by Amanda Renee
“Don’t be so sure about that.” After witnessing their parents’ dysfunction, he’d never been a big fan of the traditional marriage. That had been one reason he’d married Tori. They had a pressure-free marriage and came and went whenever they wanted. No, it hadn’t been wine and roses, but they’d had companionship and mutual respect for each other. They’d never fought. Not once. And when Tori had wanted to go out, he’d been fine staying home with Missy. She’d become his little buddy and losing her had been no different than if she’d been his biological child.
“Dare I ask how it’s going with Chelsea? I heard you went to the dance with her last week.”
“We didn’t go together.” Ryder felt the inexplicable need to correct him. He didn’t want the rumor getting out that they were spending time together. He didn’t just want to protect her and Peyton’s reputations, he wanted to protect the relationship. Which was ironic considering he didn’t want to get involved with anyone. Yet he couldn’t stop picturing a future with Chelsea. One he doubted would happen thanks to his past. “We ran into each other there and we had a good time until Wes’s fist ran into my face.”
“About that...” Harlan paused when the waitress approached their table and took their order. “I spoke with Dylan and Garrett. They’d like to see you.”
Ryder almost choked on his beer. “Oh, really? I’ve been home for a couple weeks and I haven’t heard a word from either one of them. I expected to run into them in town since Tori makes a point of sending me there for stupid crap every day. I can only assume it’s because she’s trying to force the issue. I’ve wondered if they are avoiding town to avoid me.”
“They have been.”
Ryder smacked the table. “Then why do they want to see me?”
“They’re not avoiding you to avoid you. They are avoiding you because they don’t want a public spectacle. After what happened with you and Wes at the dance last weekend, you have to agree with their reasoning.”
Ryder sagged against the back of the booth. “Wes’s punch, as shocking as it was, didn’t surprise me. I wouldn’t expect Dylan and Garrett to react to seeing me so violently.”
“They wouldn’t. They just don’t want to run into you in town. Not for nothing, you could’ve called them once you were settled.”
“I considered it. But unlike Tori, I didn’t want to force the issue.”
“And neither did they. That’s why they’re circumventing town for the time being.” Harlan huffed. “All four of you are the most hardheaded men I’ve ever dealt with and I’ve dealt with more than my share of—never mind. I’ll be glad when everyone’s finally talking again so I don’t have to be the mediator. Here’s the bottom line.” Harlan jabbed at the tabletop. “They want to see you, I know you want to see them, and if you’re uncomfortable getting together at Silver Bells, then everyone can come to my house and Belle will take the kids somewhere so we can be alone.”
The Silver Bells Ranch had belonged to Dylan and his uncle Jax before Jax had died last December. Garrett had moved back to town in January and signed on as his new partner. Wes had joined them earlier this month.
“I prefer not to do it at Silver Bells. That’s Wes’s home. I don’t want to chance another blowup in front of his kids or Dylan and Garrett’s. Your place is good.”
“Fine. I’ll set it up and expect you to be there.”
“Anytime in the evening during the week works, except for Wednesdays.” Ryder wanted to keep as much of his weekends free as possible. For Chelsea.
“How is that at-risk youth program?”
“From what I’ve seen so far, I love it. I love the whole Bloodworth Ranch setup. Drew has twenty parolees working for him. Men and women. They don’t live on-site, but they work multiple shifts around the clock. It’s a small cattle operation, but he also has crops and a ton of other livestock. The parolees learn all aspects of ranching and farming while they’re there. They’re only allowed to work there while they’re on parole, then they move on to real ranching jobs.”
“Sounds interesting. Why is this man so invested in parolees?”
“Because he was a parolee himself once. When he got out, he had a hard time finding work. I wouldn’t mind setting up something like that of my own one day.” If he could ever earn enough money to buy his own land. By the time he got off parole he’d be thirty-five. He’d hoped to have gotten a lot further in life by that age. He didn’t believe in hocus-pocus or fairy tales, but this was one time he wished he had a crystal ball so he could see into the future and find out if he’d ever have anything worth offering Chelsea. “Once I’ve been there for a while, I want to sit down with Drew and find out how he started that business.”
“I know this has been tough on you, but I have to ask...when are you going to tell me what really happened the night Dad died? Because we both know you weren’t the one behind the wheel. That leaves only two people. Mom and Tori. Which one of them have you been covering for all these years?”
* * *
It wasn’t even seven o’clock at night and Chelsea had already taken a long candlelit bath, drunk two glasses of wine and eaten a pathetic microwavable dinner. Missy had invited Peyton for a sleepover since they didn’t have school tomorrow because of a teacher’s conference. That gave Chelsea twenty-six kid-free hours. She’d already burned through four of them and now boredom had set in.
She could call Jocelyn and see if she wanted to go out, but after her friend’s sorry state last weekend, she passed. Outside of Tori, Chelsea didn’t have any other friends. At least not in Saddle Ridge. Except for Ryder. He counted as a friend.
She picked up her phone to text him. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Ryder was probably still at dinner with Harlan, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t thank him one more time for today. Just a little message to show him she was thinking of him.
