A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away (Wyoming Rebels Book 4)

by Stephanie Rowe

  His brothers were silent.

  "Me, too," Maddox said, walking up behind them. "I see his face every time I look in a mirror. He looks out of my eyes. I fucking hate him. I hate that he's still here." He stood close to Travis, his shoulder bumping against his, the way they used to stand in self-defense.

  "He is still here," Chase agreed. "But he's dead. In the ground. He's gone." He lightly brushed the toe of his boot over the gravestone. "Every day I have to deal with the fact that I killed him."

  Guilt washed over Travis. Chase had killed their father to save Travis from him. "Sorry, man, I didn't mean—"

  "No!" Chase spun toward him. "There's no room for guilt. I could say that if I'd killed him ten years earlier, the rest of you would have been spared. There's a thousand ways to let him tear us up, but it's bullshit. We're the ones who won. We have each other. We have lives. We have people who love us."

  Ryder snorted. "You do. Mira gets it, but the rest of us have shit."

  "No." Chase looked at him. "We have each other. Each of us has eight brothers willing to go to hell and back for each other. Without Dad, we would never be like this. We'd be fragmented, alone, and isolated. He pushed us so hard that we fought back by finding each other. We won. We fucking won."

  Travis looked down at the crumbling grave. He thought of the scars on his body. He thought of the way Nick had looked at him when he'd asked to borrow the kid's guitar. He thought of Bridgette's joy when they created a song from her poems. "He made me find my music," he said softly. "I wouldn't have done that if I hadn't been desperate."

  "Bullshit," Maddox snapped. "We aren't going to stand here and be grateful for him. That's crap."

  "No, not grateful," Chase agreed. "But it's time to let go of the darkness he poured into our lives. He's gone, but we're not." He looked at Travis. "I wasn't alive until I let myself love Mira. Love is the answer. I let her into my life and my heart, and that was the only thing that freed me."

  Travis ground his jaw. "Mira's different—"

  "Yeah, she is. And so is Lissa. I've known her since she moved to town. She's the real deal, the kind of tough, passionate woman that we all need." Chase jerked his head toward the grave. "We all had crappy mothers. Put them in there with Dad, and then walk away. Just walk the hell away, and start to live."

  Travis stared at the gravestone. He'd been the youngest, so most of his brothers had been scarce by the time he was growing up, but his brothers had always defended him, protecting him until he'd been big enough to protect himself. "I remember waking up in the middle of the night sometimes, and seeing you guys standing around my bed, protecting me in case he came after me."

  Maddox said nothing, but Ryder sighed. "You were a scrawny little kid. Someone had to protect you."

  Travis looked at his three brothers. Chase, the oldest. Ryder and Maddox, twins that didn't look anything alike, who'd always brought him into their tight bond. "Thanks. For all of it. Including coming to my concert."

  "Two-way street, bro." Ryder slung his arm over Travis's shoulders. "Two-way street."

  Chase draped his arm over Travis's other shoulder. "Nine-way street, seems to me."

  With a low sigh, Maddox wrapped his arm around Ryder's shoulder, so the four brothers were lined up, facing the grave. "Eight-way street, these days. Anyone been able to track down Caleb?"

  "Not in a couple years, but he's out there," Chase said. "We'll hear from him at some point."

  The four brothers fell silent, staring at the grave of the man who'd haunted them for so long. After a while, Travis realized that his ribs weren't aching anymore. He was more aware of his brothers' breathing than he was of the echo of his dad's voice. He could feel the cool night breeze over his skin, instead of the burn of cigarettes.

  He took a breath, his lungs expanding as he sucked in air. The air felt fresh and clear. Light. Free. It was because he was with people he didn't have to defend against, people who had his back.

  He could relax. Breathe. Think. Hear his own voice, instead of the echoes of the past.

  There was only one other time he'd been able to breathe like this, and it had been when he was with Lissa.

  "Mom!" Bridgette came racing into the café from the kitchen at two o'clock the next afternoon, her face eager with excitement.

