Blythe thought Brooke walked around with a stick up her ass, but she didn’t try to tell her to live her life any differently. She couldn’t believe that, only a couple of days ago, she told her mom she wished Brooke was there.
“How’s Bree?”
“She’s okay. She’s spending time with your mom and dad. You’re okay, Blythe. Take some time for yourself. She’ll be fine.”
Blythe went back inside without calling home. No one had called or texted, and if they’d needed her, someone would’ve. Renie was right, she’d take some time for herself and not feel guilty about it.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m not sure. But…nobody needs me. So…”
“Wrong. I need you. Come over here, Blythe.”
Tucker was stretched out on the bed. The same bed they’d barely gotten out of since they got to the room last night.
“Wanna go for a walk or something?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“You wanna stay in bed all day?”
“Yep.”
Who was she to argue? Blythe took off the robe she’d found on the back of the bathroom door, and stretched out on the bed next to him.
10
“We should talk, Blythe.”
She didn’t want to talk. She’d done nothing but talk and listen for the last week. What was wrong with feeling? The last few hours with Tucker had been all about feeling. She buried her head under a pillow.
“I take it you don’t want to talk.”
She threw the pillow on the floor. “Why do we have to talk?” she pouted. Whenever someone said they needed to talk, it usually meant they had something to tell her that she didn’t want to hear. Otherwise, they just talked. They didn’t announce the need for it.
Tucker smiled. Even if he didn’t know, he’d be able to guess that Blythe was the baby of the family, and her daddy’s little girl. She was a lot like her dad, so it made sense.
“It’s time for me to go back to Aspen.”
Blythe didn’t put her head back under the pillow, but she didn’t say anything either. She got up, went into the bathroom, and closed the door. When she came back out, she was dressed.
“Can you take me home now?”
“No.”
“You’re refusing?” She went to pick her phone up from the nightstand, but he grabbed it first.
“I told you I wanted to talk. Let’s talk first, and then I’ll take you home.”
“I want to go home.”
“Why?”
She sat down on the end of the bed, with her back to him.
“I don’t understand why you’re getting upset about something as simple as me saying we should talk.”
“Why did you leave on Thanksgiving?”
“It’s a long story.”
Blythe kept her back to him. “Since you’re refusing to take me home, I have all the time in the world.”
“Now isn’t the time for us to talk about that.”
“You say you want to talk, yet you aren’t willing to.”
“I don’t want to get into what happened on Thanksgiving right now. That’s it.”
“Oh yeah? What about your scar, Tucker?” Blythe turned to face him and ran her finger along the thin line that went from his left cheek almost all the way to his hairline.
“Same story, Blythe.”
“Fine,” she turned back around. “Then, take me home.”
He stood, so she did too, assuming they were leaving.
“I’m not playing games with you, Blythe.”
“Good, because I’m not playing games either. Take me home, or I’ll call someone to come and get me.”
Tucker put his hands on her shoulders. “Blythe, why are you acting this way? All I said was it was time for me to go home. I didn’t say I didn’t want to see you again.”
Why was she acting this way? Good question, and one she didn’t have a rational answer for. The minute he’d said he was leaving, she wanted to leave first.
She sat back down, and he sat next to her. “Blythe, what’s goin’ on?”
He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her back, so they were stretched out on the bed, side by side. Turning to face her, Tucker put his hand under her shirt and caressed the skin on her stomach.
“Talk to me,” he whispered, leaning over and putting his lips where his hand rested.
“I can’t.”
He pulled her shirt out of his way, so his lips could trail farther up her body. He cupped her breast through her bra, and his fingers rolled her nipple.
“Blythe, look at me.”
She closed her eyes tighter.
He pulled her shirt back down over her stomach and rolled off the bed. “Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”
She opened her eyes. “Why now?”
“You wanted to go. Let’s go.”
Blythe grabbed her bag and followed him out of the room and to the parking lot. They drove to her house in silence.
Tucker pulled into the driveway, put the truck in park, and unlocked the doors.
“That’s it? You’re going to drop me off and leave?”
“What do you want, Blythe? You wanted me to bring you home, you’re home.”
“You don’t want to come in?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Tucker—”
“You’re home. Get out of the truck, Blythe.”
He hated the look on her face. Hated it. But he hated the feelings warring inside him more. He told her he wanted to talk. He’d been ready then. Now he wasn’t. He couldn’t pretend the last hour hadn’t happened.
“Tucker, please.”
“Blythe, if you don’t get out of the truck, you’re gonna end up going with me, and right now, I don’t know where I’m headed.”
“Back to Spain?”
He looked away from her.
“Don’t leave this way.”
Was she kidding? He’d given her every opportunity back at the inn to talk to him. Every opportunity. It was too late in the game for this play. She needed to let him leave.
“I’m going to give you sixty seconds to get out, and if you don’t, you’re going with me.”
