Rocky Mountain Devil

by Vivian Arend

  Jesse shook his head. “It broke me, Rafe. All thoughts of…hell, I don’t know. Whatever childish ideas I arrived with vanished right then and there. I’d gone to prove to Joel that…” He trailed off.

  “That what?”

  “Fuck.” Jesse groaned. “It doesn’t even matter anymore. All I know is that I screwed up. Big-time.”

  “They’ve never said a word,” Rafe said in disbelief.

  “They don’t know.”

  Holy shit.

  Jesse paused before rushing on. “I swear nothing happened. Not really, and I got the hell out of there before Joel got home. Vicki obviously doesn’t remember a thing.”

  Rafe eyed his cousin. “This went down two years ago, but you’re still being an ass. Why?”

  “Why?” Jesse turned and gripped the fence rail as if he were ready to rip it to shreds. “Because no matter how much I plan to make a move to fix things, I take one look at Vicki, remember what she said in her sleep, and guilt hits so hard I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe, Rafe, and it’s killing me.”

  Guilt. Rafe understood that one in spades.

  They stood together silently for a minute, staring over the land that held no answers. Just the wind moving endlessly over open spaces.

  Rafe took a deep breath. “So, what do we do?”

  Jesse tilted his hat back, motioning to the truck and trailer. “I didn’t mean for this to come out right now, but I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving…Rocky?”

  His cousin nodded.

  A flash of his earlier anger returned. Rafe couldn’t change what he’d done, but Jesse could. “Leaving won’t fix anything.”

  “And staying won’t either,” Jesse retorted. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not really, but you still feel like shit, right? I can tell you it doesn’t get any damn easier, no matter how much time passes. You’re going to look into your mom’s eyes from now to fucking eternity, and every time you see her hurting, you’ll think about how you might have changed things.”

  Laurel’s voice echoed in his head, and Rafe found himself repeating the words out loud. “Can’t change things by running.”

  “And I fucking can’t change the past,” Jesse roared. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

  “Running,” Rafe snapped back.

  “Call it whatever the hell you want, I don’t give a shit.”

  In the midst of the shouting Rafe saw the truth all too clearly. He lowered his voice. “Only you do give a shit, and that’s the problem.”

  Jesse damn near vibrated as he stood there. An icy wind curled around them, the sun buried behind washed-out grey clouds. Snow lay against the side of the barn, hard packed from the wind, with dirt and straw mixed in. The path they’d made stomping their way into the building pocked with dirt as well.

  It wasn’t the clean, fresh aftermath of a snowfall, where everything seemed pristine and hopeful. It was jagged ice and ruined plans, and right then Rafe felt so damn empty inside he wasn’t sure his heart was still beating.

  His cousin turned to him, his face grim. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I care. Which is why I’m leaving, because it’s the right thing to do. The only person this hurts is me. But you? Don’t throw it all away. Don’t hurt Laurel as well as yourself.”

  He slapped Rafe on the shoulder then turned and walked toward the truck that would take him even farther from the people who cared about him.

  Rafe called after him. “Joel loves you. Hell, all the Colemans love you, you ass.”

  Jesse kept moving. “I know.”

  Rafe didn’t try to stop him. Just watched him go, hoping his cousin’s road turned smoother. Hoping it would turn around and someday lead him home.

  The house was deafeningly quiet.

  There’d been four of them living in the place at one time, and now it was just Rafe. Gone was the raucous laughter, piles of dirty dishes, sporting events played too loud. No more arguments about who ate the last piece of pizza, or finished off the milk without buying more.

  The cousins who’d moved out to settle down—that was life. But Jesse? If the stubborn asshole had talked to Joel, so much pain and sadness could have been avoided over the past couple of years…

  His phone signaled a text from Laurel, and he could hardly bear to look.

  Laurel: Your mom invited me to dinner. We’re discussing the stubborn men in our lives

  Laurel: You should show up to defend yourself

  Laurel: btw, she knew about the time we got in trouble for throwing the water balloons. Or if she didn’t before, she does now. Oops

  A smile twitched to his lips before he could stop it. Damn it, he missed her so much. She was strong and fearless, and too sweet for her own good.

  Strong enough to deal with his sorry ass?

  Fueled by frustration, and with too much energy to be contained, Rafe went outside and made toothpicks of the woodpile, swinging the axe like a mad man. Hours later, his muscles ached and he was sweating in spite of the freezing temperatures. His brain whirled through options until he was tired enough to drop into bed exhausted.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  He wasn’t at the funeral.

  There was still time until the actual service got started because the family always gathered early. But with half an hour to go, and no sign of Rafe, Laurel was pretty sure he wasn’t late but being stubborn.

  Stubborn? Try a complete and utter jackass.

  There she’d been, all ready to make a huge move forward with him, and pfffft. Nothing.

  While his father’s death had been unexpected, the way Rafe’d been acting ever since, anyone would have thought he’d lost the most important person in his life. Like he’d been rocked off his foundation—and that made no sense because she knew exactly how much Ben had frustrated him.

  Maybe he felt guilty. Maybe the fact he didn’t miss his father as much as he thought he should was playing into this.

