Sarsaparilla Showdown (River's End Ranch Book 14)

by Caroline Lee

  He winced, remembering that experiment. “Sorta. Mostly.”

  “The bagpipes?” she asked triumphantly.

  That got a smile out of him. “I’ve never tried, but I hear they’re like any other wind instrument.”

  They reached the end of the boardwalk and stepped down. Her grip on his hand tightened. “Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve mentioned your ex to me?”

  Was it? “I’m sorry. I haven’t been very…open.”

  “Would you tell me about her?”

  Shawn took a deep breath. His marriage to Tammi was one of his many failures, but Sadie had to know. If he was going to let her into his heart, she had to know all of his past, all of his short-comings.

  “I met Tammi in college. We were both in a program for theater education outside Washington, D.C. She was a dancer, and I wanted to teach elementary-aged kids.” Those four years had been fun; putting on performances, studying in schools, living with a big group of students so they could afford the rent, waiting tables and giving music lessons to pay for school. “We got married because it seemed like the thing to do, and she got pregnant about a year after we graduated. I was teaching for minimum wage at a local day camp for kids and wasn’t making nearly enough to support a family. Especially after she had to quit dancing.”

  Those screaming fights—the ones they’d had when her studio told her hip-hop artists didn’t want pregnant dancers in their music videos—still made him wince today. She’d blamed him for losing her income, and he was bitter about having to support both of them. In his deepest, darkest moments, he’d wished she’d never gotten pregnant at all.

  He must’ve been silent for too long, because Sadie squeezed his hand. “Is that why you joined the army? Jaclyn called you a corporal.”

  “Yeah.” He lifted his gaze from the ground to see that she was leading them across the open field where he’d kissed her so memorably. They were heading toward the benches under the trees across the way, and he figured that was as good a place as any to confess everything that needed to be said.

  Her shoulder bumped his, but he couldn’t tell if it was on purpose. “And? Does that decision have anything to do with why she’s your ex?”

  “Yeah.” He repeated, chagrined. “Eventually.” He inhaled, held it, and then released the breath. “Okay. So you’re right. I enlisted for the money and the benefits. I couldn’t support a wife and baby on a camp teacher’s salary. I knew I’d be deployed, but by then me and Tammi were fighting so much, it didn’t seem to matter.” He’d known that he would miss seeing his baby all the time, but it was a small price to pay to have an excuse to be away from his wife and her manipulations.

  “She got into drugs while I was gone, even with the baby at home. And she’d say things to me, about her guy friends, that made me wonder...” He sighed. “I was a bad husband, leaving her all alone to raise a baby.” That’s what she’d say, anyway.

  “That’s terrible, Shawn!”

  “Well, yeah…”

  She was frowning. “No, I mean, that’s a terrible thing to say to you. She wasn’t working?” He shook his head. “So you were on the other side of the world, risking your life for your country and to pay her bills, and she said that sort of stuff to you?” Sadie shook her head, her mouth puckered like she’d just tasted something terrible. “Sounds to me like she was just sitting at home taking advantage of you. And drugs? Ugh.”

  “It was my fault. I’m the one who left her, who put her in that situation—”

  Sadie gasped and pulled him to a stop. When he faced her, she was looking up at him aghast. “Shawn McAllister! You can’t honestly believe that?”

  “Um… What?”

  “Her choices were not your fault. She was the one who’d decided not to find a job and childcare while you were deployed. She was the one who made ‘guy friends’” —the way Sadie said it made it clear she didn’t believe Tammi’s friendships were platonic any more than Shawn did— “ and got into drugs and who knows what else. She sounds like a terrible mother, no offense.”

  His lips quirked up. “None taken. I’ve thought that more than once myself.” Glancing over at the trees though, he was unwilling to let his responsibility go. “But if I hadn’t left her, maybe—”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” She didn’t quite hide her eye roll in time. “Jaclyn was right!”

  “Huh?”

