Slow Burn Cowboy(27)

“You want me,” he said, the words tortured.

She held her hand up, her entire body trembling. With need, both to keep going and to get as far away from him as she possibly could.

“No,” she said. “I was perfectly happy to leave everything the way it was, Finn. You’re the one that’s having a breakdown, or whatever the hell this is.”

“This isn’t a breakdown. Trust me. None of this is new to me.”

“Don’t tell me that,” she said, clutching her head. “I trust you. I need you. You’re my... Everything. I can’t deal with this right now. I can’t deal with it ever. I’ve had you in my house. I’ve considered you my closest friend, and knowing that you were looking at me, knowing that you wanted to do this... That’s a betrayal, Finn.”

Maybe she was being a little bit dramatic. Maybe spitting these kinds of invectives at the one person she cared about more than just about anyone else wasn’t going to go very far in fixing this broken thing between them. But she couldn’t stop herself. This new thing exploding between them hurt her. It scared her. She wanted him to be hurt and scared too.

“I never betrayed you, Lane,” he said, his voice rough. “I have done nothing but be there for you. I never asked you for a damn thing you didn’t want to give. Not even when I wanted more. Don’t talk to me about betrayal. Don’t look at me like you’re shocked, like you’re hurt. You’re just in denial. You have been for a decade.”

Rage spiked in her, and she forgot for a moment. All about self-protection, all about hiding. She forgot about everything but her anger. Everything but her hurt.

“I am entitled to my fucking denial!” she shouted, not caring when her voice broke, splintered. “This isn’t what I need. You, like this, aren’t what I need.”

“And what I need doesn’t matter?”

“If you want sex go down to Ace’s and announce that you’re looking to fill the vacancy in your bed. You’ll find somebody. But it’s not going to be me. It can’t be me.”

“Why not?”

How could she tell him? How could she describe this feeling? Like she was slowly sliding down a hill, and then the ground beneath had given way. A landslide, carrying her all the way down to God knew where, threatening to swallow her completely. To bury her.

She felt like her rock, her safe place had been stolen from her. By the one person she had trusted more than anyone else.

She wanted to hit him. Wanted to make him pay for this. To hurt him the way he had hurt her. Somewhere, down at the bottom of all this blind rage, she had to admit—at least to herself—that he hadn’t done anything to her. Sure, he had kissed her, but a kiss was only a kiss. And if there was no heat between them it wouldn’t matter.

It was the heat that scared her.

Because she needed him to be Finn. Finn Donnelly, the man she had always known, the man she had taken emotional shelter with for the past ten years. She needed him to be that dependable, reliable rock he had always been for her.

She was suddenly awash in the unfairness of it. All of it. The fact that she expected him to continue being exactly what she needed and nothing more. Nothing less. The fact that he didn’t want to be, and she wanted to be entirely selfish and tell him to just stop being attracted to her then.

She didn’t want to care about what he felt. About what he wanted. Because she needed him to be hers. Hers in the way that he had always been.

That way that had allowed her to hide.

“Because it can’t be me,” she said finally, knowing that she sounded both desperate and scared, and wishing she could sound a little angrier. At least then he might take a step back. Instead of just standing there, maddening and immovable in all the wrong ways.

“I need better than that,” he said. “You owe me a real explanation.”

“Okay, it never works for friends to just have sex.”

“Why not? It’s worked for us to not have sex this long. Might as well change it up.”

“You’re being ridiculous. And obtuse. You know perfectly well that there’s just no point to it. That it’s going to ruin what we have. You probably already ruined it.”

Saying those words terrified her. Made her want to run to her room and close the door, lock it behind her. Hide from him. Hide from her racing heart, the ache that still persisted between her thighs, and from her traitorous hands that still itched to touch his muscles.

“I’m not having this conversation,” she said finally, turning away from him.

“If we can’t have this conversation, what’s the point in us talking at all?”

She turned around again, the finality in his words sending a streak of horror through her. “If you don’t get your way you’re not going to talk to me anymore?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying we need to be able to talk honestly. You don’t have to do anything, Lane. But you do have to talk to me. What the hell is this friendship if we’re just pretending?”

For some reason, an image came to mind. Of her in bed, wrapped tightly in blankets, with Finn trying to take them off her. It would have been funny if it didn’t feel quite so desperate. If she didn’t feel quite so frantic in her need to cling to them. To that warm, comfortable cocoon that she had wrapped herself in ten years ago when she had first crossed the border into Copper Ridge.

It was all ruined now. All of it. Because of Cord McCaffrey. Because of Finn Donnelly and his new insistence that they kiss. Because of her body really liking the way that he kissed.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” she said.

“I’ve been there for you. And I haven’t asked much from you. But I want you, Lane, and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

When he put it like that, it didn’t seem quite so horrible. It seemed almost reasonable. Except no, part of her fought back, it was unreasonable. Because yes, his grandfather had died, and yes, he was fighting to keep control of the ranch, but she was fighting an entirely different kind of pain. A different enemy.

And he didn’t even know. Not really. He didn’t know why he meant the world to her. Why this place, and the safety that she found in their friendship was so important.

“I can’t,” she said. “Because I need a friend. You’re my friend. You don’t know what it was like when I came here. What I was running from. And that isn’t by accident. But it’s followed me here now.”

Finn stiffened. “What’s going on? Are you in danger? Is there somebody coming after you?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s not like that. It’s just... It’s complicated. You think you know me. You think you know who I am. I guess maybe you even think we’ve exhausted everything there is to our friendship. And that’s why now you want to kiss me, and sleep with me. Because you think that’s the only mystery left. Well, there’s more.”

“That’s not it,” he said, his voice rough. “That’s not what’s happening here. It isn’t like I think I’ve uncovered everything worthwhile and now I figure I might as well move on to your breasts.”

Dimly, she realized that had it been any other circumstance she would have laughed. But there was no laughing now. She was going to tell him. The moment she realized it, was the moment she realized she couldn’t turn back.

“I can make it so you don’t want me,” she said, forcing a smile because the alternative was crying.

He did laugh, the sound jagged, cutting into her, deep. “If you could do that, Lane, I would be grateful to you. Because I have spent a hell of a long time trying to make myself not want you. Or lost myself in alcohol, in other women, in the ranch. I reminded myself every time I looked at you that you were Mark’s sister. And I’ve tried to make myself see his face whenever I look at yours. I’ve reminded myself over and over again that you deserve a man who’s going to love you forever, a man who’s going to marry you, and I’m not that man. I don’t know the first thing about commitment or love, and what I have seen of it, I didn’t care for. I’m just a man who wants inside you. And you’re a woman who deserves a lot more. None of that works. So, if you have the magic key, I’ll take it. Go ahead.”

It made her feel a little bit hysterical, borderline giddy. “You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. Not even Mark knows this. If you were wondering why he never told you the reason I don’t talk to my parents, it’s because he doesn’t know either.” Terror clutched at her chest, making it feel like there was a stone lodged in her throat. Her body’s last-ditch effort to keep her secret, she supposed. She had done it for so long, it felt like part of her survival. Even though that was ridiculous. Even though she knew better. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes. “I had a baby, Finn. And I gave him away.”

The silence that followed the admission was almost unbearable. He said nothing; he didn’t move. His face seemed frozen, and she was pretty sure her body was frozen right along with it. She didn’t know what else to say. She had no idea how to tell the story, because she never had.