Page 79 of Live for Me

“Mistakes?” she breathed out.

I clenched my jaw. “You need to go upstairs. Now.”

“You don’t want—”

“Take a look at the front of my jeans before you start spouting bullshit,” I clipped. “You know I fucking want you. I’ll always fucking want you, baby, but the fucking problem is, you didn’t want me six years ago, and you don’t want me now.”

She looked hurt and her eyes started shining. “Beau—”

“Get away from me, Abbie,” I ordered before giving her my back, bracing my hands on the countertop once more.

Nothing else was said. The only sound in the cabin was her footsteps to the living room and a few seconds later, up the stairs, followed by her bedroom door shutting. I stayed downstairs, staring out into the night for a long time, replaying every second of our lives together, trying to pinpoint when I fucked up, when I stopped being good enough for her.

Then, after midnight, I made my way upstairs to get ready for bed. The second my head hit the pillow, all I could see was Abbie on top of me, her silky brown hair hanging down the sides of her face, her lips parted in pleasure, her skin glistening as she rode my cock. I closed my eyes, muttering a curse as my cock hardened again.

I didn’t deserve her in real life, so there was no way I deserved to pleasure myself to the thought of her. Instead of stroking my cock, giving it the release it desperately needed, I folded my hands behind my head and forced myself to go to sleep.

Chapter Nineteen

Beau

“Pop, what are you doing here?” I asked, shutting the front door of the cabin behind me. I’d only been asleep for a few minutes before I heard a horse outside. I shot up from the bed, shoved mylegs into my jeans, my feet into my boots, grabbed my pistol, and went downstairs.

My father’s eyes were wide in the pale moonlight as he stood in front of the porch steps. When he didn’t answer, I moved to him, my body on alert. “Pop,” I called out gently. “What’s going on?”

He was still in the same clothes from yesterday, looking frazzled as his hat hung by his side. “Son,” he pushed out, his voice shaking. “We have to talk.”

“Who’s hurt?” I demanded, my brows snapping together. “Did something happen? What’s going on?”

He shook his head. “About Abbie, Son. It’s about Abbie.”

My spine straightened, my bares shoulders tensing. “What about her?”

In the distance, a twig snapped, and both of our heads whipped in that direction. My gun was raised instantly, keeping my eyes on the darkness within the trees.

“That better not be the fucking bear y’all have been dealing with,” Pop muttered. “I don’t have time for that right now.”

“Maybe next time, tell the bear to be more considerate and work around your schedule,” I clipped, narrowing my eyes as something moved about twenty feet in front of me. Another twig snapped. “Get in the house, Pop.”

My old man put his hat on and pulled out his gun. “Not a chance in hell, boy.”

We stood there for what felt like hours, guns pointed at something we couldn’t see. Then, Mags emerged from the trees dressed in hunter’s gear with his face painted, a gun on his shoulder. The tension in my shoulders dissipated. Instead of his usual cowboy hat, he was wearing a black beanie. “He’s gone,” he declared gruffly.

“How often do you take midnight strolls in hunter’s gear, Mags?” I asked slowly, lowering my gun.

He stepped further into the moonlight. “Denver wanted me to track the bear.”

“I thought the Wildlife Warden was handling that,” Pop said.

“He was supposed to show up today, and he didn’t,” I explained. “According to his team, he was out of the office dealing with a personal matter.”

“Christ,” my father swore before looking at Mags. “If you kill it, you’ll have to take it somewhere off the ranch.”

“Not going to kill a bear, Jigs,” Mags returned calmly. “I’m just tracking it.”

“And you’re certain it’s a male?” I pressed.

He nodded once before his eyes shifted back to my father. “You tell him yet?”

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