by Em Petrova
“Is—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Is it far to your mother’s place?”
“My place too. I live there and take care of her. She’s been sick with cancer. Did you know that?”
Wynonna nodded, feeling the weight of a stare that wasn’t at all like Mav’s. It was hard and glittering with an accusation she didn’t understand. When she’d decided to come here, she had little idea of the dynamics between Mav and his family.
“It’s not easy, let me tell you. I have a career and law to uphold in these parts. Dealing with your sick mother and a four-year-old isn’t easy even without the seventy hours a week I put in.”
“Four-year-old?”
He nodded, and she saw Mav once again in the man sitting next to her. “My daughter. Good-for-nothing wife packed up and left us both last year. I’m sure Mav didn’t say anything about that either, seeing how he didn’t give a damn.”
“I’m sorry,” Wynonna said quietly.
“Sorry he didn’t care or that my wife left me to raise our daughter alone?”
“Both.” She knotted her fingers in her lap and tried to ignore her urge to tuck and roll out of the moving vehicle. She hoped the house wasn’t far, because she wanted out of this car and away from Chase as soon as possible.
The CB radio buzzed with voices, and Chase put aside their conversation to hold one with the officers. She looked out the window at the passing buildings. When Chase made a turn into a residential section, she was surprised. She’d always pictured Mav’s family as being rural people, isolated up here in the wilds of Oregon.
“Have you lived here long?” she asked when he was finished with his conversation.
He shot her a glance. “All my life. This is the family home. Inherited by my mother after our scum father ran off, and thank God she had it. I moved back in to take care of her.”
She blinked at the revelations hurling at her faster than wind at a galloping horse. His father had run off? Oh Mav.
Where had he learned to ranch if he’d grown up in the city on a plot of land no bigger than a postage stamp?
She didn’t ask Chase. He seemed to carry enough animosity that she didn’t want to add to it. She waited till the car stopped in front of the house. Then she got out and stood on the sidewalk with her bag while Chase cut the engine.
“I’ll take you in, but then I’ve gotta run.”
“I understand,” she said.
He led the way to the front door, and now she saw more differences between this man and Mav. They weren’t as similar in build as she’d originally thought, and she didn’t know whether or not their personalities were alike or very different. Both were short on words and blunt as hell.
But on Mav, it made sense. He was a cowboy. Though it seemed his temperament had been learned long before he’d come to Oklahoma.
Chase opened the door using a key and they entered a house that was neat yet crowded with too much furniture. As if they’d blended two households into one. Little girl toys littered one corner, and the TV blared.
“Mom, I’ve brought your guest.”
Your guest. She read that she wasn’t his guest too and was only partially welcome. Well, that remained to be seen. She hadn’t met the infamous mother yet.
A woman came around the corner of the living room holding a dishtowel. She was as bald as a bean and frail, but Wynonna saw that she had the same eyes as her sons.
“You’re a tall one, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Mav always did like them long-legged ones. Chase, can you get me down the crock pot? It’s on the top shelf of the pantry.”
He pushed out a sigh. “Anything else while I’m in there? I can’t come back and fetch you everything you can’t reach.”
“I can help,” Wynonna said, hating Chase a little bit more.
He stomped into the kitchen while Mrs. Stonewall sized up Wynonna. “You’ll be staying with us.”
“I—thank you. I can get a hotel.”
“No, you won’t. Got plenty of extra room, even with little Macie and Chase taking up space. My parents bought this house hoping my brothers and sisters would all come home and stay for holidays, but once we got out with our own families, that didn’t happen. Then they passed it on to me, and I was glad for it, though I only had the two boys. Always wondered if their half-brothers would end up here at some point, but I’ve never even met them.”
Wynonna tried to keep the shock from registering on her face. She was known to show her feelings on her features, and she didn’t want them to know she’d never heard about half-brothers or any of the people in Mav’s life. She hardly knew Mav at all.
