Page 32 of Rope Me In

Gavin has Blake. Momma and Gran are always together and doing their thing. But what do I have? Whiskey and women. At this point, I’m simply a trespasser on my family’s own land. Hell, they don’t even tell me who they’re hiring anymore, for god’s sake.

I blow out a breath, my eyes finding Willy grazing with a couple of our other horses. The setting sun has turned the Texas skies a burnt orange mixed with pinks, blues, and yellows. The beauty of it doesn’t stop me from wanting to reach for my flask, to drink its contents and drown out the world. But I resist, still trying to prove to myself that I don’t need it to get by. I did it before; I can do it again. However, I’ll admit it’s hard not to after today’s argument with Momma and Gav and the nice follow-up with Blake and Presley.

The city girl’s blue eyes invade my mind like they have quite a few times since I’ve met her—more than I care to admit. I tried to blame it on not sleeping with anyone since my doctor’s appointment last week. But that was idiotic because I can go without sex for more than a few days.

I think of our interaction mere hours ago and want to kick myself for it. I not only made her feel as if she wasn’t welcome on our ranch, but I also gave her another nickname I knew she’d hate, even if it does suit her. I’d like to say I know why I continue to annoy her, but I’m not exactly sure.

It could be because I have the tendency to be an asshole to push people away, but I don’t think that’s it. The better answer is that I enjoy how her subdued sapphire eyes light up when I get to her. How that fire, that spark, ignites, if only for a moment

I think there’s a part of her that enjoys it, that craves me as the spark to her flame. I’m not blind. I’ve noticed the way her eyes find me at Night Hawk, how the skin of her cheeks flush every time I’m near and she holds my eye contact a little longer than she does for other people.

A lukewarm breeze ruffles my long hair, and I inhale the smell of earth, rust, and hay as I grip the railing so hard my knuckles turn white. It’s funny—I’ve attempted to stay out of Presley’s way since the Cricket incident, keeping to myself at work and only talking to her when needed. But then today, I walk in to find her with Blake, hired as our new ranch hand. A new ranch hand who will be living on our property.

While my reaction to the situation could have been better, it was the culmination of everything that’s been going on with my family and in my mind. That still doesn’t excuse it, which is why I’ve been debating for the last couple of hours if I should seek out Presley and apologize, but in the end, I think it would be a moot point. The words were said, and she accepted my challenge. I can apologize in the morning.

The person I should be running to and begging for forgiveness is Blake. What I said to her has been festering in my stomach like garbage in the hot sun. I called her Blakey girl, the name her late brother, Reed, used to call her.

The nickname slipped past my lips in the hospital after she saved my life. I was out of it when it did, and later, she told me she believed it was Reed letting her know he’d been there with us that night, leading her to save me. I had no fucking right using that nickname again—especially in that way. I knew it would hurt her, but I chose to do it.

I pat my pocket for my flask but stop myself again before I can pull it out, feeling the urge to hit something. I know alcohol won’t take away my pain, just like I know fucking around with women won’t help, either. I’ve tried it, and it’s not working like it used to.

“Kade.” Gavin’s stern voice comes from behind me.

I suck in a deep breath and roll my shoulders back. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn’t hear the barn door open or him coming up the steps to the loft. I should’ve known it was only a matter of time before he came to find me, to scold me about how I treated Blake. Not that I can blame him.

“Hey, big brother,” I say, but I don’t turn to face him. I keep my eyes on the colorful sky, on my favorite horse grazing, willing my mind to stay calm. I’m focusing on allowing myself to have a civil conversation, praying for it not to escalate like the last several we’ve had.

The wooden boards of the loft creak with Gavin’s approach before he stands beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, he leans his tanned arms on the railing and follows my gaze to the pastures. For a long while, we stay silent, the sound of the breeze rustling trees and the occasional groan of the floor beneath our feet the only noise between us.

Eventually, Gavin lets out a long breath. “Blake told me what you said.”

There’s no anger in his tone, which is unsettling because I was sure there would be.

“For a few hours, she wouldn’t say what was eating at her, why her whole mood had changed since I saw her last. But I finally got her to tell me.”

I still don’t speak, thinking it’s just like Blake not to run off and blab to Gavin about what I said. She’s got more pride than that.

“If Blake hadn’t made me sit and cool off, I would’ve made a run at you. I wanted to—” He stops. I turn my gaze to his, noticing his jaw is clenched as he finally looks at me.

“You wanted to what?” I ask.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing on his stubbled neck. “I wanted to hurt you, Kade. I…” His voice cracks. “I’ve never wanted to actually hurt you, but—I wanted to throttle you for using Blake’s brother that way and embarrassing her in front of Presley.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t recognize you anymore. You’re—” His voice cracks again. “You’re not the brother I grew up with.”

The sharp pain in my sternum comes back, like my heart was put in a vice and someone turned the handle. My hands grip therailing so hard I wonder if the old wood is going to snap in half. We’ve had similar conversations before, but this feels different. Everything about our relationship feels different.

“I’m sorry,” I say, not sure what other words I can come up with. We’ve had this discussion before. He speaks the truth: I’m not the brother he used to know. But he’s not the same, either. How could we be when so much has happened?

Gavin stands to his full height and faces me. I expect to at least see a flash of anger in his eyes, but I don’t. Just defeat and disappointment. My stomach churns, and my mouth waters from the nausea I feel.

“I’m sorry, too, Kade.”

I stare at him quizzically. There’s been a lot said between us the last year, so I don’t know what he’s apologizing for. I lick my lips. “What for?”

Gavin takes a small step forward, his arm moving as if he wants to put his hand on my shoulder, but then he stops, putting it in his pocket instead. “I’m sorry because I thought you had gotten better. I thought you were over the drinking and the women. I thought you were managing your…” He stumbles over his words.

“My depression?”

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