Page 133 of The Rough Rider

“No. I need to say this. I’m tired of feeling like there’s distance between us. I miss being as close to you as another person can be, without you being inside of me. I’m not going to judge you. I’m not going to use it against you. But who do you share with, Gus? You take care of everyone else. Who takes care of you?”

And something lodged tight in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe past it. Couldn’t think past it.

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“You do. You do, though. I know you, Gus. And you are a giant wound. You care so much about so many things, but you don’t know how to let yourself have them. You keep everything at a distance. But it’s more than you ever let on. Because you take care of this land, and I want to know why. I want to know why you’re so hell-bent on turning this place that was the site of so much pain for you into something good.”

“Because what’s the point if it’s all just ash, Alaina? What’s the point? Something good has to come from it. It is the only thing that I have. On this godforsaken planet, this ranch is the only thing that I have. And I can take it and I can make it into something different. I can take it and I can make it into something better. But I shouldn’t have to start from scratch just because my dad was a dangerous asshole. And I shouldn’t have to start from scratch just because my mother left. I got to take what I have and do something with it. Is that a good enough reason for you?”

“It’s a good reason,” she said.

His heart was pounding, and he didn’t know why it was hitting him like this. Why it was all hitting him this hard. It didn’t actually make sense. Her line of questioning about the ranch was simple, and included things he’d talked about before. His desire to make a difference. His desire to do something better... It didn’t make sense that any of it would bother him so much.

“My sister said something to me tonight. About not being certain about how you felt about me. And how that would scare her. Because of how our dad left. But I know you’re not going to leave, Gus. I do know that. Because look at you. You stayed. All this time. Even though stuff is awful. Even though things here were a nightmare for you. Even though that room... Even though it houses so many demons for you. You’ve stayed. And so I know you’re never going to leave. But one thing I also know about you, Gus McCloud, is that you are very good at being in the same room, and sharing the same air, and not really being there. And I want more of you.”

He growled, turning over quickly, pinning her against the wall of the bathtub. “How can I be more here? How could you have more of me?” He flexed his hips forward, let her feel how hard he was. “How can you have more of me than this?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just something I feel. That distance between us sometimes. Like you’re holding things back. Like you’re holding yourself back.”

“Because I am,” he said. “I already told you. I... I have tendencies that are like my father. And I have to police myself for...”

“No. That’s not it.”

“You don’t know,” he said, his voice rocky.

“I do know. I do. Because you are the man that rescues kittens and me. Because you are the man who read to your brothers.”

That pushed his mind back there, and he didn’t want to go there. He was angry now, that they had ever mentioned that to her. That they had ever brought it up.

“And I’m this man now,” he said, putting her hand up on his face, dragging it down the side of his scarred neck, to his chest. “And this is what you get.”

“I love you,” she said.

It hit hard. Like a lightning strike. Right there at the center of his chest.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“What?”

“Loving me. My mom loved me too.”

Shit. He despised that. That weak-sounding phrase that had come out of his mouth. The way that his voice shook. He despised it.

He despised himself. Why did he care? Why the fuck did he care what a woman who had abandoned him all those years ago had said?

Why did it matter?

Someday I’ll come back for you.

Well, she hadn’t. Because she didn’t love him. Not really. Or maybe she knew. Maybe she knew all along that he was finally like his father. Maybe she knew all along about the fire. And she didn’t want a scarred, damaged kid slowing down her new life.

He didn’t blame himself. Not like Hunter.

But he knew he wasn’t enough. He knew he wasn’t enough to bring her back.

Take care of them. Keep reading to them.

I’ll come back for you.

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