Mrs. Stonewall waved toward the kitchen. “I can hear Chase rattling around in there. Let me go see if he found that crockpot.”
As soon as she walked into the kitchen, she and Chase started yelling at each other. Not angry voices, but she could tell they bickered every chance they got. Wynonna had no idea what to do with herself. Standing here waiting for them seemed best, so she looked around.
Photos stood on stands, but none were of Mav. It wasn’t as homey as her own home, and a deep longing rose inside her. For her own momma, who never yelled. For her brothers, who she only bickered good-naturedly with. And for the Mav she knew, not this one she didn’t.
Suddenly a small body popped up in front of her. “Hi!”
Wynonna blinked down at the little girl. She was draped in a blanket that trailed behind her like a long robe, and a plastic crown teetered on her very curly head. “You must be Macie.”
She nodded. “Are you a princess?”
“No, she’s not a princess—she’s your uncle Mav’s girlfriend.” Chase came stomping from the kitchen and mashed a hand down on top of his daughter’s head, crown and all. “See you later, kiddo. I’ve gotta get to work.”
“Will you be home to tuck me in, Daddy?”
“If I’m not, Grammy will. Be good.” He left without a backward glance, leaving Wynonna gaping at his back. There was a man who buried himself in his work. Not unlike Mav, and yet completely opposite.
She turned to Macie, thinking to find her devastated by this brush-off from her father. But the little girl just danced around Wynonna on her tiptoes. “I think you are a princess. You’re as beautiful as one.”
“Thank you.” Her throat felt full again, and she cleared it. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something. The last thing she wanted was to bring germs to Mav’s mother, who was battling enough. And she didn’t want to make Macie sick. Now, Chase could do with losing his voice for a spell…
She smiled to herself, but Macie thought it was for her. “We are going to the ball, pretty princess! Come on!” She raced to the corner with her toys, and Wynonna had no choice but to follow.
* * * * *
“Mav, answer your damn phone for once. It’s important.”
Mav groaned at his brother’s tone. The asshole had been calling for hours, but for most of them, Mav had been in flight with no service. The minute he’d hit the ground, he’d been bombarded with voicemails and texts. One was from Mrs. Calhoun, asking him to be quick about bringing her little girl home. And two texts from Buck, who’d just asked, WTF is going on?
Mav transferred his bag to the other hand and dialed his brother. The instant Mav heard his voice, he wanted to punch out his teeth.
“Your woman made it.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “She’s not my woman.” But he bit it back.
“She’s sick.”
Mav stopped in his tracks and stared sightlessly at the New York airport bustling with people who were so far out of his league he felt like a bucking bull on a subway. “What?”
“She’s sick. Passed out in the kitchen. We got her into bed and she’s burning up. Mother says she has a fever and chills.”
Mav’s chest walls felt too small, too constricting for the breaths he was taking. “What the fuck?”
“Hey, I didn’t make her s
ick. She showed up this way. I thought she looked pale when I picked her up.”
“She’s a redhead. Of course she’s pale.”
“No, she’s sick.”
“Well, did you get her to a doctor?”
“Can’t get her out of bed. She’s sleeping around the clock. Probably flu.”
“Fuck.” Wynonna had never been sick a day in her life, except that time she’d gotten her tonsils out. Even then, she’d been screaming for ice cream within a few hours and demanding her pony after a day or two. Picturing her in bed, pale and chilled, made his stomach hollow.
“Call the damn doctor. Isn’t that one still making home visits?”
“Don’t get pissed off at me, brother. We called, but it will take a while for him to get to her. She’s calling for you.”
“What?” His voice came out as a croak.
“Yeah, nonstop asking for you. Of course, she’s delirious so that makes sense.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“So are you. You’d better get up here fast, though.”
“I’m on my way.” He looked at the airport again, wondering how fast he could reach his gate. He had hours left in the air, which gutted him. He wanted to reach Wynonna, to see for himself how she was.
