Rocky Mountain Devil

by Vivian Arend

  Her sudden intake of air struck him razor-sharp. He met her pain-filled eyes, and that’s when he remembered—Jeff had said the same thing to her.

  He wanted to take it back. Wanted to ease the hurt he’d caused, but there was no turning back. “Just go.”

  Laurel searched his face, concern deepening as she reached out a hand then jerked it back before they touched. She took a deep breath, then without a word rushed to the front door to pull on her coat and boots.

  He waited silently for his heart to walk out of his life.

  Only she stopped with her hand on the doorknob, glancing up so the fire in her eyes was clear. The hopelessness was gone and what remained was one-hundred-percent stubborn-ass Sitko, the girl who’d leapt fearlessly on the class bully in spite of being out-gunned.

  Laurel lifted her chin and spoke like she was the one in charge. “You need some time? You’ve got it, but don’t think you can run from me forever, Coleman. Running doesn’t change things.”

  She checked him over from top to bottom before meeting his gaze, so direct and powerful it took everything in him to keep from looking away.

  “When I do come back? We’re going to talk about a whole lot of things, and once we’re done, we’re going to bed for a solid week, so save up your strength and get whatever it is out of your system, because even best friends only put up with bullshit for a short time.”

  Laurel reached above her to snatch his favourite cowboy hat off the hook on the wall. She jammed it on her head, then marched out the door, slamming it after her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The funeral was set for Saturday. Even with the things they had to deal with because of Ben’s passing, Rafe had had a lot of time on his hands, especially since he was actively avoiding Laurel.

  Her words rattled in Rafe’s brain for the next couple days. It was in the empty moments he especially felt her absence. The times when he would have reached to text her, or talk to her. Hell, every time he reached for his damn hat he thought about the flash of passion in her eyes.

  And just because he wasn’t texting her didn’t mean she stopped. He considered blocking her number for about two seconds before realizing he’d sooner cut off his balls.

  It hurt to read the messages, but it would hurt more to not.

  Laurel: Your cousin pulled me over for having a broken taillight. I’m glad she wasn’t one corner earlier or I’d have been nailed for speeding too

  Laurel: Made pizza tonight and put pineapple on it because you’re not here. You’re welcome to come pick it off and make rude comments about how fruit isn’t a dinner item

  Laurel: I’m wearing your T-shirt to bed. It smells like you. Well, a good you, not after you’ve been shoveling manure

  Laurel: This bed seems empty without you hogging the covers

  Laurel: I’ve got room saved for your stubborn ass

  Laurel: Baby? It’s cold without you

  She wasn’t making it easy to move on without her, that was for fucking sure.

  So he looked for ways to fill the time. He certainly didn’t want to spend it over at Gabe and Allison’s, and have to face questions about why he was there and not with Laurel like usual. Jesse was nearly as bad company these days as he was. When Rafe had mentioned that he and Laurel were over, all his cousin had done was grunt.

  He figured his mom was probably lonely. Plus, making his way over to the homestead between chores was also an excuse that let him salve his conscience slightly.

  And if his mom was confused at how often he showed up, she didn’t mention it. Not right away.

  He walked in to find her leafing through a pile of pictures on the kitchen table. “What’s up?”

  “You again? You were here only a few hours ago.” Dana glanced at him suspiciously. “Wait. Are you and Gabe keeping an eye on me?”

  Rafe settled into the chair next to her. “Course not. You have homemade cookies, though. It’s like ringing a bell.”

  She was focused on the photo in front of her again. “Help yourself. The neighbours have been bringing around food like crazy. I don’t know what they think I’m doing with my time that I can’t make a meal for one person.”

  “It’s what people ’round here do when someone dies.” Rafe pulled a picture from under her fingers. “Who’s Gabe with in this shot?”

  She laughed. “That’s not Gabe, it’s me and your father.”

  No way. He picked the photo up to examine it closer. “But you’re so…”

  “Young?” Dana sighed mightily. “Did you think I was born this age?”

