Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Dig
Maverick
Iwas working in the garage when I heard the barking. Incessant, insistent barking. The kind meant to get your attention.
Brandy.
Dread coiled in my stomach as I dropped the wrench on the table, not bothering with putting it away.
Was Cheyenne okay? What was wrong? She’d seemed fine when I’d left her in the house a bit ago.
My feet ate up the distance to the house, through the living room, and down the hall. Each step sent my pulse rising, the fluttering in my heart beating faster than damn hummingbird wings. My knuckles rapped on the door to her room.
“I’m fine!” Her voice sounded weak, broken, the words a choked-out sob.
The dread turned tighter in my stomach. She wasn’t fine.
I opened the door gingerly, too worried to wait for an invitation, and found her standing in the middle of the room, clutching a grey bath towel to her chest. Her hair was wet and she smelled like my soap. I know it was indecent of me, but she looked so beautiful and so broken in that moment.
My lips pursed as I lingered in the doorway. Brandy whined and spun around, looking between Cheyenne and I. Tears leaked down Cheyenne’s cheeks as she clung to her towel, her eyes deep turquoise pools of emotion.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” she sobbed. “I t-tried to c-calm her d-down.”
I frowned, shaking my head, even as I pulled her into my arms. Did she think I was mad at Brandy? She was a dog. That’s what they did. In fact, she deserved some extra attention for letting me know something was wrong. Cheyenne all but fell into my touch. It’s like she had no more strength in her.
“I-I’m sorry,” she murmured, over and over and over.
I held her to me, lightly rocking side to side—a little trick Aunt Violet taught me. I opened my mouth to console her, to reassure her, just…something, but no words came. None.
I didn’t need to ask her, though, to know why she was crying. I could see it in her eyes.
She reminded me of this one mustang I broke once. She had that same wild, terrified look in her eyes that he did when I first brought him to the ranch and put him in a stall. Despite the shavings, the quality feed, that mustang hated the barn. It wasn’t his home.
Hell…it’s almost like how I’d felt when I’d lost my parents and sister, my home. I’d had the Mooneys at least to help me through. It didn’t seem like Cheyenne had anyone.
She’d had everything taken from her in the blink of an eye. And I could only imagine how hard that must be for someone as wild and free as her.
Her entire body trembled as she clung to me as if her life depended on it. I just held her in my arms, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as I ran my hand down her damp hair. But it didn’t seem to help. Nothing did.
I wanted to help her. I needed to help her.
And standing there in a towel wasn’t going to do her any good.
Scooping her up in my arms, I carried her back out the hall and all the way into my room—the only sounds that of my boots and Brandy’s toenails on the polished concrete, along with Cheyenne’s muffled sobs against my chest.
I flipped on the dimmer switch, turning the lights down low, and sat her on the bed.
“Wh-what? Why did you bring me here?” No accusation lingered in her tone, just mere curiosity.
Standing before her small frame, I tilted her chin up, forcing her stare as I cupped her face with my palm. I hoped she understood the silent question that I couldn’t bring myself to say aloud.
With a soft nod, my gaze flickered to her mouth then back up to her eyes just as I ran my thumb over her bottom lip. In an instant, the devastation in her gaze darkened to a glimmer of desire. She sucked in a sharp breath.
Slowly, painfully slow, I dipped my mouth to hers.