He sucked in a shallow breath and let it spill. “Daniels had been mentioning things here and there, like how he felt powerless to help you guys out and even if he got out of the army, he’d be no use. He just wanted to—” Cash shrugged weakly, “—help. He wanted to mean something and he’d been getting reckless, but I never thought— God, I’m so sorry, I would’ve dragged him out if I’d known he was going to go back in and kill…”
Cash couldn’t bring himself to say it. And he had a hard time not hating Daniels right now for putting him in this position.
Abbi’s face went ashen. “Perry killed himself.”
Cash ducked his head and it was all he could do to hold her gaze. “Yes. I didn’t say anything at the time because I was afraid of being wrong. I was afraid of being right. I was afraid of how much worse your family would take it if you knew it was intentional.”
No one moved except Ellis, who walked up behind Abbi’s parents and laid a hand on each of them.
“The money that paid off my school,” Abbi said woodenly. A strangled cry wrenched from her and tears welled in her eyes. “He thought his death would be better for me?”
She sobbed, seemed to try to hold it in, but another followed. Her mother silently wept behind her and her dad’s gaze was planted on the ground.
“He was depressed. It wasn’t your fault.”
“My son suffered from depression and no one helped him.” Mr. Daniels’s stricken tone cut Cash in two.
“We didn’t know. It wasn’t until afterward that I put it all together.”
Abbi’s dad speared him with a hard glare. “Because you were too busy having a good time.”
Cash bit down on his tongue. There was no hooking up or partying in Iraq. It was the most responsible he’d been in his life. But nothing he said would make any of them feel better.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Abbi’s ragged whisper barely cut through her tears.
“I wanted to protect you from it.”
She snarled. “You promised you wouldn’t do that!”
“Not about this, Abbi. I couldn’t let you blame yourself for this.”
She shoved her hair back and rolled her eyes skyward. “It wasn’t your decision to make. I came here to find out what happened to Perry. You knew that and you still didn’t tell me.”
No, he hadn’t. And if he had to do it over again, he wouldn’t have told any of them. The pain rolling off them was too much. He should’ve found another way to help Abbi’s relationship with her parents.
“You promised.” Her eyes glistened.
“I couldn’t do that to you.”
She spun on her heel and stormed to the house. “I’m getting my things.”
What? “Wait.”
She kept walking.
“Abbi!”
He trotted after her, past her dad and her mom crying on his shoulder, past Ellis. He looked as haggard as the rest of them. Couldn’t he at least look smug, give Cash a reason to hate him?
Cash barged into the house after his girlfriend.
“No.” Abbi didn’t even look over her shoulder as she charged into his bedroom and started throwing her things into her bag. “I’m not your mom and dad. I’m not Hannah. I’m not going to be babied like all the others in your life.”
“This is different. Your brother’s problems were way more serious than any of my family drama.”
She slammed the top closed. “Exactly. The most important thing you should’ve shared with me, and you kept it secret. You didn’t think I could handle it. I refuse to be treated like the rest of your family, and I refuse to be treated like I have been by everyone else in my life.”
“I knew you’d blame yourself for what your brother did. I couldn’t have you do that.”
“You’re not listening!” she yelled. “That’s not your choice. Of course I blame myself. But now I have the truth and I can work on healing.” She waved her hand between them. “But this is broken.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I’m going home.” She hauled her bag up and grabbed her tote and pushed past him out the door.
Outside, her dad waited by the trunk and her mom was already in Ellis’s car with Ellis at the wheel.
Cash followed her all the way to the back of the car. “You’re leaving, just like that? Can’t we talk about this?”
She dropped her luggage and whirled on him. “I gave you plenty of chances to talk. Plenty. I begged. And yet you lied.”
Her dad loaded the bags and went around to open the back door for her.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t realize how—”
“No, you didn’t, and I think that’s worse. I confided in you, and you ignored how important it was to me.” She closed the distance to the open door and turned to face him. He stood back, his feet anchored to the driveway. “I really fell for you. But I can’t do this if I’m going to just be another person in your life to coddle.”
She handed her car keys to her dad. “I’ll ride with Mom.”
She slid into the backseat with her mother; her dad shut the door. With one last hard look at Cash, he marched to Abbi’s car and got in.
Ellis backed around and drove off. Abbi was collapsed on her mom’s shoulder and they clung to each other. Cash watched them until they disappeared into the night with Abbi’s car trailing behind.
She’d left him. He wanted to call his mom and tell her she’d been right all along. He was no good for anyone.
Chapter Eighteen
Cash swayed with Patsy Cline’s steps. The bitter wind bit his face as he scowled at the line of cattle in front of him. He ducked his head down into the collar of his jacket. Snow was in the forecast for the week and since it was early November, the amounts could vary from a dusting to a full-fledged blizzard despite what the weather reported.
Another horse drew up next to him. Dillon on LeDoux. The two horses nickered at each other.
“I thought you’d look happier. This is the last herd we have to bring in.” Dillon had been a little smarter and wore a stocking hat and heavier gloves than the worn work gloves Cash wore.
