Kane (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 6)

by Sinclair Jayne

  Memories crowded in of their summer together. How many different ways she’d touched him—massage, icing, taping, arousing, comforting, love. Sky knew she was doing it again, opening the door to her heart wide and letting him in. She’d tried to tell herself it was just kindness. He was hurt. They had a history. But truthfully, she loved to touch him, and she’d always loved his careless hair—the way it tumbled like night over his forehead, and he’d brush it back out of his face with his large, rough, but beautifully shaped hands. He had a widow’s peak hairline, like his mother, like Luke, and the new brother, Colt. She’d loved to trace it when they’d lain in bed together. She’d traced it in the truck, let the silky soft curls slide across her palm and through her fingers.

  Memories were harpies swooping in to dine off her soul.

  “Coffee?” she called out to Colt and then wished she hadn’t when he looked up at her. Even through his aviators she felt the burn of his gaze. She felt like an idiot fifties housewife or something. “If you want any,” she added because apparently she could be an even bigger idiot.

  This was dumb. She was letting Kane take over because she felt guilty. She was guilty, but she needed to figure out a way to work with him. To have him work with her. She walked quietly to her bedroom door.

  Kane sat on the white, wrought-iron twin-sized bed she had pushed against one wall and heaped with colorful cushions embroidered with flowers. His boots were kicked off, and his legs were crossed. Montana sat on his lap, one finger in her mouth, as she pointed to pictures and told stories about them.

  Sky’s heart sank. Of course Montana would pull out the daddy book. Sky kept a scrapbook of articles and pictures of Kane—interviews from local media, articles printed from the AEBR website, cutouts from ads he’d been in, even some stills from the documentary about bull riders that had come out last year that he’d been featured in. She’d made a separate scrapbook about Kane as a teenager—pictures she’d taken of Bennington and Kane swimming, hiking or horseback riding.

  She also had pictures from later, a few selfies she’d taken when he’d met her for lunch or dinner or to catch a movie or a round of mini golf when he was on tour break. Then there was the book she’d made of their summer together. A few of those pictures had made it into the regular daddy book, but the book of her and Kane was more private, intimate, not sexual exactly but it had all centered on her and Kane or shots she’d taken of him when he hadn’t been posing—taping his ribs or shoulder, smoothing on arnica for his bruises, holding her hand while the tattoo artist added to his bull tat using the artwork she’d created, putting rosin on his rope, watching bull tapes, reading, swimming in the river, him paining her toenails. Their life in real time.

  “There’s another book Mommy hides under her mattress,” Montana startled the snot out of Sky by saying. She slid off the bed and slipped her small hands under the quilted comforter on the opposite full-size bed and pulled out the third scrapbook where Sky had tucked it when they’d moved in. Sometimes she’d take it out and look at it. Usually at Kane in happier times, but also at the few pictures she’d included of herself pregnant and just after Montana’s birth before she switched over to making Montana her own baby book and daddy book.

  “This is my favorite. Mama looks so pretty and happy. You too, Daddy.”

  Carrying the book in both hands like it was something that could spill, and it could—all her secrets—Montana returned to her throne on Kane’s lap. Sky stared at the book and the shining eagerness on her daughter’s face. She had to get the book away from them. Kane would take one look at that book and know the truth. That she’d loved him with her whole heart. That she’d never stopped. For a moment Sky froze even though her brain screamed at her to grab the scrapbook and run.

  Kane was slow to respond to Montana’s eagerness. He seemed to be in a dream, and as Kane reached for the book, Sky managed to unlock her muscles. She tried to snatch the book mid handoff. Kane held tight.

  “Ahhhh…” Sky paused, trying to think of the right words. “Kane, those are private.”

  Those words were definitely not the right ones.

  Twin pale blue, nearly gray eyes sparked. “No more secrets,” he said. “Not one more.”

