured the happy boy, her voice high and soothing. “Mr. Mags is going to hang out with you until then, okay?”
Fuck this.
I stepped away, busying myself with taking off my hat and dropping it on a hook by the door. I didn’t want to take it off, but I needed an excuse to get away from her.
Behind me, I heard her whispering to the boy. “Your daddy would burn the world for you, baby boy. Do you know that?”
Caleb answered with a loud babble, and the sound of her sweet, soft laughter followed. “Right,” she muttered. As I turned around, I watched her open the gate and walk into the living room to set Caleb back down on his play mat, pieces of his block tower now scattered around him.
Slowly, she rose back up to her full height, her soft body hidden underneath her pencil skirt and blouse. Her hazel eyes met mine, and my jaw tightened when I noticed the moss green lingering around her irises, her hair framing her round face.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She was so goddamn beautiful, full of light in this dark world.
With all the strength I could manage, I pulled my eyes from her, breaking her intoxicating gaze to focus on Caleb. Nothing was said as she moved back into the foyer. She cleared her throat and I heard movement, picturing her adjusting her bag on her shoulder, getting ready to go out and take on the world.
“Have a good night, Mr. Mags,” she said softly from behind me.
Mr. Mags.
Fucking Christ. This woman.
As usual, I said nothing, remaining completely still as she went outside. When I finally heard that shitty Honda start up, I moved to the window, knowing damn well she needed a new car. As I watched her drive away, the sky opened with another flash of lightening, a clap of thunder, a sheet of rain following.
There was an ache in my chest now, the same one I’d always felt whenever she was around. The urge to chase her down coursed through my veins. That was my biggest concern—the way I yearned for her, the way I seemed to think I needed her.
She was dangerous.
The power she had over me was damning.
Four Hours Later.
I was on the front porch when Kings arrived, my arms crossed over my chest as I watched him park his shit-box of a truck and unfold his tall frame out of it. The gravel crunched underneath his boots with every step, echoing throughout the night. But fuck, I could practically feel his anger from where I stood. It oozed off him like a toxic virus, plaguing everything around him. Though, there was no one on this planet who could blame the man for his anger, not with the cards he’d been dealt.
Denver Langston was an unlucky son of a bitch and, deep down, I hoped that, one day, happiness would find him.
I remained silent until he began climbing the porch steps. “You get it taken care of?” I asked, my voice low.
A deep, tired sigh came from him as he took off his hat, running his hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, Mags, I did.”
I nodded and tipped my head back towards the front door. “Your boy is passed out on the couch.”
Silence followed and his gray eyes held mine for some time, the moonlight stretching over the land behind him as the warm glow from his house illuminated his front. I watched patiently as his throat worked. “Thank you for watching him. I know it was on the spot, and it’s not in your job description,” he finally said, gratitude thick in his voice. “I hired a cowboy, not a babysitter.”
His soft tone struck me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I looked away from him then, focusing on the spot where Diana had parked hours ago, studying the way the moonlight showcased her tire marks. “My job description is whatever the hell you want it to be, Kings. Watching your boy for a few hours wasn’t a hard ask.”
“I know, but it’s also Friday night,” he countered. “I know you like these nights to yourself, since everyone usually goes into town.”
I wanted to laugh.
No, I don’t.
Solitude was the only place where I allowed myself to think, yes, but it was nightmare most days. I kept myself busy to keep the demons away, but they would always return when I was alone, in the night, drowning in memories.
My silence gave nothing away, and when he spoke again, I looked back over to him. “You’ve never left the ranch,” he stated.
“No reason to,” I replied simply, pushing off the post I was leaning against. Now wasn’t the time or place for this conversation. In fact, this was a conversation I never wanted to have. Not with him. Not with Jigs. Not with my buddy, Grayson. Not with anyone.
His brow furrowed. “Mags—”
I cut him off, wanting to be done with this conversation—with this night. “Caleb had a full dinner. He ate everything on his plate and asked for seconds.”
My boss ran his hand through his hair for a second time, looking away and taking the hint. “Good. That’s good. I’m thankful that boy has never had a problem with eating,” he said softly, chuckling at the end.
Again, I said nothing, but I also didn’t leave. My boots remained planted on the porch despite everything in my body telling me to go back to the bunkhouse, to sit in the darkness and silence, to let the demons eat me alive.
“Want a drink?” he asked, clearly needing me to say yes.
I studied him then, seeing the pain of the past swirling in his eyes, tormenting him in a way I was all too familiar with.
Neither of us wanted to deal with our demons tonight.
I nodded once and watched the tension leave his shoulders. He looked relieved as he said, “Well, come on inside then.”
Ten minutes later, after Caleb was upstairs in his bed, Kings poured me three fingers of whiskey and slid the glass over to me. I wrapped my fingers around the glass, waiting as he poured himself the same and set the bottle down on the butcher block. “How’s the herd?” he asked, capping the bottle.
“Healthy and accounted for,” I answered, thankful we were talking about something easy. Work. The Ranch. Simple and uncomplicated.
“I appreciate you being wagon boss today. Jigs told me you handled it well.”
“Nothing to it,” I muttered, remembering the old cowboy’s compliment today. While the job was simple, it was the leadership that came with I didn’t like. I’d done enough leading in my life and I sure as hell didn’t want to do anymore.
