145
Rough, Raw, and Ready
“No. I’m telling you after what she’s been through in the last couple of days you should’ve expected she’d be an emotional train wreck. You should’ve been more sympathetic to her losing the horse, not less.” Edgard mentally braced himself for Trevor’s temper to explode.
But it didn’t, he just nodded. “I know. Even as that mean shit was runnin’ out of my mouth like I’d developed a case of scour, I couldn’t stop it.” Trevor hit the brakes and threw the truck in park. His hands gripped the steering wheel below where he’d placed his forehead. “Ah fuck. I can’t believe what a prick I am sometimes.”
Trevor’s shoulders rose and fell quickly. Was Trevor crying? Or hyperventilating?
Either way, Trevor wouldn’t accept his comfort, so Edgard stayed immobile, aching for the chance to pacify the man in mind or body. To ease him in some way, because seeing Trevor hurting was still like a knife in his gut.
Finally, Trevor sighed. “I never wanna be like him. Never.”
“Be like who?” Edgard asked, even when he knew.
“Like my father.”
Edgard didn’t offer him any false words of comfort.
“It scares the hell out of me. Chassie don’t know what a bastard my dad was. Still is.
I didn’t tell her about some of the shit he’d pulled because I…goddammit, I worried she wouldn’t marry me because she’d be afraid I’d turn out like him.
“Now I can’t tell her because I’m afraid with all the other stuff that’s happened, she’ll kick me to the fence. Seems I can’t tell her nothin’ without fear of losin’ her.” His short bark of laughter rivaled the cold for bitterness. “I suck at this spillin’ my guts stuff.
I always have. You know that probably better’n anyone.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a lousy excuse. It always has been.”
Trevor slowly lifted his head and gave Edgard an incredulous look. “How is that smartass answer supposed to help me?”
“Oh, so now you want my help?”
“Well yeah, since it’s obvious I fucked up and it’s obvious you think you know how to fix it.”
146
Lorelei James
“Fine.” Edgard pointed to the cell phone clipped on the dash. “Call her. Say, ‘Baby, I’m sorry I was an asshole. I love you’, but for Christsake don’t qualify it.”
“Qualify it, meanin’ what?”
“Don’t tack on, ‘I was an asshole because I’m under stress’, just apologize. Period.”
They stared at each other.
“That’s it?”
“Sometimes the smallest gestures have the biggest impact.”
“Can’t be that easy,” Trevor muttered, snatching the phone. He faced out the driver’s side window but didn’t lower his voice.
“Hey, Chass. No. Nothin’s wrong. I just wanted to say…I’m sorry. You know, for earlier today. In the barn. I was a jerk.” When Trevor started to tack on, “Because…”
Edgard reached over and smacked him on the arm. Trevor whirled back around. “Jesus, Mancuso. What the fuck?”
Edgard shook his head and mouthed, “No excuses.”
Still glaring at Edgard, Trevor said, “No, nothin’ happened. Ed spilled his coffee all over himself. Yeah. He’s fine, even when he’s graceful as a bear.” Trevor mouthed,
“Asshole,” at Edgard. Pause. “Sure. Sounds good. We’ll be home for lunch in a bit. Love you too, baby.”
After he snapped the phone shut, he stabbed the antennae at Edgard and warned,
“You ain’t allowed to gloat, amigo.”
“I promise not to start humming the Mexican hat dance and clacking my castanets in victory,” he said wryly.
“You’re hilarious.” Trevor put the truck in drive and they were bumping across the uneven terrain.
Edgard squinted at the unfamiliar stark scenery outside his window. Dirt-covered snow stretched across miles of flat prairie; dead clumps of brownish grass poked through the thin layer of white. Wind stripped the moisture away from the ground in places, leaving patches of red dirt. Skeletal trees, rocks, tumbleweeds scattered along the fenceline added to the vastness and the loneliness of the scene.
147
Rough, Raw, and Ready
Isolation. Desperation. It fit Edgard’s mood, not only today, but for the last year.
Gruffly, Trevor said, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence filled the truck cab. So many things had been left unsaid. Again. Maybe they were doomed to be stuck at that impasse. Unable to go back; unwilling to move forward.