  “Kane.” She didn’t let go of the book either. Words were like space junk pummeling her from all sides. She wanted to run, give herself time to think, but she’d created this situation, inadvertently—she’d had no idea Kane would have been so angry, so hurt that she hadn’t confided in him about her pregnancy. She still couldn’t reconcile what she’d thought with reality.

  “Nothing off limits,” he said.

  “Does that go both ways?”

  Silence. Sky let go of the book. Typical. She’d done everything but drain a vein for him to prove her love but he kept his thoughts and feelings and history locked up tight.

  No thanks.

  “Do you want to see the book, Daddy? It’s my favorite.”

  Trapped. Stuck. Everything Kane’s way and she had no time to think.

  “Maybe later, Montana,” Sky said. “Daddy wants us to pack some clothes. We’re going to take a little trip.” Sky spoke each word slowly and carefully.

  As a distraction, it didn’t work. Kane had already opened the book. The first picture was of Kane, Sky and Bennington in her parents’ back courtyard. They’d been swimming and were wrapped in towels. The sun was setting so everything was pink, gold. They were squished in a giant pool chair, a bonfire blazing before them, and they’d clearly been roasting marshmallows for s’mores. Bennington and Kane wielded their sticks like swords, marshmallows flaming. Sky’s attention in the photo had been wholly focused on Kane.

  Obsess much?

  Sky wanted to grab the book and run far, far away. Kane’s head was bent over the book. He turned the page, lingered, turned again. Montana’s eyes sparkled but Kane’s gaze was shuttered. She could see the brewing storm clouds barely contained. He was angry. Angrier than he’d been when he’d pulled over in the desert. He should have been having a sweet moment with his daughter as she shared her treasurers, but instead he was furious.

  Sky had never known how to deal with anger. Her father had been coldly critical and cutting. Dismissive. Her mother had yelled and screamed and cried. And thrown things. Sky knew she needed to step up and say or do something to ease the tension, but she always froze. Shut down. Became so exhausted that she could lie down and sleep like a turned-off computer.

  Montana broke through her fugue by taking her hand.

  “Mommy sit,” Montana said. “Sit here.” She slid off the bed and pushed Sky down next to Kane. She perched lightly, trying not to touch him. “Sit with Daddy.”

  Montana stepped back as if surveying her work. Sky stifled a sob. It was so sweet and painful and such a perfect blend of them both—bossy and artistic, going for the emotional heart of the visual. Montana climbed back up on the bed and knelt beside Kane. She whispered something in his ear and then sat down beside him. Impatiently because he still hadn’t moved, she turned the page. Then another.

  “That’s me,” Montana said importantly and pointing to a picture of Sky in a long skirt and form-fitting T-shirt. “I was in Mommy’s tummy,” Montana said. “I was this little.” She curled up in a ball and then rolled off the bed. She stood up and stretched her arms up. “And now I’m this big.”

  Kane’s gaze slid helplessly toward his daughter. From his profile, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he looked to be holding so much in—emotions rattling around his caged heart—that Sky felt like something had just dropped on her head. Kane really did want to be in his daughter’s life. He really would have welcomed a baby. And as Montana stood on her tiptoes and stretched higher, and Kane stared at his little girl being playful, his finger unconsciously traced the rounded lines of Sky’s stomach in the photo.

  She really, really had misread him four years ago.

  As Kane had driven her and Montana to Santa Fe, she’d still convinced herself she had
made the correct decision. She’d had all her rationalizations lined up, polished and ready to show off. One by one. Only they hadn’t worked for him. And she didn’t think they were working for her anymore.

  She hadn’t wanted to be in a loveless marriage like her mother had been. She hadn’t wanted her child to be rejected by its father like she had been. So she hadn’t given Kane a chance to hurt her or his child. Only Kane wasn’t her father. And she could stand to see him hurting.

  So now what?

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Montana tugged at her fingers. She needed to move. To say something, the but weight of the mistake she’d made four years ago pressed down on her, made her feel like she was underwater, drowning.

