Page 30 of No Place for Single Cowboys
Chance paused halfway out of the truck. “You’re eating here?”
“I’m staying the night.”
“Oh,” was all Chance said. No point trying to argue with Quint about his marriage, either.
“You gonna come help?” Quint slammed the truck door behind him.
Chance stayed where he was, halfway out of the cab. His stomach started a low boil that promised to flare into a wicked case of indigestion. The prospect of hopping into his own truck and taking off for home was looking mighty good.
Except they had to feed Holden since the man never had learned how to cook. Holden had been left the sole parent of five kids and hadn’t once tried to turn on a stove. Rye was the one who’d stepped up and figured out the cooking. His food would never win any awards, but none of them had starved yet.
Chance looked at Rye. “Hot dogs? What happened?”
Rye shrugged. “Couldn’t make it to the store this week.”
“Gimme the list,” Chance said. “I’ll make a trip tomorrow.”
Holden was already halfway to the house, oblivious to everything. He might be sober, but he still wasn’t really there with them. Had he heardanythingin that truck?
Rye went to catch up with Dad. For a moment, Chance considered bailing—it wasn’t like Quint needed help with some hot dogs. But then he heaved his ass out of the truck and went inside.
Quint was boiling water for the hot dogs when Chance walked into the kitchen. Holden sat stone-faced at the table. No idea where Rye had disappeared to.
“No fries,” Quint said. “And no buns. So it’s plain hot dogs tonight.”
Even Chance’s good temper snapped at that. “Are you kidding me?” If only Rye had said something sooner, they could have handled this. No way did he want to eat butt-naked hot dogs.
Quint shook his head. “It’s fine. Just eat it.”
Holden said nothing. He stared into the middle distance.
A nasty shiver climbed up Chance’s spine. Dad always got that look right before he went on a bad bender. He’d start remembering Mom, he’d start to shut down, and then…
Chance looked at Quint, but he was too busy slamming the package of hot dogs onto the counter. He wasn’t angry about the hot dogs or Chance’s remarks about the dinner—only Ruby could put that expression on Quint’s face.
What the hell was Chance doing here? He looked at Holden and Quint, both of them completely miserable. And over what? Their wives? Their broken hearts?
For a moment, Chance could see the future. Ruby would leave Quint for good one of these days, and his brother would end up exactly like their father. A sad, worn-out drunk, good for nothing but feeling sorry for himself. They’d have the same sallow skin, the same hollowed-out expression. Chance would be helpless to stop Quint, the same way he’d been powerless in the face of Holden’s descent.
Christ, Holden and Quint would probably even go on benders together, expecting Chance to pick up the broken pieces they left in their wake. Same as always. Except this time, Chance would be doing the fixing on his own, without Quint by his side.
Chance couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of this house, away from this ranch, far from this family. The only family he had.
“I’m going out,” Chance said. “To the Swing Inn.”
Quint sent him a look dripping with judgment.Figuresthat look screamed.
Well, Quint could take his sneers and shove them up his ass. It wasn’t like getting married and settling down had made him happy. And he thoughtChancewas the one wasting his life?
Chance wouldn’t take what his brother had if you paid him.
“You drink too much,” Holden said.
Chance’s vision went red. He felt his face go slack.You bastard. You drunken, stupid, useless ass, to accusemeof that.
“I only ever have one,” he said carelessly. Let Holden believe that or not. It was true, but Chance didn’t want to make him understand.I only ever have one because of you and how you are. How you and alcohol ruined everything.
“It’s true,” Quint said. “I’ve seen him.”
