Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
West Texas Weather
Maverick
Iwas halfway through Cason’s lesson when a black Lexus pulled up by the barn. Deja vu hit me for a moment, and I imagined Ashleigh’s tall frame sliding out of the vehicle, but it wasn’t her.
Thank the Lord.
Though, I wasn’t necessarily in the mood to deal with the person who slid out of this car either.
Cash hopped out, leaning over to kiss whoever drove, before closing the door and sauntering my way.
So that’s why he hadn’t been home for dinner.
My nerves coiled and writhed within me. I wasn’t really in the mood for any of his antics.
Which wasn’t fair. He hadn’t said a word and I was already annoyed.
I wasn’t even mad at him though, or really mad in general for that matter. I was just…I don’t know. In my own head, I guess. I felt like I was a soda can that’d gotten all shaken up, and was just sitting, waiting to either flatten out or explode.
Right now, I wasn’t sure which way it would go. And I didn’t want Cason to see how I acted when I got angry.
Flickers of ugly memories struggled to rear their heads. I fought them, pushing them deep, deep down, but a few trickled through. Dad’s yelling. The sound of beer bottles shattering. The boom of my father’s fists against the wall. I shuddered, trying to shake out of my mind.
I’d never laid a hand on anyone like my dad did, but his anger ran through my veins. It was a part of me. One I hated, and tried as hard as I could to keep at bay.
Cason’s voice echoed off the barn and across the arena, pulling me fully from my dark thoughts. The smile he aimed Cash’s way shone brighter than any of the arena lights. “Funcle Cash!” he called from atop Peckerhead, urging the gelding toward us.
“Hi’ya, little man,” Cash called back, waving animatedly before coming to my side and leaning against the pipe-stall. “You almost done?” he asked, glancing my way.
“Just about. Though I’m sure the kid would love if you gave him a few pointers.” I caught a glimpse of red tail lights before they disappeared completely. “What part of the Cash system we at with this one?”
Cash’s gaze flicked to mine, concern dulling his usually bright, happy features.
I almost never commented or asked about his conquests.
I didn’t care, because I knew he didn’t care about them.
Not really. They were only there to fill a void.
A hole that’d been there since the summer he graduated high school.
A hole that he seemed set to dig himself further and further into.
Before he could get a word out, Cason came to a stop before us.
“How’s your lesson goin’, bud?” Cash recovered quicker than me, a dazzling smile lighting up his face.
“Good!” Cason beamed right back. “Uncle Mav said he thinks I’m ready to start ropin’ on the horse!”
“Now, hold your roll there, kid,” I replied, pegging Cason with a pointed look. “There were two parts to that. What was the first?”
Cason’s cheeks reddened as he offered me a sheepish grin and replied, “He said I gotta rope the dummy cow fifty times in a row—”
“And then you can start ropin’ off him,” I finished, crossing my arms—covered, mainly because of the cold—over my chest.
Cash clapped his hands together, a warm grin on his lips. “Well, you heard Uncle Mav. How ‘bout you go tie up ol’ Peckerhead over by the barn and grab out the ropin’ dummy and get started?”
“But fifty’s a lot!” Cason whined, albeit halfheartedly.
I bit back a chuckle at that. “How ‘bout this? You do half tonight, and half tomorrow before our lesson.”
Cason’s whoop of excitement was answer enough.
“But—” I cut in, before he could get too excited. “No misses. You mess up, you miss, well, then you start back at zero.”
That seemed to take the wind out of his sails a bit, but he still held that level of enthusiasm only he and Cash seemed to have about mundane things. He nodded, a grin on his face. “Deal, Uncle Mav.”
I nodded. “Well, go on then. Tie him up and get started.”
Cash and I remained in relative silence as Cason rode the old gelding out of the arena and toward the barn to tie him up. When he was finally out of ear shot, Cash whirled on me.
“What’s goin’ on?” His brows knit together, a rare frown on his face.
He reminded me of Cheyenne in that way. Not much seemed to get them down for too long. You could always expect them to be laughing, smiling. But where Cheyenne reminded me of the sun, Cash reminded me of summer nights. Warm, wild, and full of mischief.