  Laurel understood guilt. Heck, she understood it at whole lot more than he’d probably give her credit for, and if they ever got a chance to talk she was prepared to tell him everything.

  But after he’d all but shoved her out of the house, he’d raised every wall possible between them. He’d gone from ignoring her phone calls to ignoring her completely. She was torn between stalking him so she could give him a piece of her mind or letting him be a jackass, alone and miserable, because that seemed to be what he wanted.

  If only it was that simple. Because what she wanted was to make him better. To find out why he wasn’t acting like the man she knew.

  Like the man she loved…

  Stupid timing on her part. Falling in love wasn’t supposed to be this frustrating.

  She’d put up with his bullshit over the past few days figuring he’d have to show up eventually, and when he did, she’d duct tape herself to his side if that’s what it took to make him talk.

  Tough to duct tape herself to a person who didn’t show up, though.

  I could be running off on a wild-goose chase, God, but maybe you could do me a favour? Keep the stubborn man where I can track him down easily?

  She’d had it up to here with Rafe’s suffering in silence. She headed for the door, trying to call in case he was just late, but when he didn’t answer, she sent a warning text then grabbed her winter coat.

  “Going somewhere?”

  She twirled. Her dad stood there, a suitably solemn expression on his face.

  “There’s someone I need to track down,” she informed him.

  He glanced at her outfit then back into the family waiting room where the Colemans continued to gather. Gabe and Allison stood at Dana’s side. The older woman looked delicate, yet her spine was straight and she held her composure as she waited for the ceremony to start.

  It was pretty clear which of the Angel Colemans wasn’t there yet.

  She looked into her father’s eyes and saw understanding. He cupped her cheek with his hand. “You can’t make someone do something they don’t
want to do.”

  “I know. But I can stand beside him. I can let him know he isn’t alone.” She offered the faintest hint of a smile. “I can tell him what I believe.”

  A momentary flash of curiosity and hope lit her father’s eyes. “Maybe you and I can have a discussion later about some of those things, but for now, might I suggest different footwear if you’re going out?”

  She glanced down at the delicate shoes she’d slipped on at church. Her boots to wear to the graveside weren’t much better. While she didn’t know for sure where she was going, she had a pretty good idea Rafe’d be somewhere a little less than civilized. “Suggestions?”

  He pointed to a pair of oversized Uggs on the shoe rack. “Borrow mine.”

  She snickered. “Oh, those will totally work. I don’t even have to remove my shoes.”

  “I can’t delay the service,” he warned, “but people will understand if you’re late. Or there’s the graveside later, if that helps.”

  Laurel darted in and kissed his cheek, accepting the quick hug he gave in return, along with his comforting smile.

  Having her father’s blessing made heading out on her task easier. She was going to be okay. They would be okay, she was sure of it. Even if she couldn’t knock sense into Rafe fast enough to make it back for the funeral, she’d make a difference where it counted.

  In forever.

  She paused with the keys in the lock of her car, the piles of snow pushed up at the edge of the parking lot making her hesitate. She’d be safer in something a little bigger and broader. One glance around the parking lot made her choice clear.

  She hauled open the door on Trevor Coleman’s enormous truck and climbed inside.

  The seat was still warm, the keys dangling from the ignition. She smiled as she started up the big beast. A moment later she had the truck in gear and headed toward Rafe’s.

  Her frustration slid all over the place, a lot like the tires under her. It wasn’t easy to get a grip with the heavy winter snow and ice that lay on the highway, but she was in a solid enough vehicle that she felt safe. She might be having difficulty, but she was controlling it, if just barely, and that made the difference.

  Maybe control was an illusion.

  She slowed before she twisted the wheel to take the driveway into Rafe’s rental, pleased to find her first guess accurate. Rafe wasn’t hiding. He was sitting there in broad daylight, tailgate of his truck lowered…

  …a six-pack of beer at his side.

  Laurel saw red. She had no issues with him being twisted up over how to feel about his father’s passing, but he could be miserable without the alcohol.

  Thanks for keeping him here, God. Excuse me if I shout at him a little for his own good. I might need to use a few bad words to get through his thick cowboy skull.

  She pulled to a stop, the heavy truck shimmying under her as she offered Rafe a dirty look. It took three seconds to get out of the truck and march over to him, slam her fists down on her hips and give him a death glare.

  Temperatures were below zero and the idiot was sitting there in his suit, cowboy boots dangling toward the ground. His second best hat was jammed so far down on his head the brim nearly cut his eyes off from view.

  Nearly.

  She could see enough to know he was watching her closely. Weighing her reactions as he picked up the beer beside him and lifted it toward his lips.

  He wanted it to be like that, did he?

  She snatched the bottle from his fingers. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Coleman?”

  “Yup.” He grabbed the bottle back, taking a good long drink before meeting her stare with a “what are you going to do about it?” attitude. “Right here.”

  You’re right, God. Sometimes it’s not patience we need to pray for, but courage. Help me help this stupid man get his shit together.

  Laurel snatched the bottle from his fingers. This needed something big. Something epic to get his attention and prove she meant business. She twisted and threw as hard as she could, the bottle flying nicely through the air to slam into the half fence beside the parking area.

