Cowboy Brave

by Carolyn Brown

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and she was close enough that if he wanted to, he could swipe it away. But he wasn’t relinquishing any more control.

  “That,” she said, the one syllable word breaking as she spoke. “That’s why. You needed to go.”

  He shook his head. “Without knowing?”

  “Yes.” Another tear fell. “Would you have gone otherwise?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the too-long strands. “Christ, Ava. That wasn’t your decision to make. I should have had a goddamn choice, but you didn’t give me one.” The volume of his voice rose, and he could feel the beat of his own pulse in his neck.

  She wiped away her tears, but they were falling faster now, and another one simply took the former’s place. “I was eighteen,” she said, her voice rising to a level to meet his. “And scared. I was so scared, Jack. I was going to tell you at the party. And then—well, I couldn’t. I called you to meet me the next night so I could. But once you got there and told me about Walker…that, after what happened with Derek, I couldn’t do it.”

  He’d started to pace, but the mention of his brother’s name stopped him cold. “Walker? How the hell does he have anything to do with this?”

  She wiped her eyes again and then wrapped her arms around her shoulders. As she did, he felt the slight shift in temperature, as if the ocean breeze had made its way ten miles inland.

  “Do you…remember what happened?” she asked, and he could tell she was proceeding with caution. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

  He was the one stepping closer now because this cryptic bullshit was going nowhere, and he wanted to make sure she heard him crystal clear.

  “I remember plenty,” he said, jaw tight. He swallowed back the ache he felt as he neared her. “I remember you walking away. I remember calling you every damn day before I left and you not answering.” He shook his head and opened his mouth to say something else but stopped when his eyes met hers, their brilliant green now clouded and reddened by tears.

  “Jack,” she said, and his name was a plea.

  She didn’t want to say whatever came next. He could sense that with every fiber of his being. But she had to. Whatever it was, he knew she had to.

  “What?” he asked, his voice strained.

  She moved in, close enough that he could smell her morning coffee and the sweet citrus scent of her skin.

  “Walker’s fifteenth birthday was the next day,” she said, the words followed by a soft, hiccupping breath.

  The weight that had been threatening to crush his chest dropped to his stomach, and he had to keep himself from staggering. Ava must have noticed, because she made a move to reach for him but pulled her hand back almost as quickly.

  He clasped his hands behind his head and tilted his head toward the sky. That’s when he felt the first drop of rain—and with it, the undeniable anguish of the memory.

  He dipped his head so they were eye to eye, shoved his hands under his arms to keep himself from hitting something because there was nothing to hit other than the damn vines.

  “Jack Senior sent him that pint bottle of whiskey,” he said, his voice rough and almost unrecognizable as his own. “And he drank the whole goddamn thing before he’d even made it back from the mailbox.”

  She nodded but didn’t speak. So he went on even though he didn’t want to—knowing that he had to. To understand everything that happened in the aftermath of the party, he had to relive it because he’d apparently blocked it all out—tucked all of those memories somewhere safe where they couldn’t knock him on his ass again. Yet here he was. “There wasn’t even a card,” he added. “Just a note telling his fifteen-year-old son that if he ever needed to forget, the bottle would do the trick.”

  “I know,” she said, not stopping herself as she reached for him now, resting her palm against his chest. Heat spread through him, and he didn’t—couldn’t—push her away. “I remember.”

  He shook his head. “Did I tell you what it was he wanted to forget, though? How two years wasn’t enough for my brother to get past his father backhanding him across the face so hard it fractured a goddamn bone in his cheek? And just like I did, he protected Jack Senior. Told the ER doc it was one of the horses.”

  Walker’s birthday gift and his first experience with liquor had all happened the day after the party.

  “Deputy Wilkes sent me home after taking my statement. I still don’t get why he didn’t press charges after what I’d done to his son. And then Walker…”

  Everything was falling into place. Every part of that weekend played out like the worst of his nightmares come true. And that’s exactly what it had been.

  Her hand fisted his shirt and the other flew to his cheek. The rain fell freely now, and he watched as the water obscured her tears. He was powerless against her touch, powerless against the memory. Because he knew what came next—the part he hadn’t given a second thought. But he knew it meant everything now.

  “I told you right then and there that I didn’t want kids.”

  She nodded slowly, hand still on his cheek.

  “After what I’d done to Derek and the way Jack Senior kept his hooks in us even when we weren’t under his roof, I said I’d never take the chance I’d turn into him. That I’d never become a father if I could help it. I said that to you while you were pregnant with our child.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand, nodding once more.

  “We’re one hundred percent them,” he said, the truth of it setting in. “My parents. They got pregnant with me when they were teens, and look how the hell it all turned out.”

  “You had to go,” she said. “I brought you there to tell you about Owen, but I knew—after the party and Walker I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t force you to stay in a place that brought you so much pain. Because even though you were off the ranch, it wasn’t over. So I had to say whatever I could to make sure you’d go.” She paused, letting the rain pelt her skin, and he watched it run in rivulets down her cheeks. “You always said you’d come back—and a part of me believed that even after what I’d said, you would, that I’d get the chance to tell you when you were ready.” She shook her head, pressing her lips together to stifle what he guessed was a full-on sob. “But you never did. Not until now.”

