He was still trying to pull things out of his own soul, and all he got was dry, hard work that looked downright ugly to him.
“I should be,” he said, stubborn.
“This isn’t about Dad, though. I don’t even think it’s about the art, though I think it’s related. There was a woman, wasn’t there?”
Sam snorted. “When?”
“Recently. Like the past week. Mostly I think so because I recognize that all-consuming obsession. Because I recognize this. Because you came and kicked my ass when I was in a very similar position just a year ago. And you know what you told me? With great authority, you told me that iron had to get hot to get shaped into something. You told me that I was in my fire, and I had to let it shape me into the man Anna needed me to be.”
“Yeah, I guess I did tell you that,” Sam said.
“Obviously I’m not privy to all the details of your personal life, Sam, which is your prerogative. But you’re in here actively attempting to drink yourself to death. You say that you can’t find any inspiration for your art. I would say that you’re in a pretty damn bad situation. And maybe you need to pull yourself out of it. If that means grabbing hold of her—whoever she is—then do it.”
Sam felt like the frustration inside him was about to overflow. “I can’t. There’s too much... There’s too much. If you knew, Chase. If you knew everything about me, you wouldn’t think I deserved it.”
“Who deserves it?” Chase asked. “Does anybody? Do you honestly think I deserve Anna? I don’t. But I love her. And I work every day to deserve her. It’s a work in progress, let me tell you. But that’s love. You just kind of keep working for it.”
“There are too many other things in the way,” Sam said, because he didn’t know how else to articulate it. Without having a confessional, here in his studio, he didn’t know how else to have this conversation.
“What things? What are you afraid of, Sam? Having a feeling? Is that what all this is about? The fact you want to protect yourself? The fact that it matters more to you that you get to keep your stoic expression and your who-gives-a-damn attitude intact?”
“It isn’t that. It’s never been that. But how—” He started again. “How was I supposed to grieve for Dad when you lost your mentor? How was I supposed to grieve for Mom when you were so young? It wasn’t fair.” And how the hell was he supposed to grieve for Elizabeth, for the child he didn’t even know she had been carrying, when her own family was left with nothing.
“Of course you could grieve for them. They were your parents.”
“Somebody has to be strong, Chase.”
“And you thought I was weak? You think somehow grieving for my parents was weak?”
“Of course not. But... I was never the man that Dad wanted me to be. Now when he was alive. I didn’t do what he wanted me to do. I didn’t want the things that he wanted.”
“Neither did I. And we both just about killed ourselves working this place the way that he wanted us to while it slowly sank into the ground. Then we had to do things on our terms. Because actually, we did know what we were talking about. And who we are, the gifts that we have, those mattered. If it wasn’t for the fact that I have a business mind, if it wasn’t for the fact that you could do the artwork, the ranch wouldn’t be here. McCormack Ironworks wouldn’t exist. And if Dad had lived, he would be proud of us. Because in the end we saved this place.”
“I just don’t... I had a girlfriend who died.” He didn’t know why he had spoken the words. He hadn’t intended to. “She wasn’t my girlfriend when she died. But she bled to death. At the hospital. She had been pregnant. And it was mine.”
Chase cursed and fell back against the wall, bracing himself. “Seriously?”
“Yes. And I want... I want to do something with that feeling. But her family is devastated, Chase. They lost so much more than I did. And I don’t know how... I don’t know what to do with all of this. I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings. I don’t feel like I deserve them. I don’t feel like I deserve the pain. Not in the way that I deserve to walk away from it unscathed. But I feel like it isn’t mine. Like I’m taking something from them, or making something about me that just shouldn’t be. But it’s there all the same. And it follows me around. And Maddy loves me. She said she loves me. And I don’t know how to take that either.”
“Bullshit,” Chase said, his voice rough. “That’s not it.”
“Don’t tell me how it is, Chase, not when you don’t know.”
“Of course I know, Sam. Loss is hell. And I didn’t lose half of what you did.”
“It was just the possibility of something. Elizabeth. It wasn’t... It was just...”
“Sam. You lost your parents. And a woman you were involved with who was carrying your baby. Of course you’re screwed up. But walking around pretending you’re just grumpy, pretending you don’t want anything, that you don’t care about anything, doesn’t protect you from pain. It’s just letting fear poison you from the inside.”
Sam felt like he was staring down into an abyss that had no end. A yawning, bottomless cavern that was just full of need. All the need he had ever felt his entire life. The words ricocheted back at him, hit him like shrapnel, damaging, wounding. They were the truth. That it was what drove him, that it was what stopped him.
Fear.
That it was why he had spent so many years hiding.
And as blindingly clear as it was, it was also clear that Maddy was right about him. More right about him than he’d ever been about himself.
That confession made him think of Maddy too. Of the situation she was in with her father. Of those broken words she had spoken to him about how if her own father didn’t think she was worth defending, who would? And he had sent her away, like he didn’t think she was worth it either. Like he didn’t think she was worth the pain or the risk.
