“Yes, it has cowboys in it. Why do you think that’s funny?”
“I don’t know. You just don’t seem like you’d write a book about fucking cowboys.”
Myra smiles. “And who exactly do you think should write about cowboys?”
“Fuck. I don’t know. Some damn rancher out in Wyoming?” he says with a laugh.
“It’s all about research and imagination. You have heard of Google, right?”
Dylan chuckles. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Can you tell I don’t know jack shit about writing? Will you let me read it?”
“No.”
“Why not? Sorry I teased you.”
“Nope. It’s too late,” Myra says, grinning.
“Come on. I really wanna read it. Please?”
Myra’s brows pull together. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious.”
A grin tugs on her lips. “No one’s ever wanted to read my writing before.”
“Why the fuck not? What’s the story about?”
“A rancher whose family is murdered and he exacts his revenge on them.”
“Damn. I definitely wanna read it now.”
Myra grins from ear to ear. “Okay.”
“Okay? That was damn easy.”
Myra giggles. “Well, you’re easy to forgive.”
Dylan doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Hey, I gotta go but, Myra?”
“Yeah?”
“This…” he says before clearing his throat. “Today is a really shitty day for me. Thanks for making me laugh and making it not so shitty. I really liked talking to you.”
“Sorry about your day, but I’m glad I could make you smile.”
“Can I call you back this evening? I’m not turning into a stalker or anything, am I? Feel free to tell me to fuck off at any time.”
“No,” she says a little too quickly, rolling her eyes at herself. “I mean, please call me. I like talking to you too.”
After saying their goodbyes, Myra smiles happily as her fingers begin to tickle her laptop’s keyboard again.
* * *
Dylan swallows dryly as he pulls his truck behind his parents’ car. They wanted him to ride with them, but he wanted the solitude. His stomach churns as he wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. Feeling his throat tighten, he clears it roughly. He needs to keep his goddamn emotions in check. Taking in a deep breath, he opens the door.
Stretching, he looks around quickly because he doesn’t want any surprise visitors. He blows out a breath when he sees no one else around except his family. His mom slips her arm through his and pats him reassuringly. Nat steps up to his other side, tucking her arm in his and smiling a soft smile up at him. Chad grumbles at the boys, chasing after them. Nick and Dennis stand off to the side, waiting.
“You ready?” Sherri asks quietly. With a nod, they begin walking through the hard, partially frozen ground until they reach that one particular stone. That stone out of the hundreds of stones in this immense cemetery with the name Lawson on it. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he stares at the simple piece of rock that means so much to him.
He wishes with every damn fiber of his being that it was him underneath that dirt; he’d die a thousand painful deaths to be the one that died that day. But no matter how much he might wish it, he can’t change what happened. It doesn’t matter how much regret he has. It doesn’t matter how much begging he does to a God that never listens. It won’t change a damn thing.
His brow furrows. Releasing Sherri’s and Nat’s arms, he squats down and uses his fingers to try to wipe the dirt he sees on it. It smudges, looking worse. He wipes harder and harder, trying to clean it. It needs to be clean. That dirt can’t be on there. It can’t be dirty. His breathing accelerates the harder he works. He continues rubbing and rubbing until he feels a soft hand on his shoulder.
“Here,” Nat says as she hands him a small package of wet wipes. Not looking at her, he takes them and carefully cleans the tombstone until the beautiful white marble shines. He uses every one of the wipes in the package she gave him.
He stands and someone takes the dirty wipes from his hands. He can’t see a damn thing through his blurry eyes.
A soft sob escapes his mom which causes a sharp pain in his chest. His mom and Natalie are back at his side again, each holding onto his arms. He blinks over and over and clenches his fists together, digging his nails hard into his palms. He can’t break down. He has to keep his shit together. If he breaks down, it’ll just hurt his mom more. She’s been through enough pain to last a fucking lifetime.
