Rebel Cowboy (23 page)

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, honey.” He offered his best charming smile and walked to her truck, even though it killed him a little bit to do it. Unfortunately, she needed family time, and for this portion, that didn’t require him.

He climbed into her truck and looked at her one last time. She offered the tiniest of smiles, the most pathetic of waves, and he wanted to stay. He really did. But she turned to face her brother, and that was not his fight.

As much as he wanted to step in and take that for her.

Instead, he turned around in the drive and headed back to Blue Valley. The sturdiness and longevity no longer haunted him, no longer gave him the heebie-jeebies. It was all a little daunting, but not something he couldn’t handle.

Even when his phone rang, his mouth was curved in a smile at that thought. “Sharpe.”

“Dan.”

At the sound of his father’s voice, all that confidence shriveled up. It didn’t die, exactly, but it shrunk and went skittering somewhere in the back of his rib cage.

“Scott called,” Dad said tonelessly.

Well, shit. “And told you I declined the tryout invitation.”

Dad sighed audibly, and Dad was not a sigher. “Yes, that is what he told me.”

“My decision on that stands, Dad. I’m sorry if that disappoints you.” It was somewhat shocking to realize that he was sorry, but not the guilt-laden, beat-himself-up sorry he would have been years ago. This was a little pang, and one he’d move on from relatively quickly.

Because it was the right fucking choice, and he was old enough and strong enough to know that. To believe it. That belief didn’t shake at the sound of his father’s voice. Not too much anyway.

“Dan, you know I hesitate to give you advice. I’ve always wanted you to make your own choices, but… This looks poorly on me. On you. It’s throwing away everything you’ve worked for. If you can’t handle the scrutiny, we can work with Scott and maybe a better publicist to—”

“It’s not the scrutiny I can’t take,” he interrupted through gritted teeth. “Both Scott and you wanted me to get away for a bit.”

“Yes, a bit. Not forever. Son, you can’t give up on hockey right now. There is a team that will take you, and even if it’s only for a year, it will erase a lot of the bad press. Then you can still get a job with another team. I can’t hire you myself, of course, that’d look bad, but I can pull some strings and—”

“I was never meant for management.” He had never had doubts about that, or an interest in changing that. “And since I can’t play hockey forever, this…what I’m doing here is something important.”

“You could coach. Scout. There are—”

“That’s you, Dad. It was… I love that game, but it’s different than the way you love it. If I can’t play, I don’t… Playing is all I ever wanted.”

“You could still do that. For at least a year. I played until I was thirty-nine, and you haven’t had nearly as many concussions as I have. Your mother and I—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what? Mom and you? You’ve been in contact?” Dan had to stop the truck, so he pulled into a spot in front of Georgia’s.

“We’ve exchanged a few emails and a phone call in the past few weeks.”

Dan blinked at the steering wheel. No contact for years. He or someone who worked for Dad had always,
always
been the intermediary once their divorce had been final. “After twenty-some years of no contact whatsoever.”

Dad sighed. “We’re worried about you, Dan. For all of the issues your mother and I have, you were always our number one priority.”

Well, his mental health, anyway, which he supposed counted.

“Both of us think this ranch idea has gone from…harmless to concerning. Scott’s call has me even more concerned. I’ve reached out to some friends at Phoenix. They should be giving you the week’s notice you asked for, and I hope you’ll accept that generous offer.”

Perhaps if he was eighteen again, he’d feel like he had to do what Dad said. That it was imperative to do whatever his parents asked of him, as long as it involved hockey. Hockey had become the one passion the three of them shared, the glue that held his fragile mess of a mind together.

Shouldn’t they be happy he didn’t need it anymore?

“I’m happy here. I’m building something here. On my own. Well, mostly on my own. Partially, anyway.”

“So it’s a woman!” Dad almost sounded relieved, as if he’d solved the mystery of the crazy son and his crazy llama ranch. “Well, that’s another story. Is it serious?”

Dan hesitated to answer, not because he didn’t know the answer, but because he thought it might undercut Dad’s understanding of his reasoning. Mel might be his reason for some things, but not everything. “It’s…unrelated.”

“Unrelated.” Dad sounded puzzled. “You’re not easing any of my worries, Son. Are you sure this isn’t…”

“Isn’t what? Mental breakdown again? Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure. For one, I’m not five. For two, I’m not uncontrollably crying or causing trouble, and I sure as hell don’t have night terrors anymore. I’m a grown-ass man.”