Except he did. He thought she was worth defending. That she was worth loving. That she was worth everything.
Sam felt... Well, nothing on this earth had ever made him feel small before. But this did it. He felt scared. He felt weak. Mostly he felt a kind of overwhelming sadness for everything he’d lost. For all the words that were left unsaid. The years of grief that had built up.
It had never been about control. It had never been based in reality. Or about whether or not he deserved something. Not really. He was afraid of feeling. Of loss. More loss after years and years of it.
But his father had died without knowing. Without knowing that even though things weren’t always the best between them, Sam had loved him. Elizabeth had died without knowing Sam had cared.
Protecting himself meant hurting other people. And it damn well hurt him.
Maddy had been brave enough to show him. And he had rejected it. Utterly. Completely. She had been so brave, and he had remained shut down as he’d been for years.
She had removed any risk of rejection and still he had been afraid. He had been willing to lose her this time.
“Do you know why the art is hard?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Because. If I make what I really want to, then I actually have to feel it.”
He hated saying it. Hated admitting it. But he knew, somehow, that this was essential to his soul. That if he was ever going to move on from this place, from this dry, drunken place that produced nothing but anguish, he had to start saying these things. He had to start committing to these things.
“I had a lot behind this idea that I wasn’t good enough. That I didn’t deserve to feel. Because...the alternative is feeling it. It’s caring when it’s easier to be mad at everything. Hoping for things when so much is already dead.”
“What’s the alternative?” Chase asked.
He looked around his studio. At all the lifeless things. Hard and sharp. Just like he was. The alter
native was living without hope. The alternative was acting like he was dead too.
“This,” he said finally. “And life without Maddy. I’d rather risk everything than live without her.”
Chapter 13
Madison looked around the beautifully appointed room. The grand party facility at the ranch was decorated in evergreen boughs and white Christmas lights, the trays of glittering champagne moving by somehow adding to the motif. Sparkling. Pristine.
Maddy herself was dressed in a gown that could be described in much the same manner. A pale yellow that caught the lights and glimmered like sun on new-fallen snow.
However, it was a prime example of how appearances can be deceiving. She felt horrible. Much more like snow that had been mixed up with gravel. Gritty. Gray.
Hopefully no one was any the wiser. She was good at putting on a brave face. Good at pretending everything was fine. Something she had perfected over the years. Not just at these kinds of public events but at family events too.
Self-protection was her favorite accessory. It went with everything.
She looked outside, at the terrace, which was lit by a thatch of Christmas lights, heated by a few freestanding heaters. However, no one was out there. She took a deep breath, seeing her opportunity for escape. And she took it. She just needed a few minutes. A few minutes to feel a little bit less like her face would crack beneath the weight of her fake smile.
A few minutes to take a deep breath and not worry so much that it would turn into a sob.
She grabbed hold of a glass of champagne, then moved quickly to the door, slipping out into the chilly night air. She went over near one of the heaters, wrapping her arms around herself and simply standing for a moment, looking out into the inky blackness, looking at nothing. It felt good. It was a relief to her burning eyes. A relief to her scorched soul.
All of this feelings business was rough. She wasn’t entirely certain she could recommend it.
“What’s going on, Maddy?”
She turned around, trying to force a smile when she saw her brother Gage standing there.
“I just needed a little bit of quiet,” she said, lifting her glass of champagne.
“Sure.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m not used to this kind of thing. I spent a lot of time on the road. In crappy hotels. Not a lot of time at these sorts of get-togethers.”
“Regretting the whole return-of-the-prodigal-son thing? Because it’s too late to unkill that fatted calf, young man. You’re stuck.”
He laughed. “No. I’m glad that I’m back. Because of you. Because of Colton, Sierra. Even Jack.”
“Rebecca?”
“Of course.” He took a deep breath, closing the distance between them. “So what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” she said, smiling.
“I have a feeling that everybody else usually buys that. Which is why you do it. But I don’t. Is it Jack? Is it having him here?”
She thought about that. Seriously thought about it. “No,” she said, truthful. “I’m glad. I’m so glad that we’re starting to fix some of this. I spent a long time holding on to my anger. My anger at Dad. At the past. All of my pain. And Jack got caught up in that. Because of the circumstances. We are all very different people. And getting to this point... I feel like we took five different paths. But here we are. And it isn’t for Dad. It’s for us. I think that’s good. I spent a lot of time doing things in response to him. In response to the pain that he caused me. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to act from a place of pain and fear anymore.”
“That’s quite a different stance. I mean, since last we talked at The Grind.”
She tried to smile again, wandering over to one of the wooden pillars. “I guess some things happened.” She pressed her palm against the cold surface, then her forehead. She took a deep breath. In and out, slowly, evenly.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “Not really. But I will be.”
“I know I missed your first big heartbreak. And I feel like I would have done that bastard some bodily harm. I have quite a bit of internalized rage built up. If you need me to hurt anyone... I will. Gladly.”
