Chapter 40
Beckett
Grabbing a soda from the fridge in the cottage, I walk out on the porch to sit for a while. The weather is too beautiful today to sit inside. I don’t know how much longer I will be here in Honeysuckle; I need to start getting my affairs in order to head back to Vegas.
And probably call my agent whose emails and texts I have been ignoring since arriving.
Briggs’ truck pulls back up to the barn, he gets out and walks inside, his little boy nowhere in sight, so he must have taken him back to his mama.
Lacey gets my attention up ahead in one of the round pens while she works with the filly.
I smile watching her, the way she moves in her jeans, the dust flying all around them.
She’s resorted to her dark hair pulled back in a high bun, the dust between her boots and the filly’s hooves kicking up dust storms around the ranch.
Holden was always right; his daughter has a natural gift when it comes to breaking horses. The filly seems to be listening to her every cue, licking her lips, showing Lace she is listening.
She ties her up in the arena and walks back into the barn, coming out with a saddle pad and saddle.
I lean up against the new railing post I’ve put in, watching as she throws the saddle over one of the arena panels for now and uses the saddle pad to let the filly sniff it.
I smile. “Start slow. Good girl.”
This part is nerve wrecking, not knowing how the horse is going to react to something new in their environment.
She moves from the filly’s nose to her back, allowing her to sniff the pad for some time before slowly setting the saddle pad on her. Thankfully, the filly doesn’t budge. Lacey strokes her neck and praises her.
My heart leaps forward watching her reach for the saddle and bring it up to the filly. She is unsure about it at first, her ears pinning back slightly.
“Too soon, Lace.” I whisper. “Don’t give her any issues, filly.”
Lacey doesn’t rush her, and after a moment, the filly's ears relax, and she sniffs the saddle while licking her lips. I blow out the air in my lungs that I was holding.
Here comes the moment of truth.
Lacey picks the saddle up, slowly over her head, and carefully sets it on the filly’s back. Thankfully, the filly stands without reaction.
Whew. She handled that well.
“Good girl.” I hear Lacey say.
She bends, to grab the strap to tie it under her, the strap hitting the filly’s skin, freaking her out.
She steps back, and stepping on Lacey’s shoulder, pinning her to the ground.
The saddle hits the ground with a thud, hitting Lacey in the thigh, the noise of the saddle hitting and Lacey’s screams is all it takes for the filly to sit back, breaking her halter, running off to the end of the pen, bucking.
I jump off the porch, running full speed toward Lacey. She lays on the dirt, screaming out in pain.
I don’t remember my feet hitting the round pen panels, and jumping over before I am beside her, my knees in the dirt. “Lacey, talk to me. What hurts?”
“My arm,” she cries out.
I can see exactly where the hoof hit her, right on her forearm.
Carson and Briggs run out of the barn.
“What the fuck happened?” Carson yells.
“Filly freaked out with the saddle, she pinned her down with her front leg and then broke the halter when the saddle fell,” I answer.
“Jesus.” He rolls his sister on her back. “Lacey, talk to us. Please.”
“I shouldn’t have done that. I was pushing her too hard.”
“Shhh. It’s okay. Accidents happen.” I tell her. “Can you move your arm?”
She tries but screams out in pain.
“Fuck. I think its broken.” I bend to pick her up and Carson snarls, “I’ll do it.”
He bends, to pick her up but Lacey shakes her head, no. “Beckett, can take me to the doctor. You need to read your letter from mom.”
“Lace.” He sighs.
“I mean it, Carson. You have done enough.”
I bend, grabbing her around the legs and waist, being careful not to touch her hurt arm. “Let’s get you to the doctor.”
I hold her close to me, her brother looking like a sad and disappointed puppy when my eyes meet his. “Take care of her,” he orders.
I nod. “Always.”
“Come on, I’ll open the passenger door to her truck,” Briggs says, running ahead of us.
* * *
Lacey
I knew better. I rushed her into something new and then tried to push her into strapping the saddle on, too. She wasn’t used to that kind of weight on her, and I got overly excited at how well she was doing, so I rushed her.
I pushed her into a panic spiral.
As someone who also hates to panic spiral, I hate myself for doing it to her.
Looking down at the blue cast on my forearm, I grumble as Beckett drives us through Honeysuckle back home.
The doctors assured me it wasn’t a complete break; it was a hairline fracture and needed to be in a cast for six weeks to heal properly.
“Go ahead, say it,” I groan as Beckett turns on the road to the ranch.
He looks at me curiously. “What are you talking about?”
“Tell me how dumb I was for rushing her.”
“You weren’t dumb. You were proud of the potential she was showing. That’s not dumb, that’s love.”
