34
M y pulse flutters wild and reckless in my neck as I slide back onto the bar stool.
My brain whirls at Charlie’s words, the strange look on his face ...
Charlie had something to tell me. But what? It can’t be what I think it was, can it?
No. We are temporary and he knows that.
Doesn’t he?
But what-if ?
What if he loves me?
Oh god.
There is no way I should want it, but I do.
I want my love returned, even if it is a bad idea.
A soft smile curls my lips when I think about how my life has changed with Charlie.
I love waking in the morning’s twilight, Charlie holding me tightly to him.
The first ride of the week with the wind in my hair, Charlie hustling alongside me to keep up, pride in his eyes.
The way he leans in to kiss me when he gets home from the ranch, turning me into a molten puddle of need.
And best of all, the way I go limp after a night of spectacular sex, Charlie whispering in my ear that I’m the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.
I’ve never felt this before. Dumb, dangerous hope.
With trembling fingers, I reach for my purse. I open my medication and dry-swallow a pill.
A ping sounds from my laptop. I set my medication on the counter.
I scowl at the email from Max with a link to the Stanford study. My big brother’s been on my case for the last two weeks to enroll. I haven’t told him anything that’s happened on the ranch. He and my father know I’m safe. Anything more would cause them to worry.
To: Ruby
From: Max
Hey killer.
I’m sending a link to that study.
I know you don’t want to hear it. And I know you’re scowling that weak ass scowl right now, because you can never really be mad at anyone, but humor me and read it. It’d be a stop on your road trip. And your annoying family would come out and take care of you.
They’re saying this new study is good. That it could change your life. So read it, Rubes.
Max
But my life has already changed, I think.
Still, I click the link. Wrinkle my nose at the cold clinical trial speak. Ablation. Catheters. Hospital stay. Scrape your heart and hope for the best.
I don’t know what my best is.
I don’t know what I want anymore.
I should do the study. It’s in California, and Max is right. It aligns perfectly with my to-do list.
Truth is, I’ve been moving slowly the last week.
Ever since Colton attacked me in my cottage, my heart feels shaky.
I’ve had heart rate spikes so strong they wake me up at night.
I think I’m smart, escaping downstairs to let my heartbeat come back to normal, but Charlie always finds me and carries me back to bed.
It scares me.
For the first time since I’ve been on the road, my heart isn’t cooperating.
I wring a dish towel in my hands.
Screw doubt. That’s best left with my father and brother. I am healthy. And happy. My heart has never been better. Because of this summer.
Because of Charlie.
My eyes flutter shut. His sweet words from that day in the barn— I love this beautiful beat of yours —lit a fire inside of me.
They shouldn’t mean anything, but they mattered to me.
So, so much. They gave me hope, like maybe he could understand my SVT if I told him.
That he’d forgive me for keeping the truth from him about my health. Even if the whole idea is ludicrous.
We have a deal, though. Runaway Ranch for the truth about why I’m on the road.
And he hasn’t ponied up, so why should I?
Sighing, I shut my laptop and slide off the stool. Still, I hate lying to him. The guilt that crashes over me is as frenzied as my heartbeat.
I scan the kitchen, deciding to tidy up. I set Charlie’s mug in the copper bucket sink and shut off the coffeepot. I put my creamer back in the fridge, throw away my apple. Mundane tasks that calm my heartbeat.
Although I miss my charming cottage, I love Charlie’s log cabin. It has a personality as big and powerful as the man himself. Wood, log, and stone—the holy trinity of Big Sky country—keeps it true to its western roots.
My gaze lights on the calendar tacked to the fridge. Tomorrow’s August. My deadline to leave looms.
Four weeks.
Should I leave Resurrection? It’s a question very much in need of an answer.
If I don’t go, what does that mean for me and Charlie? But does he even want me to stay?
It seemed like he might. The way his hands gripped my waist, scorching me through my dress. The strange look on his face. Haunted. Nervous.
My tough cowboy was nervous.
A huge smile overtakes my face. What if he feels the same way?
I love you.
I imagine him saying it in that deep southern drawl that’s like a caress over my entire body.
Oh god, I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my life. Being loved back would feel beautiful. Not dangerous or dumb.
I chose this man, and maybe he’s choosing me.
