Chapter 16
Carrying Your Love with Me
Callie
Waking up with a hell of a hangover, I hold my head in my hands and cry. I cry for myself, and I cry for the tiny thread of hope I had for Duke and me. My head pounds and it feels like justice for how I acted last night.
I felt so happy after our day out on the boat. Cash was gone for the weekend for World Championships, which apparently is a big deal, and won.
Cowboy Cash
Wish me luck, Hurricane. This is the biggest show all year.
Good luck, Cowboy. You’re a damn rodeo star.
Cowboy Cash
I’ll bring home the win to you.
Holy shit, Hurricane! Did you see it? I’ll call you in a bit, it’s crazy here. But I won. Beat Wilkes. Just imagine me happy dancing. I’m not, on account of being a cowboy and all that, but just imagine it anyway.
Back in reality, I realize what a mistake I’ve made.
Duke didn’t deserve any of what I did. He doesn’t deserve to be punished because Roger fucked me up.
I wish I could fix it, make it better, but everything I think of to say feels trite and stupid.
Like I’m making excuses for being an abusive drunk, like my piece of shit ex.
I get dressed in a daze and slowly make my way down to the dining room in search of coffee, hoping Lizzie isn’t around. Walking into the dining room, I don’t find Lizzie, but I do find Cash.
Sighing, I sit.
“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asks me, concern written in his brow. The uncharacteristic serious look makes me feel worse. I hurt Duke and now I’m bothering Cash. I think I have an emotional hangover too.
“Just a headache. Let me get some coffee.”
He stands up and starts to head into the kitchen. “Lizzie, Callie has…” That’s all I hear before the door swings shut, granting me blissful silence for a few minutes. He returns and holds out a bottle of medicine. “Here you go, Hurricane.”
Taking the bottle, I nod my head in thanks and swallow down a few pills, chasing it with hot coffee that makes me wince.
“Thank you, Cash,” I whisper.
“I won’t keep you long, but I wanted to stop by and tell you I have to go out of town.
Rodeo stuff.” I peer up at him from my hiding place behind my coffee, which earns me a sympathetic chuckle.
“Damn, baby. It must have been a rough night. Anyway, now that the season is warming up, I’ll be coming and going.
I’ll be back on Sunday. I’ve got a couple of rides over the next few days, but I’ll be available if you want to chat.
” He leans down and plants a comfortable kiss on the top of my head.
“I’ll be here Sunday. Don’t disappear,” he whispers before he turns to go.
“Bye, Cowboy,” I call out weakly.
His laughter fills my ears as he walks through the front door.
The cozy, warm way he gives me updates, kisses me like he expects to do it for a long time, feels soft and normal. The heat between me and Duke burns me up.
Pulling out my phone, I open my texts, seeing nothing from Duke. Not that I expect him to have written. I walked away from him. Laying my face on the cool wood of the table, I wait for my headache to go away.
Back in my room, I gulp down so much water my stomach hurts, so much I think I can hear it sloshing around, before getting dressed. I’m supposed to start at Pete’s Farm Supply on Saturday, but I have a meeting with Pete and Vickie to look at the apartment above the store that’s for rent.
Realizing I’m running behind due to my late start this morning, I rush out the door and to my car. Tucked under my wiper blade is a note.
Hurricane,
Stay safe while I’m gone. I’m still working on my chance.
X- Cash
Finding a reason to smile, I slide in the car and head to the store. I see Vickie waiting by a door at the rear of the building marked ‘B.’
“Hey Callie, thanks for coming by. I’m excited to show you the apartment.”
I follow her pencil skirted behind up a narrow staircase, arriving at a landing that opens into a large room that houses a kitchen, living room, and dining room.
I’m surprised by how much space there is.
The furniture included perfectly complements the layout.
There’s a large, plush grey sofa against the wall with windows across from a TV stand holding a large television.
There’s a coffee table, an armchair, and a bookshelf in the corner, just waiting for books.
There’s a smaller four-person table near the kitchen which is bright with white cabinets and gray and black veined stone counters.
The floors are vinyl plank that mirror sun-bleached wood.
The whole place has a grey, white, and black theme but it’s perfect for adding my own touches.
I am so grateful it’s furnished so I don’t have to do that too.
“There’s also a bedroom and bathroom through here.
” She leads me down a hallway to a clean and relatively new bathroom with a large bathtub I can lay in, and a small circular window.
The bedroom is large, with a king-sized bed in the middle of the wall, flanked by nightstands.
There’s also a large dresser, a small desk, and a small walk-in closet.
“Vickie, this is perfect.” She smiles knowingly, as though she expected nothing less.
“Seriously, so perfect,” I whisper as I wander from place to place, touching furniture and surfaces.
A giddiness fills my chest. I’ve never had my own place before.
I’ve only lived with my parents and then under Roger’s thumb.
I can’t wait to buy pink pillows, paint, and cover the bed with stuffed animals.
Put girly books and decorations on the bookshelf. Everything Roger hated.
After a quick discussion about moving in—whenever I want—and writing a check—six months up front—I sign the lease, take the keys, and practically float down the stairs.
Behind the wheel of my car, I pull out my phone.
I got an apartment. I can move in whenever.
Cowboy Cash
Hurricane, this is the best news I’ve ever heard. You’re staying.