  “I was going to say happy,” he said, unable to tear his eyes off the picture. His father had an arm draped around Dana’s shoulders, her head thrown back as she laughed, hands clutching a small bouquet of purple flowers.

  Ben was staring at her with adoration on his face.

  Rafe looked again—he could have sworn it was a shot of his brother, right down to the expression. It was exactly the way Gabe looked at Allison, as if she were his entire world.

  His gut twisted. “You guys were in love.”

  Dana took a deep breath. “I know you two didn’t get along, especially toward the end, but yes. He was a good man for a long time. The man I fell in love with…” She smoothed the picture under her fingers. “He was sweet and caring. Gruff with everyone else, but with me? Ben made the hard work seem easy. Even when we were working ourselves silly, there was always time for laughter.”

  But that wasn’t who he’d been—not for many years. That wasn’t the father Rafe remembered having. Not since Mike had died.

  And if Ben could change that much…

  Rafe closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his fists to unclench before his mom noticed. No, this proved even more clearly he was right to stay away from Laurel.

  As if he’d summoned her name by thinking of her, his mom spoke.

  “Since you’re here already.” She looked him over. “Why don’t you call Laurel and ask her to come join us for supper?”

  “No.” The word snapped out of him like from a slingshot, and his mom’s eyes widened in surprise.

  He felt about two years old, pulling a tantrum even as he was being offered what he wanted.

  “I’m not seeing her anymore,” he admitted.

  “What? Are you—?” She stumbled to a dead stop. “Did she break up with you?” Dana asked far more gently.

  Rafe hated to admit it. “No.”

  The fire was back in an instant. “Raphael Coleman, what on earth were you thinking? That girl is the most perfect person for you. You call her up this instant and apologize for whatever you’ve done.”

  “No,” he said again, feeling childish. “Mom, it’s over. Drop it.”

  “Not likely. You have that ‘I’m being heroic’ look to you that men get.” She leaned in closer and glared like only a mother could. “Call her.”

  “Mom.”

  “Then I will. I need to talk to her—”

  He snatched the picture off the table and shook it. “This? This is why it’s over between me and Laurel.”

  Dana settled back in her chair, utter confusion on her face. “Because your father died?”

  A bolt of guilt straight to the heart. “Because my father wasn’t the man you married. There’s been no laughter in this house for years, no joy. I can’t stand the thought of doing that to Laurel down the road.”

  “Oh, Rafe.” His mom laid a hand over his. “It’s not that simple, and yet it is. You’re not your father.”

  “I hate that I’m his son. I hate that the same thing might happen to me—that I’ll grow cold and sharp, and all the good things in my life will be torn apart.”

  “You’re not him,” Dana insisted. “I shouldn’t need to tell you that, you stubborn child.”

  Nearly twice the size of her, and still a child. Felt it, right then. Felt like a damn baby, crying at shadows.

  “Don’t try to tell me I’m like Gabe, because we both know that’s bullshit
.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Watch your language, young man. You’re not too old for me to wash your mouth out with soap. But you’re right—you’re not Gabe. And you’re also not Ben. Both you and your brother have made your own choices since you were young.”

  But this wasn’t just about making choices, or even about losing his temper. It was because he’d ridden the knife’s edge so long, but when push came to shove, he broke. Fucking broke in the wrong direction—the same path his father had taken.

  His mom seemed to have zero sympathy for him.

  “Well, you make your choice about who you spend time with, right or wrong, same as always, but I think you’re acting a fool, Rafe. When you’ve got love in your grasp, you don’t toss it away. I wish all the years I’d had with Ben had been filled with laughter, but that wasn’t our lot.” She rose to her feet and stared down at him from her towering height of five foot nothing. “I wouldn’t give up a single minute of the good days. Not a single one.”

  Then she kicked him out. His mom kicked him out.

