A Nice Day for a Cowboy Wedding Read online

  “Shane, please,” Molly whispered.

  It was only because Molly was crying now, and he had the sneaking suspicion the noise he heard behind him was Mom crying, that he relented.

  He might want Boone gone, but Boone did owe that apology to Cora and Micah both.

  Shane didn’t say anything as they climbed in the car. He sat in the passenger seat, jaw clenched so tight it started to throb, and all he could think about was how long the drive was taking for them. For Cora it had to feel twice as long, and she was alone.

  Completely alone. Because of his fucking brother.

  “I can’t believe you did this,” he couldn’t help but say. “I can’t believe after everything I told you, you went ahead and did it anyway.”

  “We were in the back. If we hadn’t run into a snake, we would have been fine. I was watching him. I was—”

  “He’s getting surgery. God help whoever you decide to take care of next.”

  “We can’t all be perfect, Shane.”

  “Get it all out right now,” Molly said bitterly. “Get this dick measuring match out of your systems before you dare take one step toward that hospital. You want to be angry at each other, you have right at it, but I’ll be damned if I let either of you walk in there and upset Cora further.”

  “I won’t upset her,” Shane retorted. “And if you do—”

  “I’m coming to apologize,” Boone exploded. “This isn’t about you. I made a mistake, not to hurt you, but because I wanted to give that poor kid something. You heard what he said.”

  “Yeah, I heard what he said. That he’d been hurt e-damn-nough. So you thought you’d risk his safety?”

  Boone didn’t say anything to that, and they glared at each other in silence until Molly cleared her throat.

  “We’re here,” she said before fixing them each with a hard stare. “You got your bullshit out of your systems?”

  Shane didn’t bother to respond. All of his feelings regarding Boone’s disregard for a child’s safety, Boone’s disregard for him and every damn thing on this planet, they didn’t matter.

  All that mattered was that Micah was okay, and that Cora was holding up, and Shane would swallow down all the simmering rage he felt toward his brother.

  At least until they were back home. Then, then maybe he and Boone would have it out once and for all.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Cora was in some awful waiting room after having filled out a bunch of paperwork that hadn’t made any sense. Sitting, all alone, trying not to imagine worse-case scenarios where everything went all wrong and she’d lost her baby.

  Because she didn’t deserve happiness. Hadn’t life taught her that?

  She jolted when an arm came around her shoulders, then immediately began to sob into Shane’s shoulder.

  “He’s just in there. Just in there.”

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” he whispered, rubbing her back. It didn’t take away the horrible dread, the awful thoughts, but at least she got to lean on someone.

  “I need to call Lilly,” she realized with a start. “I need—”

  “Mom was calling Mile High when we left,” Molly said softly. Oh, Molly was here. She blinked up at Molly’s sympathetic face. That was nice.

  Cora couldn’t figure out why Boone hovered behind Molly, or why the air between the three was all tense, but she didn’t want to. She leaned into Shane, and he rubbed a hand up and down her spine.

  She breathed, trying to get control of her tears, of this weird, numb, nonsense feeling. She’d have to get clearer and more in control once Micah was . . .

  God. Surgery.

  “Cora.”

  It was Boone’s voice, and it didn’t escape Cora’s notice that Shane tensed from head to toe. She looked curiously at Shane, but his face was blank and hard.

  She turned in the waiting room seat to face Boone, who was holding his hat so tight in his hands he’d fairly crushed it. He stepped forward so that he was standing right in front of her. His gaze flicked to Shane, and his jaw hardened before he turned his attention back to her.

  “I wanted to apologize, because as much as Micah’s fall was an accident, I do feel responsible. Shane warned me not to take him on the drive. I thought it’d be fun for him. A snake spooked his horse, and, maybe if I’d been a hundred percent I could have fixed it before he fell off, but . . . Well, anyway, it was irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry Micah had to pay the price. I’m sorry you have to.”

