20
S ettling on a bar stool, I order two beers and watch through the window as Davis crosses Main Street. The auctioneer’s frenetic bleat from the county livestock market follows him into the bar.
Age-old tradition: after the horse auction, Davis and I hit the Alehouse, a dive bar in the small town of Angel River. Four hours north of Resurrection, Angel River’s annual horse auction is a hub for rodeo enthusiasts and ranch owners around the world.
We bid on two horses we wanted—a Quarter Horse and an American Paint. Now, we wait for the stable hands to prepare them for the ride back to town.
“How’s it feel?” I ask when my brother settles beside me. “Break from the wife and kid?”
He chuckles. Twists the gold band on his ring finger. “Losin’ my damn mind.” He thumbs through his phone and angles toward me to flash a photo of Dakota and Squish in the bathtub. “Missing out on too much.”
I chuckle. “Sucker.”
Even for Davis, his smile is cheesy. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Head down, I thumb through my own phone. Reese hasn’t replied to my text from this morning.
Fuck it. I send another. Just in case she needs anything.
I’d never voice it, but I get what Davis means. My mind has strayed to Reese more often than I’d like, clearly because I’m a needy bastard when it comes to her.
Three damn days I’ve been away from her.
I hate it.
Truth is, my mind hasn’t eased since the night we spent in the barn.
I’ve spent my entire life on a ranch. I have a diamond-hard heart when it comes to death, but that night unsettled the hell out of me.
Thoughts of Reese and that dying foal flood my mind. Her saying, We can’t give up .
Is that how she feels? That everyone’s given up on her?
I think about what Grady said. She’s sad. She’s not okay.
That night in the barn, I told her about Savannah, thinking maybe my own secret would drag one or two from her. But she’s locked tighter than Fort Knox.
I want to help her. I want more of her. Those big green eyes. Pouty pink lips. The way she laughs with her entire body and teases me incessantly. Her presence is a rush I can’t get anywhere else.
“You give anymore thought to Donovan’s job offer?” Davis eyes me over the rim of his beer. “Summer is halfway over.” His tone is casual, but the question feels the opposite.
“Not sure yet.”
There’s a hesitation in my gut when it comes to taking the job, because it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like me . What Reese said about putting a baseball diamond in the pasture…now that makes sense. Makes me excited. I have to figure out what I can do with that. One thing’s for certain, my girl’s got answers.
“Got another idea?” Davis’s brow is a deep furrow.
I grin.
My twin has always had my back. He’s the only one who knows the truth about what happened after Savannah. The only one who’s seen me struggle with depression after what I did to that kid. Somehow, he reads my mind when I can’t seem to get out what I need to.
I sip my beer. “I’m thinking something up. I’ll let you know when I know.”
Davis lifts his palm. “Well, we’d miss you. I’d miss you.”
“How about we talk about other matters? Other brothers.” The faster I change the subject, the quicker I can get Davis off my back.
“Wyatt?”
“Charlie.”
“What about Charlie?”
“Ruby and Charlie are acting fishy.Taking long-ass trips to God knows where. Every weekend they’ve been going up to Bozeman.”
Davis laughs. “What? You think Ruby’s a drug mule?” He shakes his head. “They’re buying a flower shop. They’re busy.”
“C’mon, D. He’s the same little shit who ratted you out when you got drunk and threw up in the barn in eighth grade. You don’t buy his bullshit. I know you got a kid, but you got eyes on the ranch, too.”
“Excuse me,” a soft voice says. I look over as a redhead stretches herself over the bar, over me, to grab a napkin. The hem of her shirt slips up, and she gives me a bright smile, then heads to a spot at the end of the bar.
“Buying her a drink?” Davis asks, nodding in the direction of the redhead. “I’ll wait.”
“No.” I shrug. “Not feeling it.”
He raises an eyebrow in question. “That’s a first. You sure?”
I eye my brother. This is Davis’s dickhead way of testing me. Our usual routine was him going back to the motel, and me picking up a girl. Now that’s the last thing on my mind. Why? My jaw clenches at the reason—because of Reese.
Slowly, she’s taken me apart piece by piece this summer. I don’t know how it happened. Justthat it has.Reese wearing my shirts night after night. Smelling like me. Messing up my apartment. Feeding my cat. We say we’re just friends, but there’s a fucking string in my gut that connects me to her.
