Chapter Eight
Diana
The eerie sound of my doorbell echoed throughout my quiet house, halting my fingers, forcing them to hover my keyboard as my gaze landed on the dark hallway outside my home office. I held my breath, wondering if it had been my imagination. After the day I’d had, I wouldn’t have blamed myself for going slightly insane.
All my client’s horses had been killed, their bodies left out in the field and in the barn to rot.
Mr. Weatherford and his wife had gone out for lunch, taking the advice I’d given them just the day before.
Do something for you this week. Take your wife out. Do something not related to the ranch that makes you smile.
The couple got dressed up for the occasion, heading into their small town for an early steak dinner, and while they were gone, all their horses were shamelessly killed. After Thomas received the call, I’d raced out to Weatherford ranch, trying to hold in my tears. Despite my deep fear of horses, I’d always admired their beauty from afar. They were magnificent creatures and deserved to be treated with tender care and respect. I’d spent the rest of the afternoon consoling the old rancher and his wife while the authorities and livestock officers conducted their investigation.
After questioning, the police and I were on the same page, suspecting revenge. By the time I left Weatherford ranch, the sun had begun to set, and the couple who’d sued my client were in custody. I was halfway home when Mrs. Weatherford called to tell me the little boy confessed, turning his parents in. They’d left him in the car while they went on their horse killing spree. I don’t think I’d ever been so ashamed of humans in my life. Then again, I’d doubted the boy’s parents possessed even an ounce of humanity after what they did.
A powerful knock echoed through my house, snapping me back to the present.
Alright, it wasn’t my imagination.
“What the hell?” I whispered, checking my watch. It was nearly midnight.
I looked back up into the darkened hallway, a chill cascading down my back. Suddenly, I regretted putting on my dark purple silk nightie and matching robe. I’d only come into the office to check an email, but ended up getting sucked into work. I’d been in this chair for three dang hours.
Blindly, I reached for my mouse and looked back at my desktop, opening my security system and checking the front camera feed. I didn’t have a doorbell camera; because this house was nearly fifty years old, and I wanted to preserve a bit of its history as I gutted out the old. So I’d left the antique, possessed-looking doorbell, only to discover that it sounded like something out of a horror movie two months later when the pizza delivery person showed up.
Now, years later, I had yet to change that dang doorbell, but I managed to install a security camera in the top right corner of the porch. My eyes narrowed as the camera feed finished loading to reveal a man.
Not just any man.
Lucas.
“Jesus Christ,” I murmured, pulling out my cell phone, ready to call the police.
The doorbell rang again, and I found myself hesitating. If I called the police, then they would call Chase. Chase being Chase, he would of course call Denver. Lucas showing up at my office in the middle of the day was one thing, but Lucas showing up at my house in the middle of the night was something else entirely. I wished him having my address was a concern, but unfortunately, if anything that he spouted out of his mouth today was true, he received it from my parents.
I knew one thing for sure: if Chase called Denver, Denver would end up killing a man tonight on my behalf. I didn’t want that, even though said man was a bigoted bastard.
With a quiet sigh, I slipped my phone into my robe, rose from my chair, and padded to the safe in the corner. The doorbell rang again for a third time, the sound alone enough to fuel my nightmares, as I put in the nine digit code. The safe opened with a soft click, and I grabbed my pistol—just in case.
As I walked down the hallway, the moonlight seeping in from the windows, I felt another chill sweep down my spine. My body was telling me to stop, warning of me of the possible danger, but I was too irritated to listen. Lucas barging back into my life was the last thing I needed.
I’d built a life for myself here.
I’d escaped the mold my parents tried to force me into.
I was happy—well, as happy as a person could be, anyway.
My eyes were locked in on the door; I knew from past experiences that Lucas was either one of two things: roaring drunk, which meant he would be sweet, almost loving or high as a kite. If he was drunk, he would beg for another chance, apologize for all the things he’d done to hurt me and, depending upon how much he’d drank, cry.