He almost loses it when Dennis steps up and lays a small bouquet of flowers on the stone. He didn’t even see him carrying them. His dad kneels and runs his fingers over the name for a second, causing Dylan to flinch.
Chad follows him and places a small stuffed Teddy bear next to the flowers. He hears a small sob escape Nat. He gulps as a lone tear slips down his cheek. He focuses his attention on that one tear, feeling every move it makes on his skin as it slowly slips down his cheek and clings to the tip of his jaw.
He glances at Chad. Joseph and Jackson are on either side of him each holding his hand, while Jay stands off to the side. All of them are staring down at the grave. Dylan glances at Joseph’s face as a crushing, excruciating tightness develops in his chest and throat. It hurts to breathe; it hurts to swallow. Everything hurts.
“You okay?” his mom asks as she squeezes his arm. He swallows hard and nods, pulling in a shallow breath; he just wants to get away from this place.
Eventually, he sits back down behind the wheel of his truck. As he starts to drive the short distance back to his parents’ house, he pulls off into a parking lot and turns off his truck. He sits there for a minute staring straight ahead at nothing before he pulls out his phone. He has to do this. He doesn’t have a choice.
Swallowing hard, he takes in a deep breath and dials a number. The phone rings until an automated recording comes on telling him to leave a message. He pauses and takes in another deep breath. “Yeah,” he says before clearing his throat. “This is Dylan. We need to talk.” He hangs up and slips his phone back into his pocket.
As he stares out the window, he frowns when he discovers he has somehow parked in front of a church. He stares up at the steeple and the stained glass windows. He reads the scripture on the plaque next to the door. Finally, he starts up his truck and begins to drive away as the church slowly fades behind him.
* * *
Myra’s phone rings and her heart takes off. She sighs happily when she sees Dylan’s name.
“Hi,” she answers softly.
“Hey,” Dylan says, sighing heavily. She notices that he sounds different. “God, it’s good to hear your voice. I...” he says before clearing his throat, “I really like hearing your voice.”
Myra smiles. “I like hearing your voice too.”
“Your voice, I don’t know it just does something to me. I sound like an asshole.”
“No, Dylan, you don’t.”
“Jesus Christ,” he moans in a low voice.
She frowns. “What?”
“I like hearing you…” His voice drops off, sounding a bit embarrassed, “… say my name.”
“Really, Dylan?” she asks with a giggle.
“Yeah,” he says, sighing heavily again. “This day has been so fucking hard. So goddamn hard. I just, I wish I could see you. I need to see you.”
Her breath hitches. “I want to see you too. When are you coming back?”
“I was gonna stay a few more days to visit, but...” He pauses for a moment. “You know what? Fuck that shit. I don’t have to stay that damn long. I can visit another time.”
“I don’t want to take you away from your family.”
“You’re not. It’s just, Myra, I need you,” he says, his voice hoarse with desperation. “I have to see you. Tonight. I can be there in an hour.”
“Okay…”
“I’ll be there as
soon as I fucking can,” Dylan says before he hangs up.
Myra flips her phone shut and closes her eyes, holding it up to her lips and kissing it softly, hoping the next hour goes by very quickly.
CHAPTER 20
CRIMSON, PASSION
Dylan shoves his phone into his pocket and quickly slides the glass door open. His family will probably be pissed at him for leaving early, but he knows they’ll forgive him. They’ve already forgiven him for so much already. But he resolves to make it up to them; he’ll just come back soon for another visit. But then he realizes he doesn’t want to leave Myra again to come back. Maybe he’ll bring her with him next time.
When he steps into the kitchen, he finds his mom sitting at the table drinking coffee.
“Sit,” she says. “I refilled your cup.”
“Thanks,” he mutters, as he sits down and picks up the cup, taking a drink. He can’t be rude and not sit with his mom for a minute.
“Today was hard, huh?” she says.
He stares into her concerned eyes for a moment before nodding and looking back down at his cup.
“I wish you lived closer. I worry about you.”