  "Hey, baby!" Lissa set down the plates she'd been clearing and swept her daughter up into a huge hug. "Today's the last day, and then you're back home!" She hugged Bridgette fiercely, fighting back the tears that had been threatening all day.

  "You're suffocating me!" Bridgette pushed back, wanting space when Lissa needed a hug from her, a reminder that she was doing the right thing by focusing on herself and her daughter, by preserving what they had, and not risking it all by going after a man who didn't want them.

  "Sorry." Lissa forced herself to release her, aware of the clatter of plates in the kitchen. "Is Martha unloading my dishwasher?"

  "Of course." Bridgette wrinkled her nose. "She thinks you work too hard." She clapped her hands. "Can you get us special passes for tonight? Front row seats? Backstage passes?"

  Lissa frowned. "Tonight? What's tonight?"

  "Travis's concert!" Bridgette frowned at her. "How could you forget? He's your friend."

  "Ah, yes, right. I forgot that he's the headliner closing the fair this year." Lissa's heart tightened, and she picked up the plates. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I don't have special passes—"

  "Did you ask him?"

  "No, I didn't—"

  "Ask him! Please! I already told my friends that they could meet him! Do you think he'll sing my song tonight? How cool would that be? Super awesome!" Bridgette started dancing around the room, her youthful exuberance pouring out of her like sunshine.

  Lissa couldn't help but smile, her heart turning over. Bridgette was generally a happy kid, but Travis had lit a spark inside her that no one else had. "You like him, don't you?"

  "He's awesome!" Bridgette spun around, singing her song, the one that she and Travis had put together. "I think I'm going to be a singer like him. Can I take guitar lessons?"

  Lissa didn't know how much guitar lessons were, but she knew she'd find a way. "Of course."

  "Yay!" Bridgette twirled around. "I'm going to wear my pink cowboy boots to the concert tonight. You think they still fit?" She stared at Lissa. "What if they don't fit anymore? What if I have to wear brown boots to his concert? That would be horrible!"

  Lissa couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's horror. "Brown boots aren't horrible—"

  "I'll buy a pair of pink ones if she needs them."

  Lissa spun around as Rand walked into the café. He was wearing a denim shirt that looked new, crisp jeans, and dress boots. He looked like a man who had come to impress.

  Bridgette spun around him, her brow furrowing. "Why would you buy me boots?"

  Oh, God. "Rand, this isn't a good time—"

  "It is a good time." Rand sat down at a table. "How are you doing, Bridgette? You remember meeting me at the fair the other day?"

  "Yes." To Lissa's surprise, Bridgette sat down across from him, her brow furrowed. "It's you, isn't it? You're the one my mom won't talk about."

  Lissa froze, and Rand stiffened. "What do you mean?" he asked, glancing at Lissa before focusing on Bridgette.

  "You're my dad, right?"

  Lissa's legs suddenly felt weak, and she sat down hard in the nearest chair. "Oh, Bridge—"

  Rand answered her. "Yeah, I am."

  "Why are you here?" Bridgette didn't look away from him, didn't seem intimidated.

  Rand leaned forward. "Because I want to get to know you."

  Bridgette cocked her head. "I'm quite spectacular, you know."

  Lissa laughed, a choked, desperate laugh.

  "I can see that already."

  Bridgette studied him. "Are you spectacular? My mom is, you know. She's also quite spectacular. Like me."

  Lissa's throat tightened at her daughter's words. Was she really quite spectacular?
Most of the time, she felt like she was barely above passable, but to hear Bridgette declare her spectacularness... God. She wanted to be the person her daughter saw her as. She really did.

  Rand took a moment to answer. "I have accomplished some spectacular things in my life, but I'm not so fantastic in the dad department. I was hoping to work on it."

  Bridgette nodded. "Maybe you can ask Travis for some advice," she said solemnly. "He's quite spectacular, I think."

  Rand's jaw tightened. "Travis?"

  "Yep." Bridgette leaned forward. "I think they love each other. I'm hoping he'll be my dad, but you can also be my dad. Different dad. My friend Felicity has two dads, and so does Morgan. So, we can be like that. And you can practice." She eyed him. "I think you need to practice a lot. Dads don't walk away. You have to fix that."

