Page 9 of Long Past Dawn
“A truck that was parked a ten-minute walk away,” Heaven said again. “And it’s snowing, and she hurt herself, which is the reason she was at the clinic!”
“I took her to the pharmacy, but she didn’t say what she needed. I noticed her hand was swollen. She refused to tell me why, so I left.”
“Maybe if you had stayed in the café with her, instead of leaving in a huff, she would have told you,” Heaven said, her words dripping with sarcasm.
“For your information, I tried to fa—ind out!” Wa—wa—at do you want from me? I can’t make her say something she da—don—t want to say!”
Blaze shook his head in shock and probably disappointment, but I was too hot to care. “And you still chose to leave her there? Did she tell you she didn’t need a ride back to the truck?”
“No,” I answered without making eye contact with either one of them. “She had her truck, so I knew she wasn’t ster—an—ded. It was better that I left. What’s the b—ba—big deal?”
Blaze scratched the back of his head in confusion. “I just … I don’t know you anymore, Beauregard Hanson. You’re not the same guy I drove up here with twelve years ago.”
The heat crept up my cheeks when I tossed my hands onto my hips to keep from punching him out. “We were eighteen-year-old ka—kids the day we left Texas. Ya—yor—you’re not the same person I drove up here in that truck with either, Blaze McAwley! I—I—d poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this pull—ace out of respect to your family for what they did for me when I was a kid! I stood by you when you were the biggest jerk ah—aft—fter Callie died. For years! I did that because I knew you were hurting, and I—I—I couldn’t fix things for you, but I—I could make sure this place didn’t go to hell in a han—ha—handbasket. You act like I’m supposed to be some ha—p—happy go lucky backwoods hick twenty-four se—se—ven. La—la—ike, I can’t have a thought in my head that you didn’t put there. Well, guess wa—what? I’m tired! I’m tired of running this place while you get to pa—lay. I’m tired of pretending that my life doesn’t suck. I’m tired of telling ma—ma—self that you need me, and that’s why I st—stay. Is that what you wanted to ha—ear? Does that fill you with the tu—tu—touchy-feels? I’m miserable, but you can bet your sweet Texas ah—as—butt that I’m going to be here working still. That’s what I was tasked to do, and tha—hat is what I’ll do. I don’t give one ba—bison turd if you like it or not.”
I turned my back to them and walked down the hallway with my head held high. You could hear a pin drop other than the slap of my boot heels on the old hardwood floor and then the slam of the front door when I walked out, maybe for the last time. I probably just lit a match to a bridge already soaked in kerosene. Truth be told, I didn’t even care. It was a bridge that was falling apart around my ears anyway.
There was a thumping on the door, and I checked the clock. It was after midnight, which forced a sigh from my lips. My daddy always said nothing good happened after midnight. I sighed again and tossed my feet over the bed, then grabbed my robe. It was probably Tex. Maybe we had a problem with one of the guests, and he needed help. He would have called, though, and he wouldn’t knock on the front door.
I pulled the curtain back, and there was a face that I’d been worried about for days. I wasn’t the only one, either. I yanked the door open and planted a hand on my hip. Complete relief filled me that I made sure to cover with feigned anger. “What the hell, Beau Hanson?” I demanded.
He was lounging against the doorframe and offered me his famous Beauregard smile. “Hey, sweetheart, mind if I come in?” The slur of his words and the stink of booze wafting toward me as soon as he opened his mouth told me he was drunker than a skunk.
I pulled him in the door, and he nearly fell face-first onto the carpet. He righted himself in time and kicked his boots off, then threw his coat on the floor. “Did you miss me?”
I shoved him in the shoulder with real anger this time. “Everyone has been worried sick! Where the hell have you been?”
“Around. If Blaze took his head out of his backside, he’d have noticed that my chores were done,” Beau said, his words slurring heavily.
I shoved him again, and this time he stumbled backward and landed on the couch. Beau’s laughter filled the room. It would have been a relief to hear if it weren’t for the fact it was simply alcohol-induced. “Ooh-wee, this here little gal is in a horn-tossing ma—mood!”
I shook my head at him and walked to the kitchen, hitting the brew button on the coffee pot that I’d set up last night for the morning. I grabbed my phone and punched a familiar button, then waited for it to be picked up.
“Hello?”
“Blaze? It’s Dawn. Beau just showed up at my door.”
He released a heavy sigh. “Thank God. Is he okay?”
“Drunker than a skunk and smells just as bad but otherwise fine. Beau said he was doing his chores, so you should have known he was fine.”
“Doing his chores and being fine are two different things. That boy would do his chores if he were dead.”
I bit back my laughter so Beau wouldn’t hear me. “Good point. I’ll sober him up and let him sleep upstairs. I’ll make sure he gets home safely tomorrow morning for his chores.”
“If it weren’t freezing out, I’d tell you to leave him hanging the same way he left you the other day, but he’d probably pass out and die.”
“Considering he’s leaking whiskey from his pores, that’s a good possibility.”
“Want me to come around and collect him?”
“Nope,” I answered immediately. “Something tells me that would be a bad idea. Just let me talk to him for a bit. I’ll get some coffee in him, too. Go to sleep. I know you’ve been looking for him late every night.”
Blaze sighed, and I could almost see him nodding. “I’m on Rapunzel now. I was just heading back in since it’s so cold. I can’t risk my horse because he’s a stupid fool.”
I chuckled and turned to grab two mugs from the cupboard. “I feel like that’s a saying that should come out of Beau’s mouth. You’ll see him in the morning. Night, Blaze.”
I hung up the phone, tucked it in my robe pocket again, then poured two cups of coffee, carrying them to the couch. I handed Beau one, and he took it, swigging back most of it before he took a breath. It had to have burned the skin right off his tongue, but he didn’t look bothered.