He shifts in his chair. “Don’t worry because I’m fine. Sorry I haven’t been around.”
She reaches her hand across the table and squeezes his. “I understand why. I really do. I’m just telling you how I feel.”
He keeps his eyes on his coffee as he nods slightly.
“You do seem like you’re doing better than the last time I saw you. I’m so glad.”
He clears his throat, his stomach knotting up at what he has to say next. “I hate to do this, but I have to leave.” When he glances up at her face and sees the disappointment there, his heart cracks a little.
“When?” she asks, frowning.
He drags in a deep breath. “Now. But I’ll come back soon, I promise.”
“This late? It’s nine o’clock.”
Dylan looks back down at his coffee and clears his throat. “I just have something I need to take care of. Back in Nyssa.”
When his mom doesn’t say anything, he looks up at her. Her eyes shine with excitement. “You’ve met someone, haven’t you?”
“No,” he immediately says, dropping his gaze back down to his cup.
He knows he can’t even try to lie to his mother; she can see right through him. He rubs his fingers against his temple as he tries to figure out what the hell to say. When he looks at her again, she raises her eyebrows questioningly. The corner of his lip turns up, and he nods his head just the slightest.
She gasps and hops up from her chair, grabbing him. Thrown off by her reaction, he just sits there stunned for a moment. She hangs onto him a bit longer and then wipes her eyes quickly when she steps away from him. “I want you to be happy again,” she says. “You deserve it, sweetheart, you deserve it so much.”
He clears his throat as he rubs the back of his neck. She sits on the edge of her chair and leans towards him. “Don’t be afraid to let her in. Here,” she says, touching the center of his chest gently. “You build walls. You keep people out that love you. But don’t keep her out. I want to see more happiness on this handsome face of yours,” she says as she reaches up and touches his cheek.
The truth of her words moves Dylan. He built walls out of necessity. He simply couldn’t bare the hellish pain. But he wants to let his walls down for Myra; he hopes like hell that he can.
“Well, what are you waiting on?” she asks with a grin and tears sparkling in her eyes. “Get out of here.”
“You sure?” he asks as he stands.
She nods, smiling. “Just make sure you come back soon. And bring her with you.”
His gaze drops to the floor as he frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles gruffly. When his eyes meet hers, a huge grin breaks out on his face.
“Sure you don’t,” she says, smiling, as she pushes lightly on his arm. “Go.”
He leans down and kisses her cheek before abruptly turning, and rushing towards the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Dylan grabs his bag and shoves all of his clothes into it. As he steps into the bathroom for his toothbrush, he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and does a double take as he runs his hand over his jaw.
Stripping off his clothes as quickly as he can, he takes the fastest shower he’s ever taken in his damn life. After a quick shave, he dumps the rest of his shit into his bag and heads downstairs. When he gets to the kitchen, he finds his parents sitting at the table.
Sherri looks up at him and stares at his wet, towel-dried hair and his cleanly shaven face. She gives him a mega-watt, knowing smile. “I told your dad you had an emergency come up,” she says, throwing him a sly wink.
Dennis stands. “Maybe we can work on the car the next time you come visit.”
Dylan nods at him, giving him a half-grin, shocked to find that he actually does want to come back and help his dad work on that car.
After hugging and saying their goodbyes, Dylan walks to his truck. He pulls out his phone and dials Chad.
“Yo, bro,” Chad answers in a loud voice.
“Can I stop by for a minute? I’m heading back to Nyssa tonight.”
“Hang on,” Chad mutters. Dylan punches the speaker button and climbs into his truck, dropping it into the cup holder before he backs out of the driveway. “Fuck, man, sorry about that. I had to go all stealth and hide in the damn basement for some fucking privacy. What the hell’s going on?”
“I’ve got a job that just came up.”
“Bullshit,” Chad shouts. “You gots a woman in pissant Nyssa, don’t you, you sly, old fuckarooski,” he says, chuckling loudly.
“No, I don’t asshole.”
