Lefty hit Rock’s Nina with his car, broke my arm, and threatened a service dog.
You tell ’em, baby.
Lefty was about to find out the spiderwebs on his elbows—cheap flash he’d probably gotten at the mall—wouldn’t endear him to anybody inside.
He was going to walk in believing he was some kind of badass, and the general population was going to tear him apart like fresh bread.
I didn’t have a lot of experience feeling sorry for fuckbuckets like Lefty Wheeler, but I almost . . . almost . . .
Nah. Who was I kidding?
Lefty getting a big steaming pile of everything he deserved couldn’t happen soon enough for me.
My eyes drifted closed—
Toot, toot. The Vicodin Express is leaving the station. “All abooooooooooooard . . .”
Before Dad died, we went to a resort in Galveston for a few days. We played and picnicked during the day. Swam for hours in the warm waters of the gulf and fell into our beds exhausted and happy at night.
My bed always felt like it was out on the water, bobbing like a bit of cork on the waves, rising up and falling just as gently. Like someone was rocking the bed—some leftover magic, carrying me off to new ocean-going dream adventures.
The squeak of wheels brought me back to the present.
“Ready to go, Sky?”
Declan came in pushing Chandler’s wheelchair. Rock and Maisy following them in.
I startled awake.
I wasn’t handcuffed anymore.
I blinked to see if it was a mirage. Talked stupid.
“Wait. What?”
“Home.” Chandler narrowed his eyes like I was about to contradict him and he would have none of it.
As if the word home might not be enough, he jabbed the finger of his good hand toward the door. “Go.”
I sat up groggily. Braced my hands and swung my legs over the side of the bed.
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re discharged,” said Rock. “Ryder’s bringing Elena’s car around. He’ll take her and Chandler back to the Rocking C. They’ve called for someone to wheel you out. We’re going in Declan’s SUV.”
“I’m—” I don’t trust his words. “I’m going home?”
“Of course. You didn’t—” Rock’s expression changed to one of horror. “You assumed you were going back to jail, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “Once I assaulted Lefty? Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Sterling told them what happened. He won’t let them blame you for something Lefty did.” Rock grinned. “Actually, I’m the one who’s in trouble. We all have citations to appear, but we can talk about that later. The most important thing is getting you and Elena and the Boss home where we can all relax.”
Just then, Andi and Declan came into the room with an orderly, who jabbed a thumb in the direction of the hall. “Your chariot awaits, Mr. Brody.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Rock took my good arm and helped me to stand.
“I get to go back to the Rocking C?”
The skin around Rock’s eyes crinkled with soft affection. “You didn’t think I’d let you go to jail for something I did, did you?”
“Wasn’t sure you’d have a choice.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Declan eyed my soft cast like he was professionally interested in it. “Did they say anything about your arm?”
“Clean break of the ulna.”
He winced. “Ow.”
“It could have been both bones,” I say. “Or it could have shattered.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” Declan stepped back to let Rock pass. “You’re a glass-half-full kind of guy, huh?”
I looked into Rock’s eyes for the truth. “I really get to go home?”
“Yeah, babe,” he said. “You really do.”
He helped me get into the wheelchair they brought for me and once I was rolling toward the exit, I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by my good fortune.
Maybe I’m not a glass-half-full kind of guy.
But my cup ran over the day I met Rock.
My cup was still spilling and spilling and spilling.
And the joy I felt seemed to be contagious, because Declan was smiling, and Andi was smiling. Even the boss was smiling.
The two of us are level with each other, being wheeled along the hallway.
Chandler by Declan. Me by the orderly.
I’m still not sure I’m awake.
I had a ton of questions.
Ryder helped the boss into Elena’s car, and then he helped Elena. Andi took the passenger seat of Declan’s SUV. Rock and I got into the back seat. Maisy jumped into the cargo area behind us. She hung her head over the seat back, resting her muzzle on Rock’s shoulder.
Unlike Elena’s compact car, Rock fit in Declan’s pretty well.
“Cut me some slack,” I said, because I was still sort of high, “and explain why everybody is all nice now.”
Rock laughed lightly. “I was always nice.”
“Me too,” said Andi.
“Me three,” said the Doc.
“We’re all nice, except the boss.” Rock shrugged.
