Page 86 of A Cowboy in the Streets

It was a direct hit to my solar plexus. “Because—” I floundered.

Because it couldn’t possibly.

I stilled, feeling it. Where had that come from? Not from James, I knew that.

“The thing is,” Dad said carefully, “James didn’t make the decision to go. You did. It seems to me you make an awful lot of decisions no one asked you to make.”

“I didn’t decide to end my marriage,” I reminded him, because people seemed to be forgetting that lately. “Emily made that decision all on her own. With no input from me whatsoever.”

“So now you figure it’s your turn to make the decisions? That might be fine except, hell, son, you’re making yourself miserable. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe you want to be miserable.”

“Dad,” I said, not bothering to hide my exasperation, “no one wants to be miserable.”

“I did.” His gaze held mine, relentless. “After your mom died. It seemed a whole hell of a lot easier to be miserable than to be happy, so I settled in deep. I let everything go. Everything I loved. Horses, Lodestar, family. You know that and we’re paying the price for that now. I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry.”

I swallowed hard. He had never spoken those words out loud. Never apologized. Dad had never hit rock bottom the way a true addict does. He hadn’t bet the ranch to pay for booze or driven drunk or anything like that. Time seemed to be the biggest factor in his slow emergence from grief. That, and Ben. I had laid down the law that he couldn’t be around Ben unless he was sober, and he never once broke it.

“I get it, Dad. Really. I understand.”

His lips twisted wryly as he fiddled with the knife, wiping the blade clean of condiments. “Do you? Because you had your own tragedy to face, but you handled it somewhat different, as I recall. You white-knuckled your way through Emily leaving and dying the same way you did with your mom. You didn’t drink, but you pushed away anything that made you happy, same as me. Huh, how about that?” He straightened and tapped the knife’s blade against the cutting board. “Maybe underneath it all, our ways of handling grief aren’t so different after all.”

“Dad, I’m not—” I closed my eyes as the truth washed through me like a cold wind. “I’m not scared of James dying. And I’m not exactly scared of her leaving, either. I’m scared because I don’t know how to keep her. I don’t know how to make her happy. I’m scared I don’t know how to make anyone happy. Because I tried, Dad. I thought I was doing everything right, but it turned out I was all wrong. And I still don’t know why.”

Dad stared at me long and hard. “Well, shit, son. I knew that. I know you’re scared, but I never took you for a coward. So the question is, what are you going to do about it?”

The box of journals was right where I had left them, in the back of my bedroom closet, after I had dug out the photos of Emily and Ben. Out of sight, but never truly out of mind.

That fucking box had haunted me.

There was no doubt in my mind that I would rather have the devil himself rake my body with a molten pitchfork.

But there was also no doubt in my mind that I would rather read every damning word Emily wrote about me, about us, than lose James. I would do anything to make her happy.

Even this.

Chapter 35

James

All I wanted to do after brunch was find Adam, but Adam was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in his office. He wasn’t in the big house, although Ben told me he had stopped by for lunch. I interrupted Brax’s heated conversation with Essie long enough for him to tell me he hadn’t seen his brother since they had dewormed the calves this morning.

My man was definitely avoiding me, and I was not having it.

Frustrated, I headed back to my cabin to regroup. And that’s where I finally found him. Sitting on the front step, back propped against the door, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He pushed to his feet when he saw me.

“There you are.” He said it like he had been looking for me, too.

I moved toward him like a horse to sweet feed. I couldn’t help it. He looked so damn good. All I wanted was to be as close to him as I could get. “Here I am. Want to come inside?” I asked. One hand fisted his shirt at the waist while I used my other to unlock the door. I wasn’t really giving him a choice.

“Yes.” He dropped a kiss on my mouth as I turned to look up at him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he hadn’t told me to go to California. “How was brunch with your mom?”

“It was interesting.” I moved deeper into the cabin. Dropped my bag, keys, and phone on the table. Turned to face him and found him right behind me, so close I had to back up a step to look him in the eyes.

I took a deep breath, but when I let it out again, the words didn’t come with it. They stayed clogged in my throat, choking me. I wanted to be brave. To say how I felt, even though I knew he wasn’t there yet. That maybe he would never let himself get there. That awful little voice in my head told me not to be a fool. Don’t let him hurt you like your dad hurt you. But the other voice, the one that had grown stronger and louder here at Lodestar, reminded me that Adam wasn’t my dad, and he was every bit as scared as I was.

This man was worth chasing.

I had to try.

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