Chapter 8 Allie #2
She gives him the kind of uncomfortable laugh every girl knows. The laugh that says I’m humoring you because I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t.
“Thanks for the offer,” she says, inching away from both him and the bar. “But I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.”
“Your boyfriend ain’t here right now, is he?”
When she pivots to walk away, he snatches her wrist. “Don’t walk away from me when I’m talkin’ to you.”
I’ve seen enough. “Jackson?” I’m quiet and discreet. The way Mom would want me to be because this douchebag isn’t worth the drama.
He drops her wrist like it burns, and she hurries off as soon as she’s free.
“We’re all waiting for you,” I tell him.
“And?” He polishes off the drink he ordered at the bar and plunks the glass down. “What, did my dad send you after me?”
“Not exactly.” Now it’s the two of us without our parents, so I can drop the act a little. “Can’t say I expected this night to be great, but I certainly didn’t think I’d have to chase my fiancé down while he tries to fuck another woman.”
Okay, so maybe this is worth a little drama.
“Give me a fucking break.” He snorts. “My fiancée—like I give a shit. And if you have any self-respect,” he continues with a smirk, “you won’t call yourself that again. This is business, that’s it. Sorry if I’m ruining your little fairy tale.”
“I know damn well this isn’t a fairy tale,” I snap. More like a fucking nightmare.
It’s kind of a miracle—all I want is to scream at this asshole and maybe throw a few things straight at his head, but I’m actually calm—well, for me—as we face off.
Saint would be proud of me, that is, if Saint were talking to me.
“We both know what this is, so don’t act like you’re hurting my feelings or setting me straight.
I get that neither of us wants this, but I won’t let you disrespect me, and that’s what you’re doing. ”
“Thanks for letting me know.” He gives me a look that makes me feel small and useless as he brushes past me. Nope. Not happening. “Now let’s go pretend we give a fuck about each other.”
Oh. Fuck that.
I snag his arm and shift my shoulders back, giving him the perfect innocent princess routine I’ve perfected over years of dealing with assholes like him.
The same act Kade sees through every single time. “Oh, now honey, we wouldn’t want the parents to think we weren’t getting along, would we?” I bat my lashes and watch as his jaw sets, and he knows he can’t be the dick he wants to be right here in public, where everyone can see right through him.
“Of course not, darling.” He clips every word, then shrugs my touch off gently and heads out.
He leaves, but I can’t go yet. I need to catch my breath. I lean against the bar’s brass rail and tremble now that he’s out of sight. That was a lot. The way he grabbed that girl like she owed him something. His whole attitude. A darkness hides under his handsome exterior.
I’m supposed to marry that? I’m supposed to make a family with that?
Of course, my stupid brain decides now is the perfect time to think about Kade.
Would we still be together now if I had let him make our relationship public?
The thought makes my chest ache. What type of husband would Kade be?
Not helpful, brain. He’s not even an option.
And he’ll never want me again after how I treated him.
The other night was a threat, and I’m not naive enough to think he actually wanted me.
But even though Kade is rough and brutal, there’s goodness in him. I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it, and that’s why it’s so hard to let go, especially when everything in my life is fake and cold. It’s my own fault, though. I did this to us. To myself.
Pulling myself together, I close my eyes and take a couple of calming breaths. I need to get back to the table. I don’t want to give Mom a reason to bitch at me all the way home. Blinking my eyes open, I roll my shoulders back, lift my chin, and march out to the dining room.
Can’t change what’s already been done.
“You did well, minus your little incident.” Mom is in a good mood when we walk into the house, but I’m sure all the wine she drank at dinner has more to do with that than me. “Joseph was even impressed by you. He’s thrilled to have you join his family.”
Something tells me anything with tits could impress him, but I’ll take the compliment and pretend to be grateful. So long as she goes to bed and leaves me alone to decompress.
“Yeah, glad it all went well. I’m heading up,” I say, not even looking at her. If she looked in my eyes right now, she’d see how dead I feel inside, and that would only lead to more lies. And I can’t handle that right now. I need to get out.
I need to feel music, talk to people, and have them actually listen when I speak.