Chelsea turned the phone facedown on the table. No, he deserved uninterrupted time with his brother. She picked up her plastic TV dinner tray and carried it to the sink to rinse it off. Okay, that killed five seconds. Now what?
Her phone dinged from the table. She spun to face it as her pulse kicked into overdrive. Most likely her daughter had sent a text saying she was fine and having fun. Chelsea casually crossed the room, forcing every girlish emotion to remain in check. She flipped the phone over and saw one new message...from Ryder.
Can you talk?
Her hand trembled as she pressed the call button, bracing herself for a letdown.
“Hello?” Two syllables into the conversation and Chelsea already sensed his distress.
“I figured calling was easier than texting. How did your dinner go with Harlan?”
“Not well.” He sighed. “I’m not interrupting you and Peyton, am I?”
“No. I’m alone. Peyton is spending the night with Missy. Do you want to come over?”
Why did she ask him that? She wasn’t ready to be alone with him. At least not in her house. At night. With her bedroom only one floor away. Then again, who needed a bedroom? It had been so long she’d—she’d what? Take him on the couch? Here he needed someone to talk to, and she immediately thought about jumping his bones. Real classy, Chelsea.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I don’t think your neighbors will approve.”
“Approve of what? A black Jeep parked in my driveway. How many black Jeeps are there in Saddle Ridge, let alone the state of Montana? They won’t think anything of it. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll turn out the front light so no one will see you walk through my door.”
Apparently her subconscious didn’t have a problem with inviting him over even though she was doing everything she would advise a single parent client not to do:
Don’t invite a man you barely know into your home.
Stay away from ex-convicts.
And more than anything else, trust your instincts. If it feel
s wrong, it is wrong.
Inviting Ryder over didn’t feel wrong. Something had happened with his brother and he needed her. Not Tori, not some random stranger he could easily talk to in a bar...but her.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.” She gave him her address and hung up. She had a good fifteen minutes before he arrived. That gave her a chance to clean up a little. As she walked by the couch, her robe snagged on the end table. “Oh God, I need to change.”
The first ache of today’s outing reared its ugly head as she ran upstairs. Muscles she hadn’t used in decades stiffened between her bath and now. In her bedroom, she unfastened her robe, allowing it to fall to the floor. She stood naked in front of her closet, three-quarters of which held work clothes. The rest seemed too casual. Too casual for what? She was home alone on a Sunday night. What did she think he expected her to answer the door wearing? An evening gown?
She tugged on a T-shirt and yoga pants, almost forgetting her bra. She didn’t want to look that casual. After a quick swipe of mascara, she ran a brush through her hair just as the doorbell rang. What did he do...fly there?
Downstairs, she counted to three before opening the door. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Ryder stood on her doorstep in his usual faded jeans and cowboy boots. His tan barn jacket looked new and expensive, and she wondered how he afforded it fresh out of prison. His hat-free head surprised her most. She’d always seen him in a hat. But she’d never seen him this bare...and vulnerable. And he definitely looked vulnerable tonight. “May I come in?”
“Oh! I’m sorry.” She stepped aside. “Are you all right? You sounded a little stressed over the phone.”
Ryder stepped into her foyer and tugged off his boots, earning him instant brownie points. “I’ll be fine. Dinner with my brother didn’t go as expected.”
“He didn’t hit you, did he?”
Ryder laughed. “Nah, although I wish he had. It would have been better than him dredging up the night my dad died.”
Chelsea stood there, waiting for him to continue. She suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands. Yoga pants didn’t have pockets and crossing her arms felt judgmental. When he said nothing further, she walked toward the living room, assuming he’d follow. “Can I get you anything to drink, I don’t have any beer, but I have wine, water or coffee.”
“Coffee, black would be great. Thank you.” Ryder stood in front of the fireplace mantel, looking at the framed photos of her family. “Is the little girl in this one you?”
“Which one?” Chelsea leaned across the kitchen peninsula to get a better view. Ryder held up the photo of her blowing out the candles on her fifth birthday. “That’s me.”
“You were a cute kid. Not that you’re not cute now. Because you are. But you’re more beautiful than cute.”
Chelsea laughed to herself as she dropped a coffee pod into the machine. At least she wasn’t the only nervous one. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge while his coffee brewed. “Make yourself at home out there. I’ll just be a minute.” She twisted off the cap and took a long swallow. You can do this, Chelsea. Talking to him alone in her house was no different from their car ride earlier. Only this time she wouldn’t stick her foot in her mouth.
The coffeemaker released a final burst of steam as if mocking her nervousness. “Here you go,” she said as she padded out of the kitchen. “Do you want to talk about what happened with Harlan?” She tucked a leg beneath her as she sat next to him on the couch. “Or if you’d rather not, we can just watch TV.”
Ryder sipped his coffee, wincing at the heat. He was buying time. Taking a moment to formulate the answer he thought she’d want to hear. She saw the tactic in the courtroom all the time. She reached for the remote, deciding for him. She refused to force him to talk if he wasn’t ready. She’d learned that lesson earlier.