  “You want to be an idiot, go do it at your own place.” She picked up her book and pointedly ignored him.

  Rafe stumbled to his truck and drove home. Even the meager penance spending time with his mom had offered was now in tattered shreds.

  And the one thing he wanted most, he couldn’t have.

  He pulled into the yard to discover Jesse leaning against his truck, an old horse trailer hooked up behind. Morgan sat by his feet, tail thumping into the snowy ground as Rafe approached.

  “You holding that door up with your backside for a reason?” Rafe asked.

  His cousin dropped a treat to the dog, then shrugged. “Just finished loading up Danger. Thought you might be home soon.”

  The strange comment pulled Rafe from his gloomy thoughts. “Where are you taking your horse at this time of year?”

  Jesse ignored the question. “Laurel phoned me.”

  Rafe swore.

  “Yeah. Gave me an earful, by the way.” Jesse looked him over. “You want to talk about it?”

  Not really, but…

  Rafe examined his cousin. Out of everyone in his family, Jesse was the one person he figured he could trust not to say anything if he shared.

  “I’m no good for her,” he said.

  Jesse made a rude noise, uncoiling himself to vertical. “I could have told you that. I offered to be her upgrade, remember?”

  “Fuck off,” Rafe muttered without any force behind the words. They walked side by side toward the small stable where they could look over the Coleman holdings to the east.

  Thick snow covered the land—nothing growing, nothing moving, at least not within eyesight. The far fields were pristine and beautiful in spite of the cold.

  Yet all he could see was Laurel’s face as she stared back at him with pain in her eyes. Pain he’d put there.

  “For someone who’s supposed to be no longer your girlfriend, she had a lot to say about you,” Jesse shared. “Told me to keep an eye out so you didn’t do anything stupid.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Actually, she said ‘so he doesn’t do anything stupider than he already has’, which I assume means the trying-to-break-up-with-her bit. Or the getting-drunk-and-not-coming-home. Either works.”

  Rafe leaned his arms on the top railing. “Breaking up with her isn’t stupid. I’m trying to protect her.”

  “She doesn’t want to be protected,” Jesse pointed out.

  “She doesn’t know what I’m capable of,” Rafe snapped. “It’s not that simple.”

  “It never is.”

  They stood in silence for a moment before Rafe confessed. “All my life I’ve tried to not become my father. Laurel knows this—she knows how much I hated what he’d become at the end.”

  She’d also stood up to his father fearlessly more times than he’d liked. Maybe she was strong enough…

  No.

  Maybe his mom wouldn’t give up the good moments, but the truth remained that Ben’s final years had sucked the joy from all their lives.

  Jesse interrupted his thoughts. “If that’s your worry, you’ve never been anything like your father. You get quiet at times, but usually you’re just out there, working hard and living hard. You and Laurel make me think of yard lights.”

  “Seriously? A fucking yard light?”

  “Its not an insult, you ass. Yard lights are constant. They never get in anyone’s faces like Travis or Jaxi, looking for attention, but when it comes down to it, you rely on them a hell of a lot—and yes, I knew you two were friends back in school. She makes you happy, so why the hell aren’t you with her, you dumb jerk?”

  “Because someday I’m going to become my father, and I can’t bear to be the one who makes her light go dim,” Rafe said.

  “Oh, bullshit. You’re not your father,” Jesse insisted. “And while it doesn’t excuse him, my dad said the change started when your brother died. That Ben felt guilty, and that’s what made him cold.”

  So, asshole behaviour was triggered by guilt. Great—

  “All the more reason I’m done.”

  Jesse let out a rude snort. “Right. What the hell have you done to feel guilty about?”

  “Because I’m some sweet, innocent yard light, is that what you think?”

  “Shut up. Because you’re you, asshole. You screw up at times, but you turn yourself around and make it right.”

  “Some things we can’t make right. Some things we can’t take back.”

  Jesse froze. His expression as he looked Rafe over was suddenly far less snarky and more wary. “What did you do?”