“Her family keeps calling here too.”
“Fuck, really?” Mrs. Calhoun must have given the number to the brothers. “Okay, tell them I’m on my way. Shit, don’t bother. They’re calling me now. Talk to you later, Chase.” He hung up and took the incoming call. “Buck.”
“Tell me why my sister going to your hometown.”
No holding back with a pissed-off Calhoun. It was best to give it straight. Whether it was a horse that needed put down or too little money coming in for the month, it was always better to deliver it in black and white.
Except in this case, there was too much gray. How could he explain about him and Wynonna when he didn’t understand it himself?
He started walking. Someone bumped him, and he gritted his teeth to keep from bitching him out. “Wynonna went to my family but now she’s sick.”
“Wait, she’s sick. West, why the hell didn’t anybody tell me Wynonna’s sick?”
In the background, he heard voices but couldn’t make out the words as the brothers spoke.
“Look, she’s probably got the flu or something. My mother’s taking care of her, and she might be a shitty mom, but she’s good at nursing. Wyn will be fine. I’ll be there by evening.”
“Then you’d damn well better tell me how you and Wyn are tangled up.” Buck’s voice brooked no arguments.
“Yeah.” He’d do that as soon as he saw she was okay. His phone beeped again, and he glanced at the screen. Great—his fucking brother was calling back. “Look, Buck, I’ve got my brother on the other line. I’ll call you when I touch down.”
He switched over the lines and barked, “What the hell do you want now?”
A small voice filled his ear. “Uncle Mav? It’s Macie. You’ve never met me, but I’m your niece.”
His throat closed off. Fucking hell, talk about making him feel like the biggest pile of horse dung under his boot. “I know about you, Macie. I’ve seen your pictures too. How are you?”
“I have your princess here. She’s in the spare bedroom and she’s sweaty but she’s still beautiful.”
Tears burned at the backs of his eyes. Fucking tears? What next? He was getting soft.
“Are you coming to rescue your princess? I think she needs a kiss to wake her up.”
“I’m coming soon, Macie.”
“She keeps saying your name.”
“Does she?” He spotted the number of his gate and shot forward at a run. Not that the plane would take off any faster if he got there in a few seconds, but he needed to burn off some of this emotion hitting his system.
“I think she loves you, Uncle Mav. Come and wake her up soon, okay? Just one kiss will be good.”
“Okay, Macie. I’ll be there as soon as my plane lands.”
“Macie, is that you on the phone? Who are you talking to?” His mother’s voice flooded Mav’s ear. “Who is this?”
“It’s Mav.”
A beat of silence. “If I’d known this was how to get you up here, I would have done it a long time ago. She’s calling for you.”
“So Macie says. Is she okay, really? Tell me true.”
“I’m keeping the fever down with cold towels around her, but she hasn’t woken to take any medication. Doc Redding will be here in time.”
“He needs to get his ass there now.”
“There he goes again. That temper flying.”
“Mom,” he warned. He wasn’t in the mood to hear that he was so much like his father and his uncontrollable rages would get him in trouble just like it had their dad. In and out of prison, off his bipolar meds for twenty years now.
“I’m boarding the plane. I’ll be there by evening.”
“I’ll tell Chase to pick you up at the airport.”
“Don’t. I don’t want him. I’ll rent a car.”
With his fury barely checked, he ended the call and followed the people through the gate like he was cattle in the chute. He wanted to shove them all over and get to his seat, but he kept telling himself that he wouldn’t reach Wynonna faster.
One kiss, Macie had said. She was calling out for him. Her family was demanding to know what was between them.
I love her, dammit. And my princess needs me.
Chapter Eight
Mav set his gaze on the road leading away from the airport and thought about Wynonna. Crazy woman—what had she been thinking to come up here looking for answers? Only thing she’d figure out was that his family was crazy.
He navigated onto the highway and hadn’t gone a mile before police lights flashed in the rearview mirror.