“He was nice when I was a kid,” I offered.
“Me too,” said Andi.
Had this become a game?
“Fucker. I’m only a few years older than you are,” said Declan.
I tried to buckle myself in with no success. Rock pushed my hands away and took care of my seat belt for me.
“Anyway. It’s amazing how a brush with death can put everything into perspective,” said Rock. “I’ve been talking to Sterling about things like that. A lot.”
“Really?”
“Really.” That sharp little glint in Rock’s eye was intelligence. I’d have to be wise and cautious because he was a self-described manipulative shit.
But I’m not really a cautious guy.
“You talked?” I asked.
He relaxed against what I thought might be heated leather seats—not that we needed such a thing on a summer day in Texas.
“I’m not going to waste the opportunity. Not when Sterling Chandler is a captive audience.”
“Isn’t that exactly what your dad tried—”
“Psht.” He shut me up. “I use my powers for good.”
Declan turned on classical music before edging out of the hospital parking lot. Andi changed the radio to a country station.
He said, “Bitch.”
She said, “Manwhore.”
The words sounded like endearments between them.
Soon we were speeding along the highway for home.
The earth was green. The sky a dark blue limitless expanse dotted with soft white clouds.
Home.
I wasn’t ever going to get tired of the word.
“The boss called me family.” I was still awed by the fact.
Rock said, “We’ve been talking about family a lot since he got back.”
“Sterling’s been talking about family?” Declan asked.
“Well, now,” Rock said coyly, “I might have been doing most of the talking.”
“So if the boss calls you and Sky family, what does that mean for Andi, Ryder, and me?” he asked.
Rock looked up. I supposed he was meeting Declan’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
“I think I’m helping his view of family . . . evolve.”
If anyone could teach Sterling Chandler about family, Rock would be that guy.
I closed my eyes and let the miles hum under our wheels. I found it soothing to stroke Maisy’s fur with my good hand, but it was weird since I had to turn to do it. I gave up and laid my head on the seat. I smiled when I felt Rock lace his fingers with mine.
Then I
drifted, listening to Andi and Rock harmonize.
They sang like angels, made the world spin.
“Hey, Sky.” Rock shook my hand gently, just as we passed beneath the Rocking C’s arch.
Not so long ago, I’d come back, as scared of what I’d find there as I was by what I’d left behind me. Declan’s tires crunched over the cattle guard, and onto ranch house road.
Welcome to the Rocking C.
Rock turned to me, eyes shining. “Welcome home.”
He pressed his lips to mine, and I melted with him.
Melted into him. Dissolved. Merged. Lost myself forever.
“Thanks.” I meant the word with all my heart. “Thank you, so much. You’ve given me . . . everything.”
Rock shook his head. Huffed a soft laugh. Smiled to himself. Clung to my hand.
He did all the normal, little things guys like Rock do when they’re happy.
Now that’s what I’m talking about.
Welcome home.
Epilogue
Sky
A grinning Rock led me and Maisy to a newly built wooden swing nestled in a copse of trees. All private and romantic-like.
It was so Rock and I couldn’t resist teasing him about it.
“Oh my God, Buford. Did you build us a romantic rendezvous spot?”
He peered at me warily. “Are you asking that because you think it’s an awesome idea, or because you’re about to unleash a load of horseshit about—”
“Aren’t you worried we’ll get our man-scent all over the nature here and spoil things for the Bambi slayers?” I asked.
“It’s too close to the pens. Nobody hunts here.” He dug the toe of his work boot into the loamy earth, where I noticed he’d planted some kind of vine. Delicate, tender shoots had already curlicued around the base of the swing’s wooden framework.
“Did you plant something?”
He shrugged. “By this time next year it should be covered with passion flowers. They’ll bring bees and butterflies. More likely it’ll just get covered in bird crap, though.”
Ah, now. I have ruined his surprise with my sarcasm and I can’t stand it. “In that case I can always get up there with a bucket and brush. I’m an ace scrubber.”
He kicked at the dirt. “You don’t have to do that.”
Aw. No fair pouting. He was killing me here.
“I don’t mind.” I lifted my foot to give his ass a tap from behind but that never worked because my foot didn’t reach that high. I caught his thigh and Maisy gave me a hard stare. “I love it. It’s beautiful.”
