Chapter Five #2
I can’t help but wonder what else he’s hiding, who he is when he’s not trying so hard to be mean.
I take a bite. Crunchy. Perfect. Delicious.
“You know,” I say between mouthfuls, “this might be your real deadly weapon.”
“Death by chicken,” he says, that gravel voice dipping lower. “I’ll have to add it to the list.” His mouth twitches, almost smiling.
“So,” I shrug, stuffing more food into my mouth than necessary, not realizing how hungry I was, “what do you do when you’re not tying people up in the center of your horse ring?”
“I guess I like cooking.”
“It shows.”
“What about you? You have any hobbies that don’t involve interfering with other people’s lives?”
“No,” I shake my head and take a sip of sweet tea, “not really. I mean, truthfully, until I was chasing after you… I wasn’t doing much of anything.”
“Find that hard to believe.”
“Really? You claim to know me so well. You didn’t read any of my past articles?”
“You mean the one entitled Prize-Winning Tulips ?”
“Prize-winning roses, but yes, it was a stellar article. Also, the most boring story of all time.”
“So that’s it? You’re looking for novelty?”
“No, I’m looking for something to wake me up.
I feel like I’ve been sleeping for decades.
I was dating this guy a few months back.
We were together for almost a year. He was nice, and he worked really hard, but the physical chemistry wasn’t there.
It was so awkward, even kissing. Of course, now that I’m gone, he’s all about me.
My friend Kera just confirmed that he’s on the hunt, trying to find out where I am.
” I flash a playful grin. “Better watch out.”
He takes another bite of chicken and then moves to his tea. “I’m not worried. Why’d you stay so long if you hated it? You don’t seem like the patient type.”
“I thought maybe we’d grow into it. Maybe we’d learn each other, and the physical stuff would get easier. It didn’t. Then I saw you, outside the diner studying that rival gang. And… all the sudden my body was awake. I don’t know how to explain it.”
He clears his throat and looks away for a moment before glancing back. “I noticed that earlier. You were soaking wet.”
“Yeah, apparently I’ve got a bad boy fetish.”
His eyes widen. “I ain’t tryin’ to be bad.”
“Yeah,” I smile, “I think that’s why it works.”
“You said you saw me at the diner? How the hell do you go back there after everything? I would have thought you’d have been traumatized after somethin’ like that.”
“Ha! Probably am but the diner is the spot to be in town. If I didn’t go there, I’d have to leave Rugged Mountain, and I love it here.
The people, the mountains, the vibe. It’s…
home.” I pop a bite of chicken in my mouth and chew slowly, eyes locked on his.
“Plus, if I hadn’t kept going, I’d have never met Gordon Ramsey and John Wick’s love child. ”
A breath of amusement slips from his lips. “I assume that’s me?”
“Bingo!” I lean back, grinning. “Besides,” I add, sipping my tea, “I had my share of therapy, and I’m one hundred percent sure I’m not a danger to society. Anymore .”
He doesn’t smile, just watches me as though he’s trying to find the fraying duct tape I hold my soul together with. “You laugh about it, but really… you’re not in pain? You were four years old. ”
I smirk, deflecting some more, ‘cause that’s what I do best. “Do you want me to be in pain? I mean, I’m into all kinds of kinks, but this is a weird angle.”
“No,” he huffs, biting back a laugh, “that’s not what I’m getting at. I just… you seem so blase about the whole thing. I wonder how you got there.”
I tip my head, letting the tea swirl before I answer. “I mean, it took a lot of work. Two therapists, a stack of journals, and a stray cat that listened to me way more than he should’ve had to.”
“And that’s it? You felt better after that?”
“No, I mean… I still cry when I see families together on holidays. I wonder why that couldn’t have been me, but…
I don’t shoplift ChapStick for the thrill of it anymore.
” I pause to watch his reaction soften. “I follow big, inked-up bikers instead.” I sigh and finally take a sip of tea.
“I had to stop letting the hurt tear me down. I had to come to terms with the fact that I don’t have a family. I never will.”
“You can build one. One of your own.”
“I could, but I don’t even know how to do that, or who to be when I get there, ya know?”
“I do.”
“How were your parents growing up? I think I saw a picture of them on the dresser in your room. They look like sweet people.”
“Very sweet. They were the best. The kind that’d take their shirts off their back to help you.
Ran a ranch out in Texas and lived with this good neighbor policy that I wanted to hold on to, but…
then the accident happened, and I lost it.