I open my texts with Duke and type multiple messages, telling him my news before deleting it over and over. Closing my texts, I pull out of the parking lot and decide to head into a larger town, where they have a Wal-Mart and get some stuff for my new apartment.
I yell in excitement as I park. My new apartment.
I have an apartment!
In Inspiration, Montana.
I also have a Cash.
The thought makes me kind of sad. I almost had a Duke also.
Cowboy Cash
Hey, if you want to watch the Rodeo, I’ll be riding tonight, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. The show is always on at Waylon’s. Stop in, Duke is a nice guy. A little quiet. Tell him I sent you.
I bang my forehead into my steering wheel. I know he’s a nice man. Quiet, too.
Sure thing, Cowboy. Ride well, or whatever they say.
Cowboy Cash
I’ll win a fancy buckle just for you.
Next time I’m at the ranch, I want to see the buckles.
Cowboy Cash
Whatever you want, darlin’.
Now I’m thinking about your buckles. And your belt…
Cowboy Cash
That can be yours too, if you want it.
Head in the arena, Cowboy.
Cowboy Cash
Yes ma’am.
A selfie of him, big buckle on display, hat pulled low over his eyes, and a mischievous smile appears.
*swoon*
I can almost hear his chuckle.
Sitting on a settee in the lounge at Lizzie’s house, my curiosity about the rodeo eats at me. Resolving that nothing with Duke will be fixed if I hide out here, I decide to go over to Waylon’s.
When I walk in a little while later, I see him behind the bar, as usual, a towel draped over his shoulder.
He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tattooed forearms on display.
I feel a flutter in my belly at the sight of the bright colors and the strong, veiny hands, going about his tasks.
Instead of the hat I expect, he has a ball cap, turned backwards on his head.
He seems different tonight, somehow.
“Hey, Duke,” I say as I find a stool at the end of the bar and hop up.
“Hey, Caroline, the usual?”
“Oh, after my last performance, I think I’ll just take a beer.” I expect a small smile or a smirk or something. Instead, he just turns away from me and grabs me a beer. I slide a fifty across the counter which gets a raised brow. “I left before paying my tab, last night.”
“Keep it.” He slides it back.
“Duke, take the money,” I tell him seriously. Not only does he look different tonight, but the easy banter, the joking tone, it’s disappeared completely. The frostiness that’s appeared instead is icing me out of the room. “Hey, I’m sorry about last night.” I try to thaw the air between us.
He swipes up the money, turning to add it to the register, ringing in the drinks I had.
“It’s fine, Caroline.” He turns up the television hanging above him as the announcer calls out Cash’s name.
The men in the bar clap for him. After his name, there are lots of acronyms I don’t know. He told me about the Bull Rider’s Association, but the others may as well be a foreign language. All I know is, he must be good. Like really good.
I watch as the bull erupts from the chute, my cowboy on his back.
He has one hand wrapped up in a rope and the other hand thrown in the air.
He wears leather chaps with tassels hanging down that swing with his movements and a leather vest with logos of various companies on it.
His body moves in tandem with the angry beast. It’s like the bull is an extension of his body.
Or he is an extension of the bull. The movements are like a dance; they have a raw elegance I can’t even begin to describe.
After what is simultaneously the shortest and longest eight seconds of my life, he’s pulled from the back by some rodeo guys and rushed to the gate that he quickly climbs over.
Pulling out my phone, I open our text thread.
That was, by far, the coolest thing I’ve ever watched.
The whole bar watches, waiting for the scores. Ninety-three point four flashes on the screen and his name moves to the top of the leaderboard. The next highest score is ninety-one. We watch the rest of the show while I nurse my beer. Hostility and sadness radiate off Duke.
I want to talk to him, fix it. But I can’t. I tried and he isn’t taking it.
Once all the riders are done, they announce the winner.
“Ashley Colter, another buckle to hang on the wall!” the announcer says to Cash, who stands beside him with a huge smile on his face.
“Thanks, man. Hurricane Warning put on a good show for me.” I laugh at the name of the bull before Cash holds his buckle in front of the camera. “This buckle is for my own Hurricane waiting for me at home. For you, darlin’,” he tells the camera before walking off.
Smiling huge, I finish my beer as my phone starts ringing.
Cowboy Cash flashes across the screen. Leaving a ten-dollar bill, I get up, and without looking back, I walk out of Waylon’s and away from Duke—again.
“Hey, Cowboy.”
“Hey, Hurricane.”
“That was beautiful. Like literally so beautiful. I had no idea. Seeing you up there was so cool,” I tell him breathlessly.
“You at Waylon’s? It’s quiet.”
“I left after I saw you get the buckle. You bringing it home to me, Cowboy?”
“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me. I’ve got three more rodeos before I can give it to you. And fuck, do I want to give it to you.” I hear the meaning in his words and blush.
Just before I start speaking, I hear him saying something to someone, muffled in the background.
“Hey, baby. I gotta run. But I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Okay, have a good night, Cowboy.”
“You too, Hurricane.”
Right before the line goes dead, I hear the unmistakable laughter of a woman in the background and my stomach drops.
Calm down, Callie. You have no room to be jealous. You have a full on rom-com love triangle going on. It’s impossible to not feel insecure though. I don’t have quite enough confidence to overcome whatever that giggling laugh was. Cash is a hot-as-shit cowboy who just won.