The Scars We Heal (The Road and The Rodeo #5)

1. Caitlin

CHAPTER ONE

caitlin

I’m so sorry, ma’am, but it appears your card has declined.” The front desk attendant offered me a sympathetic look from behind her computer screen.

“Oh.” I dug in my purse for my wallet, hands shaking as I fished out an alternative credit card. “Try this one.”

My heart plummeted in my chest when the machine she ran the card through emitted the distinct beep of a declined transaction.

“Let me try it again. Sometimes our machines can be a bit finicky,” she explained, although I was sure she was doing it to save face, especially when the same beep echoed in the lobby again.

“Do you have any other cards we can try? Otherwise, I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel your reservation and offer the room to another guest.”

“Sure, um…” Heat raced to my cheeks as I pulled out another credit card and laid it on the counter.

The air around me grew hot and stuffy as I waited for the transaction to go through.

At least one of my cards had to work.

Another disappointing beep proved me wrong.

With a heavy sigh, the employee delivered the worst news I could have received since February when my husband served me divorce papers after nearly a decade together. “I’m sorry, ma’am. All of your cards have declined, so I’m afraid we cannot continue to offer you a room here.”

I blinked back the tears burning behind my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek, all while Whitley, my three-, almost-four-year-old daughter, pulled on my sleeve as she attempted to lift her legs off the ground and hang from my arm.

“O-okay.” I lingered awkwardly by the desk until someone cleared their throat behind me. I muttered an apology before I lifted Whitley into my arms and forced myself to walk toward the elevator so I could grab our belongings from the room while I still had a shred of dignity left.

None of my credit cards are working. Did something happen?

Adam

I canceled them.

Wait, why would you do that?

Adam

You don’t need them anymore.

I blinked a few times, typing out a response, deleting it, then typing it again.

Um…what do you mean?

Adam

Our divorce is final now, Caity. You’ve had plenty of time to figure out your finances without relying on me.

God, I hated when he called me Caity. No one ever called me that except him, and he always said it in the most condescending way. The piece about the finances just made my blood boil.

Adam had been the main breadwinner of our family since we got engaged.

After we found out I was pregnant, he insisted that I didn’t need to work—and shouldn’t because someone had to take care of our kid once she was born.

He also didn’t want to hand off our child to “strangers” at daycare, in his own words.

I’d done some part-time remote work as a virtual assistant and had enough money saved away in my own account for emergencies and basic expenses like groceries, gas, and an occasional splurge for myself or Whit.

Just not enough to afford renting a place in Washington or to continue to living out of a hotel for months.

I guess it was my own fault for assuming he’d help out for a couple months until Whitley started school and I could get a job again. I planned to pay off every cent I put on the card once I was able, but I didn’t even have the chance to now.

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and pocketed my phone, taking a few deep breaths. Nothing good would come from responding to him.

Mom always told me to pick my battles, and this was one I didn’t have the energy to fight today.

“Hey, bug, can you put your stuff in your backpack please?”

She was sitting on the floor playing with a stuffed cat, and she tilted her head at me, confusion clouding her big blue eyes. “Why, Mommy?”

“We’re going to go on a road trip to see Grandma.” My voice pitched at the end of my sentence in an attempt to make the situation sound more exciting than it actually was.

Her brows pinched together, and her head dropped even closer to her shoulder. “We’re going to see Grandma?”

“Yep. We’re going to go stay with her for a little while in Montana.”

Adam hadn’t expressed any interest in having custody of Whitley.

Despite my rocky relationship with his parents, I was hoping to find a place here in Washington so Whitley could be close to them, but taking her to Montana wasn’t off the table.

When the divorce was still pending, she stayed with him some weekends, but he was out of town on business more often than not, so I was sure he took her to his mom’s place instead anyway.

Adam’s mom may not have liked me, and made sure I knew it, but Whitley loved her.

Without any more curiosity, she started to stuff her toys into her tiny yellow backpack. I sighed as I folded our clothes, packing them away in our suitcases.

Perhaps there was a silver lining in all of this. Maybe moving back to Montana would bring solace and provide some closure on the situation. It’d be a new, fresh start, and one closer to my family for once.

Yeah, I thought to myself. This will be fine. Everything is fine.

Big, blue skies filled with fluffy white clouds kissed the sprawling horizon as we approached Silver Creek.

The drive from Washington was long, but luckily Whitley slept most of the way so I didn’t have to handle a grumpy toddler on top of the self-deprecating thoughts my overactive brain kept throwing at me.

We packed the car as full as possible with things I was keeping in a storage unit, but I’d eventually have to make a trip back to Washington to get the rest.

