Miles to Go (Cowboys of Three Rivers #10)

Chapter 1

Tyson Greene slipped into the apartment he shared with his roommate and quietly closed the door behind him. He twisted the deadbolt, glad Jacob had left the light on above the sink.

Ty didn’t normally stay out past nine PM, let alone midnight, as he worked at Lone Star stables three days a week and had recently started to run a crew at the apple orchards for one of his best friends, Colt.

He reminded himself of that as he limped along the back of the couch, using it to steady himself.

But today was technically New Year’s Day, and he didn’t have to work at all. He’d need the rest after the big barn party-dance out at Three Rivers Ranch, which was like a second home to him.

Ty moved into the kitchen, every move causing a new pain to shoot through his body. He really couldn’t let himself get like this, and he stood at the kitchen sink and ran the water cold while a flash of gratitude moved through him that he’d made it home safely.

His physical body often gave out before his mind, and he’d been progressing nicely in his physical therapy, and felt nearly fully recovered from his injury, that he sometimes thought he could do more than he actually could.

His body would literally shut down at that point, and it didn’t matter if Ty was behind the wheel, had access to a chair, or managed to make it to a bed.

He looked out the window and into the darkness beyond. During the day, he could see the playground across the sidewalk from the apartment where he and Jacob lived. Right now, he only saw his own reflection—and wow, he looked exhausted.

He reached to the slim cabinet beside the sink, and he pulled down a bottle of painkillers. In his back pocket, his phone buzzed, but Ty kept his focus on swallowing the pills he’d need to make it through the night.

He’d have to look at his phone, because ten to one, the text he’d just gotten had come from his mother. She’d want to make sure he’d gotten home okay. He couldn’t blame her for asking, though at almost thirty-two years old, Ty was tired of being checked up on.

No, it’s not that, he thought. He’d run the rodeo circuit for years without his parents checking on him all the time.

It had just been in the last couple of years, since his catastrophic and career-ending injury, that his momma and daddy felt the need to drop by just to “see how he was doing,” or text to see if it was “a good day or not,” and then call if he didn’t respond.

He couldn’t blame them. He’d had a series of surgeries, and at one point, the doctors had told him he might not be able to walk again.

He’d completely lost his hearing in his left ear and, right now, a massive headache throbbed behind his eyes, in his temples, and along the back of his skull.

The entire left side of his body felt like someone had weighed it down with a fifty-pound sandbag, and no matter how many times he drew his left shoulder back to try to make his body square, it drooped forward again.

He threw back two acetaminophen, four ibuprofen, and one Simply Sleep, then chugged several more swallows of ice-cold water to chase the pills all the way down.

He tried not to take painkillers if he could avoid it at all, knowing that it didn’t do great things for his kidneys.

But after a New Year’s Eve dinner with a live band and dancing, games, and after-dark horseback riding, every cell in Ty’s body felt like someone had hammered on it with an electric jackhammer.

He reached to flip off the light and turned to face the house, leaning into the corner of the kitchen cabinets to give his eyes a chance to adjust. As shapes became lighter and darker shades of gray, Tyson pushed away from the corner and, leaning on the fridge and then the walls for support, he went down the hall to his bedroom.

He closed the door behind him and picked his way over to the bed, discarding everything except his boxer shorts. When his boots came off, pure relief sang through Ty’s soul.

His back spasmed as he sat on the bed, and while it didn’t truly hurt, the involuntary motion definitely felt weird and triggered in his nerves as pain.

He positioned his pillows up against the wall, then lay down on his right side and scooted back into them so that the towers of foam could support his body for him.

He sighed when he remembered his phone, and he reached for the grabber he had positioned in the slim space between his bed and nightstand.

It was about four feet long, and he could pull a trigger that would make two prongs come together, so he could grab things without having to bend over or get out of bed.

He had to lean forward enough to reach his jeans, and it took his last ounce of energy to pull the denim close enough that he could grab the pants and extract the phone from his back pocket.

He’d kept his phone on silent all night, because he hadn’t wanted to justify himself to his parents about how much he could handle at the New Year’s Eve party.

