Chapter 33 Billy
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Billy
I grip the kitchen counter, watching the coffee drip into the pot.
I’m not thinking about the cattle. I’m not thinking about the parasite, or the treatment, or the fact that in three days this nightmare might be over.
I’m thinking about the barn.
Because I can hear them.
The bunkhouse is close, but the barn is closer. The wind is carrying the sound right through the open window above the sink.
It’s a distinct sound. A rhythmic thud. Wood creaking under pressure. And then, a groan.
Deep. Male. Familiar.
Seth.
My brother.
I wait for the rage. I wait for the red haze to descend, the Alpha instinct to rip through my chest and send me barreling out the door to tear him off her.
That’s what should happen. That’s what biology dictates. Another Alpha touching what’s mine.
But the rage doesn’t come.
Instead, an electric jolt shoots down my spine. It settles low in my belly, hot and heavy. My cock twitches in my jeans.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I close my eyes, and I’m transported back years, to the Dusty Boot on a Friday night. I’m twenty, maybe twenty-one. Young and stupid.
I had gone out back to the alley to take a leak, and I saw them against the brick wall. Two ranch hands I didn’t know. And a woman.
She was sandwiched between them, her head thrown back against one guy’s shoulder while the other guy had his hand up her skirt.
They were moving together, a grind of hips and hands. The air was thick with the smell of sex and sweat.
I had frozen then, just like I freeze now.
I watched for thirty seconds. I saw the way her mouth fell open. I saw the way the two men worked in tandem, knowing exactly how to push her buttons.
The bouncer had chased me off, yelling something about privacy. But I never forgot the image. I never forgot how it made me feel.
Hungry.
Now, standing in my kitchen, listening to Seth groan as he kisses the girl I was supposed to marry, I feel that same hunger. It’s a twisted, gnawing thing.
It tells me I should be in there. It tells me I should be part of it.
I hear a whimper, high and breathless.
My Sedona.
I grip the counter tighter. The coffee pot gurgles, finishing its cycle. I pour a mug, my hand shaking slightly.
I take a sip. It burns my tongue. I welcome the pain.
The screen door opens behind me.
“Is that coffee ready?”
I turn. Tex stands in the doorway.
He looks like hell. His hair is a mess, his shirt wrinkled. He has a bruise blossoming on his jawline, a mottled purple and yellow stain from where Joey hit him.
“It’s ready,” I say.
He walks over, grabs a mug from the cupboard, and pours his own.
We stand in silence for a moment.
Then, he tilts his head. His ear twitches.
“Is that…?” he trails off.
“Yeah,” I say. “They’re kissing.”
Tex frowns. He takes a sip of his coffee. He stares out the window toward the barn.
“Sounds like more than kissing,” he mutters.
I can smell it now. Even through the window. Her scent is blooming.
It rolls across the yard, thick and sweet. Honeysuckle and rain. It carries the sharp tang of her arousal, mixing with Seth’s woodsmoke smell.
It’s intoxicating. It makes my head spin.
We hear another sound. A sharp intake of breath. A soft, desperate mewl.
My chest tightens. I shake my head.
“She gets louder before… you know,” I say. My voice is rough.
I turn to look at Tex.
He’s rubbing the back of his neck, his face flushed red. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. He looks uncomfortable.
But he doesn’t look angry either.
He looks affected.
“Here,” I say. I hand him the sugar bowl.
“Thanks.” He dumps two spoonfuls into his mug, stirring it with a clinking sound.
I look at the bruise on his face. It looks painful.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
He touches it tentatively. “Nah. Just looks ugly.”
“Joey hits hard,” I say.
Tex snorts. “Yeah. He does.”
Joey and Tex have been best friends since they were in diapers. They learned to ride together. They learned to fight together. They shared everything.
Hearing Tex talk about him now feels like stepping on broken glass.
“I’m surprised you stood up to him,” I say. “You usually let him run his mouth.”
“He was being a dick,” Tex says. He stares into his coffee. “He was out of line. Had no right to talk to her like that.”