But these are not things cowboys say out loud. Feelings only go as far as trucks and beer.
“I knew it.” Davis’s voice breaks my reverie. “You only smile like that when you’re getting laid.”
Irritated, I swing my head in his direction. “You want to say what you fucking want to say?”
“Reese. You’re getting in too deep with her.”
“You’re one to talk. You moved Dakota onto the ranch when she was—”
Davis swings a finger in my direction. “Don’t say it.”
I snap my mouth shut. It would be a low blow. But he knows I’m right. She was pregnant with another man’s baby and Davis still claimed that kid. I would have done the same thing too, but he doesn’t need to know that.
A tense silence falls over the bar top as we glare at each other.
“Look, I didn’t see you tryin’ to rein in Charlie when he was head over boots with Ruby.”
“Is that what you are? Head over boots?”
Fuck.
“No,” I grit out, tugging a hand through my hair. “I’m not.”
Head over boots is for men who are ready to settle down. I’m not that type. Not anymore.
“And Charlie’s different. He needed Ruby. I’m not so sure you need Reese. You’ve seen those articles,” Davis says stubbornly. “She’s a mess. Combustible. Y’all got nothing in common. She tours all over the world and you’re a fucking rock. You drive a truck and she—”
“That’s what we’re talkin’ about?” I laugh darkly, arching a brow. “Trucks?”
“You know what I’m getting at.”
Yeah, I do. We’re opposites. He thinks I’m making the same mistakes all over again.
I scrape a hand down my face. Anger bubbles under my skin. It takes every last therapy session in me not to put a fist in my twin’s face. “You need to lay off,” I snap.
Davis is a bossy bastard, but he’s taking it to a new low.
On the surface, Reese looks a mess, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. It takes a strong person to give up everything to find what they want and I’m learning that’s Reese. Even if she doesn’t believe that about herself.
“Hell, D, I’ve got articles out there. I fucked up, and your grumpy ass stuck behind me the entire way.” I finish my beer, gesture for the tab. “She’s in trouble. Her manager’s a sleazy piece of shit. Reese needs someone in her corner. And that’s me.”
He’s silent for a long beat then says, “Then you’re what? A thing?”
I snort. “C’mon, man. That girl is wildfire. She’ll burn it on up, then tear it outta here end of summer.” Even as I say it, the words sink heavily into my gut.
I tell myself I don’tcare if she goes back. I tell myself it’s for the summer. I’m a cowboy. I’m helping her out. Picking me is the last thing she’d ever do. She’s going places. I’m just a stop on her tour. And she’s just a notch on my bed post.
But I don’t know if I believe the lie anymore.
“She’s destructive,” Davis insists.
“Not destructive. She’s broken.”
“Ford. If she’s toxic—”
“I got hazmat gear,” I shoot back.
“Fuck,” Davis mutters in exasperation.
Sick of the inquisition, I slam my beer down. “Fuck, why are you so invested in this, man? Why do you care?”
Davis looks conflicted. “Because I don’t want to see you go to that dark place again, brother. When you fall, you fall fast and hard. This girl leaves, you’re gonna get your stupid heart broken and I’m gonna be the one to scrape your sorry ass up and put it back together.”
I face him, needing to own up. Because I get it. I’ve been doing the same thing with Wyatt this summer, trying to look out for him. “Reese isn’t bad for me. And I don’t plan on going to that dark place again.” I give him a look. “I’m on drugs, man.”
Davis tenses.
Grinning, I arch a brow. “Good drugs.”
Davis relaxes. “Since when?”
“Last year. I got my shit together. Got back on antidepressants. Saw a therapist. Mood has evened out.”
“What was the diagnosis?” Davis asks, seeming mildly interested. “Asshole?”
“Hardy fucking har.”
We share a chuckle, then Davis claps my shoulder. Squeezes. “I’m glad, brother. Real damn glad.” He exhales. “I’ll back off about Reese.”
We order one last round of beers and pay the tab. I thumb through my phone, on the hunt for a text from Reese. Still nothing.
The prickle of unease turns to worry.
After helping Davis unload the horses, I go in search of Reese. By now, her schedule’s ingrained in my mind—four in the afternoon, she should be finishing up her day. A good thing, too. The sky is full of dark clouds and thick humidity clogs the air.
