Chapter 27
twenty-seven
River was waiting on her porch steps. He looked up when he heard the crunch of her boots in the snow, and his eyes popped wide before he dropped his gaze to the tips of his boots.
“Uh, Mags, why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
If she weren’t so drained, she’d point out that she was, in fact, dressed. Granted, her sleep shorts and Anson’s flannel were more appropriate for a winter night in Florida than Montana, but still. All the important bits were covered, but River was acting like she’d flashed the pope or something.
“What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer right away. “Anson called me.”
“He… what?”
River shrugged. “Said he couldn’t stay but he didn’t want you alone tonight.”
Right. Anson had told her that when she first barged into the forge. She’d forgotten.
“Sorry to keep you waiting in the cold.” She edged by him and fumbled the key in the lock. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
He lifted his gaze from his boots to give her a critical once-over, and his expression softened. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
She tried to shake her head, tried to make a joke out of it, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Her eyes burned, and she was so goddamn tired of crying.
“Okay, let’s get you in where it’s warm.” He took the key from her and easily unlocked the door, pushing it open. As soon as they were inside, he opened his arms. “Come here, Just Maggie.”
She went into his arms because she didn’t know what else to do.
The hug was different than the ones she’d shared with Anson.
River was all wiry strength and nervous energy, his arms loose around her shoulders rather than enveloping.
But there was genuine comfort in the embrace, and she found herself leaning into it, her forehead dropping to his chest.
“It should be him here,” she whispered, the words muffled against his jacket.
“I know.” River brushed away a tear with his thumb, his touch gentle and brotherly. “Want me to go kick his ass for you? I’ve been dying for an excuse.”
She laughed through her tears, watery and thin. “Thank you, but I plan to do it myself after I get back from Haven House tomorrow.”
“Atta girl.” He ruffled her hair, then stepped back and pulled off his hat, coat, and boots. “Now you need to warm up. You want coffee, or are we drinking something harder?”
“Hot chocolate,” she said, “with marshmallows.”
“A woman of impeccable taste. For the record, Anson’s an idiot.” He started hunting for the cocoa in the small kitchenette. “You wanna tell me about it?”
“Maybe.” She exchanged her boots for her slippers and grabbed a throw from the couch, wrapping it around herself. Then she dropped into one of the chairs at the tiny dining table and buried her face in her hands. “Probably not.”
“Fair.” He filled the kettle, set it on the stove, and leaned against the counter. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Like what?”
River looked up at the ceiling like he was looking for the right words. “Like he wants something so bad it’s killing him, but he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. It’s the first time I’ve seen him act like he actually gives a damn about his own happiness. Usually, he’s all about everyone else.”
She hugged the throw tighter around herself. “He doesn’t seem to think he deserves anything good. Especially not...” She trailed off, unsure how much to share.
“You?” River finished for her, eyebrows raised. “Pretty sure that’s exactly the problem. Man’s carrying enough guilt to sink a battleship.” The kettle whistled, and he turned to pour the water into two mugs. “Not that I don’t understand the feeling.”
He stirred in the cocoa mix and set one of the mugs in front of her. Then he added extra marshmallows, because of course he did.
She wrapped her hands around the mug. “You’re a good man, River.”
It would be so much easier if she were attracted to him, but she just wasn’t. That bone-deep pull, that instinctual, elemental need, was only for Anson.
“Good? Oh, I don’t know about that.” He flashed a smile that wasn’t as bright as usual as he heaped marshmallows into his own mug. “Handsome? Absolutely. Funny, charming? Hell yes. But good? Eh, debatable.”
“I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for.”
“Now that’s dangerous talk.” He dropped into the chair across from her, his own mug cradled between his palms. “Next thing you know, people will have expectations.”
“God forbid.” She sipped her cocoa, and the warmth spread through her like a sedative. The tightness in her chest eased. “He’s never going to let me in, is he?”
River studied her over the rim of his mug. “I wouldn’t bet against you. And he wanted to make sure you weren’t alone after whatever happened between you two… happened. That’s practically a declaration of undying love in Anson-speak.”
“He did say he loved me.”
“For real?”
“Well, he wrote it. But then we had sex—or started to, and he panicked. Basically kicked me out.”
River choked on his cocoa. “Whoa. Okay. That level of sharing requires whiskey.” He pulled a flask from his pocket and tipped a generous amount of the contents into his mug, then offered it to her.
When she held her mug out, he poured some in.