“He was right, though,” I say quietly. “About me being stupid.”
Tex looks up. “Billy—”
“I was being a cowardly ass,” I interrupt. “Yesterday. I just stood there. I let him tear into her. I let him push Clara. I froze.”
I set my mug down on the counter.
“I was scared,” I continue. “I was scared of what it meant if I defended her. If I stood up for her in front of everyone. It felt like admitting I was still hers.”
“And you don’t want to be hers?” Tex asks.
“I don’t want to be hurt again,” I correct.
The noises from the barn stop.
The sudden silence is jarring. We strain our ears. We hear murmuring. Low voices. The rustle of fabric.
“Showtime,” Tex mutters.
He takes a long swig of his coffee. He braces himself, and we watch the barn door slide open.
Two figures step out into the morning light.
Seth walks out first. He looks rumpled. His shirt is untucked, his hair a disaster. He looks guilty, his eyes darting toward the house.
But there’s a looseness to his shoulders that wasn’t there yesterday. A satisfaction.
Then Sedona follows him.
My breath catches in my throat. She looks…
Ravaged.
That’s the only word for it.
Her hair is wild, curls tumbling over her shoulders in a tangled mess. Her cheeks are flushed a deep, rosy pink. Her lips are swollen, glossy, and bee-stung from kissing. Her shirt is slightly askew, exposing the curve of her neck.
She looks like she has been thoroughly kissed. Maybe more.
And she looks beautiful.
The sight of her hits me like a physical blow. It hurts to look at her. It hurts to know that my brother put that look on her face.
But underneath the hurt is a fierce, possessive pride.
She’s here. She’s alive. She’s glowing.
They walk toward the house. Seth has his hand on the small of her back, guiding her. It’s a possessive gesture. It screams mine.
I feel a growl building in my chest, but I swallow it down.
Tex shifts next to me.
We wait for them on the porch.
Sedona sees us first. She stops, and her eyes widen. She looks between me and Tex. She looks terrified.
Seth steps forward, putting himself slightly in front of her. Protective.
“Billy,” Seth says. His voice is steady. “Tex.”
“We heard you,” Tex says. He’s blunt. He doesn’t see the point in lying.
Sedona’s face turns a shade of red I didn’t know was possible. She stares at her boots.
“I…” she stammers. “We were just…”
“I want to talk to you,” I say, cutting her off. I look at Sedona. “In private.”
Seth bristles. “Whatever you have to say to her, you can say in front of me.”
“It’s okay, Seth,” Sedona whispers. She puts a hand on his arm.
“No,” I say. I sigh. I run a hand over my face. “Actually, I made coffee.”
They stare at me.
“There’s plenty,” I say. “Can we all just talk?”
I look at the three of them. My brothers. My ex. The woman I can’t get out of my blood.
“Because I really fucked up yesterday,” I say. “And I think I owe all of you an apology.”
The tension on the porch is thick enough to choke a horse.
We sit on the wooden benches. Sedona sits between Seth and Clara, who came out a moment ago. Tex and I sit opposite them.
I hold my coffee mug in both hands, the heat seeping into my palms.
“I owe you an apology, Clara,” I start.
Clara looks surprised. She’s holding an ice pack to her knuckles, which are still swollen from punching Joey.
“Me?”
“I should have stopped him,” I say. “Joey was out of line. He was drunk on his own anger. And I let him attack you. I let him push you.”
Clara shrugs. “I punched him first. I think we’re even.”
“No,” I say firmly. “He’s my brother. I’m responsible for him. I’m sorry.”
She nods slowly. “Okay. Apology accepted.”
I take a breath. I look at Sedona.
She’s staring at me. Her eyes are guarded.
“And I owe you the biggest one,” I say.
She waits.
“I froze,” I say. “I let him talk about you like trash. And I didn’t say a word.”
“You were in shock,” she says quietly.