  Cora managed a weak smile. “You don’t have to feel responsible, Boone. I know you didn’t—”

  “Don’t tell him that,” Shane said, the sentence cold and flat.

  Cora blinked over at Shane, utterly confused at that fury in his voice. “Shane, it was an accident. Accidents happen.”

  “An accident that would not have happened if he had listened to me for once in his life.”

  “Shane . . .” She didn’t know what to say. Her head hurt too much. This was too much complication and emotion and upheaval.

  But she had to be the strong one here. God, somebody did, and, maybe for once in her life, it should be her.

  Her son was in surgery, yes, but he was in good hands. A broken arm wasn’t a head injury or something truly serious. She sucked in a breath and slowly let it out.

  The reason these two men were so angry, well, aside from deep-seated family issues, was because they cared about her son. Cared if he was all right, cared if he was happy. Somehow, the Tylers had opened their arms and accepted Micah and her as part of their circle of concern.

  They were a messed up circle of concern, but it was nice to know even the best, most loving families made up of amazing people were a little screwy on the inside.

  She met Boone’s gaze, so like Shane’s, and she smiled. “Thank you for apologizing. I appreciate it.”

  He nodded and stepped away, taking a seat a few chairs down from her. Molly gave her shoulder a pat, then went to sit next to him. Cora didn’t understand why they’d put so much space between them, until she looked at Shane.

  He looked so furious. Which, she supposed, made sense. He was angry at Boone for disobeying him, so to speak, but Shane . . . He took so much responsibility on his own shoulders, he probably felt guilty.

  It was something like a relief to have something to focus on other than Micah. She’d comfort Shane, get him to understand this wasn’t the end of the world, and it’d make her feel a little better herself.

  She slid her arm around his shoulders. “Shane, I know you blame yourself for what happened to your father, but you shouldn’t, any more than Boone should feel responsible for what happened to Micah. Even if he hadn’t taken Micah on that drive, accidents happen. Boys break bones and hurt themselves. I don’t love it, but it’s . . . Well, there’s a lot worse ways a person can be hurt.”

  “You know that pretty well, don’t you?” Shane asked, and there was such accusation in his voice.

  Something icy and cold rippled down her spine as she slowly met his gaze. “What does that mean?”

  His mouth was a grim line, and she’d never seen him like this. At a sort of breaking point. So desperate to keep his control on all those emotions whirling in his dark eyes, but it was all close to the surface. Almost as though there was a visible crack in all his strength.

  He looked down at his hands, which were clenched into fists, so tight his knuckles were white. “It doesn’t matter.”

  She felt panic flutter in her stomach, just the leading edge of it. “It matters to me. What did you mean by that?”

  Slowly, so slowly it felt like slow motion, his gaze moved from his fists to her face. “Micah told me.”

  “Told you what?” she whispered, even though she knew. Every hard beat of her heart against her chest knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “We shouldn’t . . .” He shook his head, looking away again. “Micah is what’s important right now. We can discuss this later.”

  “No, that is not an option.” Later?
As if it could just be pushed off. That he . . . “What did my son tell you that made you say that?”

  Shane shook his head, still staring at those fists, and how was this the way things were happening? They were supposed to be happy. They were supposed to lean on each other through hard things, not splinter apart.

  “Micah told me his father used to hurt both of you, you most of all, repeatedly.” Again, Shane’s gaze slowly locked to hers. “I wanted to believe it wasn’t true or was some kind of exaggeration, but it isn’t, is it?”

  It was her turn to look away. “Why do you want to believe all that? Is it really so awful that it changes how you feel about me?”

  “Nothing changes the way I feel about you, Cora,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “I told you that. This isn’t about what happened. It isn’t about what you’ve survived. It’s about the fact you didn’t tell me.”

  Survived. She hated that word. She hadn’t survived. She’d been weak and stupid and had put her family through hell.

  “Why would Micah . . .” She couldn’t wrap her mind around all of this. That it was happening, that Micah had told Shane. When he’d . . . he’d been so adamant they not tell, but he’d told Shane anyway?