My feet are heavy as I climb the stairs, but it’s such a relief to get out of the stupid dress that I all but jog the rest of the way to my bedroom. Once inside, I tear the fabric from my body and slide into a pair of jeans and a sweater. I sigh, finally feeling like myself again.
Maybe I’m hoping I’ll run into Kade while I’m out. I can’t help wanting him like I do, especially when my entire loveless, empty future is spelled out.
I need to see him and know he’s okay. The Black Hollow Creek Gazette reported that he got into a fight at the bar last night, and one of his brothers had to bail him out this morning. I don’t usually read the gossip rag disguised as news for the town, but the Bishop name caught my eye.
I doubt he would show his face at The Rusty Nail so soon after getting carted off to jail, but if I’ve learned anything about Kade, he does things just because he fucking can.
A sense of freedom fills me once I’m back outside and punching my fists through the sleeves of my leather jacket.
I don’t have to put on a fake smile anymore tonight.
I even have to stretch out my jaw as I drive—the muscles actually cramp up.
The Rusty Nail is busy tonight, but then again, it’s busy most nights.
I don’t waste time heading inside once I’ve parked between a pair of mud-spattered pickups.
I need this. To be around life and laughter after all that fake bullshit from earlier.
The strain of pretending to be interested and involved is exhausting.
And I’m sure it will only get worse as we get closer to the wedding.
It’s one of the many motivators to help me find a way out of this mess.
The sight of Buck sitting at the bar makes my heart swell. I’m a split second from rushing over to him before I remember he got fired. Shit. He might not want to see me.
When his tanned face turns my way, I know I have nothing to worry about.
His familiar smile is just what I needed, and I feel lighter than I have all day as I hurry over into his open arms. “Miss Allie.” His voice is just as deep and gravelly as ever.
“And here I was, thinkin’ nothin’ good could happen tonight. ”
“I’m so glad to see you.” The stool next to his is taken by his battered old Stetson, which he quickly moves so I can sit. “How are you? I was so sorry when I found out what happened.”
His brow lowers, and the corners of his mouth turn downward, but then he shrugs. “These things happen.”
“Why? No, forget it,” I say, waving my hands and laughing. “You don’t have to give me the gory details. I’m just really sorry not to see you around the ranch anymore. Are you doing all right?”
He waves me off with his easy, familiar laughter. It’s like balm spread over my soul. “I’m doing just fine. Might go work over at the Wilkins ranch. Just waiting to hear back.”
The guilt still hanging on me dissolves like cotton candy in the rain. “That’s great. I was so worried.”
He looks at me with a fondness I have missed so much.
I didn’t know how much until just now. “You don’t have to worry about me, Miss Allie.
Your mama... she’s a tough boss,” he admits with a wry chuckle.
“But she was always fair. And I had plenty of cash set aside for foul weather. Don’t you be worryin’ I’ll get what I want soon enough.
” There’s an edge to his tone, but I ignore it.
The man just got fired, for fuck’s sake. He’s allowed to be a little miffed.
I wave a hand to say no when Rick comes over to ask if I want a drink, since Buck is giving me his usual fatherly smirk. We both know I’m underage.
“Have you heard I’m engaged?” I blurt to change the subject. I don’t mean to tell him. I don’t really feel like talking about it at all. It just comes out.
Something stormy crosses over his face before he gives me a quick nod and picks up his pint glass. “I heard. I was still around when your mama was makin’ the arrangements.”
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Do you want to be congratulated?”
I snort. “I think you know the answer.”
He nods slowly, frowning, and the wrinkles in his weathered face deepen when he sighs. He’s only in his late fifties but could pass for ten years older after a lifetime spent outdoors. “I think I do.”
“Will I see you at the wedding?” I tease.
“Now, I don’t think that would be a smart idea.” Then he snorts and scrubs a hand over his close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. “Besides, I doubt I’ll get an invitation.”
“Come on. It’s my wedding. I can decide who I want there, and I want you to be there. It would be nice to have at least one friend.” There’s a catch in my voice that I cough to clear. I don’t mean to get emotional, but this only reminds me how few close friends I have left.