If he was drunk, I could send him away easily.
If he was high, however, that would be difficult, to say the least.
It wasn’t until I was halfway through law school I discovered my high school sweetheart was an addict and I’d never forget the night I’d found him shooting up between his toes in my bathroom. The drugs, a mix of everything you could think of, made him angry—more so than normal. So, if he was, in fact, higher than a kite on the other side of my front door, I would have to be on my toes.
“Just send him away and be done with it,” I whispered.
The doorbell rang once more as I reached the door. I had my gun in one hand as I wrapped my fingers around the door knob with the other. I held my breath and looked through the peephole. Lucas leaned against the brick wall, his head hanging, his body swaying slightly.
I stared at him for sometime.
Was he asleep?
I shook my head, already imagining the mess I would have to deal with in the morning.
Why me?
Suddenly, his head shot up, and he tried to straighten. “Diana,” he called, his voice cracking. “Babe, open the door. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was dick. I’m sorry I haven’t been the man you deserve, but I’m willing to change that. I’ve spent the last ten years without you, babe. I fucking need you.”
I let go of the breath, a small sense of relief settling on my shoulders, washing down my back like a waterfall.
He was drunk . Thank God.
“What do you want, Lucas?” I asked through the door, watching through the peephole.
His head snapped up, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a busted lip. Whatever bar he’d gone to must not have treated him well. That was the thing about my ex: he was a shit talker. He thought himself to be the alpha in whatever room he walked into.
“He must have pissed off a cowboy,” I muttered under my breath. He looked like shit.
“Babe, let me in,” he begged as his throat bobbed.
Here we go.
“You showing up on my front door at this hour isn’t appropriate, Lucas,” I said matter-of-factly through the door. “You need to back to the hotel.”
Actually, he needed to go back across the damn country and stay there.
He braced his hand on the door, hanging his head again as he groaned my name.
I rolled my eyes, slightly frustrated that a younger version of me fell for this same act countless times in the past. “If you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to call the police,” I warned.
He lifted his head again, looking into the peephole now, and even though he looked like he was stuck in a fishbowl, his words were damning. “I know about the job application.”
My chest deflated, shock slamming into me like a runaway train, knocking me back. Chills spread across my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps as my mind began to race. I looked to the ground, shoving a hand in my hair as my gun hung at my side, the weight of it reminding me of the power it held.
How in the heck did he know about that?
“Diana, you can pretend in front of your little friends, but you can’t pretend in front of me,” he continued, sounding more sober than before. “You want to come home. It was just a matter of time.”
“How do you know about the application?” I demanded, my voice rising with each word.
“Got a buddy who works at the school, babe. He saw your name in the system and told me,” he explained, as if that didn’t breach countless privacy laws.
I said nothing, wondering why he didn’t say anything beforehand. Why wait until midnight and when he was drunk—-
I felt my mouth flatten as the realization hit me.
This had been his plan all along. He wanted to wait for me to be alone so he could try and sweet talk me, and after the fucking day I’d had, my finger was itching to pull the trigger. Just one good bullet in his kneecap would satisfy me; maybe that would teach him to stay the hell out of my life.
Last Christmas, I’d applied for a summer teaching position at Yale. Teaching for a semester here and there in Denver gave me the confidence I needed to apply to Yale. The university wouldn’t need me until the year after next, giving me time to teach one more semester in Denver and get my firm prepared for my absence.
The hard truth was, I knew I couldn’t do this forever, and I’d gotten this wild teaching idea from Valerie during one of our Wine Wednesdays. When I retired, there would have to be someone else to defend the ranches, big or small. After submitting the application to Yale, I knew it would be a long shot, and since I hadn’t heard anything…
I’d honestly left that dream on the back burner.
“Diana, open the door so we can talk,” Lucas demanded, his voice donning a sharper edge now.
A lump formed in my throat, an uneasy feeling looming over me. My privacy had been invaded. He knew about my plans. I thought he would’ve moved on by now. What we had took place a lifetime ago.
