Chapter 52
Chapter fifty-two
White Buffalo
Maverick
Iwoke up to sunshine streaming in through the window. Sunshine? Peeling my eyelids open, which were heavy from exhaustion and tears, I glanced around the room. My heart raced, pattering in my chest.
Where the hell am—
The baby crib came into view, the familiar gray wood easing some of my worry. The nursery. But why was the sun up?
I glanced to the alarm clock and cursed. 6:57 AM.
What the hell? How had I slept in so long? My body was so used to 3 AM that I hadn’t needed an alarm in years.
I thought of everything that’d happened last night. The adrenaline. The fury. The guilt. The pain of reliving my past. I guess if you looked at it like that, it made sense I’d slept in. But still… Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I made my way through the house.
I wouldn’t let myself dwell on what had happened last night.
I wished I could say that my talk with Chey made me feel lighter, happier, but truth was, it hadn’t.
My past didn’t justify my actions. What I’d done wasn’t okay.
It never would be. And I’d have to live with that now…
But at least now someone knew all of the broken, cracked, and ugly parts of me. Maybe now, I could start to heal.
I wondered where Cheyenne was. Maybe she’d fed and cleaned? A wave of guilt trickled to life in my chest. She shouldn’t have to do that. Not with how pregnant she was. I swear, any day she was gonna pop.
She must’ve still been out in the barn, because she and Brandy weren’t anywhere in the house.
I pressed the button on the coffee maker, wondering why she hadn’t started it yet.
She was always making a pot of decaf first thing in the morning—leaving all the remnants on the counter because she’d forgotten to put all the stuff away.
Frowning, I made my way into the room. I needed to hurry.
We had a jackpot roping today. The Hill Country Classic to be exact.
The bane of my existence, more like. It was the one fuckin’ event in Texas Cash and I hadn’t won at least once.
Today would be the day… unless I didn’t get a move on.
Coming to a stop before the dresser, I noticed a piece of paper with my name scrawled across the front in pretty, neat handwriting. Fear skittered down my spine, the crushing weight settling over me making my limbs heavy. My lungs felt tight, labored, as I slowly reached for the note.
My fingers fumbled with trying to unfold it once. Twice. My eyes scanned over the words with the third try.
Maverick,
I want to start off by telling you that I am so sorry. I’m so sorry that you have gone through countless traumas…so much hurt and pain and horror. I am in awe of your strength, your courage, and your fierce ability to do good. You are such an amazing man who deserves nothing but happiness.
Which is why I have to leave…
Nate’s coming after me. He threatened me again, and I don’t want to cause you more pain by dragging you into the mix. Last night… The Fire. They’re all my fault. I keep hurting you, and even though it isn’t intentional, the damage can’t be undone.
I love you, Maverick. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never cared enough about a person to want to settle down, to stay in one place. I wanted that with you, but Nate isn’t going to stop, and I can’t stand by and let you fight my battles for me.
You deserve… Well, you deserve to have someone who only brings you happiness. Who makes you smile and adds light to your world. Someone better than me. You deserve someone as good and kind and wonderful as you, and we both know I am not that, nor have I ever been.
I wish this letter could make you angry enough to hate me, but you aren’t built like that, Mav. Maybe time and distance will ease the hurt. I know that this is shitty and cowardly of me, but it was the only way.
Please don’t come after me. Please move on.
-Cheyenne
My legs gave out, my kneecaps cracking against the polished concrete floors. But I didn’t feel it, not as the crushing weight of despair filled my lungs and drowned me.
Which is why I have to leave.
Gone? She was gone?
No. No…she couldn’t. I’d bared my soul to her. I’d told her all the deepest darkest parts of me and she’d kissed my tears away. She’d held me. She’d loved me. She couldn’t be gone.
I needed her. I needed her to bring the light she’d talked about in her letter back. She was the sun to me. She was it. Did she realize all she’d done for me? How much she’d helped me these past months? How could she think she wasn’t enough?
I should never have told her about my past. Not right after the whole fight with Nate. I’d scared her. Pushed her too far. Spooked her like if you moved too quickly with one of the babies. I’d been so focused on the progress we’d made that I forgot her flighty nature.
And now she was gone… because of me.
Despite the crushing weight of my sorrow, I stood, opening the drawers of my dresser. All of her clothes were gone. Racing through the house, I wrenched open the front door. Her truck was gone too.