Falling down at the summer dance, though it had been six months ago, had renewed their concern over him.

It didn’t help that he’d never been back to another dance until this one.

Yes, he’d stayed out of the spotlight and near chairs. He’d danced with a few friends, and even his cowboy friends’ wives.

Ty had not been on a date in six months either, and that had prompted the second reason why he’d kept his phone on silent.

His older sister Carolina had gotten engaged over Christmas, and the family group text that kept Ty so connected to his two siblings and his parents now felt like a war zone of emotions that he had to navigate on an hourly basis.

Of course, he was happy for Carolina, especially since she’d been trying to find a husband for a lot longer than he’d even considered dating. His younger brother Bryan had a pretty serious girlfriend too, and not having anyone simply solidified Ty’s role in his family as the black sheep.

His two siblings had stayed around Three Rivers, and he’d left the moment he could. They’d gone to college or trade schools and worked in agriculture or business.

He’d joined the rodeo, and the only classes he’d ever taken were American Sign Language classes, and only in the last year.

If he hadn’t been thrown from that two-ton bull a couple of years ago, he’d still be on the rodeo circuit. Heck, he might even be married to Jenn.

A scoff fell out of his mouth, because in the stages of grief over losing that relationship, he’d definitely entered the angry one.

Some days, he thought he’d moved on from her completely, but after a disastrous date with someone he’d had no romantic feelings for, he certainly didn’t want to try a relationship with someone he did want to impress.

After all, what was impressive about him?

A calm, quiet feeling came over him, and his mind cleared, save for the thought of Trevor White. He too had been injured in an awful accident almost a decade ago, and the man had just gotten married in October.

Ty’s anger faded, and while he hadn’t quite made his pilgrimage back to organized religion and attending church meetings, he could acknowledge God’s hand and love in his life. In quiet moments like these, he knew his life had been spared for a reason he didn’t know yet.

In the past two years, he’d been reminded of what an amazing family he had, and how much he loved small towns like Three Rivers, and what having good friendships felt like.

He hadn’t had any of those things on the rodeo circuit, and that had gone right down to the woman he’d dated and thought he’d been in love with.

He swiped on his phone and found that he had several messages. Yes, his mother had texted, and he quickly responded to her: I made it home, and I’m in bed. My head is killing me, and you’re right, I probably overdid it.

That would validate her and worry her, and Ty hoped she’d already gone to bed, though her message had only come in a few minutes ago.

He’d gotten a couple messages from Colt about doing the New Year’s Day brunch at the restaurant his friend had built into the apple orchards this past fall.

He’d thrown himself into that when his attempts at blind dating had gone terribly.

Ty said he could be there at eleven to help out for a couple of hours, and he navigated to Wilder Glover’s text next.

Hey, I meant to grab you at the dance tonight, he said. But something came up with Savannah’s daughter, and we left early. I’m just wondering if you’re bringing a date to Judy and Trooper’s wedding.

Ty sighed and looked away from the brightness of his phone, though he’d put it on dark mode.

“The wedding,” he grumbled to himself.

He tapped back over to Colt’s message and saw that his friend had said, Thanks, brother.

Hey, are you taking anyone to Judy and Trooper’s wedding? Ty sent off quickly.

Colt started to respond, and Ty held his breath. Maybe he and Colt could be each other’s plus-one, the way they’d been before.

While he waited, a pretty brunette paraded into his mind. She wore scrubs, and bright purple shoes, and her dark hair up into a high ponytail.

“You’re not asking Winona,” he muttered to himself.

The very idea was laughable, though she seemed to show up everywhere Ty did in Three Rivers.

He had to see her a couple of times per month for their therapy appointments, and since she challenged him to do exercises he didn’t like and use his body in ways he didn’t think he could, he was never very happy to see her—and always glad when she walked away.

He could admit she was beautiful, but only to himself, and only in quiet, exhaustive moments like this. She’d integrated herself into their small-town community far quicker and easier than Ty ever could or would.

In every way she was his opposite, so why she’d come into his mind when thinking about a date for a wedding, he had no idea.