  Rand looked at Lissa, and then back at Bridgette. For a long time, he said nothing, and Lissa recalled his promise to quit the tour and stay in town. Then he sighed and looked at his daughter. "My job requires me to travel, but I'm in town for a few days. What if I promise to come back and visit when I can? We can start that way."

  Tears filled Lissa's eyes. Even though he'd said he was going to stay in town, he wasn't. He was still going to walk away from her daughter. After all his claims over the last two days, he was still going to leave. They had been lies, manipulations to get her to choose him over Travis. Damn him. Just damn him.

  Bridgette, however, didn't seem concerned. She just shrugged, apparently not carrying the same amount of baggage about being abandoned as Lissa did. "That's cool." She looked at Lissa. "I need to go upstairs and check for my boots. Can I leave now?"

  Lissa nodded. "I'll be right up."

  She and Rand sat silently as Bridgette raced out of the room, singing the song she and Travis had written. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, Rand said, "You've done good with her. She doesn't need me. She's got all she needs in you. I can see it. She's so grounded."

  Lissa took a deep breath and lifted her chin. "We couldn't wait for you anymore, Rand. We had to build a life."

  "I see that now." Rand leaned back in the chair, and looked at her. "You're not the girl I left."

  When he said it, Lissa suddenly realized it was true. At some point over the last nine years, she'd changed. She'd become strong. Independent. She'd raised a kid. She'd saved up enough money to buy the café from the retiring and generous original owner, who'd given her a waitress job when she'd first moved to town. She'd fallen in love...with Travis. Back then, she'd been desperate for Rand's love, so unable to love herself that she was willing to take whatever she could get from a man.

  But now, she didn't need a man to love her or rebuild her self-worth.

  Now, she loved not out of desperation, but out of strength.

  But she loved a man who couldn't commit emotionally. He travelled a lot for his job. Was she strong enough to handle that? To watch him walk away and believe he would come back? And that was assuming he even decided to try. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd just walk away, like Rand had, and never look back. Then what?

  Rand looked at her. "Do you love Travis? Is Bridgette correct?"

  It would probably be best if she didn't. God, she was in love with another man who was going to leave, who'd made it clear that he couldn't be in that kind of a relationship? Really? But she was. Any love she had for Rand was gone, faded over the years, until it was simply a faint memory. Unlike Travis. Not faint. Not at all. She lifted her chin, thinking of what Chase had said, that she'd have to fight for Travis. Was he right? Would it work? Was that what she wanted in a man?

  "Lis? Do you love him?" Rand leaned forward, searching her face.

  She sighed, and nodded. "Yes. I do." The words sent a chill down her spine, but at the same time, warmth seemed to flood her. A bright, sunshiny warmth that seemed to pour into the depths of her being, cradling her from all the cold that had held her in its grips for so long. She loved Travis. She loved him. She really and truly loved him.

  A muscle in Rand's cheek ticked. "Does he love you?"

  She thought of how Travis had sent his brothers to help her. Of how he'd sat in his car for hours, tormented by his need to be with her. She thought of how he'd bonded with Bridgette...and what Chase had said about him. She realized she knew the answer. "Yes," she said softly. "He does." He didn't need to say the words. Maybe he never could. But he did.

  Rand sighed. "I knew it that night I stopped in." He looked at her, and for the first time, she didn't see the face of the man who'd broken her heart. She saw the face of the man who'd given her an amazing daughter, and who'd forced her to become the woman she was meant to be. "If you ever change your mind about him, let me know."

  She smiled. "What we had was long ago, Rand. Neither of us are the same person anymore. We can't go backward."

  Rand sighed. "I know." He stood up and walked over to her, tracing his finger down her jaw. "Sorry I wasn't the man you deserved, but I swear I'll try to do right by Bridgette."

  She nodded. "I can tell. Thank you. You can stop by whenever you're in town." It felt so good to say those words, to face the fear that had been dogging her for so many years, fear that Rand would someday show up and try to take Bridgette from her. All that was gone now, and she knew things were going to be okay with Rand, however they worked out. It would take time, and she knew things would get more complicated for Bridgette as she got older, but the first step had been taken, and it was in the right direction.

