Chapter Four #2
We moved onto the stage, and I took her script while she positioned herself in the chair we'd been using. The one where Silas's ghost appears behind Evangeline, touches her hair, hovers close while she delivers her monologue about lost love and impossible choices.
The overhead lights cast pools of shadow across the stage. Somewhere in the rafters, a board creaked. The whole building seemed to settle around us, like it was watching.
"From the top of the speech," I said.
She closed her eyes, centering herself. When she opened them again, she was Evangeline.
"They tell me I should move on. Forget you.
Accept that you're gone forever. But how can I forget the only man I've ever loved?
How can I move forward when my heart is still trapped in that moment before you left? "
I moved behind her as the blocking required, my fingers hovering near her hair.
This close, I could smell her hair—some kind of flowery shampoo—and underneath that, just her.
The scent I'd been dreaming about for five years.
The theater's mustiness mixed with rain coming through old window frames—that peculiar scent of autumn storms in old buildings.
Made me lightheaded and heavy-limbed all at once
All I wanted was to touch her. Really touch her. Run my hands through that glistening hair, feel the silk of it against my palms. Skim my fingers down her body, remember every curve, every response. Hear her say my name in that breathless way she used to.
Too damn long.
"Your presence haunts me," she continued, rising from the chair like the script directed. "I feel you everywhere. In the shadows. In my dreams. In every beat of my broken heart."
She turned to face me, and we were supposed to move into the next section of blocking.
But she stopped. Forgot her line.
I forgot to look at the script.
We just stood there, staring at each other in the empty theater. The overhead lights made her green eyes luminous, made her skin glow. Those eyes that had always seen past every wall I'd ever put up, straight down into my soul.
God, I wanted her. In my life. In my bed. In my future.
There'd been other women over the years—rodeo groupies, one-night stands, meaningless encounters in forgettable motel rooms. None of them had been her. None of them had even come close. They'd just made the emptiness worse, made me more aware of what I'd lost.
There would only be one woman for me, and she was standing close enough to touch.
Did she feel it too? This heat building between us, dangerous and unstoppable? This pull that made it hard to breathe, hard to think about anything except closing the distance between us?
Her lips parted. I leaned in—
Thunder cracked so loud the building shook.
We both jumped. Rain hit the roof like buckshot—sudden, violent, that particular East Texas storm that went from clear to chaos in heartbeats. Our phones started blaring simultaneously, that distinctive tornado warning alert cutting through the theater.
The lights flickered. Died.
Total darkness swallowed us whole.
Rain hammered the roof, swelled the old doors. I heard them slamming shut one by one—the ancient wood warping in the humidity, the building sealing itself against the storm. We were trapped.
"Ransom?" Rainey's voice came out small, frightened.
The emergency lighting kicked on—dim, bluish, barely enough to see her face. She looked terrified, her eyes wide, hands shaking.
I pulled her against me without thinking. She came willingly, pressing into my chest, her heart hammering against mine like a wild thing.
"It's okay," I murmured into her hair. "Just a storm. We're safe in here."
"I hate tornadoes." Her voice was muffled against my shirt. "Ever since my parents—"
She didn't finish. Didn't need to. Everyone in Midnight Springs knew how David and Anna Bell had died twenty years ago. Car accident during a tornado warning, trying to get home to their little girl.
"Hey." I cupped her face in both hands, tilting it up toward me. "Look at me."
Those wide eyes met mine, shimmering with unshed tears.
"I need to tell you something," I said. "The truth. The whole truth about why I left. Will you let me?"
She trembled but nodded.
The words I'd been holding back finally broke free.
"Aiden got mixed up with some bad people.
Drug dealers with cartel connections. He started dealing to pay off gambling debts, thought he could handle it, thought he could get out clean.
Before he knew it, he was in deep. Death threats.
People watching our house, following Mom to church, making sure we knew they could get to us anytime they wanted. "
Rainey's breath hitched.
"They gave him twenty-four hours to pay back what he owed," I continued, my thumb brushing across her cheekbone.
"Fifty thousand dollars or they'd kill him.
Make an example out of him. I used every connection I had, called in every favor from every person I'd ever helped on the circuit.
