Page 3 of Rope Me In

“Yeah, customers have been asking when you’d be back. If not, I can do it or beg Gavin to do two-stepping again. Though that always turns into Blake and Gavin showing off and kissing on the dance floor.”

This time, I’m the one chuckling. It’s no secret that Jake has always had a crush on Blake Tanner, but she’s Gavin’s girl now. He’s supportive of it, even cheered for them to get together, but I imagine it still doesn’t feel great to see them as a pair. Especially considering they’re the type of couple that can’t keep their eyes or hands off each other.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to take the brunt of that.”

“Please. She’s on your ranch enough I’m sure you’ve seen more than your fair share of PDA.”

I grunt, thinking of the times I’ve walked in on them doing more than I care to see. “True.”

“If you don’t feel up to it, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”

An itch of excitement builds in my stomach at the prospect of getting my body back in action. Sure, I’ve been doing physical therapy and little things around the ranch, but I’ve been dying to go full speed. I don’t like sitting idle; it gives me too much time to think. And this will help me pay for my meds as well.

“Yeah, I’m in.”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it. It’s been so crazy here. I’ve hired a new bartender who starts tomorrow, too, so with you on the floor, she can shadow Gavin on the bar most of the night. It’ll be great to have another Montgomery boy riling up the ladies.”

“Are you saying I’m good for business?”

“You know it.”

I laugh. “Don’t tell Gavin this plan. He’ll be doing his mother-henning and probably try to lock me in my bedroom to keep me from coming if I tell him I’ll be dancing, even though I feel good.”At least physically.

“Wasn’t planning on tattling.”

I exhale a breath. “Thanks, Jake.”

“I’ve got your back, man. See you tomorrow.”

After I hang up, I see I’ve got another text from Gavin. Proving I’m right about his mothering, he’s texting me to ask where I’m heading and when I’ll be home.

I think over my options for a while. I could go back to the ranch and let my family see that I’m “okay.” I could sit and smile and have them all believe I’m on the path to being the boy I was before Dad died. The one who played cards with Gran instead of going to bars. The one who smiled and laughed, keeping things happy and upbeat on the outside.

Then we’d sit at the dinner table, and the three of them would talk about anything and nothing, making sure they avoid discussing the elephant in the room: me. Because while we’ve talked about the events leading up to my accident, and apologies were said, the conversation has remained surface-level, like it often does. They’re still too afraid to ask the hard questions. To ask me the details of my accident. To talk about why Gavin lied to us all for so long or the reasons Dad kept us in the dark before he died.

Though I’m no better. Because I know if they really ask, they won’t like what I have to say. That’s part of the reason we’ve all been tiptoeing around each other—nobody wants a repeat of three months ago. Nobody really wants to know how I’m doing, either. So they continue to ask if I’m okay. I continue to say I’m fine. And we move on.

Ping!I look downat my cell.

GAVIN: If I don’t hear from you soon, I’m calling you.

I start up my truck, the engine roaring to life. As the vibrations of the vehicle shake through my body, I let the images of that plausible family dinner tonight fade to the back of my mind. For the last three months, I’ve been good. I’ve done my PT exercises, gone to my doctors’ appointments, and haven’t touched a drop of alcohol or been to a bar to pick up a girl and get my frustrations out with a good hard fuck—preferably while she’s tied up and begging for my cock.

Every muscle and tendon in my body tightens, and my hands itch to feel my favorite rope sliding over my skin, to worship the warm body of a woman writhing beneath me. I’m not going to lie; it feels good to finally let myself imagine it. I long to give into the side of myself that craves and loves control, the side that helps me keep my negative thoughts at bay. The side that lets me shove them down deep and keeps me numb yet allows me to feel everything all at the same time.

I flex my hands, swearing I can feel the textured rope in my palms right now. Fuck, I don’t think I can hold back any longer. And maybe I shouldn’t. It would be nice to escape myself for a while. To temporarily be free of my endless self-loathing. To pretend as if I’m just a twenty-two-year-old with no fucks to give.

Like Dr. Ellis reminded me, I’m young. I need to enjoy life. And isn’t sex and drinking part of that? Why am I required to feel so fucking much? Why am I trying to please my brother and my family when they live their lives the way they see fit? Especially Gavin.

With that in mind, I pull out of the parking lot and head to a bar I know is twenty minutes from here. Some would call whatI’m about to do avoidance or maybe say I’m an idiot to throw three months of sobriety and abstinence down the drain, but fuck it. I’m sick of only thinking about money, work, lies, and my dad’s death. I’m sick of feeling.

My cell rings, the sound grating on me. I somehow manage not to throw it out the window and put the call on speaker as I drive down the busy two-lane road.

“What is it?” I ask gruffly.

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