“Who is your friend?” I inquired, stepping closer to the door again, my fingers flexing on the gun by my thigh.
“What?”
I let out a deep breath. “Your friend who works at Yale. Who is he?”
“Oh, you know him, babe. Mikey. You know, from school.”
Mikey . I looked up the ceiling, trying to put a face to the name. High school was, again, a lifetime ago, and with no one from it in my current life, it was easy to forget the people I’d spent four plus years with in classrooms. Unfortunately, I hadn’t forgotten this one.
Mikey Grant.
He played football with Lucas and was a jackass.
“What does he do at Yale?” I asked, praying he was drunk enough to answer.
“Let me inside, and I’ll tell you all about it. This is big, Diana,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice—the sense of victory. He thought he had me. “This is huge, babe. I knew you would always come back to me.”
My eyes rolled before I could stop them, and I tipped my head to the ceiling once more. I needed the universe to give me a dang break, just a small one. This was the second time within twenty-four hours I’d had to listen to this crap. “Lucas, it’s late—”
“—let me in, Diana,” he repeated, jiggling the doorknob.
I looked through the peephole again, my stomach dropping to the floor. After a few moments, he slammed his fist against it, letting out a growl of frustration, cursing my name. His head shot up then and slightly tilted to the side, giving me a closer look at his eyes.
What hit me next felt like a freight train, and no amount of healing and growth would let me escape it.
Fear coiled around my neck, the memory of him choking me the last time I had to deal with him like this rushing to the surface. I could feel his fingers around my neck, squeezing and cutting off my air as he pinned me to the floor of my apartment, yelling at down at me.
He wasn’t just drunk.
“Shit,” I breathed, my resolution long tarnished.
My mouth went dry as he ticked his head to the other side and snarled, “Diana! Let me in!”
I jumped back as he continued to bang on the door, shouting and jiggling the knob. My heart rate began to climb, my hand trembling as I lifted my phone and called Chase.
The call went straight to voicemail.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Diana!” Lucas roared.
I pulled the phone away from my face and pulled up Denver’s contact, my hand shaking so badly, I thought I was going to drop the damn thing.
Hallow Ranch was just ten minutes from my house, and knowing Denver, he’d be here in five.
“Please don’t kill him, Den,” I whispered as I dialed his number. As the phone rang, I raised my gun to the door, yelping as Lucas banged it hard.
He was trying to kick the door down.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I chanted underneath my breath, raising my finger to the trigger.
On the fourth ring, someone answered, a jagged, deep voice filling my ear.
“Diana.”
Warmth slid down my back, chasing away the chill, and the pressure of Lucas’ phantom fingers around my neck faded away.
“M-Mags,” I breathed out. Where the hell was Denver?
“What’s wrong?” he clipped.
“Where’s Denver?” I whispered as my eyes dropped to the doorknob, watching it jerk. Thankfully, Lucas was too drunk to try and get in any other way, but I wouldn’t put it past him.
“At the house. Left his phone in the barn,” Mags answered before his voice changed. “What. Is. Wrong?”
“I need to speak to Denver, please,” I begged, panting. Mags couldn’t help me, no matter how much I wanted him to. The last thing he would do was leave Hallow Ranch to come for me. “Please.”
I heard movement in the background. “Only gonna ask you this one time, Firefly,” he growled, “and you better fucking answer me. Are you in danger?”
Firefly.
God, that nickname would end up being the death of me, and I knew I would never get to understand the meaning behind it. He’d only called me that a handful of times over the last few years, but those moments were some of my most cherished memories.
“God, I hope not,” I replied, answering him without thinking. The banging stopped, and I moved over to the security panel, checking the cameras. He was still on the porch, against the door now, his chest heaving as he tilted his head back, eyes closed.
Mags’ next words were filled with darkness, chilling every inch of my soul. “Where are you?”
