"Tell me the story."
She jumped, whirling around to find Travis in her doorway. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his brow furrowed. She frowned at his question, her fingers gripping the blankets. "What story?"
"You've lived in Rogue Valley for eight years. Your daughter's eight. A piece of shit drunk showed up here saying that you almost married him, and claiming that it's been a long time since he's seen you. I don't see any sign of a man living here now." He searched her face, kindness on his face, not judgment. "Have you raised her yourself? Alone this whole time?"
She lifted her chin stubbornly. "I'm fine."
"No one's fine. We're all totally fucked up." He searched her face, as if he really wanted to know, as if he actually cared. "What happened, Lissa?"
"I—" The tenderness in his voice undid her. Weariness suddenly overwhelmed her, and tears sprang to her eyes. She never cried. She never succumbed to weakness. But Rand's visit tonight had unnerved her in so many ways, unraveling her fragile thread of control enough that Travis's kindness broke the final threads holding her together. Dammit. She couldn't afford to fall apart. She just couldn't. She held up her hand, fighting to stay in control. "Don't be nice. If you're nice, I'm going to cry, and I can't do that. Please, just take the blankets, sleep on the couch, and kick Rand out if he tries to come in."
Travis levered himself off the doorframe and walked toward her. She quickly turned away, yanking ineffectively at the blankets on her bed. "I don't have any extra, so you can have these." She yanked again, but they didn't move. "Dammit. Come on—"
Travis stopped behind her and lightly clasped her shoulders. "Lissa," he said gently.
She closed her eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks as she gripped the blanket. "Don't," she whispered, fighting for the strength that had kept her going all this time. "I can't do this. I can't—"
"Come here." He reached down and pried her fingers off the blanket, then turned her toward him. He didn't try to talk. He just wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him.
Chapter 11
Lissa buried her face in Travis's shoulder, fighting against the tears. She couldn't believe she was crying. She never cried, and yet here she was, with a man she didn't even know, on the verge of complete collapse. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe deep, but her hands were shaking, and the tears were trickling down her cheeks. "I wasn't prepared to see him tonight," she whispered. "It just shook me up a little bit. I'm fine."
"You're not fine. I know what it's like to say you're fine when you're not." He slid his fingers through her hair, a tender gesture that made her tears fall harder.
"No." She pulled back, wiping at her cheeks. "Look, I don't need a hug. I really appreciate you staying around in case he comes back, but that's all. It's fine." She held up her hands, trying to ward off any kindness from him. "Please," she whispered, her voice raw. "I can't be weak. I have to be strong. If I need a hug, then it means I'm weak, and I can't do that, or I'll fall apart. I have to get up in four hours and start cooking, so, I just need to sleep, okay?" Her voice cracked, and suddenly, she couldn't catch her breath.
Rand was back in town. What if he'd come back for the one thing that mattered to her? "God, no," she whispered, falling to her knees at the thought of it.
Travis caught her arms, catching her before she hit the ground. He scooped her up in his arms, carried her over to the bed, and sat down, keeping her in his arms as he leaned back against the headboard, his legs stretched out at an angle so his boots hung over the side of the bed.
For a split second, she was too stunned by the warmth of his body around hers to do anything. It just felt so good, like it was safe to feel again, to… God. No. What was she thinking? She couldn't do this. She struggled to get off his lap. "Travis—"
His arms tightened around her. "Go to sleep. I'll stay here and watch out for him."
"Let me go." She lightly hit his forearm. "I can't go to sleep with you in my bed. Seriously, Travis, this is just—"
"Lissa." He pulled her back against him, settling her more securely against his chest. "I spent my whole childhood afraid to sleep because of who might come after me while my eyes were closed. It sucks, so let me take that fear away from you, at least for tonight." His voice was on edge, steely, and she recalled his icy statement about drunken bullies.
She pulled back to look at him, and her heart turned over when she found him watching her, his blue eyes intent on hers. There was no judgment in them, just a fierce determination, and a thinly veiled fury. He was a warrior, a protector, a man ready to fight whatever battle arrived.
"Letting someone help you doesn't make you weak," he said gently, rubbing his hand across her back. "It makes you stronger. No one can fight every battle alone, including you."
Tears welled up again, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, suddenly too tired to fight. It had been so long since she'd felt anyone's arms around her, so long since she'd felt the warmth of a man's body against hers, so long since she hadn't faced her nightmares alone, swallowing her tears so her daughter wouldn't hear her.
Tonight, with Bridgette gone, and Travis holding her, it would be safe to let go. For one minute, just one, she didn't have to hold on anymore.
So she gave up fighting. She closed her eyes and let the tears fall, surrendering to the man holding her so gently.
He continued to rub her back, humming softly under his breath. His voice wrapped around her like an invisible caress, sliding under her skin. There was something so melodic to his voice, almost magical. Tears slid silently down her cheeks, peeling away at her composure and self-control. His body was hard and muscular, so strong and warm. Her soul felt like crying out for what it felt like to be against him, to feel his body against hers, to have the warmth of another human being infusing her, battling with the cold that always seemed to be buried so deep in her bones.