“I was a coward,” I correct. “Again. Just like I was a coward five years ago. Just like I’ve been every day since you came back.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“I’ve been using my anger as a shield,” I say. “I told myself I hated you. I told myself you were the villain. Because if I hated you, I didn’t have to face the truth.”
“What truth?” Seth asks.
I look at him. “That I never stopped loving her.”
The words hang in the air. Sedona’s breath hitches.
“I don’t get to be possessive over you,” I say, turning back to Sedona. “I don’t get to act like I own you. I threw that away when I let you leave. And I threw it away again yesterday when I didn’t fight for you.”
I look at my hands.
“I’m tired of fighting what I feel,” I tell her. “It feels like a punishment. Punishing you for wanting a life. Punishing myself for not being enough to make you stay.”
I look up at her.
“If you decide you want one of them,” I add, gesturing to Seth and Tex, “you deserve it. You deserve to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.”
The silence stretches.
Tex clears his throat. “Billy…”
“I mean it,” I say. “I’m done standing in the way. If Seth makes you happy, or Tex… I won’t stand in the way.”
Sedona looks at me. Her eyes are wet.
“I don’t know what I want,” she whispers. “Everything is so messy right now.”
“I know,” I say. “And I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted you to know that I’m done being the angry ex. It’s exhausting.”
I take a sip of my coffee.
“So,” I say. “Friends?”
She smiles. It’s a small, trembling smile.
“Friends,” she says.
We sit there for a moment. The air feels lighter. The tension isn’t gone, but it has shifted. It feels like a truce.
“So, what now?” Tex asks. “We just go back to work?”
“We have the fair,” Seth says. “Grant called. It’s back on. We have a lot of prep to do.”
Sedona stiffens next to him. “Right. The fair.”
She pulls her flannel tighter around herself and looks away.
“Actually,” she says, “I need to tell you guys something.”
I frown. “What is it?”
She looks up. She meets my eyes.
“I met with the executor of the will,” she says. “The day before I got sick. We finalized the paperwork.”
“Okay,” I say.
“The clinic is mine. Fully. Dad left everything to me.”
“We know,” I tell her. “After everything... We assumed you’d keep it running.”
I will,” she confirms. “But… I have a life in New York. A practice. Friends. A lease.”
My stomach drops.
“What are you saying?” Seth asks.
She looks at him. Then at me.
“I want to go back.”
The words hit the porch like a bomb.
“Go back?” Tex asks. “To New York?”
“Yes,” she says. “I can’t just… stay here forever. I have responsibilities. A career. Clara has her job there. Her boss has been more than lenient.”
“You’re a vet,” I say. My voice is hollow. “You can have a career here.”
“I built something there, Billy,” she insists. “I built it from scratch. Without my dad. Without you.”
She stands up. She wraps her arms around herself.
“I’m not abandoning the clinic,” she says. “I’ll hire a manager. Maybe sell it eventually. But I can’t stay in Prairie Pine.”
“Why not?” Seth asks, and he stands up too. He looks hurt. “I thought… after yesterday… after this morning…”
Sedona flinches. “Seth, this morning was… it was nice. It was real. But a kiss doesn’t undo five years. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m not the same girl who left.”
She looks at us.
“I’m not ready to be the girl who stays,” she says.
I stare at her.
I feel like the ground has been ripped out from under me. I just gave her up. I just told her to choose someone else. I just tore down my walls.
And she’s leaving anyway.
“You’re leaving,” I say. It’s a statement.
“I have to,” she says. “For me.”
The irony tastes bitter on my tongue. She left because she wanted more. She came back because of death.
And now she’s leaving again because she found herself.
And I’m standing here, holding a mug of coffee, realizing that I’ve spent five years holding onto a ghost, only to let her go the second she became real.
“Okay,” I say.
They all look at me.
“Okay?” Tex asks.
“When?” I ask.
“Maybe in a week or so,” she says.
I nod.
“Okay,” I repeat. “Then we have work to do.”
I stand up and drain my mug.
“We have a ranch to save,” I say. “And a rodeo to win. Let’s get to it.”
And when I walk off the porch, I don’t look back.