“It’ll be nice to get out of the wind.” The tip of his nose had lost feeling an hour ago and his fingers hurt from being cold. Kind of how Cash had felt the last two weeks.
“Haven’t heard from her yet?”
Cash ground his teeth, couldn’t bring himself to shake his head. “She’s a champion at not answering her phone.”
“She’s grieving. Give her time.”
“She said she was done with me.” Some nights, he was tempted to jump in his truck and cruise to Green Bay. But chasing after her hadn’t worked for her ex.
“She probably thought she was, too. But finding out Perry killed himself is a whole new heartache to process.” Dillon dipped his gaze to LeDoux’s head. “I should’ve gone there and talked to his parents.”
“You didn’t know what he’d done.” If Dillon had, his drinking after he’d gotten home might’ve been worse.
“No, but I could’ve talked to them. At least eased their minds that they weren’t getting told fabricated stories.”
“If you want to go the shoulda route, then I should’ve recognized Perry was suicidal. I was closer to him than the rest of the guys.”
“Would you really have known?” When Cash didn’t say anything, Dillon continued. “We didn’t know, Cash. And we can’t go back and make ourselves know.”
“Did I do the wrong thing by not telling her?” Because it sure didn’t feel like it. Cash had absorbed all the grief that had spilled off her parents that night. He could’ve prevented that. He could’ve still had Abbi with him. “Was I selfish, telling them? I thought Abbi was going to quit talking to her family over how they were talking to me.”
“I can’t really say what’s right or wrong, but I talked to Elle.” Dillon spoke cautiously as if he was afraid how Cash would react.
Cash didn’t care. If Dillon needed to talk to some
one, a mental health professional for a girlfriend couldn’t hurt. “What’d she say?”
Dillon sighed. “The whole situation was bad, there’s no way around it. She never really came out and said either way—counselors are kinda like that. But she felt that the Daniels knowing the truth would help them heal and move on. Same with Abbi. They weren’t making progress before; maybe now they can. But what’s between you and Abbi has nothing to do with her brother.”
He was afraid of that. Just like he was afraid there was nothing between him and Abbi anymore.
***
Abbi stood in her empty efficiency apartment. It smelled like stale smoke and citrus cleaner. The linoleum she stood on was yellowed with age and the matted carpet to her left would be better off if it was rolled up and used to build a bonfire.
Cash and his cousins had talked about building a bonfire after they finished moving cattle. Had they?
None of her business.
She released a slow breath and thought of the boxes in her parents’ garage she had to load up and haul here. Ugh. Would her belongings pick up the scent of this place?
Home.
She wanted to run. But this dingy, old, rundown apartment signified her future.
She jumped at a tap on the door.
“Sorry to startle you, kiddo.” Dad came in. Was she going to get a lecture about how she’d kept it unlocked?
To be fair, they hadn’t lectured her much in the last month and a half. They hadn’t done much other than mourn Perry all over again.
More guilt piled on. Not just for her brother. She missed Cash terribly, and in the six weeks since she’d walked out on him, the feeling hadn’t abated.
He’d tried calling, but not since the early days after she’d holed up in her parents’ house and left only to do a zombie act through work.
Had she done the right thing?
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
She’d been about to relent and call Cash when Mom had started in about Ellis. Nope. None of that again. Abbi had zoomed straight for the classifieds and found this swanky joint. The previous renter had had to serve time and couldn’t make payments. The owner had trashed his stuff and opened it back up to rent. She’d gotten a deal on the deposit.
Dad set the box on the counter. Her favorite dishware. They had fishes on them.
They looked kinda like the trout she’d caught with Cash.
Argh. She had to quit doing that!
“You didn’t have to bring my stuff, Dad.”
“I know you said you could do it all yourself, but it doesn’t mean you have to.” Dad paused to shrug out of his winter coat. “But you can help haul them up those stairs and I won’t complain.” He looked around the place and grimaced.
Yeah, it was that bad. The state of her living conditions meant she couldn’t leave her job. Responsible Abbi was in full force. Working at a job that killed her creative soul but paid for a smelly roof over her head was her life.
“You didn’t have to move out.”
“I did. You two wouldn’t treat me like an adult if I stayed.”
“Abbi—”
“Dad.”
He fell quiet.
“I’ll go grab a load.” She spun toward the door.
“You’ve changed.”
She stopped and nodded. “You and Mom always said I had to grow up.”
“We worried about you. You’re a free spirit. Were a free spirit. I thought Perry’s death just affected you so much that you lost your energy, but that’s not what happened, was it?”
“No, that’s exactly what happened. How could I keep making you two lose sleep when you’ve suffered enough?”
A sad smile crossed his face. “I’m not going to lie, I’d rather have an unhappy daughter than have to bury you.” Her heart twisted as she recalled her mother breaking down over Perry’s casket. “But it’d be my greatest wish if you could be both alive and happy.”
