Never Kiss a Cowgirl, page 14
“Can I ask why you didn’t let Uncle Wade know?” Asher shook her head and glanced away from her. “I know you were forced into being here with me because of this damn injury, Reagan, but he loves you. He never mentions you a lot when he’s with me, but I can tell it bothers him that you just left.”
“There’s no real explanation,” Reagan admitted, “except that I’ve been angry for a long time. I left to stop hurting, but that only lasted so long, and the pain came back.” She cried harder, and it made her head hurt. It was the first time in years she’d let go like this, so of course when she finally decided to have a meltdown, it would be in front of Asher.
“Hey…” Asher raised her hand, and it was the only invitation she needed. That she gave in so quickly proved in spades she was losing her mind faster than she could keep up, but falling against Asher, even if it was for a moment, was worth taking the chance. She expected to be dumped into the water, but Asher proved her wrong.
The crying turned to sobs when Asher hugged her closer. “I’m so sorry,” she got out in a shuddering snot-filled voice.
“Don’t apologize, and I’m sorry I asked. All I wanted was for you to spend some time with him and Frida. They’re really cute together, and they’re happy, but I’m thinking they’ll be happier with you in the picture.”
“I’m not good at making anyone happy. Not for a long time.” She took a deep breath and leaned harder into Asher. Not a great time for her brain to throw a pheromone party, but damn if Asher didn’t still smell the same. She wore a crisp sort of citrusy cologne that triggered a certain response she couldn’t allow herself to feel. “I should’ve stayed away instead of making you all miserable.”
“If that’s what you think, you’re dead wrong.” Why the fuck did Asher always have to sound so reasonable and believable?
“You didn’t see Frida’s face when I first went out to the ranch, or Rickie’s for that matter when I showed up at your house.” In a way she deserved to be unhappy. She’d certainly spread it like seeds in other people. “They hate me.”
“Hate you?” Asher pulled back to look at her but didn’t let go. “You think Wade, Frida, or Rickie is capable of that?”
“Not when you ask like that.” She buried her face in Asher’s shoulder.
Asher rubbed her back and proved what a great job her father and uncle had done in finishing raising Asher. Uncle Dustin had set a solid foundation, and hell if it didn’t stick even if he died before the job was done. With effort Asher had built plenty she could be proud of, but none of that superseded her kindness. All Reagan had done was use what her father and uncle had built to run away. She was good at her job, but that’s all she had to show for her life so far.
“You okay?”
“I’m not okay, and I’ll be embarrassed every time you look at me from now on, but it’ll be okay.” She tried to pull back, but Asher hung on to her. “Come on, Buck, I promise you don’t have to piece me back together.”
“Think of it as me being generous.” Asher let up on the pressure, so if she wanted to break the hold she could. “And you can talk to me. You might not believe me, but I don’t hate you any more than Frida or Rickie.”
She slapped the side of Asher’s neck but Asher didn’t flinch. “Sorry, mosquito.”
“You sure it wasn’t our old history?” Asher laughed. “Help me up, and we’ll go somewhere less buggy.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Asher laughed louder and let her go. “It’s a reasonable question. When I saw you that first night, you didn’t appear thrilled to see me.”
“Wasn’t my best behavior, was it?” Asher took her hand when she stood and offered it. She then folded the blanket and followed close behind as Asher made it up the slope on crutches.
“I’m not saying you were wrong, but this is a definite about-face.”
“Life’s too short, Buckaroo, and we were friends once.”
“Do you think we can be again?”
Asher looked at her and sat on the four-wheeler. “You and I are family, and there’s no changing that.”
Chapter Twelve
It had to be the drinks. Asher couldn’t blame anything else, and if she threw Reagan off the back of the four-wheeler, she’d be the asshole. Nope, she’d committed to a destination and issued the invitation, so she was stuck.
Then again, it could’ve been the tears.
The fucking tears. She’d never fully understood their power and, as a woman herself, never learned to use them effectively. She wasn’t a monster, so of course she cried, but only when it was called for. Funerals…She started a mental list, then her mind went blank. That was her short list, she guessed—death. Other women, though, they had a much longer list, and it got her on a quad bike in the middle of the night, going places she didn’t want to go to make them stop.
“Did you say something?” Reagan said right into her ear. The woman was plastered to her back, so why wouldn’t she do that? Asher shook her head, but it was to clear Reagan out of her mind. That worked as well as trying to teach a cow ballet. “You’re muttering. If you want, we can turn around, and you can leave me at my car.”
The cabin was another mile, and she stopped, not turning off the engine. “Do you want me to leave you at your car?” This was why she needed to keep her distance. While she’d been mentally debating how she’d gotten here, Reagan had come to her senses. The experiment was over, and she was ready to move on.
“No, I want to see what’s over there,” Reagan said, pointing toward the lights of the cabin.