“I’m not trying to upset you.”

Dan wanted to laugh, but he rested his forehead on the steering wheel of Mel’s truck instead. “No, heaven forbid we upset each other.”

“Come home, Son. Go to the tryout, come home, and we’ll talk this all through.”

“Talk it all through or skate till we collapse?”

Dad was silent, and Dan straightened. “How about this. You come out here. Mom too. See what I’ve built. See me here.” Meet Mel maybe. “There is nothing you have to worry about. I’m not breaking. I’m not broken, and if anything…I
am
home.”

“If I agreed to that, would you take the tryout?”

“No, Dad, this isn’t a barter. It’s an invitation. You’re free to take it or leave it, but it doesn’t change my plans. It doesn’t change me.” The words bubbled out of him all in an excited burst. Because they weren’t just words. They weren’t just anger.

They were the truth.

“Let me know what you decide, but right now, I need to go.” He clicked End on his phone, looked at Georgia’s diner, and decided he could really go for a double bacon cheeseburger, calories be damned.

Mel didn’t look directly at Caleb. Not at first. She needed a moment. She needed more than a moment. She needed a whole lifetime to wrap her head around this.

“What are we going to do about her?” Caleb asked.

She wished she had any clue. Any glimmer of an idea, but she was blank. Completely and utterly blank, and all the bravado in the world didn’t change the fact that she did not know how to handle this.

So she was honest, and it was a strange jolt to realize her honest moments with Caleb were few and far between. “I don’t know.”

His eyebrows drew together and he stepped gingerly toward her. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t have a fucking clue what we’re supposed to do.” Her tone was more vicious than was fair, but she couldn’t find it in her to care, to rein it in, to promise anyone it would be fine.

This wasn’t fine.

“He couldn’t possibly know about her,” she added. Of all her fears and confusion, that was the one piece that made her feel a little ill. Dad. Knowing. All this time. It wasn’t possible. “There’s no way Dad knew.”

“That girl all but said Mom’s a liar.”

Mel looked back to where she’d taken Summer, to get her out of the way, to avoid the very off chance Dad looked out the window for once, saw anything, asked questions.

Yeah, that’s the reason you’re hiding her away.

Mel swallowed down the queasy wave that kept threatening to escape her stomach. Summer had looked so lost. Even more lost than Mel felt. Like she had nowhere to go, and at the very least Mel always had somewhere to go.

“She thinks we knew and didn’t care,” Mel forced out, her throat tight and words scratchy. “Why would M…” She couldn’t say
Mom
, couldn’t force her mouth to make those words. “What’s the purpose of all this?” Was that the hardest part? Not understanding? Or was it a deeper hurt, a deeper cut she kept trying to ignore?

Throbbing, burning.

Why had she been left behind?

Of all the selfish, childish, foolish things to be focused on. Pointless to feel overlooked. As if she would have wanted to be taken away from Shaw, from Dad.

“Maybe she thought she’d give her a better life.”

Every once in a while—though less and less as the years went on—she wondered if Caleb knew more than he let on. She hadn’t had that sneaking suspicion in years, too buried under everything bigger than that one betrayal all those years ago.

But in those words, she swore, she
swore
Caleb knew something he’d never told her. “Then why not take us?”

Caleb shrugged, still not meeting her desperate gaze. His eyes were on the house, and the demons and shadows were all over his face.

The thing she missed, the thing she ignored. She wanted to sink into the earth until this all went away, possibly longer, but that was no more an option than it had been five years ago when the doctors had told her Dad was paralyzed.

“Caleb.”

His blue eyes met hers then, a million troubles she’d never be able to name haunting that look. He held it only a second before he looked away again. “I think we have to tell Dad.”

“How?”

He laughed brittlely. “Hell if I know.”

That laugh had nothing on the hollowness she felt. The absolute lack of conviction or knowing what step to take. Which, really, was Dan’s fault.
He’d
hollowed her out, made her all vulnerable. Scraped away her coping with all his
being-there
crap, which then made her incapable of being
her
.

Because all she wanted to be right now was far away. Well, not that far, just across town, in a dilapidated cabin much like this one. Surrounded by damn llamas. And one ridiculously painful mistake.

“I’m sorry.”

Caleb’s words were so unexpected, she couldn’t make sense of them. Sorry.
Sorry.
All pained expression, all sincerity.

What on earth?