  “You are too honorable for your own good! That’s seriously what has you all dark and broody sometimes?” Her teasing smile said that she didn’t really mean her exasperation, but he couldn’t return it. “You were deployed, your wife was horrible when you were abroad, and you divorced her, right?”

  “She divorced me,” he forced out. The words themselves made his stomach clench. The memory of that email—an email—telling him how she’d been sleeping with other men, and how she didn’t want to be Violet’s mother anymore, still caused his throat to close up. “She sent me papers and told me when I got back, I was in charge of Violet.”

  “Holy moly…”

  Sadie whispered a curse under her breath, and his brows rose. She sure was invested in his story, huh?

  She reached up and brushed her fingers down his jaw, and Shawn realized that he’d been clenching it. Just reliving those months, of not knowing what his wife was doing, not knowing if his daughter was safe… it made him angry all over again.

  “Shawn.” When he focused his attention on her warm brown eyes, she smiled. “You were not at fault there. She made those choices, choices that were different from thousands of other army wives. Your marriage didn’t fail because of something you did.”

  Her words took a moment to sink in, but when they did, Shawn inhaled sharply. She didn’t think he was a failure. It wasn’t until she’d said the words that he realized how badly he’d been hoping to hear them.

  But then reality came crashing back. “But that’s not the only thing that failed,” he said flatly, turning toward the bench and the trees.

  She caught his hand in hers before he could go too far, and trotted along beside him. Part of him was irritated she wasn’t letting this topic—him—go, but the larger part was so, so thankful that she hadn’t given up on him yet. He was desperate to believe that signified some feeling from her, but sick to his stomach with worry too.

  “Shawn?” She sounded a little out of breath, so he slowed. “You don’t have to tell me the rest, but I think…” He glanced her way out of the corner of his eye, and saw her worrying her lower lip. “I think you’d feel better if you did. I sure would. And maybe I could help, somehow.”

  He snorted. Help? Unlikely. Still, Jaclyn seemed to think telling Sadie all of his secrets was important, so…

  Reaching the bench, he pulled her down beside him. But he stared straight ahead, not willing to watch her. Not willing to see her expression. “Two weeks after I learned she was divorcing me, I was on patrol with my squad. There was a convoy of our guys, and I was on point—on foot—with a buddy. It was our job to look for snipers, IEDs, roadside bombs, that sort of thing.” He took a deep breath. “I missed one. Walked right by it. I’ve replayed those minutes again and again, and I don’t know if I wasn’t paying attention, or if it was really well-hidden, or what. But I missed it.”

  He closed his eyes on the memory of the explosion. The noise, the overwhelming smell of blood, the taste of fear and failure in the back of his throat. “It took out the first Humvee. And two of my friends.”

  The rushing in his ears now was so similar to that day he had to swallow down his nausea. He remembered opening his eyes and staring at the clear blue sky, wondering why the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding double time. The pain, the weight, and knowing, knowing, he’d screwed up irrevocably this time.

  Three years later, he still felt that way.

  “Is that when you were wounded?” Her question jerked him back to the here-and-now. She hadn’t asked about the men he’d as good as killed. Hadn’t asked about h
is failure.

  He nodded, still staring across the snow-sprinkled grass. “My back was to the blast. The shrapnel tore up my right side and arm, and I was medevac’d out of there. Eventually, I made it back to the states.” Shuddering, he remembered the lonely days spent in the hospital, wondering if Tammi would bring Violet to visit him, and half hoping his baby girl wouldn’t have to see him like that.

  Sadie seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Did… Did you move back home?”

  “I was in the hospital and rehab facility for a while. In D.C.”

  “Did your wife come to visit you?”

  Ex-wife. “Once.” Only once, out of all those days. “To make sure I signed the divorce papers.” He’d been full of pain meds and anger, but he remembered that fight. Heck, most of the staff probably remembered that fight.

  ”Oh, Shawn.”