I don’t know…” He shifts his weight and shoves his plate away.
Silence passes between us for a second before I speak. “You didn’t lose the parts of them inside of you. You buried it.”
“That kind of good doesn’t belong in the world I ended up in, and they deserved a better ending than the one they got. Someone has to pay for that.”
I rest my elbows on the table, fingers loosely wrapped around the tea glass as I watch him. I was wrong. The fire behind his eyes isn’t rage. It’s something colder, sharper, like his grief never thawed.
“You say someone has to pay, but I think the only one paying is you.”
The words settle between us. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t argue. He stands there with a haunted stare, fingers tightening around his glass like he’s bracing for something he can’t outrun.
“Yeah, probably right,” he finally says, sipping his tea. “Way I like it, I guess. If I’m not paying, who the hell is?”
I pinch my lips together and stare toward his massive frame. He’s so big, so strong, so steady in every way, except this. It’s like this one thing has a hold of him and won’t let go.
“I get it… I think . I don’t know.” I glance toward the humming fridge then back again.
“I was raised by a bunch of foster families. For some reason or another, no one house really stuck. So… I don’t have the same attachment to family.
Sometimes, even the thought of falling in love scares me.
It’s like I’m afraid of being abandoned again. ”
“Yeah, I learned a long time ago that wantin’ something too much is a sure-fire way to lose it.” He lets out a hard breath and scrubs his hand over his beard as though there’s more he wants to say but doesn’t know how. “Anyway, loves a luxury. One I sure as fuck can’t afford.”
For some reason in the midst of a conversation about how love could never work, I find myself wondering what a life would be like with Duke.
Would he cook like this every night? Would he always want to play little games out in the field?
Would we have deep conversations like this one on the regular?
Would he somehow make me feel as safe as he makes me feel, forever?
God, what’s wrong with me?
“Same,” I finally say before a hard knock hits the front door and I jump.
Duke goes on high alert, gripping the pistol he keeps tucked into the back of his jeans. “Stay here.” His stance shifts as though he’s preparing himself for the worst.
Why, though? We’re at his house in the middle of nowhere. What’s there to be afraid of? It’s almost like muscle memory has taken over, like he so used to being on edge and he doesn’t know what it feels like to let his guard down.
Outside, the wind rattles a loose piece of tin against the porch rail. I watch his silhouette blur into the shadow of the hallway, one hand on the gun, the other near the doorknob.
Maybe it’s just a delivery guy with no business being out here. Then again, it could be the past finally catching up to him and I’m here for all the fabulous glory of it all. Most likely though, it’s another Chaos Brother looking to tell him something.
The door creaks open just enough to let in the tension.
My heart hammers against my chest. I can’t tell if I’m excited for the blow out or if I’m terrified of the same thing. My brain is playing bumper cars with thoughts, throwing sparks of warning and thrill with equal measure.
Duke stands like a statue carved in caution, eyes locked on the figure beyond the threshold. I lean forward instinctively, my tea forgotten, heart thudding like it’s trying to kick through my ribs.
Then I hear it. “Is Maci here?”
That voice. Polished concern. It’s funny that leaving like I did put me on his list of things to do.
Nick. Dear God, it’s Nick.
Of course it’s Nick.
Duke doesn’t answer right away. The silence between them stretches, sharp and taut, and for a second, I swear the air loses its oxygen.
I step into view, barely. Nick’s eyes meet mine, and whatever dynamite Duke carries inside, Nick just lit the fuse.
“Hey, Maci. You okay? Kera said you were chasing some dark cowboy. I asked around town and folks sent me up here.”
“Left the fuckin’ gate open.” Duke groans under his breath. “What do you want?”
Nick tucks his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants. I hadn’t realized before how small he is, how weak his biceps are, how annoying his voice sounds. “I came to bring Maci home.”
Duke rolls his eyes to the side and groans as he scrubs his massive hand down over his beard. “You think I’m holding her hostage, little boy? I’ve made her dinner. We’re eating.”
I step forward, stomach churning as I say, “Nick, what are you doing?”
He takes a step forward, his jaw tightening like he’s trying to swallow pride and fury at the same time. “I’m… I’m taking you home, Maci. You’re… you’re not safe up here.” He leans forward slightly, talking out the side of his mouth as though he’s telling me a secret. “The man has a gun.”
Duke doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. “I have a gun because you’re trespassing on my property.”