I didn’t lie. I didn’t try to make excuses. With a sigh, I leaned my arms against the pipe-stall, staring unseeingly toward the arena. “Cheyenne’s thinkin’ of includin’ Mae in the baby’s name.”
Cash stiffened at my side. Talk of Ellie—or my family at all, for that matter—wasn’t somethin’ we did often.
Cash didn’t really remember her too much, only that her, him and True had played together a few times when Dad was gone or too drunk to bother fighting Mom about taking us to visit the Mooney’s.
But those occasions had been rare. Mom had always tried to hide the damage Dad did from Uncle Bad and Goodie.
I had no doubt if they’d known what all he’d done to us, they’d have killed him.
It sure as hell made Cash uncomfortable. To him, we were brothers, we took care of each other, and the infrequent reminder of my dark past upset him. Not that he’d have been able to do anything, but he’d always taken upon himself to look out for me. And he always had.
Cash’s stare was heavier than a semi-truck as I turned to meet his gaze. “You okay with that?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah…I’m honored, actually. Deserves to be something good that comes outta my family.”
“She ain't the only good,” Cash said, his voice soft yet determined. “You came outta that family.”
My chest tightened, a mixture of emotions fighting for dominance in my heart—pride and love, but also guilt and disbelief.
Throw them all together and I didn’t know what to think, let alone what to say even.
So, I did what I did best: I didn’t say a damn thing.
Blowing out a breath, I reached for my hat, removing it to run a hand through my close-cropped hair.
My heart went out to my cousin. He’d always been my biggest supporter, my fiercest friend. My brother. He might be a pain in the ass, but he had a good heart. A far better one than he let people think he had.
I didn’t look at him as I picked at the felt of my hat, ensuring that nothing was out of place. A lump lodged in my throat as my mouth bobbed open and closed once. Twice. “I’m…” I cleared my throat. “I’m afraid I’m gonna turn out like him.”
This entire time, from the moment Cheyenne decided she wanted to keep the baby and stay with me—giving me the honor and chance to raise her as my own—this dark thought had hung around, lurking in the shadows, growing, festering.
What if I ended up like my dad? I didn’t have many good memories with him, but he couldn’t always have been bad.
Mom wouldn’t have been with him if he’d always been that way, right?
Cash scoffed, disbelief coating his features. “What the hell makes you think that?”
“I’m his blood. That anger runs in me. What if…” My words drifted off into nothingness. I couldn’t even say them aloud.
A memory sparked to life. I hadn’t always been quiet like this.
Hadn’t always taken the road less traveled, been the bigger person.
Once I was hot and angry and let my emotions rule me.
Dad had beaten most of that fight out of me.
Most, but not all. Every now and then it rose to the surface, bubbling over and exploding.
What if I hurt them?
“Mav…Mav!” Cash’s hands gripped my shoulders, gently shaking me. I slowly lifted my gaze to lock with his.
Concern and sadness swirled on my cousin’s face. “You ain’t him. You ain’t ever gonna be him. You’re better. Always have been, and you always will.”
I didn’t know where all this anxiety and self-doubt was coming from.
It always lurked there, I guess, but I was usually a bit better at hiding it.
But so much had happened, so much had changed in such a short time.
My entire world had been flipped upside down, ripped inside out, and finally righted, and I was still trying to get my bearings.
I thought I’d known what I wanted in life, but then Cheyenne came in like some wild, west Texas storm and now I couldn’t imagine—didn’t want—a life without her in it.
And I was terrified, completely and utterly terrified, that I would somehow fuck it all up.
Cash squeezed my shoulder once more, dragging me back to the present.
“I’m scared I ain’t gonna be good enough for them,” I finally admitted aloud.
Cash just shook his head, a small, soft smile coming to his lips as he huffed a laugh. “Mav, you’re the best man I know…You’re good at just about every damn thing, and I don’t think there’s a more perfect job for you than being a dad.”
The lump in my chest grew larger, moisture pricking in my eyes.
I cleared my throat, but Cash went on before I could get any words out.