“At my house,” I pushed out on a quiet breath, slowly making my way back to the door.
“Gonna need more than that, Diana,” Mags pushed. In the background, I heard more movement, followed by the slam of a door. A truck door? “What’s going on?”
“Lucas,” I rasped, watching my ex’s head lull back and forth on the camera feed.
There was a brief moment of silence. “Your ex.”
Heat climbed up my neck, spreading over my face. “Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“He was trying to get into the house. He’s drunk and high on something.”
There was no reply.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, Mags’ silence unsettling me.
“You know, it’s probably okay now. He stopped banging on the door and shouting. I think he’s about to pass out, actually,” I rambled, my words coming out fast but not fast enough for my brain. “I tried calling Chase, but it went straight to voicemail, and I figured calling Denver would be the next best thing”
More silence.
“I just—Lucas isn’t the gentlest when he’s high. When he’s drunk, I can usually handle him,” I blurted, laughing slightly. “Hell, in law school, I was either studying or dealing with his antics. I guess I’m kind of a professional.”
Lucas’ upper body twisted then, and he slowly raised his fist, plopping it against the door. “Babe, please,” he called, doing the best he could to make his voice sound sweet again. “Please, open the door.”
“Please get Denver, Mags,” I pleaded. “I just—I need someone to take Lucas back into town.”
Nothing. I pulled the phone away from my face to see if the call had ended.
It hadn’t.
A lump grew in my throat as I hoped Mags muted his end to go tell Denver.
“Its going to be okay,” I whispered to myself. “It’s going to be okay, Diana.”
I put the phone back against my ear and called out for the cowboy I couldn’t have. “Mags?”
Nothing. Complete and utter silence. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the wall, knowing I was going to be okay.
The Hallow Ranch cowboys protected their own.
Minutes later, the sound of an engine roared outside, and my head snapped towards the door, seeing a flash of headlights in the window above it. I opened my mouth to speak, but the phone call ended. I pulled up the live feed from the driveway to find Denver’s red truck, and my shoulders sagged with relief.
Mags had gone to Denver.
The driver’s side door popped open, and a dark figure emerged, a black cowboy hat on his head. I wanted to smile, but the disappointment inside my heart wouldn’t let me. I wished it would’ve had been Mags. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d dreamed of seeing him outside Hallow Ranch, walking through town, having a meal at the diner or getting a few groceries from the store. Hell, I’d even imagined him sitting at the bar, having a beer with the twins whenever they came into town.
But all of that was just a dream, a silly little dream formed inside my head.
Mags never left Hallow Ranch. He’d been there for over a decade now.
The figured prowled by the garage door, following the front path to my porch. When he rounded the corner, I switched to the porch feed and—
That wasn’t Denver.
That.
Wasn’t.
Denver.
My chest began to heave, my mouth falling open at the sight of Mags rushing up to Lucas. Lucas looked over his shoulder just in time to see Mags grab him. My eyes widened at Mags lifted my ex off the ground, twisted, and tossed him off the porch like he was a bag of garbage.
I moved then, running to the door, unhooking the chain and lock before yanking it open. Mags’ back was to me, his shoulders rising and falling with each powerful breath, the porch light above him highlighting the muscles of his back underneath his black T-shirt.
“Mags,” I rasped, ignoring Lucas groaning on the ground.
Mags was here.
At my house.
Off Hallow Ranch.
The dark cowboy twisted his neck, the shadow of his hat hiding his face, but I could feel his eyes, the heat in them—the anger. “Get back inside,” he ordered, his voice cold.
I looked down to Lucas. “But—”
“Don’t make me fucking carry you in there, Diana,” Mags growled.
I opened my mouth but closed it when my cell started ringing. As I lifted it to my ear, Mags snatched it out of my hand.
“Bowen, you got one minute to get your ass to Diana’s house, or I’m adding more ashes to Denver’s fucking mountain,” the cowboy threatened, turning to face me fully now.
He was going to kill Lucas.