No. No. No. No. No. No.
My lungs seared as I tried and failed to get air down my throat.
Rage—pure, undiluted, unrelenting rage trembled to life in me, so violently my limbs vibrated from it.
Fisting my hands so hard that I cracked open the scabs forming from the night before, I turned and punched the wooden column on the front porch.
Pain bloomed, spiderwebbing up through my knuckles and into my wrist. The crunch of broken bone filled my ears.
But the physical pain was a welcome reprieve from what I felt in my heart.
Please don’t come after me.
Another punch.
Please move on.
Another. And another and another…until my knuckles were bloody, my breath was gone, and I had no strength left in my legs to stand. And when I couldn’t stand, when the anger retreated, a fierce cold, hollowness took its place in my soul. I roared out to the sky above me.
She was gone. Her and the baby… they were gone.
And they’d stolen my heart with it.
“Mav…Maverick!”
I wasn’t sure who was speaking, and honestly, I didn’t really care. A heavy emptiness had settled around me, and it was all I could do to force air into my lungs. Not even the sun shining down could warm the cold I felt in my heart. In my soul.
I laid curled up on the front porch, pain thrumming from the tips of my fingers and snaking up my hand and wrist. I’d broken something.
Multiple somethings, if I were being honest, but the pain was nothing.
Physical pain I could deal with. The thing about being beaten is it makes you tough.
Makes pain just a part of the process. Bones mend.
Cuts heal. Bruises disappear. But a broken heart.
That didn’t heal. You kept that hurt with you forever.
“Shit. What the hell happened?” That sounded like Cash.
Two sets of hands grabbed me up by the shoulders, and after blinking a few times against the sunlight, Ryder and Cash’s features swam into focus.
“What the fuck happened?” Ryder asked, his dark gaze filled with worry, the scowl on his face pulling on his scar.
“She’s gone.” It didn’t even sound like me. There was no life. Nothing to it. It was just…hollow.
Cash scowled and pulled off his sunglasses as he asked, “What do you mean gone?”
I waved a hand toward the tire marks on the gravel leading away from her spot by my truck. “I mean she’s gone. Left a letter and shit. She ain’t comin’ back.” Pain shot through my fingers like lightning and I winced before letting out a curse.
“Fuck,” Ryder breathed, looking at my hand. “Is that from the fight?”
I shook my head, taking in the damage, before glancing at the splintered wood of the column. It hadn’t even cracked it in two. But that’s what I got for going up against a four by four. Both Cash’s and Ryder’s gazes fell on me.
“Well, damn.” Cash met my stare, a determined set to his jaw. “Let’s clean you up and go after her.”
I shook my head, though every bit of me wanted to nod. “No.”
Cash rocked back at the words, confusion washing over him. “What? What do you mean?”
“She told me not to come after her.”
Ryder pulled his ball-cap off his head, raking a hand through his hair as he let out a loud sigh. “Goddamn it, Mav. Just cuz she says that, don’t mean she don’t want it.”
“You’re wrong, Ryder. That piece of shit threatened her again. I don’t know how or what he said, but she’s gone. She don’t want to involve me in any more of that, so I have to respect her wishes.”
I expected Cash to argue—him and I usually disagreed on how to go about things—but I didn’t expect the anger or argument from Ryder. “You’re really gonna let her go? Why? Why’re you givin’ up on her?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t a reason that would convince him. But it didn’t matter what Ryder thought, Cheyenne didn’t want me chasing after her. And I loved her enough to respect that. He didn’t have to understand or agree. But it’s how it was.
Ryder shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip like he was ready to scold me. It was weird having the roles turned. I was typically the one talking sense into him and Cash.
“Come on,” Cash cut in, breaking the tension brewing between Ryder and I. “Let’s get you to Charlie and Ryder’s place. Mama and Dad just got there. Mama’ll take a look at it.”
I didn’t want to go. Every fiber of my being urged me to stay here. Right in this place, lest Cheyenne somehow, some way miraculously came back.
But she wouldn’t.
I knew that in my heart of hearts. So, blowing out a deep breath, trying to block out the pulsing in my hand, I gave him a stiff nod.
“My heaven, what on earth happened to you, Maverick James?” Aunt Violet’s voice held a shrill note to it as she shot from the kitchen to examine me. Bad’s closed off expression gave nothing away, but there was a sad, knowing look in his eyes if you knew what to look for.