Page 73 of Road to a Cowboy

Hell, it probably wouldn’t take that long to do what he had to do.

Barbara’s ladies were exiting the house when Cal parked his truck at the curb, probably because Cal hadn’t brought brunch as ordered and now they were leaving. He passed them on his way up to the house, and they gave him tight smiles that were as frigid as a Wyoming winter.

Their departure would certainly make what he was about to say easier. He didn’t need an audience and neither did his mother.

She stood in the doorway wearing a blue dress that hit her at the knees. She looked good, better than she had since her fall, and she was no longer holding herself stiffly.

The glare she leveled on him would’ve splayed him flat if he wasn’t so used to them. “You’re late. And you don’t have the food or my dry cleaning.”

Cal didn’t rise to the bait. “We need to talk,” he said, walking past her and into the house.

She followed him in without a hobble, so clearly her swollen ankle had healed. She let the door swing closed behind her, and she didn’t waste a second before she lit into him about how he hadn’t answered a single one of her texts while he’d been away and it was a good thing he was back because the teenager he’d hired to do her lawn was clearly unable to listen to instructions and how dare Cal arrive so late and without the food from the diner and why on earth would he send Whitney to check up on her while he was away and?—

Cal closed his eyes for ten seconds, then took a bracing breath. “Stop,” he said quietly, so goddamn tired he could hardly see straight. “Just stop, Mom. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Doing what? Not listening when I ask you to do something?” She scoffed. “That’ll be a miracle.”

“No, Mom. I’m done with this. With all of it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and for the first time, Cal noticed how old she looked. Her hair was mostly gray, tied into a bun on top of her head with little flyaways at the temple, and the lines at the corners of her eyes were deeper than Cal ever remembered seeing them. He used to think she was beautiful, and when he was a kid, he’d often wondered why she was single.

He’d asked once, and she’d responded with a quick, “I don’t do long-term commitments.”

Cal had thought she’d been referring to long-term romantic commitments, but looking back, perhaps she’d meant commitments in general, including familial ones.

He took in her pinched expression and her sundress, so at odds with each other. Objectively, she was still beautiful, but the ugliness of her personality tainted her appearance.

Her lips flattened into a thin line. “What are you talking about?”

“For my entire life, I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”

She laughed mockingly, but Cal carried on. “You know it’s true. I might not have done it exactly when you wanted me to, but I did it eventually. Everything from taking out the trash to giving you two-thirds of my paychecks.”

“Because I expect anyone who lives under my roof to contribute. Just like I had to contribute when I lived at home.”

Huh. That certainly explained things. She’d raised him the way she’d been raised. Cal had never met his grandparents, so he knew virtually nothing about his mom’s childhood and probably never would.

“But I don’t live under your roof.” Cal’s voice had hardened, and he tried to modulate it, but he was so goddamn over it that he couldn’t. “I haven’t lived under your roof since you kicked me out and sent me to live with Dad.”

“I didn’t kick?—”

“Do you remember why that was? Because I do. It was because I’d had the gall to spend an entire paycheck without giving any of it to you.”

Her eyes flashed, but he didn’t let her get a word in.

“I used twenty bucks from that paycheck to buy Austin a birthday present. The rest I spent on fixing my bike.” The old anger returned, flushing his cheeks and increasing his heart rate. “I spent money that I earned fixing my bike so that I could keep making deliveries for The General Store using that bike so I could continue to contribute.”

Barbara’s mouth opened, but she seemed, for the first time ever, unsure of what to say because she snapped it shut again.

“You’ll notice that I’ve continued to contribute even when I haven’t lived under your roof, all because...” He tried for a self-deprecating laugh, but it came out as a choked sound. “All because I wanted you to love me. To appreciate me. To tell me, even once, that you were proud of me and that I was doing a good job.” It was too late for tears, but they stung his eyes anyway. “But I’m done.”

“What...?” His mom cleared her throat and shifted from foot to foot. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re done. I spoke with The General Store on my way here. They’re going to deliver your weekly grocery order. Regarding your yard, well... this is Windsor. There’s no shortage of landscapers you can hire. As for everything else...” Cal shrugged. “You’ll have to figure that out.”

The guilt was back, roaring and ugly, and he almost caved and took back everything he’d just said.

But he couldn’t.

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