Page 74 of Mister Cowboy
She placed her hands around his neck and looked at him through a mess of brown hair.
“I love you.”
Three little words. She loved him. That was all it took to bring reality slamming back into this perfect little fantasy.
There he was, doing the same goddamn thinghehad done. Choosing love. After everything he’d done to make himself the better man, he was falling into the same rabbit hole.
No more.
He would not become that man. Responsibility over love, he reminded himself.
The next seconds had him gripping her hips and sliding her off him. Breathless, he stood and threw his clothes on as quickly as he could, ignoring the wet, sticky mess and the heady scent filling the room.
“What are you doing?” Her voice wavered slightly, hinting at the insecurity he’d caused.
“I’m sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t do this.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, covering her breasts. “I don’t understand.”
“I have a baby coming. I can’t just shuck my responsibilities to get laid.”
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. It’d always been about more than getting laid with her, if he was only ever honest about one thing for the rest of his life that would be it. Still, by the way she recoiled at his statement, he knew he’d said the worst possible thing. And he’d probably screwed it all up beyond repair, which was most likely for the best. If he was choosing to do the responsible thing, it would be easier if January hated him. He let himself embrace the lie he just told himself, and steeled himself against whatever she would say.
“Get out.” Her voice was calm and quiet, but it hurt more than if she’d been in hysterics. He’d hurt her beyond repair.
With a final glance, he walked out the door, knowing leaving would be the biggest regret of his life.
* * *
An hour later, Brecken found himself knocking on a door and trying to shield himself from the slanting rain. It was late, and he shouldn’t be there, but his car had driven as if it were on autopilot. He hadn’t even been conscious of his decision to confront her until he pulled down the long drive, a small, yellow house sitting up ahead at the corner.
Louisa opened the door, pulled her robe tight around her, and squinted as if the porch light hurt her eyes.Shit.He hadn’t even looked at the time.
“Brecken. What are you doing here?” she asked before scanning his wet clothes. “Come in, come in.”
He hesitated, suddenly completely unsure what it was he hoped to gain from being there, but Louisa was the only one left that could give him the answers he wanted.
“I’m sorry to barge in so late. I would have called, but I didn’t even know I was coming until I passed the old vacant gas station.”
Louisa turned a light on in the kitchen and started the coffee pot. “It’s okay. I thought you might show up, but I hadn’t planned on it being at two thirty in the morning.” She smiled and motioned for him to sit.
He pulled the wooden chair out from the oval-shaped table in the middle of the kitchen, looking around the small room. It was mostly the same as he remembered. The same rose wallpaper and rooster figurines decorated the walls and shelves and the counters were lined with cookbooks and containers filled with spices. The kitchen had always been a place that felt welcoming and inviting, and even at two thirty in the morning, wet and angrier than he could remember ever being, he felt an odd sense of peace.
Louisa sat across from him with two cups of fresh coffee. The strong smell as the steam rose to meet his face was enough to rouse his foggy brain.
“Thanks,” he mumbled his appreciation as he wrapped a hand around the warm mug.
“Henry told me about your assistant. I’m sorry. You must be quite torn on what to do. I wish your mother were here, she was always far better at giving advice when it was needed than I’ve ever been.”
“I don’t need to know what to do. I’ve already made my decision. I won’t do what you and my father did.” He looked up, expecting her to be staring back with a disapproving scowl, but instead, she looked completely unfazed. “I won’t be like him,” he said quietly but with the same resolute tone.
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Why are you banging on my front door in the middle of the night then?”
“I want to understand why? Why did you let him get away with it? You let him get off with completely chucking his responsibility. He had another son!”
“Oh, honey. Is that what you think? That he got some girl pregnant and left her and her unborn child to fend for themselves?”
“Isn’t that exactly what he did?”