  And this was where it all hit the fan.

  “Ben and I fought the day he died. Hell, he could’ve been having a heart attack while I was shouting at him about being a shitty father, telling him how much I hated him, and that he should basically roll over and die.”

  “Jesus.” Jesse’s tone was a lot more sympathetic this time. “Okay, that’s fucked up. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Rafe stood motionless, the cold winter blowing around them fitting his mood nicely. “Thus, guilt.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you about that. But I still say you belong with Laurel, man.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Rafe snapped. “You’ve never been in a relationship with anyone for longer than three nights. Why the hell would I take advice from you?”

  “Because I know exactly what amounts to taking things a step too far, and you didn’t cross the line.”

  “Oh, now you’re the expert on what’s real guilt and what’s bullshit?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact.” Jesse glared at him. “I’m the fucking king of guilt.” He slammed a boot on the bottom rail, staring out over Coleman land, his expression icy.

  Rafe stilled. All the anger and frustration and fears whirling around him quieted as he watched his cousin battle his own internal demons.

  Silence reigned for the longest time until Jesse finally spoke, his voice little more than a whisper. “Everything changed. Joel and me were a team, then suddenly Vicki was there, and I…” Jesse snorted derisively. “I acted like the biggest fucking ass.”

  Not a ghost of a word had come out over the past two years about what had torn apart the twins. Rafe almost didn’t want to speak for fear Jesse would stop talking about the one thing everyone wanted to know. “You resented her.”

  “Resented, envied.” Jesse made a rude noise. “I hated her guts.”

  Shit. “You hated her?”

  “Only for a while, and then I hated myself.”

  “Because you were jealous.”

  Jesse turned back, sorrow on his face. “Because I crawled into bed with her—”

  That’s all he got out before he was spinning on the spot, a grunt of pain escaping. Rafe had moved instinctively, stepping forward, his fist swinging hard. The smack of his knuckles into Jesse’s jaw was immensely satisfying, the second blow even more so.

  Jes
se hit the ground without raising his arms in defense. Just sat there, blood pouring from his nose, his eyes haunted.

  Rafe cursed, sick to his stomach for so many reasons. The anger whipping through him tasted like blood and death, and it wasn’t about Jesse, it was all about his own damn feelings. His own fucking faults.

  He looked down at his hands still clenched into merciless weapons. He could hit his cousin again. It was clear Jesse would accept whatever punishment Rafe passed out, but it didn’t remove Rafe’s guilt.

  Because he’d done it again. Struck out with anger, and it had been easy, and sweet, and the first thing he’d wanted to do.

  Had Ben’s death been the turning point Rafe couldn’t come back from?

  Like he’d feared?

  Rafe willed himself to unfurl his hands, taking a deep breath before reaching down to his cousin. Strong fingers curled around his forearm as he hauled Jesse to his feet. He shoved aside his frustrations and focused on the other man and his confession.

  They stood quietly for a moment before Jesse spoke. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

  The words cut into the silence.

  “Not for lack of trying.” Rafe heard the disgust in his own voice. “What the hell was getting into bed with her going to accomplish?”

  Jesse pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and pressed it against his face. “I thought I’d get my goddamn brother back. Instead, Vicki thought I was Joel, and…”

  “Sick bastard,” Rafe muttered. “I’m surprised Joel didn’t kill you.”

  “It wasn’t like that.” Jesse visibly swallowed. “Well, it was, but it wasn’t.”

  Cryptic, much? Yet Rafe didn’t want to push. Whatever happened that night had clearly…destroyed something inside his cousin.

  “She was barely awake—hell, she was mostly asleep, for all I know—and she fucking gutted me. She wasn’t even aware of what she was saying, but it hit me so hard…” He wiped his face then shoved the handkerchief away. “It changed everything.”

  By now Jesse’s jaw was rigid and Rafe’s churning gut had turned into a solid block of pain. “What’d she say?”