Rebel Cowboy Read online

  So he forced himself to keep walking. All the way to her. She kept her back to him until he touched her shoulder. “Hey.”

  She turned slowly, almost reluctantly, and he could immediately see why. Her face was red and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot. She had to clear her throat to speak, but then she didn’t speak at all.

  He reached out to touch her cheek, warm and damp. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  She pulled away from his hand, almost wincing at his touch. She cleared her throat again, stepping around him.

  Daniel, please, don’t make this any harder on me.

  He snatched his hand back, not sure where that memory came from. Somewhere deep down. He had tried to help Mom, failed.

  You’re not fucking five anymore.

  But he’d been a teen when he’d started distancing himself from his grandparents, and he’d never made amends with anyone or dealt with any of the emotional baggage he’d skated away from. Even at thirty-five.

  “Mel?”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was raspy. Everything about her was…even that day she’d cried on his shoulder hadn’t been like this. That had been more like a breaking point, a release. This seemed like she was already broken, and there was nothing left.

  It made his chest ache hard enough to cover up the fear he didn’t know what to do with. “Honey, what is it?”

  “I don’t…want to talk about it.” She stopped, her back to him, her gaze on something, though he wasn’t sure what. “But, um, can I stay here? For a bit?”

  “Stay here? Well, sure, but…”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  She was killing him with this shit. He crossed to her, turned her around so she had to look at him. “Why? What happened at Shaw? What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t meet his gaze, no matter how he tried to get in her line of sight. “I… I don’t want to talk about it. Can we… Can we not?” Finally her eyes met his, full of so many things he had to drop his hand, step back.

  It was too much like last night. Too much like when he’d told her that her father had her and Caleb, and the pain had been so clearly written all over her face.

  He wanted to know what to do for her, how to make it okay, but he didn’t know what to do except what she asked. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it.”

  Some of the tension in her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

  So that was the right thing, he guessed. Why did it feel all wrong?

  “Did you come home with llamas?”

  “Uh. No, but I made a deal with the breeder and he’s going to bring them out next week.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah.”

  They stood there in awkward silence, the beautiful sunset going eerie as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, as Mel said nothing, didn’t move an inch.

  Silences used like a shield. Why did that feel so damn familiar? “Do you want me to get your bag?”

  That finally got her moving. “No.” She grabbed it herself and began striding toward his house. To stay with him. Because something had happened back at Shaw that caused her to pack a bag and cry and leave.

  Something she didn’t want to talk about. Didn’t want his help with. Would this turn into silences and pauses and painful conversations like he and Mom had? Into trying to only tell him the things she thought he could deal with?

  She didn’t want to talk about it because she didn’t trust him with it. With her truck, maybe, but not with her pain.

  He let out a breath and followed her to the house, reluctance making his steps feel heavy. He needed a plan. That had helped him with the ranch—maybe he could work that strategy to how to deal with Mel.

  She really wasn’t anything like Mom, but they both had a tendency to pull in when they were upset. Shut it all down, and while any comparison felt kind of weird, maybe it could help. For everything he had failed at as a kid, he could figure out how to make right with Mel.

  He was starting at a slight disadvantage, not knowing why she was upset, not understanding the kind of family dynamics that went on with the Shaws, but he knew she was crying. Sad. So someone had hurt her.

  The jolt of anger at that surprised him. The idea of someone hurting her pissed him off. A lot actually. He stomped up the porch stairs and into the kitchen, where Mel was getting herself a glass of water, her duffel bag placed neatly on the window seat next to the kitchen table.

  “Was it Caleb?”

  Her eyebrows pulled together and she slowly put the glass on the counter. “Was what Caleb?”

  “Whatever you’re upset about. Caleb hurt you? Because I will kick his ass for you. I know you’re capable and all, but since he’s not my brother, I’d be less inclined to pull a punch. I’m pretty good at fighting on skates. I’m sure I could do it on my own two feet too.”

  She blinked at him for a few humming seconds, something he couldn’t read in her expression, in her eyes. In her everything…and then it was gone. Blank. “It…” Pause. Fucking pause. “Has nothing to do with you, Dan.”

  The instinct to walk away, to escape, to not push was so deep, so ingrained, he took a step back. Like every time Mom had asked him to leave her alone. He would have kept stepping back, backing away, take the unwanted offer and unwanted comfort and unwanted everything far, far away…

  But someone had hurt her. “You’re hurt.”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t have anything to do with you either.”

  Yes, it does! The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, but they weren’t just for her and he knew it. For some reason his brain, his memories, his emotions were all superimposing this with all the divorce stuff from his childhood.

  Which was just fucking stupid. He’d learned. Learned to ignore what he felt, hide it with charm and smiles. To escape it with hockey. It had gotten him a very successful life.

  Except the emotions were still there, and he still didn’t know how to help anyone or make things easier for anyone, and he still fucking wanted to. He wanted to make this easier on Mel, to comfort her, to give her something.