“You might get angry. You might yell every now and then, but who doesn’t?
I mean look at Dad. He fucked up every once in a while.
He raised his voice and got on us, but he apologized when he was wrong and taught us how to focus that anger. ”
I nodded. Those first few months with Uncle Bad and Aunt Violet were hard for me. I’d never been in a loving household, and while Bad seemed rough around the edges, he was like leather, give him some time, and he’d soften right up. He was firm but fair, and wiser than any man I knew.
He’d taught me it ain’t about suppressing the anger, but channeling it. I channeled it into learning new things.
Cash clapped me on the shoulder. “You’re kind, patient, understanding. You were always there to defend me, protect me, encourage me, push me. I have no doubt you’re gonna do that for that little girl.”
My lip quivered up into the barest hint of a smile, hope and pride winning out against the war of emotions within me. “You think?” I asked earnestly.
Cash grinned. “I fuckin’ know so. Now, do me a favor…channel all that anger and frustration into winning the Hill Country Jackpot next weekend.”
I grinned, happy for the change in subject. “I can do that,” I replied with a nod, glancing over toward the barn. Cason stood about five feet behind the dummy, situating the rope in his hands. “Come on,” I said, “let’s go give him some pointers.”
Cash nudged me in the shoulder as we started off that way. “I don’t know, man. I think pretty soon that kid’s gonna rope better than you or I even.”
I chuckled. “Speak for yourself.”
But he wasn’t entirely wrong. Cason had all the makings of being a great cowboy. Then again, when you lived with three professionals and had the infamous Bad Mooney training you almost daily, you weren’t destined for anything but greatness.
Cheyenne was quiet as her and Charlie came to check on Cason, giving me space until everyone had left. A pang of guilt shot through my heart. So, she’d noticed. I’d hoped I’d hidden my anxiety well enough, but guess I hadn’t been fooling anyone.
“Wanna drive back to the house?” I asked, nodding at the old ranch truck.
Cheyenne huffed a laugh. “That piece of shit is one drive away from breakin’ down. I’d rather just get a move on and walk.”
With a nod, we started off for the house, the crunch of dirt and gravel under our feet the only sound for a few long, tense moments as I gathered my thoughts and tried to figure out what to say.
“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to get out.
“I’ve been in my head a lot tonight, but I don’t want you thinkin’ you’d done somethin’ wrong. ”
She pulled her jacket around her tighter as she nodded and met my gaze. “Wanna talk about it?”
No. I’d rather get kicked in the ribs than talk about my problems and insecurities, but she deserved the truth.
We were a team after all. And a team was only as strong as its weakest player.
So, with a nod, I said, “Mentionin’ my sister brought up some…
well, some not great emotions about my family. ”
“I’m sorry.” She reached out a hand, grasping for mine. It was cold despite being tucked into her jacket pocket. I pulled her closer to me, trying to give any extra warmth I could.
“It ain’t your fault. I don’t talk about my family much, because, well, I didn’t have the greatest upbringin’.”
“Cash and Bad mentioned a bit when you weren’t talkin’,” she said softly, blue eyes flicking to mine as she tried to gauge my reaction.
I blew out a breath. “I’m sure whatever they told you was mild in comparison to what all I remember.”
She squeezed my hand, leaning into me a bit more as the porch light from our house sprung to life in the distance—a shining beacon promising warmth. “You can tell me. You know about my mama.”
I blew out a breath. “Thank you, I appreciate that, and I do wanna tell you, but…” I couldn’t look at her as I choked out, “I ain’t quite ready to share that ugly part of me yet. With anyone. It’s too dark. Too raw. I…” I shook my head, finally meeting her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
I expected annoyance, maybe even anger from her.
I mean, she had told me about her past. What I’d gone through—it was bad enough to be plagued with the memories.
But talking about them? Dredging them up, reliving them, speaking about them aloud.
I didn’t have the strength to tell her yet.
As I looked into her eyes, I didn’t find a shred of anything other than affection. Love.
“That’s okay,” she said softly. “When you’re ready, I’m here. There ain’t no rush.”