Got him into witness protection. Six months with zero contact allowed.
No phone calls, no letters, nothing. And he made me swear—made me promise on our father's life—not to tell anyone back home how bad things had gotten.
Didn't want Mom and Dad living in fear. Didn't want the shame of everyone knowing. "
"Oh God." She pressed closer. "Ransom—"
"After those six months ended, I joined the rodeo circuit full-time.
Sent money home for ranch bills, Dad's medical expenses.
Kept meaning to call you, to explain." My voice cracked.
"But weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, and I was afraid.
Afraid I'd already lost you. Afraid explaining wouldn't matter anymore, wouldn't change anything. "
Thunder crashed outside, rattling the windows in their frames.
"Truth is, I was a coward," I said. "Easier to tell myself you'd moved on than to face the possibility you might not want me anymore."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. I caught them with my thumbs, my own eyes burning.
"Aiden showed up at the ranch this afternoon," I said.
"Told me he's coming clean with our parents.
That he's been sober for eighteen months, went through rehab, found faith, got his life turned around.
He wants his story to inspire others—to show it's never too late to change.
He released me from keeping his secret." I swallowed hard.
"And the first thing I had to do—the only thing that mattered—was tell you. "
For a long moment, she just looked at me, tears streaming down her face. Then she pressed her palm flat against my chest, right over my racing heart.
"You were faced with an impossible choice," she said, her voice thick.
"Of course you had to save Aiden. He's your brother.
He's so lucky to have someone who loves him that much.
" A broken laugh escaped her. "I was so determined to hate you.
Convinced myself there must've been someone else—maybe Brooke?
Maybe some buckle bunny on the circuit? It was easier to imagine you'd chosen someone over me than to think you just.. . disappeared."
"No. God, no." I caught her hand, pressed it harder against my chest so she could feel my heart pounding. "There's only ever been one woman I've loved. One woman who's owned my heart. And she's standing right here in my arms."
Her breath shuddered out. "Ransom—"
"Tell me there's still a chance," I said. "Tell me it's not too late. Tell me we can start over, because I can't—I can't lose you again."
Tears dripped down her cheeks, but she was smiling. Actually smiling through the tears. "Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes, you impossible man." She rose on her toes, her fingers curling into my shirt, fisting in the fabric. "Yes, there's a chance. Yes, we can start over. Yes, I love you. I've loved you this whole time, even when I hated you, even when I tried so hard not to. I love you now more than ever."
I captured her mouth with mine, kissing her like I'd been starving for the taste of her.
Years of wanting, of dreaming, of aching for this exact moment. And it was better than I remembered. Better than any fantasy I'd tortured myself with during endless lonely nights in cheap motels.
She tasted like heaven. Like coming home.
Her arms went around my neck and she pressed closer, opening for me. I deepened the kiss, my tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming her, showing her without words how much I'd missed this. How much I'd missed her. She made a desperate sound in her throat, and it nearly undid me.
I backed her toward the crushed velvet settee, never breaking the kiss. She went willingly, eagerly, making those sounds that drove me out of my mind. When the backs of her legs hit the furniture, I lowered her onto it, following her down, covering her body with mine.
"Ransom," she breathed against my mouth. "God, I've wanted—"
"I know, baby. I know." I kissed along her jaw, down her throat, tasting her skin. "Me too. Every damn day."
She was already fumbling with the buttons of her blouse—still in her costume from rehearsal. Period clothing, authentic down to the tiny pearl buttons that seemed designed specifically to test a man's patience.
"Let me," I rasped, catching her hands. "I've been dreaming about undressing you for five years. Let me do this slow."
"Slow?" Her laugh was breathless. "Ransom, I need—"
"I know what you need." I worked the first button free, kissed the skin I revealed. "And I'm gonna give it to you. All of it. But first, I'm gonna take my time."
I worked each button free with deliberate care, kissing every inch of skin I uncovered.
The hollow of her throat where her pulse fluttered wildly.
The upper swell of her breasts above her bra—plain cotton, practical, and somehow more erotic than any lace.
The valley between them. The smooth plane of her stomach that quivered under my lips.