  She had to stop from gasping in surprise when the bottle didn’t just break, it shattered into a million pieces, falling like green rain onto the undisturbed snow.

  She could hear God laughing at her. You don’t remember your laws of physics, do you?

  Fine, maybe not, but it was as good as blowing a bugle to get Rafe’s attention. She snatched up the remainder of the six-pack before he could get any ideas.

  There was something very satisfying about swinging her arm back then sending the box flying in a smooth arc. Up and up then down, vanishing into the deep, soft snow.

  Laurel faced him again, fighting to stop herself from shaking out of her oversized boots.

  “You’re going to that church, right now.” Although if he refused to cooperate, she had no idea what she’d try next, because, holy moly, he looked big and imposing sitting there. Completely unmovable.

  They exchanged long glances, Rafe’s expression hard and unreadable. What she wanted most was to crowd closer and wrap her arms around him. Comfort him and kiss him and tell him…

  Well, she wasn’t going to tell him she loved him until he got his head out of his ass and smartened up.

  It took all her courage to stay in one spot when he hopped off the tailgate and stepped into her personal space. Tall. Very tall—and big. Had she mentioned big?

  Still, chutzpah could take a person a long way. “You don’t scare me,” Laurel said with as much conviction as she could muster. “Get your ass in gear.”

  One brow rose in surprise, but he didn’t tease her about swearing. Instead he looked nearly scared to death for a moment. At least until he stepped closer, his muscular body brushing hers.

  She was airborne a second later, held in his firm grasp high enough she could look him in the eyes and see raw emotion. Desire as well as a whole lot of fear.

  His fingers slipped around the back of her neck and then his mouth crashed down on hers, and he was kissing her as if he expected her to vanish between one breath and the next. Kissing her as if this was the last thing he was going to do before wandering out to meet a firing squad.

  Kissing her as if she were the only thing in the world he had, and he was desperately afraid he was going to lose her.

  She didn’t fight him, just pressed herself tighter against him and gave. Gave her willing friendship from all those years. Tried to give some of the joy that they’d built up through laughter and troublemaking and everything that had come before.

  And over it all she laid a thick layer of love. The kind of love that took years to build, sneaking in when you weren’t aware of the walls rising higher and higher. Built on a rock-solid foundation so that when storms like this hit, things could shake, and things could rock, but they weren’t going to fall.

  They could stand firm through anything together.

  He had her up the stairs and into the house, and for a second she thought he was headed to the bedroom. Instead he plopped himself down on the couch, arms like iron bands around her as he refused to let go and just held on tight. Kissing her, caressing her, whispering words she struggled to hear.

  She couldn’t take it anymore. She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged him back so she could look into his face. Tears threatened, but the rest of his face seemed almost emotionless as he struggled to stay in control.

  He didn’t need to be in control around her.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  His eyes widened, his jaw dropping open a little.

  “Stupid timing to confess that, but, hey, this is your Sitko. The girl who blurts out things as soon as they come to her—although honestly this one I’ve pretty much had in me for most my life.” She stroked her fingers through his hair, soothing it to lie straighter. Soothing him. Soothing herself by touching him.

  He looked dazed. “You don’t know. You don’t know what I did. What I could do in the futu
re— You can’t love me.”

  Okay, that was one-hundred-percent horse hockey. She looked at him sideways. “Excuse me, Coleman. Did you just tell me I’m not allowed to do something? Because you know that’s the surest way to make me want to do it.”

  His lips twitched for a second before he grew serious again. “This isn’t something to joke about. I can’t do it. I can’t go to that funeral and listen to people talk about Ben without wanting to stand up and tell them it’s my fault he’s dead.”

  And he told her what happened that night, and by the time he reached the final part of his confession, her heart ached at the pain in his voice.

  “When he started in on you and Allison, I lost my temper. We fought… Actually, I was a coward and a bully, and called him every name in the book before I left him to die. He must’ve had his heart attack right after that.”

  Guilt. Hoo boy, did she know what a number that could play on a person.

  “I lost control, Laurel. I didn’t take my fists to him, but I as good as killed him with my words.” Rafe sounded wrecked. “It’s what burst out of me, and I can’t help but think… What if I do that? Maybe Ben deserved it, I don’t know, but what happens when, down the road, you do something, and I get pissed off? What if we’re together and raising a family—what’s going to stop me from turning into Ben and lashing out at our kids someday?”

  “You won’t,” Laurel promised him. “It’s not you.”

  “It certainly was that night,” he insisted. “Easiest fucking thing in the world to rake him over the coals.”

  “Oh, Rafe. Trust me, I know exactly what kind of frustration your father could trigger. Ms. Lippy, remember? You and me both lost our tempers with him. He knew exactly which strings to pull to piss us off.”

  She stroked his shoulders, made hopeful by the fact that even though he was trying to convince her that he needed to leave, that he wasn’t good enough for her, he was clinging to her like a lifeline.

  “I’m sorry that’s your last memory of him.” Laurel considered her words carefully. “Remember the doctor told your mom he was surprised it didn’t happen sooner, considering how bad Ben’s heart was.”