Instinctively, she flattened her hand on his chest, her fingers twisting the fabric of his tee shirt, as if she could somehow hold onto him, to keep this moment forever. She couldn't, of course. Real life was hovering just outside the moment, waiting for her. She had to be a mom, and run the café. She didn't have the luxury of falling apart, or believing in the wrong man, but... "I want this to be real," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
His hand stilled on her back. "What?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, horrified she'd just said that aloud. "I didn't mean you and me. I just meant this feeling of being safe, of not having to fight, of...being held."
He kissed the top of her head. "I am holding you. It is real."
"I know. I just meant, real, as in I want to feel this way all the time, I guess." She grimaced when he didn't answer. "Never mind." Suddenly embarrassed, she sat up, her cheeks hot. Had she really just fallen apart on some guy she didn't know? "Listen, Travis—"
"He's her dad, isn't he?"
Fear leapt through Lissa, and her heart seemed to stop. "What?"
"Rand. Your daughter." He studied her, his face non-judgmental. "He's her dad, but he didn't even ask about her when he appeared. That's why you're afraid. Because he's not just your ex. He's her dad. You're afraid he's going to try to take her."
The fear returned, coming crashing back, and she suddenly couldn't breathe again. "I—"
"How old are you? Twenty-five?" He guessed, too astutely. "So, you had Bridgette when you were, what, seventeen?"
Humiliation burned her cheeks, and she was suddenly that seventeen-year-old girl again, terrified, ashamed, and alone. "It's none of your business," she snapped, fighting off memories she didn't allow herself anymore. She tried to push him away, but he didn't release her.
"Hey," Travis said gently, wrapping his arms around her again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I was just thinking about the situation, and it hit me."
He'd been thinking about her situation? "Why would you think about my situation? It's not your problem—"
"Bec
ause I admire you."
Dammit. He was being too nice. It felt too good. She wanted more of him, more from him, more of this moment, none of which could ever happen. So, instead of sighing happily and hanging on every word he gave her, she glared at him. "What kind of answer is that? Don't be sweet." She pulled out of his arms, struggling to her feet. "Listen, you don't understand—"
"I want to."
She stared at him, shocked by the intensity of his gaze as he watched her, as if he really did care. "Why? Why are you here? Why are you asking me these things? Why do you want to understand? I don't even know you. You don't know me. I—" Tears threatened again. "See? You're making me cry! I don't have time to cry! I just—" God. She was losing every last vestige of control and strength. She had to get out of there, and away from him. "Fine. You sleep here. I'll take the couch."
She spun around and hurried out of the bedroom, hugging herself as she almost ran down the hall. She peeked in Bridgette's room out of habit, and she started to cry harder when she saw the empty bed. It wasn't even made up, because she'd been planning to do laundry. It was two in the morning, and her daughter should be home with her, not sleeping over at Martha's because her mom had no time for her this week.
There was no stopping the tears now, and she hurried into the living room and curled up on the couch. She pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her face to them, fighting desperately to contain the deep, gasping breaths as she struggled to regain control—
The couch cushion sank down, but before she could move, she felt Travis sit beside her. She didn't look up as he tucked her comforter around her, or when he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her gently against him, ignoring her resistance until she finally gave up and let him draw her against him. She felt him press a kiss to her forehead, which made the tears fall even harder. "Why? Why are you being like this with me?" she whispered.
She knew better than to blindly trust the moment, to believe all his beautiful words, or to bask in how good it felt to be with him. She'd learned her lessons well.
"Because you make me feel like I can breathe."
"What does that mean?" She sat up to look at him, frustrated and angry that he was in her space and making her feel. "I don't even know you, but you're swooping into my life like a knight in shining armor. It doesn't make sense. Do you want to get laid? Because I don't sleep with anyone. Do you want to amuse yourself? Do you want to just toy with me? Is that it?" She knew she was being hateful, but she didn't care. She needed to push him away, to get him to show what he was really like, before she fell so far under his spell that she lost the ability to protect herself.
He narrowed his eyes, but this time, he didn't get irritated. He just studied her. "Tell me the story, Lissa."
"Why?" She pushed him away and stood up, pacing across the room. "Why do you care? Do you think I'm so pathetic that all you have to do is be nice, and I'll fall for you? I can be your girl in this town, until you move on? Should I be honored that you chose me to seduce on this trip?"
His eyebrows shot up, and then he leaned forward. "Lissa. I am not Rand. Don't take it out on me just because he's a piece of shit who hurt you."
"I don't want anything from you! I don't want help! I don't want sympathy!" She knew tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she didn't care. She just wanted him out. She wanted to go back to her little safe world without him, and without Rand. "Just leave!"
He didn't move. "Why are you so pissed at me?"
"Because... God, because—" The anger suddenly used itself up. Exhausted, she sat down on the floor, her back against the door that led downstairs. "I believed in him," she said, too drained to fight anymore. "He was the first one in my life who made me feel like I mattered. I believed in him, and I was wrong. I've been so careful not to ever trust a man again, but you make me want to believe in you. You make me want to believe that you're helping me just because you see something inside me that's worth saving, but the last time I believed it..." She closed her eyes. "I can't go through that again. Everyone lets you down eventually. They just do."