She laughed. “I appreciate that. Really, I do. It’s just that...it’s a good thing this is happening. It’s making me realize a lot of things. It’s making me change a lot of things. I just wish it didn’t hurt.”
“You know...when Rebecca told me that she loved me, it scared the hell out of me. And I said some things that I shouldn’t have said. That no one should ever say to anyone. I regretted it. But I was running scared, and I wanted to make sure she didn’t come after me. I’m so glad that she forgave me when I realized what an idiot I was.”
She lifted her head, turning to face him. “That sounds a lot like brotherly advice.”
“It is. And maybe it’s not relevant to your situation. I don’t know. But what I do know is that we both have a tendency to hold on to pain. On to anger. If you get a chance to fix this, I hope you forgive the bastard. As long as he’s worthy.”
“How will I know he’s worthy?” she asked, a bit of humor lacing her voice.
“Well, I’ll have to vet him. At some point.”
“Assuming he ever speaks to me again, I would be happy to arrange that.”
Gage nodded. “If he’s half as miserable as you are, trust me, he’ll be coming after you pretty quick.”
“And you think I should forgive him?”
“I think that men are a bunch of hardheaded dumb-asses. And some of us need more chances than others. And I thank God every day I got mine. With this family. With Rebecca. So it would be mean-spirited of me not to advocate for the same for another of my species.”
“I’ll keep that under advisement.”
Gage turned to go. “Do that. But if he keeps being a dumbass, let me know. Because I’ll get together a posse or something.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Hopefully the posse won’t be necessary.”
He shrugged, then walked back into the party. She felt fortified then. Because she knew she had people on her side. No matter what. She wasn’t alone. And that felt good. Even when most everything felt bad.
She let out a long, slow breath and rested her forearms on the railing, leaning forward, staring out across the darkened field. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she could see straight out to the ocean in spite of the fact that it was dark.
She was starting to get cold, even with the artificial heat. But it was entirely possible the chill was coming from inside her. Side effects of heartbreak and all of that.
“Merry Christmas Eve.”
She straightened, blinking, looking out into the darkness. Afraid to turn around. That voice was familiar. And it didn’t belong to anyone in her family.
She turned slowly, her heart stalling when she saw Sam standing there. He was wearing a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a black jacket and a pair of black slacks. His hair was disheveled, and she was pretty sure she could see a bit of soot on his chest where the open shirt exposed his skin.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.” He took a step closer to her. “Bad enough that I put this on.”
“Where did you get it?”
“The secondhand store on Main.”
“Wow.” No matter what he had to say, the fact that Sam McCormack had shown up in a suit said a whole lot without him ever opening his mouth.
“It doesn’t really fit. And I couldn’t figure out how to tie the tie.” And of course, he hadn’t asked anyone for help. Sam never would. It just wasn’t him.
“Well, then going without was definitely the right method.”
“I have my moments of brilliance.” He shook his head. “But the other da
y wasn’t one of them.”
Her heart felt as if it were in a free fall, her stomach clenching tight. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I agree. I mean, unreservedly. But I am open to hearing about your version of why you didn’t think you were brilliant. Just in case we have differing opinions on the event.”
He cursed. “I’m not good at this.” He took two steps toward her, then reached out, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I hate this, in fact. I’m not good at talking about feelings. And I’ve spent a lot of years trying to bury them down deep. I would like to do it now. But I know there’s no good ending to that. I know that I owe you more.”
“Go on,” she said, keeping her eyes on his, her voice trembling, betraying the depth of emotion she felt.
She had never seen Sam quite like this, on edge, like he might shatter completely at any moment. “I told you I thought I didn’t deserve these feelings. And I believed it.”
“I know you did,” she said, the words broken. “I know that you never lied on purpose, Sam. I know.”
“I don’t deserve that. That certainty. I didn’t do anything to earn it.”
She shook her head. “Stop. We’re not going to talk like that. About what we deserve. I don’t know what I deserve. But I know what I want. I want you. And I don’t care if I’m jumping the gun. I don’t care if I didn’t make you grovel enough. It’s true. I do.”
“Maddy...”
“This all comes because we tried to protect ourselves for too long. Because we buried everything down deep. I don’t have any defenses anymore. I can’t do it anymore. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Which you can see, because I’m basically throwing myself at you again.”
“I’ve always been afraid there was something wrong with me.” His dark eyes were intense, and she could tell that he was wishing he could turn to stone rather than finish what he was saying. But that he was determined. That he had put his foot on the path and he wasn’t going to deviate from it. “Something wrong with what I felt. And I pushed it all down. I always have. I’ve been through stuff that would make a lot of people crazy. But if you keep shoving it on down, it never gets any better.” He shook his head. “I’ve been holding on to grief. Holding on to anger. I didn’t know what else to do with it. My feelings about my parents, my feelings about Elizabeth, the baby. It’s complicated. It’s a lot. And I think more than anything I just didn’t want to deal with it. I had a lot of excuses, and they felt real. They even felt maybe a little bit noble?”
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