I eye him, his words hitting something deep within me. I sit up, my body facing his. “That’s it.”
“What’s it.”
“My father thought the same about you and he pushed you into a panic, didn’t he?”
Beckett stops the truck in the middle of the driveway, unsure what I mean until his eyes widen.
“You always felt like he was doing it out of guilt, Beckett, but it was really love. He saw your potential.”
“That didn’t give me the excuse to talk to him the way I did that night.”
“But you didn’t know any better. Just like the filly, she didn’t know any better either. I pushed her into panicking and hurting me.”
He sits back, letting go of the steering wheel.
“I loved your mother and father like my own, Lacey. They took care of me in ways I always dreamed of my parents doing. But one night, I overheard my mom on the phone with yours, it was the night before my high school graduation.” He grabs the wheel again, his knuckles turning white.
“She told your mom that I was a charity to them and that she enjoyed the checks she got from them for allowing them to keep me . . . then the next day after graduation, my parents killed themselves.”
I sit up, “My parents were paying yours so they could care for you?”
He nods. “I guess in the hopes they would use the money for electricity or groceries. But they just used the money to get high.”
I grab his hand. “Beckett, I am so sorry.”
“So, I ignored your father. Every text, every call. I ignored it. I was so mad that I had given most of my life to people who paid for my parents to get high.”
“But they didn’t know that’s what the money was being used on. And either way, they still took care of you.”
“Just once, though, I wanted my dad or mom to look at me the way yours did you and Carson. I envied the relationships y’all had more than anything.”
“You had the same kind. I remember many times thinking my father loved you more than me. He finally got the second son he wanted.”
His eyes meet mine, a single tear falling down his face. “I fucked up, Lacey. And I am sorry. I don’t want to be anything like my parents.”
“Hey. No, don’t do that to yourself.” I crawl over the middle of the truck, sitting in his lap. “Don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t know. You are nothing like them. They knew the choices they were making and did them anyway.”
“I hurt you, too, and I am sorry.” He is full-on crying now, this tough cowboy showing me how tough he really is. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into my shoulder. Holding him the way he held me that day when he found me in the shower. “Beckett, I forgive you. I am sorry my brother can’t.”
“I am sorry I said what I did about not wanting kids, too.” He looks up at me. “I want them with you. I will get it reversed. We can raise the next generation on this farm together.”
My eyes glisten with tears that he even offered on his own. “We can cross that bridge later on.” I lean in and kiss him.
“I want this with you, all of it.” He tells me, pulling me into him.
“I want it too.” I smile.
Carson sits on the porch when we pull up, beer in hand, looking like a lost puppy.
“Sit here,” I tell Beckett.
“Not a chance,” he says, getting out and walking to the porch with me.
Carson’s eyes roam from Beckett to me and down to my cast. “Broken?” he asks.
“Depends,” I answer.
He stands, walking toward me and handing me an open envelope, his name written on the front. “I read it.” Tears glisten in his eyes looking down at me.
I grin. “Just a hairline fracture.”
He nods and turns to Beckett, walking toward him. “Carson.” I reach out to grab him but miss.
“I don’t want to fight.” Beckett puts his hands up, but Carson puts them around Beckett’s back and embraces him into a hug.
My eyes widen and the two guys in front of me turn into blurry figures. “I am sorry,” Carson cries into Beckett’s shoulder.
Beckett’s arms go around my brother’s, embracing him fully now, and the sight is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. “Me too, brother.”
“No man, I have been such an ass to you, and I am sorry. You didn’t deserve it. You are my brother, always will be. You deserve to be on this ranch just as much as Lacey and me.”
I see the tension leave Beckett’s body, his eyes holding mine while I am a blubbering, crying mess watching the two greatest men in my life finally getting over their idiotic differences. Mainly, my brother finally growing the hell up.
“Want to go pasture check with me?” Carson asks Beckett and he lights up at the question.
Beckett turns and looks at me. “On one condition,” he stalks towards me. “Don’t you ever pull me out of her bed again.” He bends down, kissing me deeply.
Carson groans. “Ugh. I am going to have to get used to this.”
We both giggle while my brother makes puking noises.
“Go on you two, have fun. I’ll have supper on in a little while,” I wink.
“It’s about damn time you three get along.” Mrs. Mabel comes out of the house. Beckett and Carson take off to the barn, smirks all over their faces, leaving me alone with the old woman who has no filter.
“So, honey, I need to know how that beautiful man is in bed.” She smiles, taking my hand that isn’t in a cast and leading me inside.
“Um, I don’t think . . .”
“Nonsense. I don’t get action anymore as an old woman. I want to live through you.” She pats my hand, leading me up the porch and into the farmhouse.