31
“I don’t know how to help her.”
Charlie huffs a laugh as we grab bags of feed from the truck bed and walk up to the cottage. “Fallon doesn’t want help. She wants to kill someone.”
“I ain’t sure, man.”
My eyes flick to the side porch. Five days of Fallon sitting in that damn porch chair.
Five days of silence stretching between us.
Five days of seeing the turn of her slender shoulder, her back always to me.
She’s avoided our bed, avoided training, PT appointments, avoided everyone, since Pappy’s visit.
She wants to shut down. But I won’t let her.
It’s a mistake I made after Aiden. I’m not playing hands off. Never fucking again.
I just don’t know what to do to shock some life back into her. Fallon lives and breathes rodeo. It’s in her blood. Legacy.
And Pappy took it all away.
I saw her expression when he told her it was over. Every light in those fierce hazel eyes went out. I’d burn the entire world down for Fallon if I could just get her to snarl at me again. Anything would be better than feeling as fucking helpless as I do.
Charlie props the bag of feed on his shoulder. “We need to go break Pappy’s legs?”
I snort. “Believe me, I’ve considered it.” Considered worse things, too. Like driving my truck through the front of Pappy’s house.
I give Fallon one last look—face impassive, body stiff—then nod toward the barn. “Let’s go.”
In silence, we trudge through the tall grass. The sun arcs across the sky. We make our way across the pasture to the barn and drop the feed in the small tack room. By the time we get to work, my worry over Fallon deflates slightly and I turn my thoughts to my brother.
“So you and Ruby getting down to the wire yet?”
Charlie grunts as he stacks the bags then straightens and wipes sweat from his brow. “Our surrogate’s got about four months to go.”
“Gettin’ close,” I say, snatching a shovel off the wall to scrape up horse shit.
Charlie’s rugged face breaks into a smile. “Feel like I’m gettin’ the whole damn world,” he admits.
I grin at the side of my brother I rarely see. Sappy. Head over boots for a good woman. Ready to become a dad. “Y’all pick a name or anything?”
“Not yet.” Charlie sobers. “It’s been rough for Ruby. With her heart. With this baby comin’. It ain’t for the fainthearted, doin’ all this.”
It’s a rare admission from my guarded brother. My best friend since birth, he and I can always talk to each other. I want him to know that, especially since I’ve been MIA the last two months.
I set the shovel against the wall. “You need anything, I’m here.”
Charlie gives me a look. “You’re busy enough with Fallon.”
“Hell, I don’t even know what I’m doin’ with Fallon.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “She could scream, murder my ass, or go absolutely silent for the next three business days.”
Charlie lifts his Stetson and runs a hand through his hair. “But you like it.”
“I do.” I wipe sweat from my brow. Finally, I admit, to my brother, to myself, “I don’t want a divorce.”
He grimaces.
“I love her.”
He laughs, the sound loud in the silence of the barn. “That ain’t a secret. We all know you’ve been whipped for Fallon for years.”
Why the fuck is everyone suddenly an expert on my and Fallon’s relationship?
Charlie locks eyes with me. “I’ve never seen two idiots more right for each other. You’d be a fool to let her go.”
I swallow. “I know it.”
“I chased Ruby down before she left. You gotta do the same for Fallon.”
I chuckle. “Chase her down?”
Charlie grins. “You’re a cowboy, ain’t ya? You get the girl. Always.”
But what if the girl doesn’t want me? The thought’s enough to damn near get me gasping for air. The reckless part of Fallon I can’t control, the sad part I can’t reach. What if she deserves better? Wants something else other than me?
Still, there’s no way in hell this summer ends with us parting ways. Losing Fallon—I can’t do it again. Won’t.
Charlie surprises the hell out of me by wrapping me hard in a one-armed hug. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
My throat tightens. “Thanks, man.”
Horses fed, feed stacked, chores finished, we trek back from the barn to the cottage.
“Shit,” I swear when we come to the front porch.
Roses. Left on the first step. Only there’s something different about them.
They’re dead. Graying and lifeless and crisp.
I scoop them up, trying to keep a lid on my unease. These weren’t here thirty minutes ago. Someone came to the house when I was gone. When Fallon was here. Alone.
A wave of fear washes over me. The memory of Fallon’s accident. Her wild eyes on me, screaming my name, reaching for me. And I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t fucking there.
Charlie nods toward the bouquet. “Those the flowers you were talkin’ about?”
“Yeah.” I open the card.
Fallon, you break my heart.
The sight of the dead roses, Fallon’s name in strange script, has me seeing red. Has me feeling fucking protective as hell.
“Fuck,” I snarl as I hear the squeak of the rocking chair. “I don’t want Fallon to see these.” I shove them at Charlie. “Give ’em to Ruby.”
“Are you insane?” he hisses, like Ruby is hovering over his shoulder. “I can’t give my wife dead flowers.”
I take one last long look at them and then turn and hurl them into the field next to us. They land in the tall grass. Hidden for now.
Charlie’s blue eyes darken as he studies my face. “Bring Fallon to a family dinner.” His look is chiding. “This weekend. Me and Ruby’s place.”
I groan. “I don’t think a family dinner’s going to help Fallon.”
“She needs somethin’, don’t she?” He claps my shoulder, gives it a squeeze. “Come. You be a goddamn stranger any more, I’m gonna tie you to my hitch and drag you back to the ranch.”
I chuckle and agree, watching as he hops into his truck and heads out of town.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mrs. Green. She’s watering her rose bushes. I head her way. Flash a smile as she looks up at the scuff of my boots. “Hey, Mrs. Green. How you been?”
Her glasses slip low on her nose. She blinks. “Just fine, my dear. And you?”
“Doin’ well.” I hitch a thumb. “You see anyone come by Fallon’s? Maybe thirty minutes ago?”
She purses her lips. “A cowboy. A big truck.”
In Resurrection, that could be anyone.
Mrs. Green cackles out a laugh. “Lucky girl with all these handsome secret admirers.”
As I stare down the long dirt road, something cold twists in my gut.
Dread.