Yeah, Colt said. I went the safe route and asked Wilder’s sister, because I know she thinks I’m too old for her and she’s not interested. She’ll have to be there anyway, and this way neither one of us have to be alone.

“That’s a pretty good idea,” Ty said, grinning at his phone. Are there any other Glovers that don’t have dates?

Colt sent a couple of laughing emojis. I don’t know, man. Ask Wilder.

He’s asking me about a date, Ty said.

Maybe he’s got someone in mind, Colt said back.

Ty tapped back over to Wilder’s string and said, I don’t have anyone. Do I need someone? Does one of your cousins need a date?

Wilder didn’t respond, and Ty scrolled up to see that he’d texted a couple of hours ago. They’d left early, and Savannah had little girls, so Wilder was probably already home and in bed.

A new text from his momma came in, and Ty’s heart jumped up into his throat.

I’ll bring you some soup tomorrow, she said. Did you take medicine tonight?

Yes, he said. I have to work at the orchards tomorrow from eleven to one. I can stop by your house after for lunch.

Let’s do that, Momma said. I can’t believe you have to work on New Year’s Day.

Colt just asked last minute, he said. I don’t mind.

All right. Love you, buddy.

Love you too, Momma. Ty sighed as he put his phone down on his chest. He did love his mother, and he loved his freedom and living with Jacob here in this apartment.

Yes, he’d been attending the small ranch owners’ meetings for over a year now, and he loved all of his friends there, their wives, and their kids. So when Ty closed his eyes and started thinking about what he lacked in his life, it was definitely a wife and children.

His phone buzzed against his sternum, and he picked it up.

Yeah, I’ve got someone in mind for you, Wilder said. Not one of my cousins. But Savannah and I were talking to her at the dance, and she seemed, I don’t know, lonely.

“Great,” Ty muttered, his thumbs hovering above the screen as he tried to figure out how to respond. The last thing he wanted was a blind-date-set-up with some lonely spinster. He could find someone like that himself, thank you very much.

You’re not answering, Wilder said after a moment. Does this mean no?

I don’t even know who it is, Ty said.

You already know her, Wilder said. And I don’t know—she seemed to be watching you during the dance.

Yeah? Ty swallowed, his pulse ratcheting through his body for a different reason now. Who was watching me during the dance?

Winona Landry.

Ty dropped his phone, a corner of it landing hard against his breastbone as Winnie’s first and last name burned into his retinas.

Of course she was watching him. Winnie was always critiquing his movement, his core support, and his strength. It didn’t mean anything, did it?

He picked up his phone as it buzzed again.

I told her I’d give her your number, but she said she already had it. That’s when Savannah’s mom called and we had to leave.

Ty started to type something, but Wilder came in with another message. I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bad idea. I think she’s your physical therapist.

Ty erased what he’d started to type. Yeah, he said. She is.

So maybe she’d be safe? Wilder said. I know you tried that one time over the summer, and it didn’t go super well.

“Yeah, because of Winnie,” Ty muttered to himself. He could just see her pressing through the crowd at the summer dance and bossing his friends around for how to help him stand up.

At the same time, Winnie never judged him. She never looked at him like he couldn’t do what everyone else could do, and she always positioned herself on his right side so he could hear her. She was gorgeous and thoughtful and a great physical therapist.

I’ll think about it, Ty said.

Okay, Wilder said. Let me know, because I know Trap doesn’t have a date either, and I thought maybe he could ask her too.

The idea of Trap Walker going out with Winnie made Ty’s blood run like molten lava through his veins. “Absolutely not,” he muttered, and his movements almost became stabs instead of taps as he started a new text, put Winnie’s name in it, and sent her a message.

His eyelids grew heavy, and he couldn’t fight off the effects of the pain in his body and the Simply Sleep medication he’d swallowed a half-hour ago.

He managed to plug in his phone and set it on his nightstand before succumbing to the blissful wash of unconsciousness, where he dreamed of a beautiful brunette brushing his hair off his forehead to gently wake him in the morning…

and she looked gloriously like Winona Landry.