She’d been so terribly happy with Cash, until he’d betrayed her trust—her one wish in a relationship. The anger fueling her righteousness was harder and harder to muster. Had it been the shock of the truth of Perry’s death that had caused her to feel so betrayed?
Did it matter anymore? Six weeks was a long time to move on. She hadn’t, but he might’ve, or even slipped back into his old ways.
A chasm’s worth of sadness opened up. She’d lost him. She’d told him they were done and yet he’d tried—until he hadn’t.
Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, and she rushed out the door. Cold Wisconsin air hit her face. She sniffled and wiped the tears away. Digging around in the trunk of Dad’s car, she picked a box to haul. When she straightened and turned, she jumped. He was right behind her.
Great. He’d heard her crying.
She dropped her gaze and rushed past him. She thought he might stop her, but instead he selected another box from her pitiful pile of belongings.
They trudged up the stairs and went out for another load. Dad didn’t make small talk as they finished unloading his car.
“It’s just your closet and what’s in the dressers that need to be hauled over.” He gave her a pointed look. “Take the dressers. They’re yours if you want them.”
Her first instinct was to say no, but she should swallow her pride if it meant not living out of laundry baskets. “Thanks.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and her heart sank. It was his “I don’t want to talk about this but as your dad, I should” move.
“You’ve been crying a lot lately. Is it about Ellis or Perry?”
The easy answer would be to say yes. He would understand and drop the subject. But part of being treated as an adult was to be true to herself.
“No.” Didn’t mean she had to spill every humiliating detail.
“That friend of Perry’s, Reno?”
That name so did not fit him. “Cash, yes. I miss him. But it’s over.”
His mouth formed a hard line of disapproval. “I was surprised, as close as you claimed to be when we were out there…well, he didn’t come running after you.”
“He called. A lot.”
His brows lifted. “Really? But he didn’t come down.”
“I never answered. I was so furious, but…”
“But you’re not now.”
She shook her head, tears threatening to well. “It’s been over a month since he last tried. It’s over.”
“You two didn’t know each other long.” He said it like that explained it all, as if what she felt had just been a fluke.
“No, we didn’t.” She turned back to unload her meager stash of books.
“But he made you happy?”
“Yes, because he made me feel like myself.”
“Is he really a good guy?”
She whirled around. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. And like you and Mom—” and freaking Ellis, “—pointed out, we didn’t know each other long.” But while she had known him, he’d been the biggest, most genuine gentleman she’d ever met.
Dad didn’t reply, but he helped her with the rest of her boxes.
He threw her a concerned look before he left. She forced herself to smile and wave, then sighed when the door shut and went back to sort her items.
She found the sketch pad she’d used to draw Alfalfa. Opening it was a bad idea, but she did it anyway. Scribbled over the page were the fine lines that outlined the cat and the harsher lines of the porch slats. She turned the page and her hand dropped away. Cash’s stick-figure drawing of the cat made her giggle. She choked back a sob.
Questions flooded her. The same ones she’d been asking herself for six weeks. Had she done the right thing? Would things with him have worked out? Or would he have eventually started picking and choosing what he shared with her.
She folded herself onto the floor, her legs crossed, the sketch pad on her lap. How long she stared at the drawing, she didn’t know, but finally she rummaged around her items until she found a pencil. She
turned the page and began a new sketch, letting the pencil flow, not consciously controlling what she drew.
Not surprisingly, the outline of a man’s face formed. She spent the most time on the eyes, perfecting the intensity with a touch of his ever-constant good humor.
When she was done, a decent rendition of Cash stared back at her. Even as an amateur, she’d been able to capture his personality, the classic handsomeness of his features.
No, they hadn’t known each other for long, but it sure seemed like she’d known him better than she’d known anyone in her life.
With a disgusted snarl, she popped up and tossed the pad and pencil in a bottom drawer in her kitchen and kicked it shut.
Chapter Nineteen
Cash was man enough to admit he was hiding in the kitchen. They’d gathered for Christmas at Dillon’s house and the rest of his family was oohing and aahing over Elle’s shiny new engagement ring.
He was ecstatic for his cousin, and he loved Elle like a sister, but the sappy, happy mess made him want to vomit. He couldn’t even nurse a beer because Dillon’s house was dry. Their relatives never brought wine or alcoholic beverages to his cousin’s place no matter how many times he assured him it’d be all right.
He searched for something to do, but food lined the counters and flatware was laid out. Everything was ready for them to eat, after everyone got over the love-fest. Could he eat and rush home, where he could watch football without fielding any questions? Every time one of his cousins broached the topic of Abbi, or worse, how he should move on, Cash cut them off. He couldn’t even sneak away on Patsy Cline and just ride horse all day because there was two feet of snow on the ground.
The only time he allowed himself to think about Abbi was when he left his phone in a drawer when he went to work for the day. She’d been good at ignoring calls, and he’d taken notes. His sister was shipping out for navy boot camp soon and his parents were constantly bitching to him—about her, about each other, about the divorce.
Who knew as an adult he’d have to referee who spent Christmas where?
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