Okay, so she was wrong. So she throttled the engine and got them moving again. That old cabin they’d spent so much time in had been hit by lightning and gone up like dry kindling. It seemed apropos at the time, considering that’s what her soul had felt like—a charred heap of trash—so she’d rebuilt. She didn’t need another home, but it was nice to come out here and sit. The small cabin was as different from the house as she could make it, and to her, it was an escape because it felt less empty.
“You didn’t put it back where it was,” Reagan said. She climbed off the back and got Asher’s crutches for her.
“We use this place during calving season and to check on the shyer cattle in the herd.” She navigated the stairs and headed for the swing. It made her think of Jacqueline and how she hadn’t heard from her in a few days. “The old spot was lower ground and not as protected.” The trees a few hundred feet away did make a natural windbreak during bad storms.
“This is beautiful.” Reagan sat next to her, moving as if the swing would fall if she wasn’t careful. “Can I talk to you?”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.” This was a good thing. Getting this out of the way would satisfy everyone in her life who had ideas of what her happily ever after should look like. “Let me start by saying that you don’t need to apologize for anything. It took some time, but I understand taking care of yourself. Your dad was someone I loved, and his death was a shock I’m still not over. He was your father, though, and only someone who’s lost what you did that day could understand.”
“But I did everything wrong.” Reagan’s eyes filled with tears again that didn’t spill over.
“Everyone processes differently, and that’s all we can do.”
“How’d you get so smart?” Reagan reached over and placed her hand on her forearm.
“Time is good when it comes to lots of things like clearing away dark clouds, Reagan. To be honest, I didn’t like you very much for a very long time. You, leaving the way you did, made me realize that loving someone isn’t always enough.” Dammit all to hell when the words choked in her throat and her vision blurred. “That pain, though, was good for me. It forced me to face my future and drove me home. The house my dad built was where I belonged, and I broke the two ranches apart like they were when our dads first started this place.”
“Uncle Dustin didn’t name it Pemberley, though.” Reagan leaned back and didn’t move her hand.
“No, the name came after a few years of riding the circuit. Bull riding was…is something you hate, and I understand that. It made all this possible, though, and in a strange way, helped me grieve your dad.” She wiped her face, sensing that every tear that fell somehow stripped away her strength and dignity. “All those afternoons of him teaching me always repeat in my head when that chute opens.”
“I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, Asher. It was the fear for you that drove me away.” Reagan was crying again, and Asher didn’t push her away when she moved closer and rested her head on her shoulder. “Daddy died, and the thought of a world without either of you in it terrified me.”
“I know what you wanted from me, and I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you. If we’re honest, we can admit you outgrew me even before you left.” That was the hardest thing to admit to herself, much less to Reagan or anyone else.
“You’re wrong.”
Asher laughed. “Am I?” She glanced down, daring Reagan to look away. “Steph Delmonico is, or maybe was, more than a friend. That was plain by the way she held you that first night when she thought you were hurting.”
“She lived with me for a few months, and then she cheated on me. We’re only friends, and barely that,” Reagan said softly. If words could be painted with regret, Reagan had done an excellent job. “She’s nothing like you.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but that’s what you wanted. Someone who was your equal in every way. This life wasn’t something you wanted, and I don’t think you realized that, not until freedom from it was possible.” The anger was back, and she took a breath to tamp it down. It wasn’t called for now. “It’s been a few years, but I don’t think you’d let anyone in your life unless it was someone you wanted. I know it’s not her, but it’s going to be someone like her, and you deserve to be happy.”
“It wasn’t like that even if you don’t believe me.” Reagan tightened her hold on her arm. “I was lonely, and Steph was uncomplicated.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations.” She held the leg in the cast up as she pushed off with her good foot, setting them in motion.
“Don’t I?” Reagan shot back.
“No, not anymore. We were kids, and now we’re adults with vastly different lives. There’s no sin in it.” Being honest and admitting to the things she’d rather forget was painful. All she could remind herself was she wasn’t that pathetic kid Reagan left behind. She’d shed that kid years before, and she wasn’t coming back.
“No forgiveness for the stupid, then?” Reagan stood up and moved to the end of the porch. She stared out into the darkness as if she wanted to disappear into it.
“Come back here,” she said with more force than was necessary. It took a moment for Reagan to do anything, appearing at war with herself. “I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but I made a promise to Silas Wilson, and I intend to keep it until I’m dead.”
“What, to take care of me even if you have to do it with me kicking and screaming?” Reagan finally laughed.
“Your dad was a smart guy,” she said, shifting on the swing to get more comfortable. “I was the slow learner in the barn.”
“I doubt that, and he’d agree with me. I miss him every single day, but I dread what he’d think of me if he was still here.” The tears started again, and Asher placed her arm across the swing in invitation. “He would not be proud of me.”
“He knew,” Asher said in a low voice. Silas had made her promise not to have this talk until Reagan came to her.
“He knew what?”
“He knew you weren’t happy with him, and he tried to prepare me—for when you left, I mean. I just didn’t think I needed to be prepared for anything.” She remembered the day they’d had this talk, her and Silas. It was the last time they went riding together, and he’d aimed them in the direction of her current house. He’d pointed to all the stuff that needed to be fixed. “There were things neither of us understood about him.” She wondered often if he knew, knew that death was so close and his time was up.