However, I didn’t want to burden my mom with more stuff. Once we found a more permanent place, I could worry about the rest of our belongings. The rent wasn’t too expensive, and I didn’t plan to keep it for too much longer. For now, the storage unit would be fine.

As my childhood home—a big, cozy farmhouse—came into view, a rush of relief washed over me.

I’d never been so grateful for familiarity.

The first time I’d left home, I was so excited about my newfound independence that I was convinced I’d never want to go back.

Over the past decade, though, a yearning for the place I grew up in started to resettle in my bones.

I pushed out a huff of air as I pulled into the driveway. I probably should have told my mom I was coming, but this wasn’t the first time I’d made an impromptu trip.

As if on cue, the front door swung open and Mom stepped out onto the porch.

“Caitlin, what a surprise!” Her arms spread as she approached the car, immediately pulling me into an embrace the moment I stepped out. “What are you doing here?”

“Well…” I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I was hoping Whit and I could stay for a while? Adam canceled my credit cards, and I haven’t really been able to work the past few months.

Childcare for Whitley is ungodly expensive.

My bank account is pretty sad right now. ” My cheeks flushed at the admission.

Guilt threatened to surface, but my thought process was that if Whitley and I could stay with family, I’d be okay for the next couple months while I tried to find a job.

Mom clicked her tongue a few times before muttering, “That asshole. Pardon my French.”

A soft chuckle slipped out of my mouth in response.

Mom smoothed her hands over her pants then sighed.

“You’re welcome to take a look around, but your room is…

” Her voice trailed off. “Well, your room is a craft room now. Clay’s is an office, and Colter’s I’ve been using for storage.

There’s that small bedroom Whitley has stayed in before, but I don’t know if I have one for you.

There’s the couch or maybe I can get an air mattress...

” A somewhat guilty expression flashed across her face.

“I guess I just assumed you kids have been out of the house for a while now. Colter has his own patch of land, Clay is settled in Bozeman and they usually stay at the motel when they visit, and you…”

I hardly ever visit. My brain filled in the blanks for her.

“I understand. It’s o-okay.” Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“If money’s the issue—” she started, but I quickly cut her off.

“No, Mom, I don’t want to take your money.”

It was hard enough to ask to take up a room in her house. The last thing I wanted to do was be a financial burden for her.

“Well, all right… I’m really sorry. Maybe Colter and Ellison can help you come up with something?

I know the baby is coming soon, so they probably won’t have room, but they have plenty of friends who might.

Or I can always help. Just keep me in the loop, okay?

” She shifted on her feet. “Do you want to come in?”

I shook my head. “I shouldn’t.”

Her face fell, a hairline crack in her usually composed demeanor.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in and rest your legs?

Have a glass of iced tea? It’s a long drive from Washington.

Maybe I could make you two some dinner?” She looked into the backseat window and waved at my daughter, who beamed at the sight of her.

I bit my bottom lip. “If Whitley could use your bathroom, I would appreciate that, but we can’t hang around for too long. My priority is finding somewhere to stay so she can sleep in a real bed tonight. Once we do, though, I’ll come over. Promise.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

I coaxed Whitley out of her car seat.

“Hi, Whitley!” Mom cooed, pulling my daughter into her arms.

Whitley squeezed her tight, answering my mom’s short questions about how she was doing, then I led her into my mom’s house so she could use the bathroom. Once we were done, we said our goodbyes with a parting wave. After I climbed into my car, my shoulders immediately slumped.

Time for plan B, I guess.

Once again, tears threatened to fall, but I wouldn’t allow myself to cry. Not yet.

I could cry when Whitley was taken care of, when she had a warm bed to sleep in and we didn’t have to worry about packing up our things again. I would hold back the tears a little longer, because that was what a good mom was supposed to do.

Right?

After another ten minutes of driving, I knocked on the front door of Colter and Ellison’s house with Whitley at my side. A few seconds passed, although it felt more like hours, before feet shuffled inside the house.

Footsteps approached the front door, and shortly after, the knob rotated. As the door was pulled open, my gaze jumped up, and I made eye contact with the person who answered.

A six-foot-two cowboy wearing a Warden Wrangler’s T-shirt.

His blond hair swooped across his forehead, and his clear, blue eyes widened in surprise.

It’d been about eight months since I’d last seen him at Thanksgiving, and he’d grown more facial hair in that time.

He even had a mustache, although it wasn’t as thick as Mikey’s.

“Caitlin?” Confusion laced itself in his tone, and his brows knitted together.

I lifted my hand in greeting, doing my best to ignore the heat flaring in my cheeks. “Hi, Jake.”