Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Cowboys Ride Away
Maverick
“Maverick.”
I’d grown used to her calling me Mav or cowboy in casual conversation, so when she used my name like that…it felt odd. Almost like a rift had forged between us.
She’d been closed off, guarded, unreadable since I’d gotten back from church. Understandable. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she was going through. What she was feeling.
I didn’t want to add to her worries, her stress. As much as I longed to touch her, hold her, and offer her whatever comfort I could, I didn’t want to push. She had so much to worry about, I didn’t want her to have to worry about us either. I’d be here for her. Waiting. For as long as she needed.
Cheyenne got out of the truck before I could stop her, making a beeline for Cash’s front door. It’s like she was trying to avoid me. My chest tightened, worry burrowing deeper and deeper.
What had changed? Well, aside from the obvious.
Did she not want to be with me anymore? Or worse, did she think I didn’t want her anymore?
The fact she was pregnant changed nothing for how I felt about her.
It might for some people, but it didn’t for me.
Hell, if she changed her mind and told me she wanted to keep it, I’d be okay with that.
And if she was worried what other people would say, well, I’d come up with a solution for that too.
I needed to talk to her, but not here. Not with so many people around. Tonight. Tonight, I’d talk to her.
I’d barely made it to her side before Cash opened the door, dazzling in all his star-spangled glory.
His board shorts were red white and blue with a red solo cup and ping pong ball pattern.
He wore no shirt, but a myriad of shiny mardi gras-styled beads in red, white, and blue.
His large, polarized sunglasses even had an American flag design on their plastic frames.
“Well, look at you, Mooney,” Cheyenne chuckled, sounding so much like herself it gave me pause. Her smile pulled wide on her cheeks, that familiar glow that had been all but absent a few moments ago shining brightly once more.
Cash grinned, pulling his glasses down to glance between us. “Y’all are late. Had to get a quickie in, didn’t ya?”
I clenched my jaw, but Cheyenne laughed, smacking Cash lightly on the chest before pushing past him. “You’re an idiot.”
I made to follow her, but Cash stopped me with a hand to the shoulder. Sunglasses still lowered he regarded me for a long moment, the usual mirth gone but replaced by a seriousness he almost never showed. “You okay?” he asked.
I nodded. From the way Chey had reacted earlier to me mentioning her talking to Charlie, I knew she didn’t want anyone else knowing. “I’m fine. Just mentally preparin’ myself for takin’ care of your sorry ass tonight.”
Cash’s crow of laughter was a welcome sound.
It seemed to break whatever seriousness he’d possessed a moment ago.
Clapping me on the back, he urged me inside.
I followed him through the house—a true bachelor pad with a pool table, bar, indoor gym, and a walk-in pantry filled with enough alcohol to start up a liquor store.
It was spotless—not because of him, but because Aunt Violet came over twice a week to clean it for him.
The entire place was bedecked in American flag decorations. Balloons, streamers, signs.
Charlie and Cheyenne had really outdone themselves.
People milled about in the fenced off backyard as we walked outside.
A group played cornhole on the grassy area to the left of the large above-ground pool Cash, Ryder and I had spent most of Wednesday and Thursday setting up and filling with water.
More people swam or lounged around the bar we’d built off the side of one end.
Friends from back in school, church, others whom we’d met rodeoing.
Cason ran around with a couple of his friends from school in tow.
I spied Charlie and Ryder on the opposite side of the swim up bar, making drinks. They both waved hello before making their way over.
“Who’s ready for a shot?” Cash asked, wrapping an arm around Cheyenne.
Her gaze met mine—panic shining in the turquoise depths for a moment. “I’m uh…not drinkin’ tonight,” she replied. I doubted Cash noticed the quaver in her voice—he’d had a few drinks in him—but I didn’t miss it.
“What?” He turned to her, disbelief shining in his eyes as he pulled his sunglasses down to regard her. “You promised last night you’d be my drinkin’ buddy. Don’t tell me you’re chickenin’ out!”
Cheyenne offered him a guilty shrug.
Cash scoffed. “Come on… What are you, pregnant or somethin’?”
The color drained from Cheyenne’s face, her body going stiff. Even from a few steps away, I noticed the tears brewing in her gaze.
I opened my mouth, to make an excuse, to change the subject, but how?
I didn’t drink so she couldn’t use the excuse that she was going to take care of me.
And it’s not like we lived far enough away to say she was going to be the designated driver.
If we said she was sick, Cash would just call bullshit.
Charlie’s warm, buttery voice drew my attention. “Cash you’re an idiot. I asked her not to drink so I had more than just Maverick and I here to make sure none of you dumbasses get drunk and drown in the pool.”
That seemed to appease him, for now. Fuck, it was gonna be a long day.
“You ready?” I asked the next morning, meeting Cheyenne’s gaze.
I shouldn’t even have asked. From the way she hovered by the door, a look of resignation in her eyes, I already knew the answer.
I hated this. Hated that she felt this way, and despite my best efforts, nothing I seemed to do helped.
I’d tried talking to her last night after we’d gotten home from Cash’s, but she’d shut it down quickly enough.
She’d not gone to sleep with me, but instead chose to sleep in the guest room—if she even slept at all.
The dark bags under her eyes led me to believe she hadn’t.