  “Why would Micah tell me? Because it was the truth. And maybe someone thought I deserved it.”

  But it didn’t make sense. It didn’t . . . “When?”

  “On the way to the game.”

  Cora tried to work through it all. So, not that long ago, but . . . Oh God, everything that had happened after the game. I love you, and him saying those things about...

  Fury shot through her, and she grabbed onto it. Anger and blame was so much better than fear and shame.

  “Oh, I see, so that’s why you told me about your father? A little manipulative tit for tat. Is that why you said you loved me too?”

  “No, it is not.”

  “Sure.” Why should she believe that? He felt sorry for her. Wanted to protect her from things. Why wouldn’t he just decide he loved her so he could bundle her up like he tried to do with everyone else? She crossed her arms over her chest, breathing not even, everything inside of her hurting.

  “Don’t you dare turn this on me,” Shane returned, and everything about his voice was a vibrating fury she’d never seen from him, even when dealing with Boone. “I told you everything. Everything I’d never told anyone. Do you know what it’s like to have a twelve-year-old upend everything?”

  She looked at him dolefully. “Kinda regularly, Shane.”

  He sat there, breathing hard, but he was so strong. So much better than her. He fused that crack in his control back together right before her eyes. “Now is not the time to fight,” he said, calm and sure and so in charge.

  She hated it. “Oh, isn’t it? When would be the time? Would you like to schedule it?” She pretended to check her phone. “I have time on the fifteenth.”

  “Guys—”

  “Why are you mad at me?” Shane demanded. “I have done everything right.”

  “Yes, you’re always right, and everyone else is to blame when something goes wrong, and, well, it must be nice, Shane. To never make a mistake. To be able to blame accidents on your brother and—”

  “Guys,” Molly repeated more firmly. “People are looking.”

  “I don’t give a shit,” Cora snapped. “Why don’t you all take a good, long look?” she asked of the curious faces in the waiting room staring in their direction.

  Shane abruptly got to his feet. “I love you, and I love your kid, so I’m going to step outside and not spew my anger all over you, because I’m not a worthless piece of shit like the man who did all of that to you.”

  That shut her up, because . . . He just . . . Why were they fighting? How had this gotten so damn twisted?

  Because he knows, and now you’re different to him. That’s how.

  “Cora, oh, sweetheart.” Lilly slid into the chair next to her and grabbed her in a hug. “How’s Micah?”

  Cora leaned into her sister, empty and spent, and how many times had that been the case? “He’s in surgery,” she managed to mumble. “Did they—”

  “Deb said it was a broken arm.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Where are the babies?”

  “Brandon stayed home with them for now, though he can pawn them off on everyone else if we need him. Or anyone else can help. Whatever you need. What . . . Why was Shane storming out of here?”

  Cora shook her head. “Everything’s all messed up.” Because she’d had the insane thought she could handle this, do this, be this. But a failure was all she was. Useless and stupid like Stephen had always said. A burden to him and Lilly and Micah.

  “Cora, don’t go there,” Lilly whispered into her ear, hugging her fiercely. “I know it’s hard when things are bad, but don’t let those old lies back in.”

  Cora could see Shane pacing the sidewalk outside the windowed doors. Angry, so damn angry, and yet he was out there stomping out his anger on the sidewalk. He’d said he loved her.

  “I wish I was strong enough to do it on my own.” Wasn’t it just weakness to need to know he loved her? To need Micah to need her and Lilly to remind her?

  Lilly pulled back, searching Cora’s face. “We can’t do everything alone. What would be the point if we could get through without people who love us?”

  “Ms. Preston?”

  Cora blinked up at the nurse, who smiled kindly. “He’s out of surgery and doing well, though he’s still under anesthesia and will be for a while. You’ll be able to go back soon, and a doctor will explain everything to you. Just give us a few more minutes to get him settled into a room.”

  Cora nodded silently. She inhaled and exhaled. “He’s doing well.”

