Page 111 of Cowboy's Last Stand
After dinner, they went home and watched a show about wild animals in the Australian outback.Marcus wanted to know if Jason had been to Australia or any other wild places.Jason listed the countries he’d visited on tours of duty or trips with friends.It was an impressive number.
Thirty minutes later, Marcus fell asleep on the couch.Jason carried him to bed.Natalie turned off the TV and stared at the blank screen.She couldn’t even begin to catalog her emotions; there were too many.When Jason came back to the living room, he stood silent for a moment, his hands thrust into the pockets of his faded jeans.
“I’ll go,” he said, as if he could read the uncertainty on her face.
She rose to her feet.“No.”
“No?”
“We can talk.”
He glanced at the hallway, where Marcus’s bedroom door was still open.Natalie understood the implication.They couldn’t talk in the living room without the possibility of awakening him, especially if things got heated again.She moved past Jason into the kitchen.He followed her, resting his shoulder against the door frame.
“Do you want something to drink?”she asked.
“What have you got?”
She searched the fridge, sighing.There were no adult beverages, as usual.“I think London stole my tequila the other night.”
“She left the house with Gabe.”
“That figures.”
“I have a six-pack upstairs.”
This news gave her pause because he wasn’t much of a drinker.He must have bought it along with the flowers in anticipation of this reconciliation attempt.She still wasn’t sure if they were going to reconcile.
“I can bring it down.”
“All right,” she said carefully.
When he returned with two longnecks, she was on the front porch, sitting on the glider with her legs drawn up.He popped the cap off one before he handed it to her.She took a bolstering swig and braced herself for a difficult conversation.
“I shouldn’t have asked you about the settlement,” he said.“It’s none of my business what you do with your money, or where it comes from.”
She drank a little more.
He continued in a formal tone.“It was also hypocritical of me to criticize your mementos, considering that I’ve harbored resentment toward my father for not keeping my mother’s things around the house.”
Natalie was surprised by his insight and the vulnerability he allowed himself in making this confession.
“I’m sorry,” he said.“It won’t happen again.”
“I’m sorry too.I shouldn’t have insulted you.”
“Apology accepted.”
She sipped from her longneck again, contemplative.“I’m concerned about these arguments we keep having.”
“Passionate people argue.”
“There’s a fine line between passionate and short-fused.”
He opened his mouth, as if to defend himself, and then seemed to think better of it.Sinking to a seat beside her, he swallowed his retort with a swig of beer.
“Do you think you’re drawn to tension and conflict?”
His jaw tightened at the question.“I’m drawn to challenges, not conflicts.”