  "I appreciate that." He hesitated, then pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Here."

  She took it, frowning as she opened it. It was a check, for a sum of money that made her breath catch. "What is this?"

  "Child support for the last eight years." He met her stunned gaze. "You've done amazing alone, Lissa, but it's my job to back you up. I've been a shitty dad in every way, but I don't want to be that guy anymore. This is the start. You'll get money every month for her."

  Her fingers tightened on the check. With that money, she'd be able to do so much. Guitar lessons for Bridgette. Cowboy boots. She'd finally get to start a college fund, so Bridgette could get the college education she'd never had. "Thank you."

  "No, thank you, for giving me the chance to get to know my kid, when I did everything possible not to deserve it." He held out his arms.

  She smiled and hugged him, a hug that seemed to chase away years of pain, loneliness, and trauma. She took a deep breath, and leaned into him, a man she no longer wanted, hated, or feared.

  The front door jangled, and she turned her head, looking past his shoulder as she opened her mouth to tell the customer that the café was closed until three, but her words died in her throat.

  Travis was standing in the doorway, watching her and Rand embrace.

  Chapter 23

  The sight of Lissa hugging Rand made Travis stop dead. He was thrust back into his past, into the memories of the betrayal that had devastated him such a short time ago, of the woman who'd claimed to love him when she'd really loved another.

  Lissa's face was stricken with shock, and she froze in Rand's embrace.

  Rand turned around to see who was there, and his face darkened when he saw Travis.

  Son of a bitch. He'd lost her. He was too late.

  Travis's fists clenched, and for a long moment, he just stood there, fighting against his instinct to shut down, spin around, and walk away, to leave her with the man she'd said she didn't love.

  It would be so easy to leave. To not care. To just fucking walk away.

  Except he did care. He cared with every fiber of his stained heart. His heart was thundering, sweat was beading on his forehead, and his hands were shaking. Darkness swirled around him, the darkness that had been at bay since he'd come back to Rogue Valley and met her.

  Her hands were on Rand's shoulders, and Rand's arms were around her waist. Intimate. Private. Jesus. Travis had thought that he'd felt pain before. He really did. But nothing hurt like it did right now. The p
ain seemed to thunder from deep inside him, pouring through him like a violent storm, lightning searing every cell as it passed through.

  "Travis?" Her hands fell away from Rand's shoulders, but her face was still pale. "What are you doing here?"

  Her question hung in the air. He heard the hesitation in her voice, the fear...fear of being caught in the arms of another man? But there was something else in her voice. Another tone. Another emotion. One he couldn't quite identify.

  He searched her face, those brown eyes that he'd lost himself in so many times. "Say it again," he said. "Ask me again."

  Her eyebrows knit together in that adorable way that made his gut tighten. "Why are you here?"

  He heard it this time. Hope. That's what was in her voice. Hope.

  Hope that he'd come back? Hope that he was standing in her café, when he'd promised never to return? Hope that he was there to give her money? Hope that he was there because she couldn't live without him, regardless of the size of his bank account? Jesus. How could he trust her? All he'd learned was not to give anyone the chance to hurt him. That was all he knew.

  Lissa pulled away from Rand, saying something quietly to him, something that only Rand could hear. Secrets between lovers? Between ex-lovers? Between enemies? What? God help him, what?

  Lissa walked across the café toward Travis, her sneakers almost silent on the old floor. She stopped in front of him, not touching him, but gazing at him intently, not looking away. "Travis," she said softly. "Talk to me."

  "My mom." The words came out unintentionally. He hadn't come here to talk about her.

  "Your mom? What about her?" Lissa frowned, her brows furrowed.

  "She found me. I hadn't seen her since I was six. She asked me for money." Why was he talking about his mother? Why the fuck was that woman on his mind, when he was standing in front of the only woman who'd ever made him feel good? He couldn't seem to make himself say what he'd come to say. It was too much. Too terrifying. Too important.