Page 64 of The Cowboy's Second Chance Bride

As I held her, she unraveled. And she unraveled me. I wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and delivered small kisses to the top of her head, hoping it was some comfort. Though too many years too late, I tried to give her the hug she’d needed after she buried her dad. I held her for the hurt I’d given her, for the loneliness she’d felt, and for every day over the last ten years I’d ached to hold her one last time, though I’d known there was no such thing as one last time. I would always want more.

ChapterTwenty-Five

CAL

There was a shift between us. A good one. There were no more secrets, and I felt like I had a better picture of my father and his motives. Once she got all the tears out, Sabrina and I lay in my bed and talked for hours, starting with my description of the night my dad had shown up in Vegas with all his threatening promises. He’d laid out his attack for me and spun the tale of how much Sabrina and her father would hate me, how they’d see me as the bad-luck streak that had invaded their lives.

I could have Sabrina hating me for being an asshole; I could come back from that. Pain like that could be healed. But if her life had been decimated, along with her father’s, because of me, how do we overcome that? The strain and hurt would have eventually shredded us to pieces. And that I could never come back from.

Then Travis had gotten sick, and I knew I had to say something. He had to know.

As she snuggled up next to me, her swollen ankle propped up on my leg, she made her declaration. “You were right, you know. To do what you did.” She looked up at me, and expecting to see acceptance, I saw hurt in her eyes. “I’m lying here, thinking about how I just want all this to go away. How I’d kill for a fresh start to figure out what we should do next, me and you, but I know we can’t do that. Your dad is out there with attacks already in the works. I’m tired and I’m scared and I try to picture what life would look like had you told me that day in Vegas and I can see the cracks. I can see how it could have destroyed us. And I for sure know I couldn’t have withstood this sort of attack while my dad was sick. Even now I don’t know if I can handle more blows.”

I ran a hand over the top of her head, pushing the hair out of her face. “Okay, what do you want to do?”

“That’s just it. I don’t think it matters what I want to do. I think now that I’m back on your dad’s radar, I’m gonna stay there regardless. What happened between him and my parents is unfinished business to him, and now he has a chance to finish it. He’s not going to stop, no matter what I do—what we do.”

She was right, of course.

“He’s taken away my one dream.” Her voice was raspy from unshed tears.

“Actually, I was thinking about this. He’s taken away one avenue toward your dream. But I was doing some research, and there are other routes to adoption.”

“But once he finds out about that, he’ll attack me there.”

This was also true.

She sat up and stared down at me. “We have to see this through to the end, don’t we? Not just for your company and app but to even have a chance at living a life without his interference.”

This was the part I hated. I must have always known this battle with my dad would have to have a grand finale. A final battle.

I nodded and picked up a lock of hair to wind it through my fingers. “We’re stronger together. I see that now.”

She studied me as she worried her lower lip, then gave a clipped nod as if she’d made up her mind. “Okay, then. We need to up our game. We need to stop playing like there are some rules to this war, because he’s not doing that. I think we can punch back harder and still keep our ethics.”

And then she laid out a plan.

When we shared it with Paul, he loved it. I spent the morning making the rounds on the morning show via satellite. I told the world that my father was behind the attack and smear campaign, and I explained how our app would be different. How the app conception had begun because of Citra’s sister. I talked about Casey at the community center and how the app gave her a solid checklist of ways to protect herself. And I had friends in the industry back up what I taught about personal safety, though no one was willing to back me up personally, and I got that. It hurt, but they were scared of it affecting their businesses, which fed their families, and that was understandable. Cowardly, but understandable. Standing up and taking heat was not a pleasant experience. Ask me how I know. I ended by explaining how my company’s goal was other people’s safety, and how the smear campaign had endangered other people.

We ended the shows on a high note when they asked about Sabrina. I wasn’t going to declare my feelings on TV before I could say them to her, but as people scrolled through her Instagram feed and asked questions about us, I didn’t have to say much—the pictures spoke for themselves.

One female host clutched her chest and swooned when I said, “Some things are meant to be. They don’t always come easily or freely, but they come. Sabrina is my meant to be. She always has been.” And then I went on to slam my dad’s attack on her father.

Afterward, I stood at the corral’s fence and fed my horse an apple. Sabrina came up beside me and leaned against the fence. She was wearing yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and one of my heavier jackets as the fall wind was blowing in. Her ankle was wrapped, and she wore slip-on shoes.

“How’s the ankle?” I handed her an apple from the bag at my feet, and she held it out to the paint she’d ridden.

“Almost like new.” Sabrina beamed. I got a contact high just watching her. “It’s like waiting for the war to break out, isn’t it?” she said. We’d picked up our weapons and pointed them at my father. Now he was either going to flinch or fire. “Can you even guess what his next move might be?”

I shook my head. “I think he wants to take things away from me. I think he’s going to come after you more.”

She shrugged. “I don’t see how. He’s already hit me hard.”

“I think we need to open our imaginations and come up with some wild ideas before we say he can’t do any more harm.”

One of the ranch’s SUVs pulled up close to the house, and Rod jumped out of the back before the vehicle had come to complete stop. I glanced at my watch. School had two more hours before letting out. Mrs. Claudia came to stand out on the porch, and Rod took one look at her, turned, and ran to the barn.

“Was his shirt ripped?” Sabrina asked.

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