  Montana bolted away toward the kitchen and relief washed through her when she heard Montana talking to Colt and his deep voice answering something about grilled cheese. Then she heard the fridge open and the water turn on. Montana started singing the alphabet song. It sounded so normal when everything had gone to hell that Sky pressed her hand hard against her mouth the hold in the sobs.

  Kane seemed in his own personal stupor. His head was lowered, and the book slipped a little down his legs so she wasn’t sure if he was still looking at it or…

  And here they were—a family. And she was going to have to meet Kane in the middle to form some kind of custody arrangement or… She could barely even think about what Kane seemed to want—being a family. No way could that work. It was impractical. He traveled to a different city and risked his life on a weekly basis, and he hated her. He was angry and bitter, and she couldn’t blame him. She was loaded down with guilt and fired up with suspicion. She couldn’t trust him. He didn’t seem likely to forgive her.

  Not exactly anyone’s idea of a happy ever after.

  “Kane, I didn’t…I never intended to hurt you,” she whispered.

  She’d loved him. Had been so crazy in love with him and if he’d stop glaring and accusing and ordering her around for five minutes, she’d probably find herself head over heels again.

  “I was…” Scared. Confused. Wrong? How did she explain her teenage fears to a man who’d never had a doubt in his mind? “You were always so sure of yourself, of your place in the world.” She had craved that certainty and strength. “You had everything planned out—your career, how long you’d ride, the money you needed, the ranch you were going to have with Luke, and it was all going according to plan for you.”

  He met her worried gaze. His eyes had gone silver, and Sky had to resist burrowing into him for comfort. She didn’t deserve it. She twisted her hands together.

  “I thought you’d be upset about the baby.”

  She’d been terrified that he’d suggest an abortion and even though she hadn’t wanted to be pregnant or have a baby at nineteen, she could never have destroyed anything that was part of Kane. And she’d known she could never give up his child. She thought the baby would be the only thing she’d ever have to love, or the only person who would love her.

  “I know you don’t understand my reasoning.”

  “I don’t accept it,” he said flatly.

  “I thought I was protecting you,” she forced herself to continue in the face of his strong denial. “I did think that,” she repeated when his eyes flashed. “But yes, I was protecting myself and my baby too.”

  “Our baby. Ours,” he whispered, but the words held more power than if he’d shouted. “Why did you need to protect our baby from me?” His voice hummed in anger.

  “I didn’t think you’d want her,” she defended.

  He reared away from her. Catching up the photo scrapbook before it hit the ground.

  “Did you tell her that?” he demanded, his face pale and a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Didn’t she ask about me? Wonder why she didn’t have her dad?”

  Hard to explain that one. The answer would probably hurt more, but maybe they just needed to unload all their personal crap, put their personal history on the table and sort through it.

  “She’s three, Kane.”

  “She’ll be eight one day. Ten. Not a stretch to think she would have wondered then. She would have felt that I had rejected her. It would have clawed at her heart and her confidence.”

  “Kane?” He sounded like he spoke from experience. Sky realized then that she knew nothing about his father. He’d talked a lot about growing up with Luke, always trying to be faster, stronger, smarter than his big brother. He’d spoken fondly of his mother, but there had always been something in his voice that revealed there was something hidden, and she’d lacked the confidence to ever push him for more than he was willing to give her.

  “What if she sought me out on her own later?” Kane paced in front of her now. Fluidly and crackling with energy. He stopped in front of her, and Sky, who’d found herself watching him helplessly, the now familiar guilt choking her, stared at the floor.

  “Imagine all the wasted years then, Sky.” He tipped her chin up so that she was forced to face him—see his anger, but it was his pain that hit her hardest.

  She would have seen that same pain on Montana’s face.

  “I tried,” Sky whispered, gesturing vaguely to the two scrapbooks, suddenly realizing the total inadequacy of her effort.

  “You turned me into a character in a book,” he accused, his voice echoing in disbelief. “Do you realize how insane that is? How stupid? Cruel? I can’t believe we made a baby and you relegated me to a goddamn book.”

