“We would know!” Seth shot back.
Unbelievably, Court shrugged again. “Well, we all know about Dad now. We’ll all have to live with it. I mean…” he said with a dour laugh, gesturing to the revolver in Seth’s hand. “you will.”
“Court, this is not the way to—”
“What good am I?” Court snapped. “What use am I to anyone, really? I hear what you all say about me. I’m lazy. I don’t take things seriously. Rowan hates me. Willow—”
“Willow loves you,” Seth said through clenched teeth.
“She doesn’t know me.”
“She doesn’t need to! She’s just a kid. As far as she’s concerned, you’re her daddy, and that’s all there is to it.”
Court sighed and seemed to consider Seth’s words, and Seth felt instantly buoyed by that fact, until his little brother said, “I just need time. With Rowan. Time to make her see.”
Seth wanted to argue, wanted with every fiber of his being to speak up and remind Court that things between him and Rowan were over, ancient history. But the revolver weighed so heavy in his hand.
“Don’t take them away from me,” Court suddenly begged. “Don’t do it. You could have any woman.”
Seth wanted to scream. Indeed, inside he was raging against all of this. He didn’t want any woman. He wanted Rowan. But he’d already lost so much. So, so much. His mother. His father. And now his brother was on the edge of slipping away, as well. Seth had done everything for this man, their whole lives. Finished Court’s homework, made sure he got to the school bus on time, beat his ass when he caught Court smoking behind the barn when they were teenagers.
His whole life, Seth had sacrificed for his family. Given up his time, pushing his patience to the limits. He was tired of it, to be sure. But there was the gun, the warm, solid steel leaving impressions in his palm as Seth gripped it tightly. He could take it, sure, hide it away. But there were others. Not that Court needed them. A rope, a knife. A snowstorm. There were a thousand ways to die in these wild lands…and Seth couldn’t lose another family member.
“All right,” he said, carrying the pistol with him to the splintered door. “All right.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‡
Rowan saw Seth pull up to the house at the exact moment she’d been thinking about him. Which wasn’t much of a coincidence—she always seemed to be thinking about him. If she wasn’t so damn tired, she’d run across the yard and fling herself into his arms, such was her excitement to see him again. But as it was, she merely managed to put down the bucket she was holding and wipe her hands on her jeans as he walked toward the barn to where she was standing.
She took a step toward him but stopped up short when she saw the look on his bruised face, though. “What…what’s wrong? Did you fight again?” She rolled her eyes. Rowan was almost ready to get in the car, drive to Snake River, and punch Court Barlow herself. This was getting ridiculous! She was entitled to a life, damn it. And a happy one!
She and Seth were in love, even though he’d never said as much. Yet. He didn’t have to. The way he looked at her, the way he’d held her after they’d made love, she knew he felt the same way she did, like she’d finally found something even after she’d given up searching.
She sighed, exasperated. “Well, he’ll get over it. He’ll just have to—”
But Seth shook his head. “It’s not going to work, Rowan.”
She froze. The anguish in his voice washed over her, cold as the wind that whipped at her face now. “It’s not going to work?” she repeated numbly. “What do you mean, it’s not going to work?”
“With us,” he replied quietly. “It’s not going to work with you and me.”
Rowan blinked at him, dumbfounded. “It is working. Seth, I haven’t felt anything like this ev—”
“He can’t handle it,” Seth interrupted.
Rowan shook off her momentary stupor and gave in to the fire rising inside her. “Well, I don’t care if he can handle it! Screw him! I don’t care if Court crawls under a rock, curls up, and dies. After the way he left me—”
Seth’s face twisted in pain. “He tried to kill himself, Rowan.”
She stared at him, unable to process the words for a moment as her hands flew to her mouth, as though she could somehow take back her horrible words. “Is he all right? Where is he? Is—?”
“He’s okay. For now. I got to him in time. But…Rowan…he’s in a dark place right now. Real dark.”
“But suicide?! How could he do that? Why would he even think—?”