“Tucker—”
“Get out of the truck, Blythe. Now.”
She did. Thank God. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if she hadn’t. The door was barely closed before he threw the truck in reverse and peeled out of the driveway.
He saw her in the rearview mirror. The look on her face would haunt him, but he couldn’t let himself turn around. He’d been in this situation before, but last time, the girl had gone with him. He’d learned his lesson. It was better to drive away.
As soon as he got far enough from the house that he knew she wouldn’t be able to see him, he pulled over. He got out and stopped himself a second before he slammed his fist into the side of the vehicle. That would be all he needed. Work was his only outlet. If he hurt his hand, he’d have nothing.
He’d wanted to talk to her about this thing between them. He wanted to tell her how long it had been since he felt this way about anyone. That he never thought he would again. She had no idea how hard it was for him to come that close to opening up to her.
Why had she gotten upset when he said it was time for him to go home? It was. There were things he needed to take care of. Had she listened, he would’ve told her that he’d be back, and when he was, he wanted to spend time with her. He’d even started to think about how they could be together all the time. He wasn’t sure if that meant she should come to Aspen, or if he would come to Monument.
When she’d asked him about Thanksgiving, he almost felt as though he could tell her the story. If they’d talked about everything else, he may have. Now, he didn’t know if he ever would.
He wanted to leave. That was his modus operandi after all. Pack. Leave. Repack. Leave again. Get as far away as he could. He’d never found a far away far enough, though.
“Hi,” said Bree.
“Hi.”
“He left in an awful big hurry.”
“Yeah. I guess I made him mad.”
“You guess?”
Blythe couldn’t tell if Bree was making a joke by stating the obvious, or asking her a question. She sat down, leaned over, and put her head on her sister’s shoulder. Bree hugged her closer.
“I should be comforting you,” said Blythe.
“You did plenty of that. My turn to take care of my little sister.”
Tears ran down Blythe’s cheeks, which only made her feel worse. She was crying because she and Tucker had a fight. He hadn’t died, like Zack had. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Bree.”
“It’s okay to cry. There isn’t a scorecard. I don’t have any more crying points than you do. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I just wish he hadn’t left.”
“Tell him that, right now. Call him, text him, however you can reach him. Tell him. Don’t let him leave this way.”
“Okay,” Blythe whispered. She pulled out her phone and sent Tucker a text, wondering if something like this had happened between Bree and Zack.
I’m sorry, she wrote. I wish you hadn’t left. She thought for a minute and added, please give me another chance.
His phone pinged. Whoever it was, whatever they wanted, he didn’t care. He had nothing to give to anyone else right now. As hard as he tried not to look, he couldn’t help himself.
Blythe.
Where are you?
What could he say? Around the corner?
Are you at the inn? I’ll come over. I have to see you, Tucker. Please don’t leave me again.
He stared at the phone. It was one of those moments. He could be stubborn and ignore her. But would that get him anywhere? Would it get him what he wanted? Did he even know what he wanted?
He realized he wasn’t standing still any longer. He was walking toward her house. If he cut through the woods, he’d be there in less than two minutes.
Meet me outside, he texted back.
“What?” asked Bree.
“He’s coming back.”
Bree got up to go inside.
“Wait, you don’t have to go.”
“Do this, Blythe. Talk to him.”
Blythe walked to the end of the driveway and watched for his truck to come back down the road. She was so focused on watching for him, she didn’t hear him walk up behind her.
“Blythe,” he breathed into her hair.
She spun around and he caught her. “Tucker,” she cried. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Blythe. I don’t know what—”
She didn’t let him finish. She reached up and brushed her lips across his. She opened her mouth to him, and he took it. They stood at the end of her driveway, bodies intertwined, mouths locked together, as though they were a couple of teenagers with nowhere else to go.
“Where’s your truck?”
“I didn’t get very far. I was too pissed to drive, so I pulled over.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
He kissed her forehead. “Blythe, this isn’t easy for me. I want us to talk. There are things I want to tell you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Let’s talk. Do you want to go back to the inn, or do you want to go somewhere else?”
Tucker looked out over the valley in front of them. On the other side of the highway, he could see what looked like a fire road going up the side of Mount Herman.
“Ever been on that road?” he asked.
“Many times. My dad and I go up there and shoot.”
“When’s the last time you were up there? Is the road open?”
“I don’t know, maybe three weeks ago. We haven’t had much snow since, so I’m sure it’s open.”
“Do you need to let anyone know you’re leaving again?”
“Nobody saw me, except Bree. She won’t say anything.”
“Why not?”
“Because she was the one who insisted I tell you I wished you hadn’t left.”
Tucker nodded his head and took Blythe’s hand in his. “Let’s go.” He led her back through the woods to where he’d left his truck.