Ryder’s hand covered hers. “Like you, Harlan believes there’s more to what happened the night my father died.”
“Is there?”
Ryder’s eyes closed. “I hate remembering that night. There was so much going on between me and Tori, my mom and my dad, my dad and Wes.”
“Wes? He was there that night?”
“No, he was on the road. Another rodeo somewhere. I never could keep up with his schedule. He was home as little as possible.”
“Didn’t he get along with your dad?”
“Dad had always been hard on him. Really hard. Despite Wes’s success on the bull riding circuit, he never lived up to the man my father wanted him to be. You only need to spend five minutes with Wes to realize he doesn’t play by anybody else’s rules.”
Chelsea let go of the remote and turned her palm upward, entwining her fingers with his. “You can’t force a person to be someone they’re not.”
“That’s just it. Back then, Wes was exactly like Dad. Hard, angry, determined, philandering.”
“Your dad cheated on your mom?” Based on the way everyone in town treated Ryder, she’d assumed the Slades were the pinnacle of virtue. Between what Tori had told her and now this, she couldn’t understand why anyone sang their praises.
“He had a romance going on with his ex-high school girlfriend. They’d both married other people, but they’d never quite gotten over each other. I used to pray my folks would get divorced. Dad would say he was going fishing with his buddies for the weekend and Mom would always find them together at some hotel miles from here.”
“What did your brothers say about that?”
“I don’t think Dylan and Garrett knew. They’d both married and moved out before things got really bad. No one knew. Maybe Wes did, maybe not. He kept his distance. My dad’s affair was one of Saddle Ridge’s best-kept secrets. I told Harlan though. He tried talking to Dad, but you couldn’t reason with my father. He was right, you were wrong. No matter what the situation. Harlan and I both told Mom to leave but she wouldn’t. She believed a half a loaf of bread was better than none. Those were her exact words.”
“That had to have been awful to live with.”
“You can’t even imagine. Their marriage had significantly worsened by the time Tori and I got together—unbeknownst to us. When I moved back home, I saw just how bad it had gotten. That’s what Tori and I walked in on the night he died. They were fighting once again, only Mom had reached her limit. She wanted out, but Dad wouldn’t let her go. Tori and I both tried to stop the fight. Mom had been drinking, and Tori wanted to take her home to sober up. I just wanted to escape the madness.”
“Is that when the accident happened?” Chelsea could see how his distress of that night would make him get behind the wheel, even though he’d been drinking.
Ryder opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He fell silent without acknowledging her question. That increasing uneasiness swelled within her. Now she was more positive than ever there was something he and Tori were hiding.
“Ryder, you can trust me. You can tell me anything.”
“There’s nothing more to say. It was an accident. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. It happened so fast and then he was gone.” He continued to stare across the room at the blank television screen as if he were watching a replay of that night.
He tried to stop it? Ryder’s confession from the night of his father’s death churned in her brain. Nowhere had it mentioned him trying to stop the truck. That gut instinct that propelled everyone’s fight-or-flight response kicked in and the truth about that night hit her like a freight train. She knew in her heart something didn’t sound right. Now she knew with every fiber of her being. Ryder hadn’t killed his father, but he’d tried to stop the person who had.
Chapter 8
Ryder shot upright in bed. The clock on the bedside table read half past midnight. He rubbed his eyes, trying to force them to adjust faster to the darkness. Where was he? He patted the wall above him until he found the s
mall light mounted above the bed and clicked it on. He was home. At least what had become his home. Had he dreamed going to Chelsea’s?
Shadows loomed large in every corner of the small room. The three other beds sat empty, taunting him. He was alone. After spending five and a half years sharing a prison cell, he thanked every day he had the entire two-room bunkhouse to himself. Except for tonight. He hadn’t wanted to be alone tonight.
But he hadn’t been alone. He remembered sitting in Chelsea’s living room and talking. About what? He swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his thighs. “What did I tell her?” He held his head in his hands, searching through the fog in his brain for answers.
The image of his mother behind the wheel of his father’s truck and Ryder begging her to let him in flashed in his head. He could still feel the cold steel beneath his palms along with the sting from the thousand cuts he’d gotten from shattering the driver’s side window.
He stood up and bolted for the bathroom. Blindly reaching past the thin shower curtain, he turned on the water and climbed in, not bothering to take off his clothes. He didn’t want to remember that night. He didn’t want to relive it again and again as he did every time he closed his eyes. His father’s lifeless body lying on the ground behind the truck. His mother slumped over the steering wheel passed out cold. Tori screaming and him helplessly watching the last fragments of his family falling apart.
He wanted to save them both. But he couldn’t. His father was already gone. He’d pulled his mother from the truck, frantically brushing the glass from her clothing and hair. He’d ordered Tori to get her inside, strip her down and get her in her nightgown and into bed. They bagged her clothes and tossed them in the trunk of Tori’s car, fearing they held fragments of shattered glass. Ryder climbed behind the wheel of the truck and touched everything. He wanted his handprints everywhere. And then he crawled out...