  He backed away. “I felt like a goddamn monster, Ava. And you telling me to go…I swore that’s what you thought of me, too.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. We were so young, and suddenly I had to deal with what Derek tried to do, what you did to him, and the fact that I was pregnant. It was too much.”

  “What about when Owen was a year old? Two? Jesus, Ava, I get why you didn’t tell me that night, but ten years?”

  “You were engaged!” she cried.

  His eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?” He wasn’t denying it, but how in God’s name did she know?

  “I went to UCLA,” she said, bitterness dripping off her words. “When you didn’t come back for me, I went after you.” She laughed, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I found out you were a clerk at a local law firm, and I went to see you. To tell you everything.” She blew out a long breath. “I sat there in that office while the receptionist went on and on about how much the partners loved you, that you were exactly like your fiancée—putting work and school above everything else.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “I left, Jack. I left as soon as she went down the hall to find you.” Now she crossed her arms over her soaked torso, and that warmth he’d seen in her eyes turned to something he recognized all too well—resentment.

  “Ava—”

  But this time she was the one to shake her head. “You—you were getting married after I’d spent years changing diapers at four in the morning…joining the preschool PTO because yes, there was one…buying two extra car seats because the only way to be included in the carpool clique was to have all of the necessary equipment!”

  S
he was yelling now, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the rain or because she was pissed.

  He closed the distance between them. “You’re angry?” he asked, incredulous.

  She groaned through gritted teeth. “Yeah! I’m angry!”

  He was the one laughing now, the sound just as bitter as hers. “So, what? Am I supposed to apologize for not keeping you up to date on my life? Or for not being there for a kid I never knew about?”

  Her chest was heaving. “Yes!” she cried. “Yes! I know it doesn’t make sense and I’m being completely irrational, but there you go. I want you to apologize for finding happiness without me even though that’s what I wanted for you. Because I never found it without you!”

  He held his left hand in the air, brandishing it at her. “There’s no ring, Ava! No goddamn ring. And no happiness. Just the same messed-up guy you sent packing ten years ago.”

  Even with the rain, he could hear her breath catch in her throat.

  “You’re…divorced?”

  He pressed the heels of his hands into his rain-drenched eyes. Then he looked at her. “No,” he said, his voice calmer now. “I didn’t marry her.”

  She stood there, mouth hanging open, but she said nothing.

  “You had your reasons for pushing me away…and I had mine for not being able to truly move on.”

  “Closure,” she said quietly, but he could still hear her over the rain.

  Maybe that’s what she was hoping for, too. Because none of it had felt right back then. He’d messed up. Big-time. But he’d also known that what had happened between them was more than a fling. He’d known she was lying to him, which was why he called her every day before he left for baseball training—and at least once a week the first month he’d been gone. But she’d always sent him right to voice mail. He might have loved her, but he wasn’t an idiot, and his pride could only take so much. He’d finally let himself believe she’d stopped loving him, and that was when he’d stopped calling.

  What else could he have done when she’d locked him out of her life so completely?

  “I want to hear you say it,” he said finally.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I want to hear you say that you loved me when you made it clear that you didn’t.” He tried to tell himself that her coming to find him didn’t matter, that what she said now wouldn’t change how he felt. It couldn’t. But maybe it would heal the wound that had refused to close up for ten long years.

  They were near soaked at this point, but neither seemed to care. The only thing that mattered was what she said next.

  She didn’t hesitate to answer.

  “I loved you, Jack. I loved you every day we were together, and I’m pretty sure I’d fall for the man you’ve become if I had the chance to.” He reached for her but stopped himself. “I love our son,” she continued, “and I’m so sorry I deprived you of the chance at that kind of love, that Owen never knew—”

  Before he knew what he was doing, his mouth was on hers, his hands cupping her cheeks, skin slick with rain and tears. She kissed him back, and despite the chill in the air he felt heat beneath his palms. Ten years of loss and ache and longing for something he hadn’t known still existed poured from his lips. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, and he knew whatever it was he was giving to her he received in turn.

  This was Ava—Ava Ellis. He’d kissed these lips hundreds of times, yet everything about them was foreign to him now. The girl he knew didn’t exist anymore. The person he held in his arms was all woman. He slid his hands down her sides, following her curves until they rested on her hips. He might not know her like he had a decade ago, but his heart sped up just the same at the mere memory of how she used to make him feel.

  Hopeful.

  Whole.

  Loved.

  She stumbled backward, but he caught her with a hand on the small of her back. His fingertips pressed firm against her soaked shirt, and he felt the heat of her skin against his. He kissed her harder, searching for the connection he knew was buried deep. Ava’s hands splayed against his chest, his heart thundering against her palm. He felt it—their past and present colliding in the clattering of teeth as her pelvis rocked against his. He was hard in an instant, yet in that same moment knew it didn’t matter. That this was wrong. All of it. No matter how right his mouth felt on hers.