Chad laughs. “You don’t fool me for a damn second, lil’ bro. You think I’m fucking stupid? I saw how your phone’s been glued to your hand. You hate that damn thing. You avoid that shit like the motherfucking plague. All I can say is it’s about goddamn time.”
“Believe whatever the fuck you want. I’ll be there in a few.” He flips his phone shut, throwing it onto the seat beside him.
He sighs when he pulls into Chad’s driveway, hoping he can make this visit quick. As Dylan approaches the door, Chad opens it wearing the biggest shit-eating grin Dylan’s ever seen. He wants to rip it off his face and shove it down his throat. He groans as he steps inside of the house.
Chad puts both fists up, assuming a fighting stance and throws a mock jab to Dylan’s gut. “I’m happy for ya, bro,” he says as he gives him another soft jab to the ribs and then slaps him gently on the face.
Dylan’s eyes narrow as he keeps his hand low and flips Chad the bird, causing him to bust out laughing. Dylan continues to glare at him, finding no humor at all in the damn situation and drops his hand just as the kids come into the room.
“Uncle Dylan,” Jay shouts as he hugs him around the waist. Jackson stands behind him. “We were about to go to bed, but Dad told us we could stay up and wait on you.”
Dylan smiles down at his nephews. “I just came to tell you guys goodbye.”
“When are you coming back?” Jackson asks.
“Soon,” he says with a nod.
Dylan glances at Joseph as he plays with a truck on the floor. He walks over to him and squats down, resting his elbows on his knees. “Hey. I’ll see you soon, okay, buddy?”
Joseph plays contentedly with his truck. He pauses and looks up at Dylan for just a moment as he nods his head and returns to playing. Dylan’s heart hurts as he watches his little hand grasp the top of the truck and crash it into a car. He continues squatting there, quickly cataloging every inch of little Joseph. He stands when he hears someone walk up behind him.
“Can you stay a while?” Natalie asks.
“Nah, I wish I could but I gotta go.”
She nods at him before turning to Chad. “Get the boys ready for bed.”
“Nat,” Chad whines.
“You heard me.
”
“God help me,” Chad mutters under his breath as he turns to the kids. “You heard the woman. Let’s go. It’s bedtime.”
The boys all start moaning and complaining as Chad grabs Dylan in a hug. “I’ll call you in a few days, bro. Make sure you answer.”
Dylan nods before he walks to his truck with Natalie at his side. “You’re different,” she says. “Whoever this woman is, she’s good for you.”
He can’t believe everyone in his goddamn family already knows about Myra, and he hasn’t even fucking told them she existed.
Dylan snorts and shakes his head as Natalie laughs softly.
She leans in and gives him a hug before resting her hand on her belly. “I want you to come back before this baby is born. And I want to meet her.”
He nods and gives her a small smirk before he climbs into his truck.
* * *
Myra stares into the roaring fireplace, chewing on her thumbnail. When Dylan called earlier she’d been in her pajamas so after hanging up, she rushed to take a shower and get dressed. She knows that from the inflection in his voice, whatever Dylan went through today really rattled him. She just hopes he can open up and talk to her about it.
Her heart leaps into her throat when she hears his truck pull into the driveway. With her heart pounding like a drum, she practically runs to the front door.
When she opens it, he’s already at the bottom of the steps. In an instant, he’s at the door, smiling down at her.
“Hi,” he says, a little out of breath, as he steps inside.
The look in his eyes makes her a little light-headed. “Hi,” she responds, with a smile, having difficulty breathing.
He moves closer until he stands just inches from her. Her heart screeches to a stop and then starts galloping forcefully. He reaches his hand up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb gently across her skin. “Myra…” he whispers, his breath wafting across her face. Hearing her name on his lips makes her stomach flutter. “I missed you. So goddamn badly.” His gaze dips and slowly peruses up and down her body. “You look so beautiful.” He stares at her face, every inch of it, as if he wants to commit it to memory.
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