He cleared his throat. “I know I dropped the ball. I know I’m not what you need. I know it, and I’m sorry. I really am. Please stop punishing me for it.”

“How am I punishing you?”

“Leaving? You don’t think that’s punishment? You’re the only thing that keeps this place going, together. You’re the only one with any drive, with any hope it can get better. And more…”

There was a part of her that wanted to stop this. To walk away before he gathered whatever words he wanted to use against her, but she also saw this for what it was. An attempt at bridging the gap that had dug deep between them, and she loved him too much to walk away from that.

Even if it hurt.

That scared her more than anything, because if she loved Dan, and she didn’t want to walk away when it hurt, good God, what would she have left of herself?

“Mel, you made it seem…maybe not easy, but possible. All the things you did, all the sacrifices you made. You made it look like it was this thing people can do, and then I had to step in your shoes, and I was not prepared. That’s on me, I get it, but I was not prepared for the weight you held on your shoulders. I had no fucking clue.”

She wanted to blame him. To say he was at fault, but in those words, the lost way he spoke them, the disgust with himself and bafflement with her, she knew this was actually mostly her fault. For taking it all on, for keeping the severity of what they were dealing with and the lack of hope she felt on a daily basis hidden so deep even she didn’t always see it.

“Come home.” Caleb stepped toward her. He even jerked the hat off his head, grasping it hard between his fingers. “Please, Mel.”

“We need the money,” she choked out.

“That’s not why you’re there.” He took another step toward her. “Keep doing the work he needs from you, but the rest of the time, we need you here. I need you to show me how you do it. Really. Without the
we’ve got it covered
act. Maybe then…”

“I’m so tired of working so damn hard, Caleb.” She wasn’t sure she managed to say it out loud, wasn’t sure she managed to say it emphatic enough for him to hear. It was such a scary admission when you had no other choice.

But then his arms wound around her—the hug she was always hoping for and never getting—and, oh, damn it, she couldn’t hold back the tears.

She had not cried in front of her brother since he’d sat in that hospital room, promising her he would change. She’d believed him then; it felt foolish to believe him now.

“I need you to step up when shit isn’t hitting the fan, too, Caleb. You can’t just wait until it’s all falling apart.”

“It’s not falling apart,” he said quietly, chin on the top of her head, offering a comfort she’d been wishing for and afraid to ask for for years. “We have a sister. Hell, if she can cook, we just hit the jackpot.”

She couldn’t believe he was making a joke, couldn’t believe she was laughing through her tears, but, really, if Summer
could
cook… “We can’t afford her.”

“We don’t have much of a choice, I’m thinking.”

“No. We don’t.”

“Maybe…maybe this will be the thing that wakes Dad up.”

Maybe it would be, and if it was anything else—a moment, a change, instead of a person—she’d be hoping so hard for that. But… “Why couldn’t it have been us? Why aren’t we ever enough?”

He didn’t release her. She tried to step away, but Caleb gripped her harder. “Dad’s stuff isn’t about you.”

“And it’s about you?”

“Look.” Finally he released his hold, only to go from hugging her to grabbing her by the shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. “Maybe it won’t be all right.”

“Caleb.”

“I’m trying to be honest here. I think maybe…we’ve been missing out on that, for a long time. So maybe things won’t be perfectly okay. Maybe they keep being fucking hard, but if you promise not to run, and I promise not to drink, and we both promise that girl…she’s a part of this if she wants to be…”

Mel waited, but he didn’t say anything. Not for the longest time.

“I don’t know if we can bring Dad back,” he continued. “I don’t know if we can save this ranch. But let’s at least save ourselves.”

“How do we do that?” Because of all the things she’d been trying to do most of her life, saving herself was not one of them. Not until she’d walked off of Shaw property and into Dan’s cabin. So how on earth could coming back be the answer?

“I don’t know,” Caleb said on an exhale, his hands falling off of her arms. He turned away, and it almost appeared as if he was shaking. His eyes were gleaming in a way she’d never seen from him.

Absolutely determined. Absolutely all in. “I think the first step,” he said, straightening, “is admitting we need to.”

Mel turned away, taking a step away from the garage, away from the house, to where she could see the mountains, the field where their meager herd of cattle grazed. She’d once thought this place was her heart, and then she’d been convinced it wasn’t.

Now, she didn’t have a clue which version of her was right. Maybe neither. Maybe there was some answer she was missing, and maybe…admitting was the only way to find it.

“I need saving,” she said quietly.