“Fuck.” He pulled over and reached for his wallet, which he’d tossed on the passenger seat, tired of sitting on the unfamiliar wedge of leather. He didn’t often wear a wallet to work on the ranch.
The tap on the window made him glance over. When he saw that stare from under the wide-brimmed sheriff hat, he groaned.
He rolled down the window. “Fuck do you want?”
“Step out of the vehicle.”
“Seriously?”
“Step out of the vehicle,” Chase said in a more forceful tone.
He grated his molars and stepped out, boots crunching on the pavement. He spread his arms. “Happy?”
“Not yet.” Chase cocked his fist and punched him square in the mouth. His inner lips split against his teeth and his head rocked.
With a growl, he jerked aside and glared at his brother. Okay, he didn’t just glare—he threw a punch. Chase doubled over as the breath whooshed from him.
“What the fuck’s your problem, Chase?” He danced back a few steps, unwilling to take another hit to the mouth like the last.
“You. Staying away for all these years. Won’t come back when we need you, when Momma’s got cancer, when I get married or my wife leaves me. You son of a bitch.” He arced his fist.
Mav caught it with a smack. He shoved him back, and Chase stumbled. “You know why I don’t come home. Might be because I’m attacked for everything I do. Even now you’re trying to knock out my teeth.”
“Damn straight,” his brother snapped and lunged at him again.
Mav was getting plenty sick of this shit, and he’d been dealing with it for less than a minute. “Don’t make me kick your ass, sheriff. Back the fuck off!”
“You threatening me? I’ll throw your ass in jail so fast your head will spin.”
Mav threw up his arms and turned back to his rental car door. “Fuck off, Chase.”
“Put your hands on the car and spread your legs apart.”
“Fuck you. I’ve got someone who needs me, and I’m not wasting time with your bullshit.” He slid into the seat. He moved to shut the door, but Chase blocked it with his body.
His brother glared down at h
im. “You wouldn’t come for your own family, but you’ll come up here after a woman.”
“Damn straight. She doesn’t treat me like I should be committed or tossed in prison.”
“She doesn’t know about your past, does she? Has no idea about that time you flipped.”
He’d just gotten home from Bosnia, fresh scars and battle wounds covering him inside and out. And PTSD had been a struggle those first few months. All his war buddies had dealt with it, some worse than others. But Mav’s family made it seem like he needed the straitjacket and around-the-clock sedation.
When they’d started talking about it behind his back, he’d taken off and never looked back. Sure, they’d sicced agencies on him, trying to get him “help.” But in the end, all he’d needed was a spot of calm and a new fucking family.
“Dad flipped recently again too, you know. How many times is that?” Chase wondered aloud. “Nine? Ten? He’s been in and out of jail and hospitals for years and right now, he’s living with the other bums, thieves and meth-heads down by the tracks.”
“I couldn’t give a fuck less about the sperm donor.” Which was only half true. Mav had always known their dad, after coming home from Korea, had faced the same shit Mav had after Bosnia. Only difference was, his dad also suffered from manic depression and refused his meds.
Well, refused all legal meds, that was. He kept himself self-medicated.
“Let me shut the fucking door, Chase. I don’t have time for you.”
“No, you never have. Not when my wife left me to raise our daughter alone. Not when our mother was diagnosed with cancer.”
“Look, I feel bad about those things. And I might have come back, if you didn’t treat me like I’m ready for the nuthouse. I’ve managed to live a perfectly normal life in Oklahoma for almost two decades.”
“Down there takin’ care of everyone else’s business while your family struggles. Son of a bitch.” Chase spat out the words.
Mav reached out and tried to yank the door shut even if it meant crushing his brother in the hinges. He had to get to Wynonna. He couldn’t trust his crazy family when they said she had flu. He was beginning to think they’d evaluated his own problems all wrong too—that he wasn’t nuts so much as dealing with shit, and they were bad for him. Like a poison. He felt it creeping through him even now.