  He heard the pity, and he didn’t deserve it. “No, it was okay. I signed.” Eventually. “And when I got out, they stuck me behind a desk, processing recruitments. I got custody of Violet, and started physical therapy.” Unconsciously, he flexed his right arm. “Taking up piano again was part of that. The docs said it was good for my movements.” The memory of those sessions made him wince. As much as he’d loved the music, it had taken years before he could play again without constant pain.

  She laid her hand on his right forearm, but he didn’t let himself turn. Didn’t let himself feel pleased she was supporting him.

  “With Violet to care for, and your physical therapy, why didn’t you stay in? Re-enlist?”

  “I’d had enough of people telling me what to do. Look where that got me.” He heard the bitterness in his voice. “A busted-up body and a lifetime of regrets. I didn’t deserve to stick around, when my buddies…”

  When they were dead, thanks to me.

  He swallowed, forcing himself to continue. “I sold all our furniture, broke our lease, bought a camper, and got out of Dodge. Tammi…” She’d been holed up at some biker bar when he’d found her to tell her. She’d spit at him, and said she never wanted to see him or “that little brat” again, but he couldn’t bear to tell Sadie that. “We left. I had this vague plan to head west, where a man could be free. And here we are.”

  Sadie was silent for long enough that he started to come up with all sorts of scenarios. She was disgusted with him. She was trying to figure out how to leave him here. She—

  “Are you? Free, I mean.”

  Not what he’d been expecting. He glanced at her and her warm, welcoming eyes caught him once more. “Yeah,” he whispered. “No. I dunno. No one’s telling us what to do, but sometimes…”

  “You’re lonely still, aren’t you?”

  Lonely. Yeah, he was lonely. And tired. He was tired of it just being the two of them, of not having roots or friends or…

  He swallowed. “It’s what I deserve.”

  Her little scoffing noise was unexpected. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because!” He wrenched his gaze away from hers, and threw himself forward until his forehead was resting in his palms, his elbows were braced on his knees, and he was staring at the frozen ground. “Because,” he continued, “If it wasn’t for me and my stupid, stupid mistakes, two men would still be alive.”

  That was it. That’s what his entire life came down to. Stupid mistakes and crushing guilt.

  And a good friend.

  He felt her hand on his forearm and assumed she was trying to get his attention. It wasn’t until she grabbed his other forearm, and tugged his hands away from his face, that he saw her.

  Sadie was kneeling on the icy ground in front of him in her lacy skirt, peering up at him. And the look in her eyes—it wasn’t condemnation, or even pity. He saw…pain. Pain for him?

  “Shawn, it’s not your fault.”

  He wanted to scoff, to turn away, but she pulled at his arms, and he couldn’t.

  “You are the most honorable man I know, Shawn, and it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t see that explosive.” She ignored him when he shook his head, denying her words. “You weren’t the only soldier on foot patrol that day. The other man missed the bomb too. It was just bad luck the Humvee didn’t.”

  She wasn’t saying anything his hospital-issued psychologist hadn’t said already. He’d dismissed the words—the excuses—so many times already… But today, now, they were coming from Sadie. Sadie, kneeling at his feet on the frozen Idaho ground in the middle of November, looking up at him with those gorgeous chocolate eyes.

  He wanted her to be right.

  But the guilt had been with him longer than Sadie had. He shut his eyes, not wanting to see the pain in hers.

  And then he felt her palms on his cheeks. She cupped his face, her fingers brushing against his temples, and he felt the caress all the way down to his soul. “Shawn, open your eyes. Look at me.”

  He couldn’t ignore her command any more than he could slow his heartbeat, thumping an allegro tempo in his chest.

  “I’m going to say something, and I want you to listen very carefully, okay?”

  Her gaze was so intent, so focused, that he found himself nodding in her grip without meaning to.

  “Good.” She took a deep breath. “Your guilt will never really go away, and I know that. You will always feel some level of responsibility for your friends’ deaths, no matter what I or anyone else says about it. And—this is the important part—that’s allowed.”

  He stared down at her, not really sure what she was trying to say to him.

