Page 69 of Wild and Wrangled

“I don’t think you’re fussy,” Dusty responded. “You know what you like and you have preferences.”

“So you don’t think I’m a snob?” I asked.

Dusty shot me a quick grin before his eyes were back on the road. “I didn’t say that,” he said. “But I just happen to like your version of snobbery, I guess.”

He seemed to be chewing on something in thought before he spoke again.

“Speaking of snobs…what was the deal with your parents tonight?” Dusty asked. “They were trying to set you up? I mean, clearly they were not happy to see me, but to try to show you off like you’re some sort of piece of meat in the marriage mart seems a little old school…even for them.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. My go-to answer for anything and everything having to do with my parents.

“No,” Dusty responded immediately. He sounded more frustrated than he did a second ago. “We’re not doing thatanymore. I need you to talk about it. I need you to talk tome.” His voice cracked, and I felt like I was two feet tall.

I took a deep breath. At least he was driving, so I didn’t have to look at his face. Maybe it was time for me to talk about this—and talking to Dusty seemed to be easier than talking to anyone else. “A couple of years ago, I was thinking about what I wanted for Riley and her future, and I met Graham pretty soon after that. We had a lot in common when it came to our parents—they weren’t very present in our lives, but they tried to be very present in our decisions. We didn’t, um, click…romantically, but when we went to this event together that both of our parents were at, they were thrilled. As soon as my dad saw me with Graham, I think wheels started turning about how this could benefit him. Graham said the same thing about his dad.

“And both of us had the stipulation of parental approval for partners in our…um, trust funds. So we just kind of fell into this weird relationship where we both knew we were using each other, but we were okay with it, because it was the first time either of us had gotten any peace from our parents.” After our confrontation at the gala, though, I was realizing that I created a lot of the noise that I felt around my parents. Everything I did was informed by my efforts to avoid their disappointment or criticism. If I could stay close enough to the lines of what they deemed appropriate, they’d leave me alone. I could keep them at a safe distance. And if I did something they actuallywanted,like align myself with a suitable man who could benefit their financial future, I thought I’d get even more than that—I thought I might be able to finally make them happy. Maybe I could replace all of theirdisappointment with something better. But, of course, I should have known: I’d never actually be able to make them happy. So when Graham brought up getting married, it seemed like a good idea. And I decided to seize the opportunity to ensure some sort of inheritance from them for Riley—more than enough money for college and a nice nest egg.”

I glanced at Dusty’s hands on the steering wheel out of the corner of my eye—they clenched the wheel harder.

“So we got engaged. Things were fine. Both of us felt…okay. Maybe not happy, but content, at least.”

“But he called off the wedding.”

“He met someone,” I whispered. Someone who made him realize that the chance at a full life was worth more than a guarantee of a half one.

“So you were going to get married to someone you didn’t love so your daughter could have some money?” Dusty asked. His tone was sharp, and it cut me.

He made it sound so simple, but it wasn’t. “You wouldn’t get it,” I said defensively.

“Explain it to me then,” he said. “Because, you’re right, I really don’t get it. It’s not like you’re Riley’s only parent. It’s not like Gus doesn’t have money. I get that the Ryders don’t have Ashwood money, but they’re stable. Riley was always going to be taken care of because of that.” Dusty turned off the highway.

“I wanted to take care of her, too,” I said. “And I didn’t have anything then. I decided to put law school on hold for a while when I got pregnant, and then for the first few years after Riley was born, I needed to focus on learning how to be a mom. So I just…I didn’t want to be a burden to the Ryders. Ifelt insecure about the fact that I had just gotten plopped into this family that cared for me right away; I was…just preparing for when the other boot would drop.”

“But now you do just fine. You became a lawyer—you make good money. Even if you fucking hate it. Even if Gus wasn’t in the picture, Riley would be okay.” His deep voice rumbled in frustration.

“I don’t hate it!”

Dusty scoffed.

“I’m sorry, but why are you mad?” I asked.

“Why am I mad?” he parroted back. “I’m not mad. I’m pissed. I’m pissed that after all these years, you still don’t seem to see yourself clearly. I’m pissed that your parents imprinted this ridiculous idea on you that love has to be earned and not just freely given. I’m mad that you were going to settle for a life you didn’t love because it was more convenient for you. And I’m pissed that you, of all people, would think your daughter needs all the things that you had. I was there, Cam. You had everything that money could buy and you still weren’t happy. Riley has support. She has security,andshe has an army of people who would do anything for her.”

“I was just being practical,” I said defensively.

“Fuck practicality,” Dusty said softly. Too softly. It was eerily calm after his outburst, and I felt the familiar ache of the past fifteen years push its way back into my bones as Dusty maneuvered my car into a snow-covered parking lot. He cut the engine before the car was all the way in park.

Then he got out of the car. I expected him to stalk away, but he didn’t. He walked around the front of my car, opened my door for me, and picked me up out of the car—still not lettingme trudge through the snow even though I could feel his anger in his tense shoulders.

We walked inside a dimly lit lobby that smelled just left of normal. As soon as we were in, Dusty set me down and walked ahead. There was a woman at the front desk with jet black hair and a septum piercing. The only noise I could hear was the faint music leaking out of the headphones she had on and her chewing her gum.

The woman looked up when we got to the front desk. Her nametag said “Mal.” She did a double take at the sight of Dusty.

“Hi,” he said. “Do you have two rooms for the night?” I don’t know why this request slapped me so hard across the face, but it did.

“Um.” Mal scrambled for her computer. “We only have one room available for tonight. The snow pushed a lot of people off the road,” she said. I saw Dusty’s shoulders roll back and down in frustration. Mal looked past him and saw me. She looked between the two of us—probably sensing the tension. “But it’s got two beds,” she said.

“That’s fine,” Dusty gritted out.

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