  She winced and scrunched her eyes closed waiting for…something…she didn’t know. Him to hurl the book, knock something over. Throw something against the wall.

  “I’m sorry, Kane. I’m sorry.” How many times would she have to say it before he knew that she hadn’t hidden her pregnancy to hurt him? Her throat felt squeezed, and burned with everything she was suppressing, but she got the next bit out. “I did what I thought right.”

  He held her by her shoulders, his grip firm, but not tight.

  “You fucking knew it was not right to run away from me.” He spit out that word like it tasted bad. “You knew it wasn’t fucking right to not tell me we’d made a baby. A child who would grow up thinking her dad didn’t give a fuck about her.” Sky flinched at all the profanity. Kane hardly ever swore around her and now it was like a storm brewing over her head, hurling lightning bolts. “Do you know what that does to a kid to know they weren’t wanted? Do you?”

  Yes.

  But she couldn’t speak. Share more of her shame.

  “You look me in the eye and you tell me you think Montana will have a better life, grow into a happy and independent young woman, be more confident, more financially stable and secure without knowing that her father cherishes her and loves her and will put her first. You tell me that, Sky.” He used the word ‘you,’ like a curse and started backing her across the room as he spoke as if the words generated so much energy, he couldn’t hold it in. He backed her against the wall and her head bounced a little. “You look me in the eye and tell me you really believe that you did the right thing.”

  “Hey.” The deep voice was like a gunshot. “Think you need a break.”

  Sky jumped. Colt stood in the doorway, massive, nearly taking up the whole thing, tall, broad and looking a little mean.

  “I’m not done,” Kane said, his voice and breathing harsh.

  “Done for now,” Colt said and took a step into the room.

  Kane looked at Sky and then took a step back, ran an agitated hand through his hair. He turned away from her.

  “It’s okay. We’re okay,” she said to Colt although she couldn’t think of anything less okay than where she and Kane were at the moment. “Kane and I have a lot to discuss and work out, and that’s my fault,” she said firmly, forcing her body to stay relaxed so Colt would stand down—not think she needed help.

  She could feel Kane’s hot stare burning through the back of her head.

  She slowly turned around. She’d wante
d to protect her daughter and her heart, but she’d ended up hurting all three of them so much more. She had to stop running away. Today would be the first step back on the path she should have taken so long ago. Kane was right.

  “Kane.” She wanted him to turn around so he’d know she was sincere, but she was not sure of her reception. She still didn’t feel ready to tell him everything—about her family history and all the secrets and resentments—but still, she needed him to know that she was going to try for Montana’s sake to meet him halfway, to co-parent although how that would work was beyond her. One step at a time.

  She took one more step to close the distance, and after hesitating a moment, she stroked one finger down the back of his hand. He didn’t pull away. Trying to hold on to her faltering nerve, she lightly laced her fingers with his. Something in her calmed. She’d always loved to touch him, and she admitted to herself that she’d missed this, missed him.

  “Kane, I can’t say that Montana’s life would be better without you in it. She has been with you only a day.” Half of which he was on his back in the hospital. Her stomach lurched. It could happen again. He could get hurt worse next time. And then what?

  One step at a time.

  “She’s already so attached to you,” she whispered. “I was wrong to not tell you. I was just so scared,” she said.

  He turned around. She expected anger. Derision. Fired-off questions. Instead his silvery eyes searched hers, curious, wary.

  “I was scared that we’d hold you back and you’d resent us.” She sucked in a breath, but kept her gaze glued to his. “I was scared that I couldn’t handle your lifestyle—the danger and the traveling and the celebrity part.” She swallowed hard. “I still don’t know how I am going to do it, how we will parent Montana together, but I am willing to…and I want to try.”

  What was he thinking? It took all her nerve to stand there and wait.

  “Not try,” he said flatly, giving her nothing. “We succeed. We win. There can be no doubt in your mind.”

  So much for meeting halfway. Kane did nothing by halves.