But I wasn’t going to tell Kings that.
If he needed me to be wagon boss, I’d be wagon boss.
He raised his glass and I mirrored him. “To Hallow Ranch.”
“To Hallow Ranch,” I parroted and then brought the glass to my lips. I took a healthy sip, enjoying the sting of the whiskey trailing down my throat. Kings drank all his in one go and poured himself another. I raised a brow.
Damn.
His eyes flicked up to mine, a smirk teasing the corner of his mouth. “My father was raging alcoholic during his final years, and my grandfather was too,” he confessed.
“You lookin’ to keep that tradition alive?” My question came out like all the others usually did: no bullshit and to the point. It shouldn’t be any of my fucking business whether he drank. He was a grown man with a lot on his plate.
Who the hell was I to judge?
“No, I’m not,” he muttered, taking a small sip of his second glass. “And I have rules to make sure that fucking curse doesn’t latch onto me.”
“Good.” I nodded and looked over to where my cowboy hat hung on the wall. Generational curses were usually a bitch to break, but I believed Kings had the strength to do it.
When I looked back to him, he lifted his chin. “You hungry? Did you eat?”
“I can eat at the bunkhouse.”
Kings grimaced. “A bowl of the four day old chili Jigs made?”
That was the plan. “I’ve eaten a lot worse,” I replied, and he chuckled as he walked over to the fridge.
“So have I, but that doesn’t mean you need to eat that fucking chili,” he muttered, pulling open the door and scanning the food. He looked at me over his shoulder as I took another sip. “So are you hungry or not?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I’ll grill us some steaks,” he declared, chuckling as he pulled out two wrapped in white paper and then grabbed a large cutting board.
I finished off my glass, watching as he unwrapped the steaks and seasoned them. The pit of hunger in my gut grew at the sight, and I was thankful I didn’t have to eat the fucking chili again tonight. There was no rules in the bunkhouse kitchen. You could eat what you wanted, when you wanted. However, it was difficult to cook when I didn’t have anything to cook with, and going into town for groceries wasn’t an option. So, since day one, I’d been eating whatever Jigs made. The old man was kind of the bunkhouse cook, and a damn good one at that. He knew I didn’t ever leave the ranch. He knew I didn’t buy groceries, and I wasn’t about to ask anyone to buy them for me.
Kings and I drifted through the house, heading out to the back, where his old beat up grill sat. I leaned against the back of the house, my empty glass of whiskey inside on the counter, and watched him throw the steaks on. Neither of us said anything for a long time, and the smell of the steaks in the air made me salivate.
“How many tours?”
My eyes snapped away from the grill to find Denver studying me, his head tilted slightly to the right. My jaw tightened.
In the past, we’d talked about his time in the Marines, but never mine. It was something I never talked about—not even when the Corp sent in a specialist. Instead, thousands of taxpayers’ dollars were wasted over the course of three weeks. Day after day, I was sent into a white walled room, with colorful furniture, and atop the dark green chair sat a trauma specialist, holding a notebook and pen, willing and ready to do whatever it took to get the demons out of my head.
No amount of time or money would achieve that.
I just had to learn to live with them.
I didn’t say a fucking word, because none of what I went through, what I saw, was worth repeating. Simple as that.
When I didn’t say anything, my boss added, “You know almost all my shit, Mags.”
“Because you chose to tell me,” I damn near snapped, my spine straight, my body preparing to go on defense.
He inhaled a deep breath and exhaled slowly, looking back to the grill. “You have a friend here,” he said.
“Only got one friend, Kings, and he doesn’t even know.”
A chuckle left him then. “He knows enough. That’s why he’s your friend.”
“We don’t have to do this,” I told him, folding my arms over my chest. “My life before coming here isn’t worth getting into.”
He looked at me then, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Your life is your life, Mags. I consider you a friend, which makes it worth getting into.”
I said nothing, grinding my molars to the point of pain.
“I also can’t make you tell me shit, but know that when and if you’re ever ready, Mags, I’m willing to listen.” His offer was earnest, sincere, and rocked me to my fucked up core, but I still didn’t tell him anything.
“I’m solid, Kings,” I told him through my teeth, craving a damn cigarette. I hadn’t had one since coming to Hallow Ranch, and right now, I was willing to dive head first back into addiction.
Eventually—thankfully—-he dropped the subject, and we talked about meaningless things, ate our dinner, and drank more whiskey.
It wasn’t until three months later, when half the herd had been auctioned off and Hallow Ranch was in the middle of one of the harshest winters in its history, that I finally opened up to him.
There was no other choice, really.
Kings had found me in the middle of the field, knee deep in snow, screaming at the sky. I’d been sucked back into the hell I’d thought I left behind, mourning the future I was promised. Memories of almost losing my best friend, bombs going off, a bullet ripping through my shoulder when we were ordered to fall back, the desert heat, the orphaned children, the endless flames, and most of all, the three months of darkness when I came back home, my body permanently damaged…
It all came back to me when I didn’t expect it, knocking my feet out from underneath me.
I was yanked under, running out of air when Kings pulled me out.
Then, he got me some help. Years later, the tables turned, and he was the one who needed help.
In the end, everything always came back full circle.