It’s like she’d withdrawn into herself, and nothing I did got through to her. Was this how I’d been last week when I wouldn’t talk? Guilt materialized in my chest, constricting and tightening around my heart.
Cheyenne didn’t respond to my question. At least not verbally. The only answer was her opening the door and walking out to my old Chevy.
Say something. That little voice in my head begged, pleaded to do something, anything to fix this.
I’d done nothing wrong, but I was losing her regardless, and I didn’t know what the hell to do to stop it.
This decision…it was killing her. I could see it.
But who was I to tell her what to do? I had no say in this.
No leg to stand on. All I could do was be there to support her and pick up the broken pieces.
Which I’d do. I just wished I could do more than that.
We drove in silence, each mile more and more painful.
Say something... Say something.
I glanced over at her. She leaned against the door, her legs tucked up against her chest. She wore one of my oversized t-shirts and a pair of ripped denim shorts, a trucker hat and bun hiding her wild curls.
Her gaze was fixed on the terrain outside—nothing but golden rolling hills and cows. Lots of cows.
There wasn’t a single drop of sunlight left in her. No warmth. No hope. She looked lifeless. Cold.
It broke my damn heart.
“Chey.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, a silent question on her face. Tears welled in the blue depths of her eyes.
I glanced at the road as I spoke, unable to meet her sad stare. “Look, I know I’m the last person who should be askin’ this of you, but…” I blew out a breath and finally braved her gaze. “I need you to talk. Please.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, her mouth bobbing open and closed multiple times. Exhaling shakily, she said on a broken whisper, “I…I don’t know what to s-say.”
With a tentative hand, I reached for hers. “Say somethin’, anythin’... I just…I need to know what you’re thinkin’. I hate seein’ you like this. It–it scares me.”
Some of the tension, however small, melted from her as she gripped my hand back.
“It scares me too. I don’t know what to do.
A part of me thinks maybe I should keep it.
But then I think of Nate. And his threats.
And what everyone else will have to say.
And then there’s this…thing goin’ on between us.
And what if you grow to resent me? What if this changes how you feel?
” Her words became quicker and more frantic the longer she talked, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
My heart cracked. She was worried about me? About me resenting her? Dear Lord, I should have talked to her. Should have reassured her.
I pulled off on the side of road, the dirt crunching beneath my tires the only sound to break the silence. Placing the truck in park, I turned to face her more fully. “You don’t gotta worry about me.”
Her bottom lip trembled, her gaze falling to the floor as she spoke. “You say that, but—”
“No. No buts.” I shook my head, leaning over to tilt her chin up. Despite the worry and concern riding my emotions, I spoke calm, even. “I can promise you right now, Cheyenne, you never gotta worry about me regrettin’ or resentin’ you. Never.”
A choked sob escaped her, but I continued on before she could protest. “As for the other concerns…I won’t let Nate do anything to you.
And if you’re worried about what other people might think if you decide to keep the baby—” I shrugged.
“Tell ‘em it’s mine. I don’t care. I’ll even go so far as to buy you a ring, if that’s what you want. ”
She shook her head, disbelief mingling with the tears in her eyes. “Why?” she sobbed. “Why would you do all this for me?”
I slid the hand holding her chin along her jaw, before cupping the side of her face. “You took care of me…now, let me take care of you.”
She scoffed. “Maverick, I would hardly compare singing you to sleep to you literally ruinin’ your life for me. A girl you don’t even know.”
And there it was, I realized. The root of her worries, her fears.
“Is that it? You’re worried if you keep it, it’ll ruin your life?” I wasn’t judging, just curious. I’d wondered if it was this.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her lashes dark and spiky from her tears. Fresh ones streaked down her cheeks. Her composure broke, her face falling into her hands that rested on her knees as her shoulders shook. Muffled cries escaped her.
Fuck. I’d only made things worse.
“Cheyenne,” I soothed. “It’s okay.”
Her head whipped up, her devastated gaze meeting mine.
“No, it’s not!” she croaked out. “It’s not okay.
What person could possibly think that their life was ruined because of their unborn child?
” She tilted her head toward the ceiling of the car.
“It’s selfish and horrible, I know. That baby is the product of my irresponsibility, and yet here I am ready to get rid of it because it’s inconvenient.
That baby doesn’t deserve that. It deserves a mom who’s gonna love it.
Take care of it. Be selfless for them. Someone like Charlie.
” She wiped at her tears, resignation ringing in her words. “I’m no better than my mama.”
“It ain’t the same, Chey—”
“Isn’t it?” she snapped, self-loathing and anger and hatred written plainly on her face, burning in her eyes, and echoing in her words. “My mama could’ve stayed, but she left. Same as I could have this baby, but I…I can’t. That baby deserves better than me.”
I blew out a slow breath, sadness welling in me, pricking tears of my own.
I blinked them away. The fact she could think so low of herself broke my heart, but I realized there was nothing I could do to convince her otherwise.
And nothing I said would stop her today.
Not that I had any right to. This was her decision.
I needed to respect that.
“You sure this is what you want?” I cupped her face.
Pursing her lips as more tears fell, she nodded.
“Okay.” I shifted in my seat, turning myself forward once more. Putting the truck in drive, I hopped back on the road.