“Just don’t tell Boone I have this. His head might explode. ”
“Sorry.” She blew on her whiskey-laced cocoa before taking a sip, savoring the burn that slid down her throat. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“Hey, it’s okay. You need to talk, and I’m here for it.” He toasted her before taking a drink. “Besides, Anson and I have more in common than either of us likes to admit. Self-sabotage is practically an art form for guys like us.”
“I just... I don’t know what happened. One minute we were connecting, and the next he was shutting down. Like he couldn’t get me out of there fast enough.”
“Ah.” River nodded. “Classic Anson. Gets close to something good, panics, retreats to his cave.” He hesitated, then winced. “I don’t know how to ask this delicately, so I don’t get more details than I want, but did he let you see his scars?”
Her head jerked up. “You’ve seen them?”
“Hard not to when you live in a bunkhouse and share a communal bathroom.”
“I figured he’d keep them covered.”
“He does. Mostly.” River set his mug down carefully.
“His first summer here, it was hot as hell, and we all jumped in the creek one day after work. He kept his long-sleeved shirt on until I made some stupid comment, then he took it off like he was going into battle. None of us knew what to say. We stared. Couldn’t help it.
” He shook his head. “I felt like shit for goading him to do it.”
“I didn’t stare,” she whispered. “I touched them.”
River winced. “Yeah, that might’ve done it. He doesn’t like anyone touching them. Or looking at them. Or acknowledging they exist.”
“That’s ridiculous. They’re part of him.”
“Exactly. And he hates that part.” River leaned forward. “Look, I’m not saying it’s healthy. But those scars... they’re not just physical for him. They’re his failure. His shame. The reason he was in prison.”
“But it was an accident. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
“Doesn’t matter. In his mind, he set that fire, and a man died. End of story.” His eyes darkened. “Trust me, I get it. Some mistakes follow you forever.”
Once again, she caught that fleeting sadness he tried so hard to hide behind his smiles.
“But that’s a downer for another night,” he continued, straightening. “The point is, Anson’s got walls for days. Thick ones. Built of solid self-loathing and reinforced with guilt. But you’ve gotten further than anyone else.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.” She wrapped her hands around her mug again, seeking its warmth. “Not tonight.”
“That’s because you hit a nerve. A big one.” River shrugged. “You got close, and he panicked. Classic fight-or-flight, and Anson’s not much of a fighter when it comes to emotions.”
“So he runs.”
“Every time.”
She stared into her cocoa, watching the marshmallows dissolve into tiny white islands. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, River. This push-pull. It’s exhausting.”
“Then don’t.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out. “Walk away. Go back to Florida. Build fancy houses on TV.”
Walk away. Go back to her old life. The idea drilled deep into her chest, leaving her hollow.
“I don’t want to leave,” she admitted quietly. “But I can’t keep chasing someone who’s determined to outrun me.”
“If you don’t, he’ll stay alone in that forge forever, hammering metal and talking to his dog.” River shrugged. “And I have no doubt you’ll move on eventually. Find some nice, normal guy who doesn’t have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon.”
She doubted that. Anson had been a big part of her life for too long. He was too deep under her skin, and when she tried to picture life without him in it, she couldn’t.
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple. Not easy, but simple.” He finished his cocoa, set the mug down with a definitive click, and stood. “Now, I’ll be standing guard out on the porch if you need me.”
“You don’t have to stay outside in the cold.”
He gave her a flat look and picked up his hat. “Why do you think Anson called me, when he’s been jealous of our friendship from day one? Why not call Jax or Ghost, who are both happily off the market? Or Boone, who lives like a monk? Or Walker or Jo or any of the women here?”
“Well… he trusts you.”
“He does. And he doesn’t. He thinks I have no self-control when it comes to beautiful women, and… well, yeah, he’s mostly right.”
The realization hit all at once, and she popped to her feet as outrage sang through her. “Oh my God. He’s trying to push me away by pushing me toward you!”
“Bingo. The man’s got more defense mechanisms than the Pentagon.
And this is just the latest one.” He strode to the door, but paused before opening it and glanced back.
“For what it’s worth, you’re gorgeous, and in another life, I might have tried something.
But I’m not about to be a pawn in Anson’s self-destruction game. ”
She wrapped her arms around herself, anger building beneath her hurt and exhaustion. “That stubborn, ridiculous man.”
“Now you’re getting it.” River grinned and shoved his hat onto his head. “So what are you going to do about it?”