Page 64 of Ride Me Cowboy

The message comes from Elsie as I’m carrying plates through to the kitchen. The boys all said they’d take care of it, but that doesn’t seem right. Besides, after hours of sitting around with them, trying to ignore the sexual tension that’s stretching between Cole and me, I need a break.

I feel my phone buzz but don’t check it ‘til I’ve put the plates in the sink and started to run water to rinse them off. Then, I wipe my hands on a tea towel and grab it out, my gut tightening when I see her name.

Hey honey. Just checking if you can make it to mom’s birthday. I know she really wants you to be there.

I hit ‘reply’ but draw a blank. What can I say? This is exactly the reason I left New York—people expecting me to act a certain way, when I feel the opposite. I shake my head a little, tossing the idea around.

I know I can’t go.

I can’t bear to see them all again. Not yet. I know they didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is their fault. But they just loved Christopher so much. How can I go and sit with them, knowingwhat I know? Hating him like I do? Being secretly glad he’s dead, because it means I’m free.

I’m the worst.

The worst person in the whole world. How can I be glad someone’s dead? I don’t even believe in capital punishment, but what was his death if not a karmic form of that?

I squeeze my eyes shut as a familiar, panicky sensation surges through me, making my eyes flood with stars and my pulse throb loudly in my ears. I press my palms to the countertop, staring down at the water in the sink, and whatever sense of freedom I’d been relishing moments ago is completely gone.

Whatever freedom I’d been feeling outside is now tenuous, fading in my mind, my heart. I’m drowning again, caught between the reality I lived for years, the expectations everyone has of me, and who I want to be now.

“Hey, City Girl. I thought I’d never get you alone.” Cole’s voice makes me jump. I spin around, guiltily, but hardly see him.

Panic is like that. It floods your system, takes over everything, distorts all your perceptions.

“Beth, Jesus, are you okay?” His smile slips and he comes up to me, puts his hands on my hips. I nod, just a single jerk of my head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You’re whiter than a sheet.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m fine,” I manage to say. Because I have to be. I refuse to let my late-husband keep taking that from me. I’m here to rebuild, to be strong.

His finger beneath my chin is firm, tilting my face to his. “Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s okay,” I say, blinking quickly.

“It’s him.” A muscle jerks in Cole’s jaw as his eyes bore into mine. “Unless one of those knuckleheads out there said something to upset you.”

“No, no.” I can’t have him thinking that. “It’s just a text, from his sister, Elsie. My friend.” I clear my throat. “It’s Christopher’s mom’s birthday; they want me to come back, to be with them.”

A short breath hisses from between his teeth, but he quickly arranges his face to show dispassionate concern. “And how do you feel about that?”

I pull a face and let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Like I want to keep sticking my head in the sand a while longer.”

His finger on my chin drops but I don’t move away. “Is that what you’re doing here?”

I shrug one shoulder. “I guess. To some extent. I know I can’t hide out forever. At some point, I need to go and face the music. There’s legal stuff to deal with—his will, all that. Our apartment.” I groan. “I have a life I just walked out of. But the thought of going back, of seeing them…”

“You’re not ready,” he says, his voice hoarse, making goosebumps lift over my skin.

I shake my head.

“That’s okay. You’ve got time. Keep your head in the sand, hide out here. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that time’s one of the best things to help you shake off the dirt and get back in the saddle.”

I bite the inside of my cheek at that. “Is that what happened with you?” I ask, pressing my hand to his chest, fingers splayed wide, across his hard-beating heart. “After your dad, I mean.”

His lips flex into a quick frown. “I miss the heck out of him,” he says, gruff. “There’s not a day that goes by I don’t wish he was still here. But then, I guess, heishere.” He taps the side of his head. “All my life, he was right by my side, teaching me, talking to me, showing me his values. I see him in my brothers, in Cassidy, hell, I even see him in Mack, and her fearlessness. Dad left his mark, alright.”

“He sounds like a great guy.”

“He really was. The thing is, the first few months after he died, I just had to keep going. Like riding a horse, you can’t go backwards. Day by day, working through it. I still miss him, but the grief is less. The anger, too. Mostly, it’s just good memories now, and being grateful I had him in my life.”

“I don’t feel that,” I say. “I feel the opposite. I would do anything to go back in time and not meet Christopher, not give him my number, not let him get under my skin. I can’t think of one good thing that came out of my marriage.”

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