Page 100 of The Wedding Ranch
He took the hat. “Fine. What’s going on, gal?”
“After I saw the article in your office…” She turned her back to him. “I…”
“It’s okay. I didn’t know it was a boundary. Well, it’s not. It was just a pinch. A little obstacle and we’re already over it.”
“No. It’s more than that. There were so many coincidences. I didn’t think it could be.”
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
She turned and looked at him. “Ryder. That drunk driver. That wreck. Everything that tore your life apart. It was Jeff.”
“Jeff Pike. Right. I know that.”
“My brother. Walker is my married name. My whole career has been under that name, so I didn’t change it in the divorce.”
“He was your brother?” He shook his head. “No. How can…? Did you track me down? Is this some kind of sick guilt trip you’re on?”
“No. I didn’t know before.” The words tumbled out in a rush. The situation was bad enough without something like that heaped on top. “Meeting you was purely random. I swear.”
Ryder stared, as though he was looking right through her.
“His name wasn’t in the article that I saw, but when I read the details and they were so similar to what had happened with Jeff, I looked up the report from his records.” She gasped for a breath. “It was him. I’m so sorry.” The last words came out in a sob. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”
“I think you’d better leave.”
She sucked in a stuttered breath and twisted the key in the ignition.
He backed away from the truck.
His lips pulled into a thin line, as if he might explode. She pulled off and drove straight home.
He kicked the dirt, then jumped in his truck and pressed his foot on the accelerator, sending the motor roaring like a hungry bear on a rampage in the opposite direction.
He drove for an hour, bleary-eyed and unable to even utter a prayer.
His jaw ached.Of all the things you could lay on me, Lord.
At mile marker 150 Ryder veered off to the side of the road. His headlights flooded over the grass and weeds there. The forged steel cross he’d made in his workshop rose from the bank. No one else would probably ever notice it, and nothing without some very specific effort could take it down. He’d planted it deep, and it was made of heavy metal.
It wasn’t fancy. It hadn’t been for anyone but him, and his family.
He stared at the homemade landmark. The promise that he’d never forget her or their son. The apology for not having made the time to drive them himself.
Why hadn’t I been driving?Either outcome was better, either they’d have all said their last goodbye to this life together, or the accident might never have happened.
He was a good driver. Not easily distracted. Ronnie Dwayne was a burst of energy in the mornings; he probably babbled nonstop the whole way. Maybe that was good. Maybe. There were a hundred maybes, and he’d never know what happened. How or why.
Oh, Valerie. Please help me.
He knelt in the damp grass.
He’d opened his heart a tiny bit, and who snuck in but someone connected to the fool who had taken every precious thing from him.
On one knee he pressed his fingers to his forehead, leaning forward, caring not one bit about the cars speeding past on the highway. He cried, deep painful sobs from within, until he huffed and panted, trying to catch his breath.
He opened his eyes and rested his hand on the arm of the cross.
A feather drifted, landing on the ground right next to his boot.
