Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
Cowboys Never Cry
Maverick
Ifucked up. Every second, every mile we drove in silence towards the ranch I felt Cheyenne withdrawing more and more. I’d lost her, before she was even really mine.
Fuck.
It’s like all the light had left her. Like when storm clouds swallowed up the sun.
The worst part about this was it was my own damn fault.
Rage trembled through my veins, coiling tight in my limbs. Why couldn’t I just. Fucking. Talk? Why did my very actions to deal with my grief negatively affect those I cared about most?
Aunt Violet, Bad, and Cash hadn’t given up on me. But they didn’t really have a choice now, did they? Would any of them have stuck around with me not talking if I wasn’t their family, their charge?
I didn’t blame Cheyenne. It hurt, but I understood.
She knew about Ashleigh. Knew at least partly about the bullshit I’d gone through with her, or else this wouldn’t even be an issue…and I hadn’t done a damn thing to ease her concerns.
Truth was, she didn’t have to worry about Ashleigh anymore. I was done with her. Frankly, I should have been a long time ago. But I also understood the need for more than a pleading head shake.
I glared at my phone as we pulled into the drive and headed toward the barn. Of course, Ashleigh would try to worm her way back in at the most inopportune moment. She had a habit of doing that. A habit, I realized, I’d perpetuated and allowed for just about twenty damn years.
I hadn’t even fully put the truck in park before Cheyenne hopped out, Brandy hot on her heels.
I was losing her. Do something. Say something. I opened my mouth, hoping, praying, willing words to come out…but nothing.
Still. Fucking. Nothing.
I slammed the flat of my palm against the steering wheel. Once. Twice. Three times.
She was already unlocking the back of the trailer to get out Country Road by the time I made it back there.
Everything about her warm, inviting demeanor had changed, shifting to something cold and dark.
She looked at me with eyes that used to remind me of summer lakes and streams, but were now as frigid and hard as glaciers.
I opened my mouth to say something again. Please…please.
But nothing.
I didn’t miss the flicker of disappointment ripple through her. Pursing her lips, she muscled open the trailer.
In silence, we unloaded the horses. In silence, we walked them back to their stalls.
In silence still, we made our way toward the truck, so I could park and unhitch the trailer.
I’d never been a stranger to silence, and during this last week, I’d gotten used to it between us.
It hadn’t been awkward or stilted. It felt natural.
But this… I hated this.
She pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, stray pieces framing her sad, beautiful face.
“Can I have my keys?” Her words sounded hollow. Dead. Lifeless.
I made her feel that way. Guilt crashed through me. I’d done this. I’d pushed her to this point. I’d driven her to leave. Damn it.
My brow rose, the silent question lingering in my confused expression. Where are you going?
She looked at Brandy by her side as she spoke. “I gotta go into town. Get some stuff. Don’t worry about makin’ dinner for me or waitin’ up.”
I shook my head, a new question burning in my throat. Why?
“Thank you for all you’ve done for me…truly. I appreciate it. But I think—” Her words wobbled, her bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. “I think it’s time I-I moved on.”
Her last words felt like a sledgehammer straight to the heart. Pain blossomed in my chest, my breath leaving me in a whoosh of air.
Leave? She couldn’t leave. She I blew out a shaky breath. She’d come to mean a lot to me, and I was no good at letting go.
Cheyenne gripped her right elbow with her left hand, a defensive gesture if I’d ever seen one.
I reached for her—if I could just make her see how much I wanted her.
Needed her here. Emotion swirled in her gaze, a myriad of anger, want, sadness, and finally nothing. I dropped my hand as she spoke next.
“I just… I need more, Maverick. And I realize that might be selfish and unfair of me…but I-I gotta be fair to myself too. I can’t be with someone who can’t–” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she met my gaze. “Can’t give me what I need. I can’t do this anymore.”
I found myself nodding. I understood. She didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve broken, used parts. And that’s all I was. But she’d seemed the type to look at the ugly and find something beautiful.
“I’m sorry, Maverick.” Pain resounded in her voice; I watched it harden her soft, pretty features. Dipping her head so her gaze didn’t meet mine, she grabbed the keys from my hand, nodded at Brandy, and turned away.
I didn’t even remember grabbing them out of my pocket.
Say something!
Every muscle in my body, every nerve ending, even my blood sang, bellowed, and roared to chase after her. But I didn’t. I just stood there. Watching. Waiting… For what?
For her to turn around and change her mind?
Why would she? Better yet, why should she?
My heart thumped to the beat of a ticking time bomb. If I let her leave, she was gone. There would be no getting her back.
She’d taken care of me that night of the fire. She’d cleaned me, clothed me, sang me to sleep. She’d been a light in the darkness. The sun to my shadows.
Her truck rumbled to life as she slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. The gears shifted. And then she was rolling away, her truck gaining speed with each turn of her tires.
“Wait!” The sound out of my mouth was foreign to my ears. Like I’d forgotten how to form words. But the attempt shattered whatever spell—or curse—had kept my words at bay.
My feet started moving. First one step. Two steps…then I was running. Sprinting to catch up with her truck.
She wasn’t going that fast, thankfully. I smacked a hand against the door as I sprinted beside it. Cheyenne’s tear-filled gaze met mine, her face turning into a mask of surprise. She damn near took me out with the driver-side mirror as she skidded to a stop.
“Maverick?” she cried as I wrenched open the door. “What the hell?”
“S-stay,” I whispered, my breath sawing in and out of me. I wasn’t sure if it was from the run or the pent-up anxiety thrumming through my veins.
A gasp fell from her lips, more tears welling in her bright blue eyes. She cupped a hand over her mouth, a sob escaping her. “You just… You tal—”
I didn’t let her finish. Leaning over, I dragged her mouth to mine.
“Stay with me,” I breathed, resting my forehead to hers and cupping her face.
The words felt raw, weird coming out of my throat.
“Please, don’t go. I want you here. I want you with me.
I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. I…I wanted to…God, I wanted to.”
Cheyenne’s soft, warm hands cupped my own, her bottom lip trembling as more tears slipped down her cheeks. But a smile brighter than any sunrise bloomed on her lips.
“Well, damn, cowboy. All you had to do was say somethin’.” A laugh rumbled out of me. One with actual sound, and I’d never felt such happiness than in that moment. I leaned back and flicked her nose gently.
“Hey!” She batted away my hand, and I used the moment as an excuse to unfasten her seatbelt and urge her out of the truck.
She let me, her mouth finding mine the moment she was out.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, her kisses deep and wild.
I lifted her up, savoring the feel as her legs snaked around my waist.
Cheyenne broke the kiss first, drawing back to look at me. “You talked,” she breathed, smoothing her fingers over my brow. It still hurt a bit from last weekend, though it’d started to close. “What made you?”
I cupped the back of her neck, drawing her in close so I could kiss her once more. Slow. Unhurried. I felt every muscle in her body melt into my embrace. Desire swirled to life in my chest. Dear Lord, I wanted her.
“You,” I said, pulling away. “The thought of you leavin’ and not knowin’ how much I need you.”
She placed a whisper-soft kiss to my lips, a mischievous glint twinkling in her eyes. “How much, cowboy?”
A grin tugged on my mouth. “Want me show you?”
She smirked, and when she spoke her words were low, smokey. “I want you to tell me…and then show me.”
I kissed her once more. “I think I can do that.”