“Dad killed himself. He rode out into that storm to die. For us, for the money, so we could keep going. It wasn’t an accident,” he told her.
The breath seemed forced from Rowan’s lungs. Her head swam, and she nearly lost her balance. “Oh God! Oh God. Oh Seth, I’m so sorry! That’s so awful. That’s—”
She reached for him instinctively, to comfort him, but he pulled away. For the first time since Rowan had been back to Star Valley, Seth kept her at a distance. And it hurt more than she could have believed possible. More than Court cheating. More than taking Willow to the park where other kids’ daddies played with them.
She felt gutted, soulless.
“Seth, don’t,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t leave me.”
The look on his face mirrored the pain she felt twisting in her belly. “I have to do what’s right for my family,” he replied.
“Seth—”
“My father killed himself, Rowan. That’s how much he was willing to sacrifice for us. If…if I can’t even give up…the thing I want most, for Court…” His voice broke then, and he looked away, toward the mountains, their mountains.
The setting sun, with its layers of red and gold, felt so goddamn significant that Rowan choked back a sob.
“I’ll always be here,” he promised. “Anything you need.”
“We need you,” she countered.
“With the farm.”
“We need you, Seth,” Rowan cried, but all he did was shake his head. Rage boiled inside her at being abandoned, yet again. And this time, well, this time it was her own damn fault, wasn’t it? For being so trusting, for daring to hope. “Then go!” she screamed. And if he didn’t want to touch her, well, that was just too damn bad, because Rowan lifted her arms and shoved him as hard as she could.
His large, muscled frame barely moved an inch in the wake of her fury, and that made her even more angry. She pushed again, and this time, either she’d done a better job, or he let her think it, because he moved back, away from her, out of reach again.
“Go!” she shouted again. “And don’t ever come back. I don’t ever—ever—want to see your face again. I’ll let this place catch fire!” she declared. “Struck by lightning and burn to the fucking ground before I’ll ever ask you for anything again!”
To her horror, Rowan watched as Seth did just that. Head hanging, he turned and walked back to his truck. Bile rose in her throat as he opened the driver’s-side door, slid in, and closed it firmly, shutting her out for real now. As he drove away, a sob finally wrenched from her, and Rowan pressed both her hands—hard—into her belly, trying to physically push it back down.
It spilled out of her, though. Tears, and sobs, and long, keening cries. She reached out blindly for the side of the barn, laying her palm against it to keep herself from sinking into the mud beneath her feet. She failed, though. Her knees buckled, and the splashes on her jeans turned to darkened stains as she knelt on the cold ground.
Kinka nudged her, whining and concerned.
Rowan couldn’t even form the words to tell him everything was okay.
Mostly because everything was not okay.
And never would be again.
He barked sharply, sounding the alarm. Somewhere through the haze of despair, Rowan heard the front door slam, heard boots clomping their way toward her.
“Mama?” Willow cried.
Rowan fought valiantly to get herself under control, to put on a brave face for her daughter. She dug her nails into her palms, trying to use physical pain to drive out the emotional. Spots of blood welled, and Willow gasped as she got close enough to see. “Mama!”
Rowan took a deep breath and managed to speak. “No, it’s fine,” she declared loudly. Her voice was brittle on the wind. “It’s fine. I fell. I fell down. I’m okay.”
The front door banged again, and this time Emma came charging out, Remington in hand. Rowan saw her scan the property for danger. Not finding any, she darted toward Rowan and Willow. Rowan lifted a bloody hand, tried to wave her sister away, tried to tell her that the danger had already passed. Rowan had walked head first into it, despite every warning, every alarm bell that had told her not to go down this road again.
She’d been taken down by a predator, and there was ample proof of the attack. She was bloody and crying and dirty.
Emma understood, as only a sister could, exactly what had happened. She shouldered the rifle and put a hand on Willow’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” Emma assured Willow. “She’s not hurt. Go on back up to the house.”