I stepped forward, shaking my head. “No, please—”
Suddenly, my back was against the house, my gun pulled from my grasp, my hands pinned above my head, his single one holding my wrists together in a tight grip. The heat of his touch coursed through my body, warming me in a way I’d never felt before. The slight chill of the summer night couldn’t diminish it. Hell, I was half certain the harsh Colorado winter couldn’t snuff out the heat of him, his gaze, his touch. He was nothing but fire, a fire I wanted to be consumed by. My nipples pebbled underneath the silk of my nightie. The right part of my robe had fallen off my shoulder at some point, exposing the lace and thin strap of my gown.
Time stopped and all I could see, all I could feel, was him, my cowboy.
I whispered his name as if it were a prayer, my chest heaving.
In ten years, my favorite touches from him were the two times his fingers gripped my chin, holding me hostage as his gaze pierced my soul. Both of those times, I wanted him to kiss me. Both of those times, I’d silently begged him to give into this—whatever this pull was between us. Both of those times, I’d hoped it wasn’t one sided.
Loving someone who didn’t love you back was a version of hell I never thought I’d ever have to be in.
Yet, here I was, trapped in this endless torture for over a decade with no idea how to escape it.
I stopped breathing as he leaned closer to me, keeping his body angled away from mine. When his eyes came into view, I saw nothing but anger, both of us hidden underneath the shadow of his hat now.
“If you’re going to carry a gun, then learn how to fucking use it,” he pushed out through his teeth, his fingers tightening around my wrists as he brought up his other hand, both my gun and phone in his grip. “Disarming you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Diana.”
My eyes collided with his again, my lips parting.
His nostrils flared as his jaw jumped underneath his trimmed beard. It wasn’t trimmed the last time I saw it. It had been wild, untamed, just like him. “If you’re going to carry a gun, then make sure no one can take it from you. You got me?”
I blinked, unable to form words.
“Diana,” he growled.
“You’re h-here,” I stammered, my voice cracking with disbelief. “Y-you came.” His features softened then, his eyes flashing, the realization hitting him too. My next words were thick, filled with an emotion I’d tried to keep bottled up for years. “You’re off Hallow Ranch.”
Silently, he released my hands, and my arms fell, my robe fully falling from my shoulders, bunching at my waist. The cowboy sighed through his nose as he caught my chin in his fingers, his eyes scanning my face.
“You’re here,” I repeated, doing everything in my power to not wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest. Tears filled my eyes, my bottom lip trembling as I shook my head. “You—you came for me.”
Mags left Hallow Ranch for me.
He came for me.
“Didn’t like that fear in your voice, baby,” he murmured.
Baby.
My heart cried out, aching for him. “You’re really here,” I croaked.
A muscle jumped in his cheek, his hand shifting to cup my face, his thumb hooking underneath my jaw. “Diana.” His voice was soft, making me weak in the knees.
It hadn’t been one sided.
He felt it too.
Slowly, I put my hands on his chest, holding his eyes. Lucas and all the other crappy parts of my day were long forgotten. “Mags,” I whispered, my eyes dropping to his lips.
He said nothing, but like mine, his heart raced too.
This was it.
This was finally it.
The tears in my eyes spilled over, rolling down my cheeks. In the back of my mind, the small voice of doubt was shouting, warning me this was all just a dream.
It was too good to be true, something out of a fairytale or a heart-pounding fictional romance.
Police sirens wailed in the distance, and that small voice grew silent, fading back into the shadows, where loneliness and heartbreak intertwined. No, this wasn’t a dream. It was reality, and the moment ended as Mags dropped his hand, its warmth going with it. I could feel my heart splitting into two as he stepped away, and the absence of his touch nearly shattered me completely.
Why was he stepping away?
Why couldn’t he just give into this?
Why couldn’t he fall with me?
His eyes held mine as flashes of blue and red illuminated both of us, submerging us in the truth I wasn’t ready to face: Mags would never be mine, and I would never be his.