Page 62 of Live for Me

I looked away from him. “Why did John Langston build that cabin for you?”

John Langston was painted as a good man for the longest time. I grew up respecting him, even idolizing him. He avenged his wife’s death, something my father helped him with, and kept the Hallow Ranch legacy intact. Then, the dark truth was revealed a couple years ago when Hallow Ranch was in danger and Mason came home for the first time in over a decade.

John Langston was a piece of shit.

“It was his gift to me after helping him avenge Jane,” Pop answered simply, his voice distant. “I didn’t take it because of the pain it would’ve caused you.” He looked over to me. “I still haven’t taken it because of the hate I have for the asshole now.” He looked out to Mason and the horse. “John was my best friend. Losing him was a hard, but finding out what kind of monster he was—how he treated Mase? That gutted me. I felt blindsided. I knew Mason had issues with his father, but I figured it had to do more with John putting Denver on a pedestal. Never in a million years did I think John would lay a hand on his own son.”

I remained silent, grinding my teeth.

My father broke it a few minutes later. “I spat on his grave. Did I ever tell you that?”

Slowly, I turned to face him, my brows coming together. “You spat on a man’s grave?”

He chuckled, plucking the toothpick from his teeth. “Men don’t hurt children, Beau. Or women, for that matter.” He turned to face me, studying me for a few moments before giving me something else. “Denver came to me and asked if I still wanted it. Of course, I told him no. I’m fine living out the rest of my days in the bunkhouse.”

I sighed. “Pop, you deserve a home.”

After Abbie and I were out of school, he’d ended up selling my childhood home and moving to Hallow Ranch. We never spent much time there anyways. There was no point when our lives were here.

The old man tilted his head to the side. “Son, Hallow Ranch is my home.” I opened my mouth to speak again, but he cut me off. “I told Denver to give it to you. When the time was right, of course.”

The horse neighed loudly, and both of our heads snapped back to Mason, finding the horse on his back legs. We watched as he dropped back down on all fours, remaining still for the first time in over half an hour. The beast’s powerful breaths were the only things that could be heard as Mason leaned down, patting him. “Good boy,” he praised gruffly.

The bull rider looked over to us, a smirk on his face. “Kiss my ass, Beau.”

I glared at him. The last new horse we got, it took me a week to break it, and this fucker broke this one within hours. “Eat shit, Mase,” I shot back.

He chuckled, snapping the reins. The horse moved then, slowly walking over to us. I shook my head at the beautiful animal. “You couldn’t have made it just a little harder for him? Thrown him off at least once?” The horse did nothing, staringat me with his dark eyes. I rolled mine and pointed my finger at him. “No damn apples for you.”

“He’s getting apples,” Pop deadpanned from beside me, his lips twitching.

“An entire bag,” Mason added, scratching his scuff.

“Beau.”

I turned to find Denver emerging from the barn, wiping the back of his neck with a cloth. He’d taken his usual flannel off, his black t-shirt underneath soaked with sweat. I lifted my chin, and he looked to my father. “He caught up?” Denver asked.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Pop answered.

Denver nodded, removing the rag from his neck, his gray eyes meeting mine. “Saddle up then.”

As he disappeared back into the barn, Pop put his hand on my shoulder. I looked back at him as he said, “Going to need a favor from you, my boy.”

“What is it?” I asked as Mason dismounted and guided the horse to the water bin.

Pop looked over to the main house for a moment and then back to me. “Give that girl some grace, yeah?”

My brows came together. “Excuse me?”

“Know she hurt you. Know the wound she left you with has been reopened since you brought her back, but you need to understand something, son: that woman is in pain.”

“I know she is, Pop. She has a fucking stalker. Her house was just destroyed, along with her art.”

He shook his head. “I’m not talking about that, Beau.” My mouth closed as something in my chest twinged painfully. He looked back to that house and sighed. “Just give her some grace, yeah? For your old man?”

Reluctantly, I nodded, thinking about the things I said to her before leaving her against that door. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I shouldn’t have exposed myself—my pain—to herlike that. She didn’t deserve to know anything about me, not anymore. She stopped wanting to know anything about me years ago and I needed to get over that.

It was pathetic, the power she had over me.

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