Cowboy Up(53)

Clayton’s arm spasms, and I know he’s close to losing his mind. I reach behind and pat his thigh. I can see a small crowd forming near the restaurant’s entrance, but I don’t care that people are openly gawking. I’m not going back to the woman who was afraid of what they thought. I’m not the one in the wrong here.

“I’m waiting. Say what you need to, but know this is the only chance I’ll allow you the freedom of doin’ so.”

“I shoulda had the doctor suck you outta me the second he told me I was pregnant. Now I’m stuck with my whore daughter and her disrespectful tongue. You should be thankin’ me for keepin’ you.”

I lean my head against Clayton’s chest and laugh. “You have some nerve callin’ me a whore when you can’t even recall who knocked you up in the first place.” I lower my voice, not wanting the whole town to know by morning what I say next. “I’ve been with two men in my life, Misty. One who almost broke me because I was naive enough to think he could follow through on his promise to help me get away, and one who healed me after the first did his best to ruin what you hadn’t already. Seein’ that the latter is also goin’ to be the last man I give myself to, I’d say I’m pretty dadgum close to sainthood. You want to believe I’m a whore, then you do so, but when I crawl into bed at night with the man I love with every fiber of my bein’, I’m gonna do that knowin’ that my life is finally perfect and your opinion no longer matters.”

I watch the woman who gave birth to me, the same one who never gave me any love afterward, sputter in shock. I’ve never spoken back to her. I didn’t when I was growing up, still under the impression that I wanted and needed her love. I didn’t when I was a teenager, seeking out the wrong company in an attempt to fill the void she created. And I didn’t when I begged her to save me. I carried the burden I felt with her inability to care about me for nearly thirty years, but no more. Never again.

“Do me a favor,” I finally say when she continues to look confused that I’m not breaking under her verbal abuse. “Pretend you had that abortion. When you see me, Clayton, or anyone else in our family, act like we’re invisible. Look right through us, Misty, because we’re goin’ to do the same to you.”

I turn awkwardly in Clayton’s stiff grasp and hug my arms around him. I can feel the power of his fury in the tension-filled muscles that are flexed hard. I ignore her, hoping she’ll just leave. With my cheek against his chest, I hear her attempt to speak up.

“Shut your goddamn mouth.” Clayton rumbles venom-filled words that seem to explode from deep in his gut. “You don’t want to find out what happens if you continue this, Misty. Don’t fuck with me, because I will end you if you even so much think about my Caroline.”

I squeeze him tighter, not in fear or panic over the confrontation with the woman who used to make me feel those things, but to reassure him that I’m fine. When he finally relaxes his body slightly, I know she’s left. I keep hugging him for another second until I feel a little more tension leave his body—only then do I look up at him.

“It feels good to forget,” I whisper, knowing he understands what I’m saying when his anger vanishes instantly. I’d thought he was speaking out of his ear when he explained how he moved on from his own mama’s hurt, but not anymore. She’ll never deserve my forgiveness, so I’m going to forget her instead—just like he did his.

“Uh, guys?”

Clayton turns us together at Quinn’s voice. She looks over the bed of his truck and gives a tiny wave. I scan the other three people at her side and frown when I get to her husband’s pale face.

“I don’t mean to interrupt what I’m sure was about to get interestin’ and all, seein’ that you just admitted you love my big brother at the same time you put your mama in her place so brilliantly, but my water broke five minutes ago and my vagina-pokin’ husband has seemed to forget every year of medical school, because I’m not sure he’s breathin’ anymore.”





16


CLAYTON


“The Fighter” by Keith Urban & Carrie Underwood



“Any news?” Caroline asks, handing me the coffee that she got from the cafeteria.

“Nothin’ since the last time Tate came out and said she was about to start pushin’. That was almost three hours ago, Linney.”

She grabs my free hand and gives it a squeeze. “These things take some time, honey. She’s in good hands. I know you’re worried.”