Maybe we could do this.
Grabbing up a stack of napkins, I laugh aloud in the middle of the kitchen. “What if?” I murmur, heart fluttering in agreement.
I open the junk drawer where takeout napkins and ketchup packets live and deposit the napkins. As I do, my thumb catches a piece of paper. Curious, I sweep away the junk to find a photo. I lift it to eye level.
A girl in blue jeans and a simple white tank top sits on the back of a champagne-colored horse.
She’s laughing, looking away from the camera, leather reins in her hand.
Her long, fiery red hair flows behind her as she rides.
She’s beautiful, yet there’s a fierceness in her eyes that catches my breath.
A throat being cleared has me jumping.
My head jerks up and I blanch. “I’m sorry,” I say, dropping the photo on the counter. Ford stands at the island. He looks like a leaner version of Davis, except with shaggier hair and a relaxed grin. A rush of shame hits me that he caught me snooping. “I was cleaning up, and I—”
“You don’t have to explain.” A muscle jerks in his jaw as he nods at the photo. “That’s Maggie.”
“Maggie?”
I look back at the photo. It’s been buried deep within the drawer, but not deep enough that it can’t be found. The corners creased like it’s been handled often. Recognition dawns. It resembles a worn-out photo of my mother that my father—
Oh god.
Oh my god.
A heart strangling thought hits me.
The worst thought.
The worst possibility.
I gasp.
In an instant, the pieces of the puzzle drop into place.
The reason Charlie’s so hesitant to speak about his past. The way he stares at me when I’m on Arrow, his eyes glued to every move I make when I ride.
His deep frown, his protective nature, his gruff growl.
It’s all because he’s a forever grieving cowboy who lives alone on his ranch and doesn’t talk to anyone.
Pressure builds behind my eyes. I look up at Ford. “She died?” I whisper.
He nods again. “She did. Been gone ten years now.” Hesitation crosses his face, then he says, “She and Charlie were engaged.”
My eyes widen. My heart drops.
“I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
“I figured.” Dragging a hand down his handsome face, Ford shakes his head. “Charlie, he’s not so good with talking about his past.”
“You don’t have to explain.” A tear rolls down my cheek. “He should be the one to tell me when he wants to.”
After one last look at the photo, I gently put it back where I found it. It’s important to respect Charlie’s privacy like he’s respected mine.
That’s when Ford’s brown eyes flick to the counter. To my pills.
The breath leaves my lungs, and every ounce of blood drains from my face.
For a long few seconds, silence.
I hurry across the room, grab them up and shove them back into my purse.
“Listen, Ruby,” Ford says, as if carefully selecting his words. “I know y’all got some boundaries and my brother may be too stupid to say it, but he likes you. A lot. You’re the reason he’s out there saddling up with a smile today.”
His statement doesn’t make me feel better. It makes me feel worse.
“We got him back because of you.” His jaw flexes, and I’m horrified when his voice cracks. Like a million pieces of the past are shattering inside of him. “I’m asking you, honey, don’t be his new heartbreak. We can’t lose him again.”
My heart hammers faster. A wave of guilt rocks me like a rogue wave.
“I understand,” I whisper.
I wait until Ford leaves, and then I put my hands on the cool counter top. I try to breathe evenly, but I can’t. My breath comes out in shaky bursts, wreaking havoc on my heartbeat.
Heartbreaker.
That’s what I am.
The worst kind of person.
Because loud and clear, I heard what Ford was telling me.
He loves you. Don’t fuck with his heart.
A strangled gasp escapes me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Hot tears drip down my cheeks.
What I’m doing with Charlie is too dangerous. Reckless.
It was different when no one was saying the words. When we could pretend it was all temporary, all about good sex.
But now ...
Charlie’s loved and lost before. Had I known that, I never would have played this game. I thought I was using my heart to change my life. Turns out, I’m destroying one.
My heartbeats come to a halt. I sway where I stand, gripping the counter for support.
I can’t do this to him. I can’t hurt him. He’s been through loss before, and all I’m doing is leading him on because, in the end, my heart will give out like my mother’s.
I won’t put Charlie through that.
Not again.
A sob rips out of me, deep, like a part of my soul’s being wrenched into ragged pieces.
I have to end it.
I have to end it all.