“I know, right? And Foz and Elena can use it, and Ryder and Declan and whoever else. I just thought it’d be nice to have a swing.”
He sat down and patted the slatted bench.
“Try it out?”
“Sure.” I removed my hat and sat next to him.
Ooh.
Nice craftsmanship. The seats were contoured, like one of those Adirondack chairs from the fancy camping catalogues we looked at sometimes.
I marveled at it. “You really can do anything you set your mind to, can’t you?”
“Nah.” He was pleased that I said it. But we’d need to go another round or two.
“You are amazing. How did you even know how to build this? Did you get plans off the Internet?” I was handy, but I could no more craft something this beautiful than I could fly.
“What’d you do today?” he asked.
“I cowboyed some.” A brief flare of happiness burst inside me.
I closed my eyes because the sun was at that awkward late-afternoon angle, right in my eyes, leaving me light-blind and disoriented. I was going to need sunglasses or see nothing but black spots out there.
Since Rock and I would be spending a lot of time there, I figured I should buy some.
Rock’s fingers curled around mine. It felt so good. I let my head fall until it was lying on his shoulder.
That made things even more pleasant.
“The sun’s going to set in a few minutes,” he said. “The light’s bad, but then it fades. Gradually your vision clears. Out here, every sunset is the opening credit roll on the best movie never made.”
I leaned back and the swing moved. It was less like being pushed and more like the momentum taking us as our weight shifted.
He asked me what I wanted.
What do I want?
It wasn’t an idle question for him. It wasn’t a worn game of let’s-make-believe between two people who have no faith.
It was a serious question and it deserved a serious answer.
What I wanted was Rock. Only Rock.
I wanted to make him proud. I wanted him so happy, and healthy, and sure of himself, that from the first moment of the day when he set his foot on the floor of our bedroom, to the last thing at night when he pulled it back under the covers, I wanted him free of doubt. Free of fear.
I wanted him free—free to just be Rock..
I wanted to stand his ground. Fight his enemies. Win his heart again and again and again.
“I have everything I want.”
Rock gave the swing a shove. He shot me a wild, happy grin and broke into song. This was an everyday occurrence.
The lyrics of the song were all the explanation he needed to give.
I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He’s watching me.
Amen . . . Oh Christ. Amen to that.
“I love you, Skyler Brody.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m your man, Rockne Montana McLean.”
I didn’t spoil it by asking if he wanted my ass or my mouth. Turned out he had this super subtle way of letting me know.
“You going to just sit there or what?” He pressed kisses all over my face and on my lips and…Wow.
Just wow. That was the kiss of a lifetime. Tender and searching. Sweet. Scorching. This was the kiss of every lifetime.
“Hey.” I brushed a kiss over his knuckles. “You ever thought about becoming a preacher like your dad?”
He laughed at that. Deeply. Then flicked my arm like there was a mosquito on it but I knew he really meant to flick me for being a dumbass. “Hardly. I don’t believe in God anymore.”
“I don’t suppose it matters, as long as He believes in you.”
If there was a god, He’d never stop loving Rock, even if Rock didn’t believe anymore. No one who saw Rock’s heart could fail to love him.
“Never gonna happen.” Rock laughed at the idea. “My dad would open a vein.”
“All the same.” I had a nebulous plan and I needed Rock to make it happen. “Would you come out to the meadow with me on Sunday, if the weather’s okay?”
Maybe he knew about cowboy church, but he probably didn’t remember. It stood to reason, if they stopped celebrating things as a family when Mrs. Chandler left.
Maybe Rock needed something like that, though. Maybe he needed an open meadow and some warm, golden sunshine. Maybe he needed a chance to find out what he believed in, instead of being confronted by all the things he rejected.
“How come?” he asked.
I sighed when I laid my head on his shoulder. “There’s this poem I’d like to tell you...”
Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four manages to find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.” Her published books include My Cowboy Promises, My Cowboy Homecoming, My Heartache Cowboy, My Cowboy Heart, Vigil, Stirring Up Trouble, ePistols at
Dawn, Notturno, Drawn Together, Epic Award–finalist St. Nacho’s, and Crossing Borders.
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My Cowboy Freedom Page 31