As the chicken coop comes into view, my eyes go to the door. Tim, a hired hand, is exiting, carrying a basket of eggs.
She’s late. She’s never late.
I frown at Tim. “This is R—Jane’s job.” She loves the damn chickens.
Tim grunts, then spits. “No one’s seen her.”
The bad feeling’s back. “How long?” I bark.
He shrugs. “Three days.”
My stomach flips.
I don’t think. I run.
I don’t bother slowing down, just barrel up to the front door of her chalet and grab the knob. It’s locked. Now she fucking listens.
Fear drives through me like a knife, and I slam a fist against the door. “Reese!”
I don’t wait for her to answer. I head straight for the window. Grim thoughts take up space in my head. What if she’s gone? What if her manager convinced her to leave?
Heart in my throat, I rush around to the side of the chalet and peer into one of the windows. Inside, it’s dark—still. And then I see the bed. A small lump burrowed under the blankets. Blonde hair.
My insides twist.
Fuck it.
I run back to the front door, and when I reach it, slam my shoulder into the wood, fucking desperate as hell to get to her. Fucking out of my mind.
“Reese!”
Two more quick rams and it swings open.
I slip inside, and the smell of stale air and body odor hit me. I flip on the kitchen light, bathing the room in a soft golden glow.
My breath lodges in my throat as I approach the bed. “Reese?”
The mound of blankets moves. Barely. “Ford?”
I exhale, relief flooding me at the startled sound of her soft voice. A good thing too because I’m damn near ready to have a heart attack.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I say roughly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, lifting her head. She shivers, her arms clinging around her pillow, squeezing it tight. She looks helpless and fragile lying there, and damn if I don’t feel the same way.
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I missed work.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, sitting beside her on the bed. “No one cares about work.”
Her free hand rises to land on mine. The moment she makes physical contact my entire body unclenches. She’s here.
“I let the chickens down.”
I chuckle. “The chickens will be just fine.” I stroke her back. “What are you doin’, Birdie Girl?”
“Being sad.” The words are spoken in a small, shaky rasp. She nuzzles her face in the pillow. Sniffs. “Sometimes I get sad.”
Her words tear a hole in me. One I’m not sure I can repair.
I’ve seen her lie, laugh, smile, tease, and argue. I’ve seen her on her knees in front of me. I’ve never seen her dark like this. It scares the shit out of me.
But it’s nothing I can’t handle.
I inhale a deep breath, searching for the words to comfort her.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Can I be sad with you?”
She lifts her head slightly. Those big green eyes focus warily on me. “What?”
I’m already pulling off my boots. “Is it okay if I lie here with you?”
“Yes.” She rests her head back on the pillow. “It’s okay.”
Standing, I fill a glass of water and place it on the nightstand. I’m worried she hasn’t eaten or drank anything in three days, but now’s not the time to push.
I slip beneath the blankets and wrap my arms around her. I kiss her shoulder. Pull her close. Reese sags against me.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” she says, barely audible.
“Oh, baby,” I whisper, her words ripping my heart out.
It all makes sense now. She makes sense. But I don’t say it out loud.
She’s on the ledge like I was. After Savannah, after I hurt that kid, for weeks, I could barely get out of bed. Life felt so heavy and significant. Christ. Why didn’t I see it?
That’s why she’s here. She’s taking a break from whatever burdens she’s been carrying, to heal and recharge. And damn if I’m not going to give it to her.
She tips her head back, her eyes full of tears. “I thought I’d be okay here.”
A crack tears through my chest. “You are okay here,” I say gently. “You might not be okay now, but you will be.”
No one’s ever taken care of this girl, and I intend to be the first.
“I will?” she asks, peering up at me.
I hold her tight against me, breathing into her neck. “You will be. Don’t forget that even though today may suck, you can always try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Just keep trying until you hit a good day.”
“A good day.” She smiles. “I like that.”
I slide my fingers through her sweaty hair, stroking softly through the snarls.
“Rest now. You’re safe. I got you. There’s no place for me to be, except here with you.”
Her small hand strokes my stubbled jaw. “Thank you.”
I close my eyes, but I don’t go to sleep for a long time.