Caleb’s hand clamped on her shoulder, squeezed. “You’ll come home?”

She took a deep breath of Shaw air, felt her feet sink into Shaw ground. “I’ll come back.” Home was something she was still figuring out.

* * *

Dan sat at his kitchen table, going through his notes, trying to ignore the message on his phone. He still had an hour before he was supposed to go pick up Mel. An hour to dwell and stew in this beautiful summer evening.

He’d thrown all the windows and doors open, attempted to put some lame-ass chicken dish in the oven, tried to make the whole thing homey and inviting and happy, because Lord knew Mel would need that. Hopefully be comforted by it.

He wanted to be, but the voice mail on his phone was looming over him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, poking the screen with more force than necessary to bring up the voice mail.

“All right, Sharpe.” Scott’s voice rang out into the quiet evening. “I talked with Phoenix and your father talked with Phoenix and you’ve been given a reprieve. Two weeks from tomorrow. Get in fighting shape. I got you what you wanted, so you better not fucking back out now.”

Dan let out a breath. He hadn’t promised Scott shit, and he’d
just
spent a lot of breath telling Caleb he wasn’t going anywhere. He hated that suddenly, after that talk with Dad, after an afternoon alone, he felt the itch.

The hockey itch. Skates, cold air, control. He pushed away from the table, scattered with llama books and Mel’s notes and his damn phone. The smell of chicken that had about a ten percent chance of turning out.

But the funny thing about the itch, the dissatisfaction, the little niggle of worry and guilt, was it melted away when he stepped out onto the porch. It really did. It wasn’t even just escaping, it was breathing in the mountains and realizing this was what he chose.

It was a good choice, and even if the itch popped up now and again, he’d only have to look around to remember that it paled in comparison. That it gave him a satisfaction that was only season-long, game-long, and then he’d have to go back to his loft in Chicago and try to ignore all the ways he didn’t add up.

Here, he added up. Here, he stood his ground. Here, he’d found himself, as cheesy as that sounded. This place made him something better, and he wasn’t going to ignore that for a few twinges or Dad’s reputation.

Dan stalked back inside and dialed Scott’s number. Faintly he heard someone driving up the road, a car he didn’t recognize. He’d deal with that after.

“You had better be calling to accept,” Scott said.

Dan looked away from the window and the stranger’s truck and focused on the task at hand. Whoever was showing up at his doorstep would have to wait.

“I know that you and my father would like to see me play another season, and I’m sorry if I led you to believe I’d take a tryout. I only said I’d consider it.”

Scott swore, a long and vicious streak of curse after curse, probably imagining money just falling into the toilet. But that wasn’t Dan’s problem, certainly not when Scott had other clients who made him plenty.

“You can’t be this stupid.”

“Stupid is as stupid does?”

More cursing, and Dan winced because, fair enough, joking was not the way to go here. “Scott, I’m sorry. I was mostly sure earlier—now I am entirely sure. I’m not coming back. I’m done.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“So be it.”

“You know this is it, right? Your last chance. You say no now, I wash my hands of you. No team will touch you.”

“I don’t want any teams. I don’t want hockey. I’m done. I’m going to retire.” The words didn’t even fill him with dread. Sure, there was a little bittersweet ache, but it was the same ache he’d felt outgrowing anything. He was moving on to bigger and better, sad to leave hockey behind, but not bereft. Not less.

“To play farmer.”

“Llama rancher, thank you very much,” he said, even knowing joking wasn’t going to ease Scott’s anger.
He
thought it was rather humorous. Dan Sharpe. Llama rancher in Montana. He liked it.

The line went dead, and Dan couldn’t feel bad about it. For starters, Scott was just pissed he was missing out on a paycheck, and Dan couldn’t blame him. But he couldn’t go play for another year or two just because a few people wanted him to for their own gains.

Dad would survive with a little familial blemish, whether he deserved that blemish or not, and Scott had other clients. He was leaving no one heartbroken or destitute.

The screen door creaked open and Dan turned, surprised, to face Mel.

“Hey, what’s…” There was a look on her face he’d never seen, and even as he tried to figure out what it could mean, she let the screen door slam behind her.

“I hope I misheard,” she said evenly.

Dan carefully placed the phone on the table, never breaking eye contact. Something was going to happen. He wasn’t sure what, but it crackled in the air. “No, I doubt you did.”

Pieces of her expression stitched together, and it made no sense to him that she was angry, but fury emanated off of her.