  “You are allowed to feel guilt. But there is so much pain in this world already, Shawn, and I hate you’ve closed yourself up, and are feeling only guilt. Did you mourn your friends?” He tried to nod, but she held his head firm, staring into his eyes. “I mean, really mourn them? Let yourself miss them as friends, not as someone who caused their death?”

  He went to nod again, but stopped himself. Had he? By the time he was awake and cognizant, they’d been dead two weeks already, and he was in another country. And then the guilt of his failure had crashed over him, and that was pretty much what he’d been thinking since then.

  No, he hadn’t let himself mourn for them. He’d been too busy mourning for himself.

  Sadie’s heart broke again when she saw the realization dawn on Shawn’s face, and saw his beautiful eyes cloud with tears. He tried to squeeze them shut, but the tears escaped anyhow, and she lifted herself closer until she could press her lips against his. It was minimal comfort, but it was the only thing she could think to offer him.

  And when he broke his silence with a sob, and wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder, then she just held him. That was all she could do; cradle his head against her and let him cry, while she cried right alongside him and ignored the cold seeping into her knees.

  Listening to his story, she’d heard his guilt. Guilt that his relationship with his ex-wife had ended, and guilt about how his army career had ended. And she’d known, somehow, that he wasn’t ever going to completely forgive himself.

  There was only one thing that would help him…

  When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were clear, but his expression was wary. She hated that; hated knowing he wasn’t sure how to act, now that he’d let her see him vulnerable. So she placed her hands on his cheeks again—his beard still damp from his tears—and looked him in his beautiful green eyes.

  “I forgive you, Shawn McAllister, even if you never forgive yourself. I give you permission to forgive yourself, if you can, and to remember your friends as friends, not as obligations. Reasons to feel guilty.”

  His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. When he snapped it shut again, she brushed her thumb across his lip, and waited for him to decide what he wanted to say.

  “You can’t just…” He paused, and then his tongue darted out over his lower lip in that sexy show of uncertainty she’d fallen in love with weeks ago. “Can you?”

  “I just did.” She smiled. “I forgive you, and I g
ive you permission to forgive yourself.”

  “I don’t think it’s that easy, Sadie.” His voice was hoarse.

  “Sure it is.” Stretching up once more, she brushed her lips over his, but he didn’t move. “I know what’s in your heart, Shawn, even if you won’t admit it. You’re a good man, and I love you for it. You—”

  It wasn’t until his eyes widened in shock that she realized what she’d just said. Oh shoot. She hadn’t meant to confess that, not here with him finally sharing all of his secrets, but it had just slipped out.

  “You do?”

  She scrambled to cover her blunder. “I know that you’re a good man—”

  “No. I mean…” If he leaned any closer, he was going to slide off the bench and end up beside her on the cold ground. “You love me?”

  Beneath the wariness, she saw something even better in his green eyes: hope. Did he want her love? Taking a deep breath, she decided to take the plunge.

  She closed her eyes, exhaled, and whispered, “Yes.”

  And then he was on the ground beside her, his arms wrapped around her, kissing her with all the electricity they’d always shared. Vaguely, Sadie wondered what this meant…

  After far too few lifetimes, Shawn pulled away, his arms still cradling her against him, and the icy ground seeping through her thigh where she was half-reclined against him.

  “Wha…?” was all she could manage to murmur.

  “Sadie Mayfield, I meant it when I said that it was one of the best days of my life, that day I met you. I’ve spent years as a failure, but you? Having you in my life makes me feel like a lot less of a failure.”

  Sadie wanted to tell him he wasn’t a failure, and that he shouldn’t feel guilty, but when he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, she shut up and got ready to listen.

  “Having you in my life, Sadie, makes everything better. I love you.”

  I love you.

  A smile bloomed across her face. “Well.” Well. That was all she could say? “I guess, maybe sometimes, the girl like me does get the hero, huh?”

  He opened his eyes to glare down at her. “I’m not a hero, Sadie.”