  “He’s doing well,” Lilly repeated, squeezing her close again.

  That was all that could matter right now, but no matter how Cora told herself that, her eyes drifted out the window to Shane’s solitary, pacing figure. All she could think was he knew.

  The worst parts of herself. There was no taking that back.

  Ever.

  * * *

  Shane didn’t know how long he paced outside after watching Cora be taken back into the hallways of the hospital.

  He’d wanted to rush in, to be with her. She didn’t want that. So he walked and tried to find some solution for this. Some fix. Everything was broken, but he could fix it. He’d find away to fix it.

  The sad fact of the matter was, no one wanted that. His help, his guidance, his protection. No one wanted him.

  That was a hell of a self-centered thought to have when a kid was in the hospital. So, he walked the sidewalk, thinking if he could just get his brain to focus, he could fix this. He could....

  “Man, I thought I had the market cornered on self-absorbed moping.”

  Shane didn’t turn toward Boone’s voice. He couldn’t even work up a good mad. It had all leaked out of him. He’d done everything right. He’d been honest with her. He’d loved her, and here he was again having it not be enough.

  Not remotely enough.

  She didn’t believe him. Didn’t trust him. Was somehow furious that he knew. He didn’t know what else he could do, what else he had to give. Certainly nothing to Boone.

  “I’m done, Boone. I’m just done. Go home.”

  “Situations reversed, you wouldn’t.”

  Shane stared into the dark evening around him. He wished for the quiet of the ranch, the dark shadows of the mountains, anything to ease these ragged edges inside of him. “Since when do you care what I’d do?”

  “A little longer than you’d think. A lot longer than I’d ever admit.”

  Shane didn’t have it in him for riddles. Especially Boone’s riddles.

  “Never seen you like this,” Boone continued in that maddeningly conversational tone. As if this were any other day. As if everyone wasn’t hurting.

  “I’m begging you, Boone. Don’t push me right now.”

  “I’m just interested to see h
ow far you’ll go.” He rubbed his jaw with his palm. “Don’t know how many years I spent trying to get you to hit me, then you finally did and I wasn’t even trying.”

  “You want me to hit you again?” Shane asked, though he didn’t think he had the energy. All this anger only made him exhausted.

  “Maybe,” Boone replied as if considering. “You could just go with the truth.”

  “Who cares about the truth?”

  “Good point. Guess you could just fester and explode later. Sounds more like the Tyler way.”

  The Tyler way. Shane had always thought it was superior. The best way. Look at him now. He thought he’d finally put all the pieces together, and they’d just . . . Well, they’d more than fallen apart. Everything was wrong and jumbled, and he didn’t even know how.

  “I just don’t know why . . .” Was he really going to empty this all on Boone of all people? He shook his head. But no one else was here, and Cora had made it perfectly clear she didn’t understand him. Whatever love meant to her, it was something different from how he meant it.

  Felt a little too familiar.

  “You don’t know why what?”

  “Why she wouldn’t tell me. Why won’t anyone tell me? I know I haven’t always been the most open guy, but I’ve been trying. And all I get is secrets from her and shit from you and . . . and . . . Ben fucking Donahue is the most upfront person with me in this whole world right now, and I don’t get it.”

  “Okay,” Boone replied, so unceasingly calm. “You want to know why I took the kid on the drive?”

  “Because I told you not to? Because you didn’t care if he got hurt? Or if anyone got hurt because all that matters is that you have a good time?”

  “No. Much as I’d like to blame you for all those answers, I figure I’ve cultivated that idea hard enough I can’t blame you for believing it.”

  The worst part was Shane didn’t believe it. Not really. For all Boone’s faults, there was a good man under there. Shane had just never known how to reach that man.

  “Sometimes . . .” Boone said, leaning against the hospital building, talking in a low, soothing voice. A voice that reminded Shane strangely of himself. “Sometimes you see yourself in someone so damn clearly it hurts. And it scares the shit out of you, so you do something dumb.”