  But she wanted nothing from him, except a place to stay, sex to forget, and a job to do. Nothing more.

  “I’ll make dinner,” she said, crossing to the refrigerator. Dismissal. Just forget about it, Daniel. It’s over your head. Everything is fine. And he’d had to play dumb and pretend like he believed her.

  For a second he considered that. Playing dumb and smiling and leaving her to it, forgetting he’d ever wanted to know. She didn’t trust him to help, fine. She probably had every right not to trust him with that. No one else in his life did. Why the hell would she?

  Except…something about the way she refused to even tell him what happened, even a hint…it made him more angry than anything else. Why couldn’t people just trust him, or give him a damn chance? And, while he might fuck every damn thing up, she didn’t know that. When had he ever disappointed her?

  Shouldn’t she at least trust him until his true colors came bleeding through? Maybe they wouldn’t ever bleed through. Maybe this place, Mel, was exactly what he needed. A fresh start. Different from the kid, from the teen who’d skated away from that kid. Different from the twenty-something phenom who’d poured his life into a young man’s game.

  Maybe he should start demanding to know. Demanding to be trusted. Maybe it was time to man up.

  “You know what, fuck dinner.”

  Her head popped from behind the refrigerator door. “Huh?”

  “I said fuck dinner. Because if you don’t want to tell me what happened, then you can’t stay here.” Which was probably all wrong. He was probably messing it up by making this ridiculous ultimatum.

  But, hey, it was better than running away.

  Chapter 19

  Mel tried to make sen
se of the words hanging in the air, like some sort of line he was drawing between them. If you don’t want to tell me what happened, then you can’t stay here.

  So, where was she supposed to go? What was she supposed to do if she couldn’t be here? Why…why did that hurt so much? What did it matter if he turned her away? She was more than used to that. Not getting what she’d asked for.

  Except, what exactly had she asked for? A place to stay. Him to forget about her being upset. Those weren’t the things she really wanted. Why should she be angry at him for not giving them to her?

  “It’s not asking much to know why you showed up at my door upset. It’s not… It should not be this much of a question. Why can’t you tell me? What is it? You think I can’t handle it?”

  He was angry, his hands in fists, his eyes blazing, but underneath it was something more than anger. It was something she hated having put there, was so confused as to how she had. He was hurt. How had she hurt him?

  “Handle isn’t the right word,” she said, doing her best to make her voice sound even. She didn’t know the right word. Didn’t know the answer to his question. Why couldn’t she tell him? Because she damn well didn’t want to.

  He swore and turned away, as if she’d told him to go to hell.

  She didn’t want to argue. She didn’t want to be mad and confused anymore. She just wanted to lie down. In his bed. With him. “It’s just not something I want to talk about.” Maybe if she said it calmly, reasonably enough, he’d get it through his thick skull.

  “Why not?”

  “B-Because.” She knew it wasn’t an answer, but she didn’t have one. Because it would be too hard, too revealing, because it would make her cry and feel weak and stupid all over again.

  “Because why, Mel?” he said through gritted teeth, his hands still in fists, everything about him tense and angry, and that damn hurt, she just…she hated it. Hated being at fault for it.

  “I don’t know!”

  “Bull. Shit. Why wouldn’t you want to tell me why you’re upset, why you’re hurt? What possible reason do you have to keep that from me when I’m on your side, when all I’d do is support you in whatever lame way I could? Why wouldn’t you want that? Do you think I can’t? I can’t understand? I can’t be there? You think sharing your hurt with me is somehow gonna break me?”

  She wanted to laugh. Break him? If she was honest and told him everything that happened, she would break. Maybe he would see that she wasn’t the person she tried so hard to be. She wasn’t the person who stayed, the person who rose above all the hard things life threw at her. She pretended, and when that got to be too much, she walked away.

  She turned away from him and his anger and hurt and demands and words and everything. It was too much. “Why does it matter?” Seriously, why did it matter? What she’d felt had never mattered before.

  “It matters because I care about you!”

  He may as well have punched her for the force of those words, and she had to grab on to the countertop to keep upright. She couldn’t breathe for a second. Care. Care. God, why?

  “Why are you surprised by that? What the hell have we been doing the past few weeks if you’re surprised by that?”

  I’m not worth it. The thought made her sick to her stomach. Was she really this big of a mess she couldn’t even handle someone being kind? That’s what this was. She had helped him build his ranch, and there was an attraction there, so he thought it was more.

  He’d figure it out soon enough. When he went back to hockey and his other life, he’d realize this had just been a nice passing phase. She was never going to be the thing he wanted. She was too cold and brittle to be the thing anyone wanted.

  He touched her shoulder, gently, and she had to fight against the ripple of pleasure, the warmth of comfort. The insidious belief maybe he could care, maybe she wasn’t untouchable, maybe she could be something someone stayed for or worked for…

  She went cold, because she already knew that wasn’t the case. “That’s very…” Her voice cracked and wouldn’t go any further until she cleared her throat, until she dug her fingertips hard into the counter to find some strength. “That’s very nice of you.”