What would he say? He wanted to talk, but where should he start? He wanted more in his life; he wanted Blythe to wipe away the bad and replace it with good. He’d spent so many years believing he was incapable of loving or being loved by a woman that, now, he didn’t know how to ask for it. It was his damage, as Jace called it.
His brother felt it, that’s how Jace knew how to name it. Tucker was damaged. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider it would be possible to repair his heart, or his soul. But since he’d met Blythe, he’d felt hope. Even in the light of a tragedy that hit too close, he’d felt hope.
She was quiet, looking out the window as he made his way toward the remote mountain road. She’d practically begged him to come back to the house, to give her another chance. Now that he had, she was waiting for him to talk, to tell her what was so important that her unwillingness to hear him had set him off, made him angry, made him leave.
He was scared; that was the truth of it. What would happen when he talked about the one thing he vowed he never would? Allowing himself to share his past would mean the wound would be ripped open. Would he be able to get through it without breaking down? He doubted it. And when he did, how would Blythe react? Particularly now. She hadn’t had any time to process through the grief of the last week. Would she take on his pain too, the way she had her sister’s?
No matter what, he couldn’t start talking until he found a place to pull off the road.
“You turn here,” she said so softly he almost missed it. The paved portion of the road ended, replaced by rough, washboard-ridden dirt. Snow was piled on either side, but the road itself was clear.
When he rounded the bend, the last thing he expected was another car coming from the opposite direction and driving down the center of the narrow road, just like he was.
When he tried to swerve to miss it, his truck hit a patch of ice and careened off into the woods. He frantically tried to turn into it, to keep from skidding further, but he couldn’t stop. His truck hit a rock, and he knew they were going to roll. He looked at Blythe. Her terror-filled eyes bored into his. He knew that look. He’d seen it before. The nightmare was repeating itself.
11
Tucker opened his eyes and looked around. He tried to move, but his body wasn’t responding to the demands his brain was making. The truck was on an angle, the passenger side, closest to the ground. Blythe’s back was to him. She was face down, as though she was looking out the window. He couldn’t tell whether or not she was breathing.
The last thing he remembered was the sob of anguish he released, right before the darkness engulfed him again.
When he woke again, he was in a hospital bed. The sights and sounds were hauntingly familiar. He raised his head. Pain. Horrible pain. He felt as though his head was in a vice. He closed his eyes against it.
Blythe. Oh God, what had happened to Blythe? He forced his eyes back open and saw Jace, asleep in the chair next to the bed. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and his throat closed up. He could only get out a hoarse sound.
He cleared his throat and tried again. “Jace.” This time it was loud enough that his brother woke and stood, coming closer to the bed.
“Hey, man,” he said, his own voice clouded with sleep. “How’re you doin’?”
“Blythe?”
The flash of a wince on his brother’s face told him more than he wanted to know. He had to know the rest. “How bad is it?”
“She’s in surgery.”
“Answer me. How bad?”
“It’s bad, Tuck.”
There came the darkness again. This time he welcomed it.
Jace drove up the mountain road, behind the tow truck.
He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but at the very least, he had to get his brother’s personal stuff out of his vehicle. He’d made arrangements with the insurance company to have the damage assessed. Damage. There was that word again.
When the tow truck stopped, Jace looked up the side of the hill. There it was, on its side. The top of the cab was crushed in. Looking at it, he couldn’t believe his brother or Blythe were still alive. Fate had been kinder this time. Much kinder.
Jace sat down on a rock wanting to stay out of the way of the guys trying to figure out how they’d get the truck off the side of the mountain and back down the hill.
The view from this spot was beautiful. Beyond the trees that blanketed the Black Forest, the prairie opened up and spread out all the way to Kansas. To the south, the city of Colorado Springs lay sleepily beyond the confines of the Air Force Academy, and to the north, the skyline of the city of Denver was barely visible. The sky was so blue and the earth, so green around him. If only the beauty of this place had the power to overcome the horrific memories that haunted him.
Tucker blamed himself, carried the guilt around with him day after day. Jace buried it, denied it, tried to force it out of his mind whenever it crept back in. His biggest fear was that, one day, Tucker would feel it and realize it wasn’t his own guilt he was feeling; it was Jace’s.
“What are you doing?” Jace asked Tucker two days later.
“I’m leaving.”
“I know they said you were being released today, but has the doctor been in yet?”
Jace had brought Tucker clothes the night before, anticipating he’d go home today. He came in early enough that he’d be able to see the doctor too and find out what Tuck’s aftercare instructions were. His injuries were minimal, which was surprising given the state the truck was in. He’d suffered a concussion, and that was the biggest of Jace’s concerns.
“Tuck, what did the doctor say?”
Tucker didn’t answer.
“I’m not taking you home until we talk to him. Don’t be an asshole. Mama and Daddy are on their way, too.”
Kiss Me Cowboy (Cowboys of Crested Butte Book 3) Page 11