The ones I had from high school are away at college.
Besides, I wouldn’t go to them with my actual problems the way I would Saint or, sometimes, Buck.
Or even Kade, who doesn’t want to see me anyway.
It’s hard to keep myself from scanning the room, hoping that I’ll find him hovering in the shadows.
I’m so pathetic. So fucking pathetic, especially after what happened in my room.
I never, for one second, thought he’d actually hurt me, hurt me, but I have no doubt he would have fucked me with that gun, and I don’t think I could have handled that.
I wave at Rick to get some water and sip it as heat rolls through me. Yeah, that’s crazy. I don’t want Kade. It’s over. I broke his heart, but here I am acting like he broke mine.
Buck opens his mouth to say something just as the door to the bar flies open and a wide-eyed cowboy comes bursting in. “Roman Bishop is dead!”
All conversation ends for a few seconds. Everyone freezes. Even the music seems quieter. Then the room erupts with noise. The voices get louder.
Roman Bishop is dead? It doesn’t seem possible.
I’m not sure I should believe bar gossip, but I’ve never seen a group of people react to news like this before. Buck gently pats my hand resting on the bar. “You all right? Look like ya seen a ghost. I mean, I know there’s no love lost between your family and the Bishops.”
“I’m fine,” I say, because I am. My concern isn’t for myself, but Kade. All he’s ever wanted in his entire life is to earn Roman’s approval, for Roman to stop riding him so hard and see his worth. Now, he’ll never get the chance.
A memory pops into my head. One night, we sat on a blanket in tall grass while a warm breeze blew over us. Kade’s head rested in my lap as he stared up at the millions of stars overhead. He told me all about the torture his dad put him through.
“Nothing I ever do is good enough. I keep telling myself this is it, this is when he’ll see me and thank me for what I do for my family. Shouldn’t I know better by now?”
Sitting here in this bar, surrounded by celebrating people, I’m both sad and angry. Fuck Roman. How dare he die? Then I remember the threat. My bedroom. How horrible he treated me. Part of me wants to call Kade and tell him I’m sorry about his father, even if he doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
“Excuse me,” I tell Buck, half running and half walking out the door.
I pull my phone from my pocket and consider the screen.
Do I call him? We haven’t talked since that night.
He probably wouldn’t even answer if I did call him.
I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out what to do.
Yeah, he’s been a dick, and I’m still pissed off at him for what he did to me in my bedroom, but…
I’m not heartless. I make the decision before I can stop myself and hit the green call button on his contact.
Lifting the phone to my ear, my heart stutters in my chest, the sound nearly drowning out the ringing on the other end.
It rings, and rings, and rings before switching to voicemail. The adrenaline washes through me on a wave of disappointment.
I mean, why would he answer, right?
“I just heard about your dad,” I babble breathlessly to his voicemail, staring up at the sky that holds just as many stars as it did that night he opened up to me.
My voice is shaking. None of this feels real.
“I wanted to see if you’re all right. Do you need anything?
Please, just shoot me a text, okay?” I end the message before I embarrass myself more.
He can’t punish me via voicemail, can he?
“Miss Allie?” Buck’s voice behind me makes me jump.
“I didn’t hear you come out,” I gasp, clutching my chest.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya. I just wanted to make sure you were good before I go.” He jerks a thumb toward the door, scowling. “They’re partying like idiots in there. Personally, I think it’s a little tacky to celebrate someone’s death, but to each their own.”
“I agree.” I mean, I’ve never liked the guy, and I sure as hell won’t miss him, but I won’t throw a party because he’s dead.
“Do you need a ride home?”
“No. I drove.” I give him another hug and breathe in his familiar scent of tobacco and horses. It might be stupid, but he smells like my childhood, like safety. “It was really nice to see you tonight. I can’t even put into words how much I needed to see a friend.”
“Me, too.” He pats my back with one calloused hand, then walks me to my car before plopping the hat on his head and tipping the brim at me.
The familiar gesture makes me smile.
As I drive home, I spot his beat-up old Ford following me, making sure I get home safe. That makes my smile grow. At least someone gives a shit about me.