  He pressed his hands to her shoulders and pushed her from him, freeing himself from the momentary spell as the pieces of their chance meeting yesterday fell back into place.

  The tips of her fingers brushed her kiss-swollen bottom lip, and he ignored the urge to say To hell with it and suck it between his teeth.

  “I’m not welcome in your life!” he called over what was quickly becoming a downpour. “Or did you miss that exchange between me and your father?”

  He knew there was more to his hesitation than that, that if this went any further he’d have to deal with the real issue. Without warning, he’d become what he’d sworn he never wanted to be—a father.

  He started to back away.

  “I told them you weren’t the father,” she said. “And they chose to believe it because it was easier for them—and easier for me.” She shook her head. “I was so scared if they knew—if my father knew—he’d find a way to make Deputy Wilkes change his mind—or worse.”

  “Worse?” His head was swimming.

  The police had questioned everyone at the party, but there’d been no arrests, not even for the alcohol. It was like the whole thing got swept under the rug, and he’d never understood why.

  He’d deserved a night or two in jail, if not more. Instead they’d hauled him into the station, taken his statement, and for reasons he couldn’t fathom, sent him home.

  He’d always known that once news of his home life in Oak Bluff traveled to Los Olivos, people would look at him and his brothers differently. And it had happened almost the minute they’d arrived. Kids from the other side of the tracks, so to speak. Sons of an abusive drunk with one brother, after one messed-up night, already showing signs of following in his father’s footsteps. Why the hell wouldn’t her parents suspect the same from him? Wasn’t that why he and Ava had kept their relationship a secret? Wasn’t it exactly what he’d feared himself?

  “They took my statement, too,” she said. “I told them about what Derek did and agreed not to press charges against him as long as he sought treatment—and as long as no charges were pressed against you. If after all of that my father found out you were Owen’s dad? He was tight with the deputy. I wouldn’t have put it past him to try and threaten jail time to make you sign away your legal rights to your own son.”

  The cops had let him off with a warning and one stipulation—that he send paperwork proving he was seeing a counselor to deal with whatever had led to him pummeling Derek that night.

  “So you’re the reason I didn’t go to jail. And why I spent my entire freshman year seeing a campus psychologist.” Maybe he’d been forced to seek help, but it was help he’d needed. He’d just been too young and too damned stubborn to admit it.

  He slicked his rain-soaked hair off his face. It was too much—all of it. Too damned much.

  “Maybe I overstepped, but it was the only thing I could think to do for you that you might not do for yourself. I still believe my father was wrong about you then, and I’m willing to bet he’s wrong about you now. You had one bad night after years of hell that I can’t even imagine. But I never for one second thought you were a monster.” Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “I don’t expect anything from you that you don’t want to give, Jack. But you’re welcome in Owen’s life. If that’s what you want.”

  That was the thing. All he’d ever wanted was to leave. She’d gotten that part right. If he took her up on her offer, he ran the risk of wanting to stay, and he wasn’t sure what the hell to do with that.

  “Let me drive you home,” she added. “And then I’ll leave you to think about—about everything.”

  She was soaked, visib
ly shaking, and her eyes were bloodshot from the salt of her tears. She was in no shape to drive. And him? Well, he’d been better. But he’d been steady behind the wheel on no sleep. He could be steady for the mile drive back home.

  Steady. It was what Jack Everett did, and despite everything, he’d do it for Ava now.

  “Give me the keys,” he said, and she didn’t even question him as she reached into some hidden pocket in her skirt and handed them over.

  He nodded, and they both strode in the direction of the closest road, where she had parked on the shoulder. He unlocked the Jeep with the key fob and pulled her door open, instinctively grabbing her arm when her foot slid in the grass. Once inside himself, he started the car, turned on the heat full blast, and drove.

  Neither of them spoke a word, but it didn’t matter. The past ten years filled the space between them. And even though they’d escaped the downpour, Jack couldn’t help but feel like he was drowning.

  Chapter Seven

  Ava stood on a rug in the front foyer of Jack Everett’s childhood home, her skirt turning it from a place to brush off your shoes to a squishy, spongy swamp.

  “Wait here,” Jack said, stepping around her and disappearing toward the kitchen.

  She attempted to shrug, but it felt like a shiver, so she waited. What else was she going to do?

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Her eyes widened as she followed the sound of the voice to the top of the stairs in front of her.

  The man staring down at her wore nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans. He scratched at his abdomen and then at the back of his head, his dirty-blond hair sleep tousled. His almost-beard made her do a double take, since she was sure the last time she’d seen him he hadn’t even been able to grow facial hair.

  “Walker?” she asked, knowing it had to be him, since she’d already seen Jack and Luke. She was no math expert, but the odds were pretty much in her favor that either it was the youngest of the three brothers, or the Everett boys multiplied in the rain.