  “Nice? You think I’m being nice? Caring about you is nice?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed, but it was not an amused laugh.

  “It’s nice that I care about you, but run along, Daniel. You’re not needed for the hard stuff.”

  She puzzled a bit at that. But she couldn’t dwell on his hurt when hers was freezing her from the inside out. “I can handle it. And I wouldn’t mind having a little space to handle it.”

  “Space? Space to handle it alone? Because you don’t need me.”

  “That is what I said.”

  “Fuck you, Mel.” She didn’t turn, but she heard his footsteps, the door wrenched open and slammed shut.

  She slumped against the counter. What was happening? Why couldn’t she get a handle on anything? Where was she supposed to go now? What was she supposed to do?

  I care about you!

  Wasn’t that what she wanted? Someone to care? Except that hadn’t worked with Tyler. He had cared and it had been suffocating, because she hadn’t wanted to return it.

  That wasn’t the problem now. That was the opposite of the problem right now. She wanted so badly to return that caring to Dan. She already had.

  Even knowing it would somehow all blow up in her face, she cared. She wanted to confide in him, and maybe that was the worst part. She wanted to give him what he wanted, but she was so afraid that would be the thing that ended it all between them.

  But it was going to end anyway, right? This wasn’t ever going to be till death do us part, so at least this way…at least if he walked away over who she was, it would be…well, it would be what it always was, and she’d never be able to convince herself it was just distance and different lives.

  It was her. The lack in her. Maybe if she stopped forgetting or ignoring that, something would go right. She wouldn’t keep getting hurt.

  She pushed away from the counter, her limbs shaky, her reasoning even shakier as she forced herself to the door. She would be honest, she would give him what he wanted, and when he turned away…it would be okay.

  She knew it was coming. Better to get it over with now.

  She stared at the door, trying to ignore the hope inside of her. Trying to ignore the way it multiplied and suffocated the certainty that he would find her lacking.

  What if he doesn’t? What if he still cares? She couldn’t…she couldn’t entertain that thought, so she pushed outside.

  “Dan?”

  She searched the yard, finding him halfway to the stables. He stopped, but he didn’t turn around to face her. The moon shone against his back, making his hair edge toward silver before the clouds shrouded it all. He was so tense and hurt. Still that hurt. It was so much worse than hurting Tyler because…because…

  Because it’s a lie, you asshole.

  “I’m afraid.” Was that her voice? Wavering in the quiet night, barely more than a whisper, confessing things she never wanted to confess.

  He turned, and while his face was still hard, she knew this was her foothold. If she chose to take it. “Afraid of what?”

  Oh, God. How was she going to do this? She swallowed, forcing her legs to take her down the stairs and into the grass. Closer and closer to him.

  You want that. You want him. He’s just not yours to have. “I’m afraid…that it’s not enough. That I’m…” Sadly, even in the truth, she couldn’t give the full truth. Because she wasn’t afraid of not being enough—she already knew she wasn’t. “That what I do is never enough.”

  “Everything you’ve done for me is more than enough.”

  “Those have all been easy things. Little things.”

  “Not to me.” This time
he took a step toward her, and then another. “To me they’ve been everything.” He was close enough to touch, and after a moment, he did. His fingers curled around her shoulders, pulling her close enough to kiss.

  But he didn’t kiss her. He looked her directly in the eye. “Tell me what happened.”

  She took a deep breath. She’d come this far. There was no going back now. She had to explain no matter how it pained her to do it. “I told them I was leaving, and I wouldn’t come back.”

  “Why?”

  “I got home, and the cows were loose, and Dad didn’t care, and Caleb was…something is wrong with him, but he won’t tell me what. And I knew I’d messed up, because if I’d gone home last night—”

  His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Isn’t Caleb supposed to be taking care of the ranch? Isn’t that his responsibility?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what? You can’t do everything. No one can do everything.”

  “Then he can’t exactly do everything, either. I don’t have a choice when it comes to—”

  “You do have a choice. You told me that in the restaurant in Bozeman. That you wake up every day and make a choice. So Caleb made the shitty choice and your dad has been making a shitty choice and you walked because…”

  Because she was her mother. Because she didn’t have half the strength she pretended to. Because she was a failure at everything, but she was really good at pretending she wasn’t.

  This time his fingers didn’t just tighten on her shoulders—he gave her a little shake. “Answer me.”

  “Why?” she said a little too desperately, fearfully, all her cracks getting bigger. She’d already let so much slip out—why did there have to be more? It hurt too much to let out any more.

  “Because I want to know when you’re hurt, and I want to know what I can do to help, and I hate wanting to know that, because God knows I will screw it all up, but I do want it. I want it, I want you to trust me with it, and I want you and…”

  “Why would you screw it up?”