“He died, so there’s no making up that last meeting. God I was angry, so angry, and then he died.” Reagan’s weeping was reaching a new level, and Asher pressed Reagan to her chest. “I can’t make that up to him.”
“He wanted me to wait until you were ready to hear this.” She rested her cheek on Reagan’s head. “We went riding the week before he died. He made me promise to make you understand how much he loved you. When you got accepted to school, he was so proud of you, and he knew your life wouldn’t be the life he and I chose.” She rubbed her hand up and down Reagan’s back, trying to calm her. “Listen, that was okay with him. The one thing he was proudest of was that he raised a kid who could stand on her own. You’re strong because of him and despite him.”
“All I want is one more day,” Reagan said, twisting Asher’s T-shirt in her fist. “I want him to know how much I love him.”
“He knew that, darlin’. What you’ve accomplished and made of yourself honors the man he was and proves he was right. A whole life isn’t boiled down to one day, and you’re going to have to let that go. The truth of it is simple. Silas loved you, and I’ll always be here for you.”
“That’s a promise you don’t have to keep. I know I hurt you, so I’ll never hold you to it.”
“Sorry,” she said putting her other arm around Reagan. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“Thanks, Asher. I’m glad he had you to talk to.” Reagan relaxed as if the emotion had drained out of her and she was left empty. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” she said, hoping this openness only had to last the night.
“Why’d you name this place Pemberley?”
“Pride and Prejudice was my favorite book in school, and I liked the idea of finding that one person I could be happy with, who I could make happy in return.” Pride and Prejudice was one of the few things Reagan had shared with her in the short letters she’d sent her when she was in college. She’d written so passionately about it that Asher had kept the letter. When it was her turn to read it, she could see why Reagan had loved it so much, since growing up she’d been a romantic at her core.
“We didn’t read that in high school,” Reagan said, gazing up at her.
“No, I read it at Tulane along with a lot of other books, not all of which I cared for.”
“Wait,” Reagan seemed to perk up at that. “You took classes at Tulane?”
“It took me a bit with all the work around here, but I graduated and went on to get my MBA. The ranch is hard work, but it’s also a business.” She shrugged, not used to talking so much about herself. “It made sense to learn the business side of things.”
“You were so dead set against it.” Reagan had a talent for crucifying her with a question. “College, I mean.”
“I was dead set against going to school in Washington. That was the right decision for you, but I needed to stay close to run this place and help Wade.”
Reagan didn’t say anything for a while, but the quiet didn’t bother Asher. She’d grown used to the quiet long before now and didn’t see the need to disturb it. They sat like they used to, and in a way, it made it easier for Asher to think of them in the done column.
This is what they could’ve been, but Silas had warned her that day that Reagan might want different things. It didn’t make her wrong or bad, just courageous enough to pick what would make her happy. He and Reagan had argued for days about his decision to try for one more championship, and he could hear in his daughter’s words what she thought of this life even if she wasn’t direct. It was the life Asher also wanted. Silas had been smart enough to know he wasn’t the only one Reagan would punish for the dream of bull riding.
She’d made him the promise to talk to Reagan if something happened to him, that was true. He’d also made her promise not to give up on the family he knew she wanted. When it came to love, he’d said, he’d lucked out in the children God blessed him with. The one he’d helped bring into the world, and the one who was of his heart. It made the woman, Reagan’s mother, who’d broken his heart and the loss of his best friend worth it. She’d pointed out he’d never looked for love again, and she wouldn’t need to either.
She’d been sure there was no way Reagan would leave her, leave home, and leave behind the plans they’d made together. She was naive enough to think no one did that to someone they loved. He’d been right, though, and she never imagined being wrong could hurt so much for so long.
In the end, Silas had left first. The pain of that was a hot poker through the eye, and then Reagan left, and she was numb. It was only then that she understood why Silas had never tried again. That someone who loved you, or supposedly did, could do that killed that part of you that carried hope. What had hurt the most was that Reagan hadn’t seemed that affected by their parting. Reagan had Wade drive her to the airport and hadn’t waited for her to get back from her morning chores. Their end had come swift and final as if Reagan had taken a scalpel to their relationship.
“Thank you for telling me, Asher. Daddy loved you, and I’m sorry I missed so much.” Reagan seemed almost reluctant to break the peace between them, so her words were hesitant.
“Maybe he knew,” she said, voicing something she’d thought for so long. “Maybe he knew and hoped to die doing something he loved instead of in a hospital like he did.” She squeezed Reagan to her and took a deep breath. “All I know for sure is he loved you. Christine gave birth to you, but it was Silas who dedicated his life to loving you. Remember that when you question that last day.”
“I don’t deserve you being this nice, but thank you. When I decided to come home, I was scared to see you again.” Reagan flattened her hand on Asher’s abdomen, and the feel of her was more familiar than riding.