"I know."
"You know? What do you know?" She couldn't keep the skepticism out of her voice. Travis lived the life of a superstar. He had amazing brothers who adored him. What could he possibly understand about her life?
Travis was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. "My father was an angry drunk. He beat the shit out of me and my brothers every chance he got. "
She blinked, stunned by his answer. "Oh, Travis—"
He held up his hand to silence her. "My mom was his third wife. She married him when she got pregnant with me, but she hated the fact she was stuck with a kid. I used to lie in bed at night and listen to her shouting at him, swearing at him for forcing her to become a mother and saddling her with a piece of shit son."
Lissa's heart froze in her chest, and she instinctively reached out, needing to touch him. Her hand settled on his shoulder, and he didn't move away. "Oh, God, Travis—"
"She left eventually, and refused to take me or even tell me where she was going. I was six, too small to defend myself against my dad. Chase and some of my other brothers tried to step in to protect me, but they weren't around much. They stayed as far away from him as they could. They were older, the product of other women who'd married my dad or just slept with him, so they had more independence than I did." His face was stoic, but pain burned in his eyes. "I rebelled. I hated the entire world, and I had my dad's temper. It scared the hell out of me when I got angry, but at the same time, it was the only time I felt safe. When I was mad, I was stronger. I caused trouble. I stole things. I did everything I could to show the world that no one owned me, and no one had the right to judge me."
Her heart ached for the image he'd painted, for the little boy who'd lived such hell. "So, that's why you said the town hates you."
"I made sure they did." He leaned forward. "Music used to be my salvation, but it's not anymore. Without it, I have nothing. I've been spiraling into a darkness that I couldn't get out of...until you smiled at me. That's why I care, Lissa. Because you're the one bright light in my entire fucking life, and I want to protect you and keep that light inside you burning. You can relax around me, because I've been fucked over so many times that I would never do it to you."
Tears filled her eyes again, but this time, she felt an ache in her heart too, an ache so deep she could barely breathe. Sadness for Travis, but also, a faint hope that this man sitting on her couch was someone she could really believe in, because he understood what it was like to have the people he counted on betray him. She didn't want to fall in love with him, but she wanted desperately to be able to trust him as a human being. As someone who might not judge her. As someone who might understand.
He leaned forward. "So, tell me your story, Lissa. I want to know what you've been through, because your past is what makes you so alive to me today."
Suddenly, for the first time in almost nine years, Lissa wanted to talk. She'd held it in for so long, but she couldn't keep it in anymore. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to connect with a man who had suffered so much, who somehow, despite all of that, was kind, gentle, and compassionate. "My mother was considered the town slut." She waited, tensing for his judgment.
He simply nodded. "Go on."
She picked up one of her daughter's cleats and began to play with the laces, trying to distract herself from the words she was saying. "She slept with a ton of guys. She got pregnant with my sister when she was seventeen, and she had no idea who the dad was. She had me a few years later, and had no idea who my dad was either. Even from when I was little, I heard the whispers and the stories. I saw the way people looked at me. I knew what they meant when they shook their heads and said I was too pretty, and I was going to end up like my mom."
Travis's lips pressed together, and his jaw became hard.
"My mom died when I was eleven. She was found in a motel room, naked, with assorted drugs in her system." She didn't want him to say
anything. She just wanted to unload it. "My grandmother took in me and my sister, but she was old. She couldn't protect us from what people said or thought about us."
She wrapped her arms around herself. "My sister got pregnant at age sixteen, a month after my mom died. She got an abortion, and then died in a drunk driving accident a year later. According to her, she'd slept with forty-seven guys by the time she was seventeen, but I have no idea if that's true or not." She stared past Travis at a blank spot on the wall, remembering the shame she'd felt at her sister's funeral. So few people had come, and those who'd bothered to show up had come to judge her, to gossip about the little sister, to wonder how many boys I'd already slept with. "I decided I would never have sex with anyone. Ever. I wouldn't be like that, you know? I wouldn't give the town anything to use against me."
She inadvertently glanced at Travis, and her throat tightened when she saw him nodding, listening intently. There was no judgment on his face. No condemnation. "I was going to be an engineer," she said. "I wanted to be something as far from a dumb, useless female as I could get. I worked really hard. I never dated. I got a full ride to MIT..." She sighed. "I met Rand the summer before my senior year, but my plans never changed. I was still going to go to MIT, but he started to win me over." She bit her lip. "He courted me. He was a star athlete at the school, and he decided he wanted me. He was a perfect gentleman, he listened to me, and he made me feel like I mattered. He didn't seem to care what anyone thought of him dating me."
She bit her lip. "We dated for eleven months before we had sex. It was the night of our graduation. He said he was going to propose as soon as he got his first paycheck from bull riding. I thought I'd found my forever man." God, how stupid she'd been. How naïve. "I got pregnant. When he found out, he said he needed time..." She bit her lip. "The next day, he left me a voicemail that he didn't want a kid dragging him down just when he was getting started on his bull riding career. He...left. He just...left."
A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away (Wyoming Rebels Book 4) Page 9