Slow Burn Cowboy(58)

There was nothing real there. Everything about it was imagined. Because it had been much less dramatic than that. He had come home from school one day to find the house empty of all her things.

She hadn’t taken the pictures. That was the most notable thing to him. All of the pictures of his childhood, the pictures of the two of them together, the life they had built after his father had left... She had well and truly left it behind. No reminders needed.

He swallowed hard, his throat aching, his limbs shaking.

He had tried to be everything for her. He had tried to protect her. He had gone to his grandfather’s ranch to give her space, to give her time alone over the summer. He had done his very best to be good. To never intrude on her life.

Except, he hadn’t been able to watch that man take his fists to her face.

But even then, she had found him wrong. Found him disappointing.

And it had been the final thing that pushed her away.

How would he ever know? How would he ever know what the last straw would be with anyone? His father had just left. There had been no warning. There was nothing to learn from. With his mother... He had tried. He had.

He had thought he was doing the right thing, and it had gone the worst possible way.

How would he ever know if that would happen again?

Trust.

He imagined Lane again, pressing her hands against his chest, looking at him with earnestness in her brown eyes. She was right. This wasn’t a hypothetical wife. Not a hypothetical love. It was her.

The woman he had damn well loved from the moment he first laid eyes on her more than ten years ago.

He felt like he’d been kicked in the chest by a horse. Following on the heels of feeling like he’d been punched clean through the chest, it was a very heavy feeling.

He did love her. He always had. And he was no better than she was. He was nothing but a coward.

He had told himself all those years he was protecting her, because she was vulnerable. That she wouldn’t be able to handle him. That he would ruin the friendship.

But he had simply been afraid of the strength of his own feelings. And when he hadn’t been able to control them anymore, he had taken a different approach. Had pushed the line to try and get what he wanted, while half expecting her to run the other way. And, deep down, part of him had figured that if she did run it might be a win anyway. Because he would know. Because it would be over. Because his heart wouldn’t exist in this damned limbo where he was desperate to regain all control of it while Lane Jensen held on to it.

Control. All of these years he had tried to keep control.

He had found some of it on the ranch, and then when his grandfather had died he had lost even that semblance of it. And now, he could really feel it all being wrenched from his grasp. He had messed everything up. He had nothing of his own. He didn’t even have his best friend.

Standing in this giant, beautiful ranch house, and outfitted with everything he could possibly want, everything he could possibly need, it seemed a little absurd to contemplate. But he had less now than he’d ever had at any moment in the past decade.

There was a freedom in that. A strange, exhilarating freedom. He had nothing left to lose. He was standing here in the middle of his worst fear. Lane had left him. He had succeeded in pushing her away.

But it didn’t have to be over. Like Cain had said, he could be a sob story or he could be a man.

Finn Donnelly was a damn man.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LANE WANTED BEREAVEMENT LEAVE. Or at least for someone to bring her bereavement food. She had made three casseroles, and she didn’t even want to eat them. And now, she was manning the counter at her store knowing that she looked like a wraith and not particularly wanting to do anything about it.

By the time the third little old lady had told her she would be prettier if she smiled, she considered trying. But she only gave it the barest bit of consideration.

She was moping halfway through the day when Alison came in with a box of pie in her arms. “Cassie told me that you looked like you needed butter when she walked by earlier today.” Alison frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Lane reached down and grabbed a couple of receipts that were stacked on the counter. She threw them up in the air and made an explosion noise.

“Yeah,” Alison said, “I don’t speak sound effects. Words would be good.”

Lane rested her elbows on the counter, and her cheeks in her hands. She knew that she looked pathetic, as pathetic as she felt. She didn’t even care. In fact, she was somewhat satisfied by it. That her exterior so fully matched her interior.

“I have no words,” she told her friend.

“That is deeply concerning,” Alison said, setting down the pie. “You always have words. An excess of words. I have never, not once, seen you without them.”

Lane lifted her head and spread her hands. “None.”

“Okay, drama queen. Find some.”

Lane opened her mouth to say what was wrong, she really did, but then her throat got tight, and her eyes filled with tears. She really didn’t want to cry in the store, because a real customer could come in at any moment and she didn’t want to be some cliché weeping woman, blubbering at work over a guy.

But, she really felt like blubbering at work over a guy.

“Okay,” Alison said. “Now you’re really scaring me.”

“It’s Finn. He...he doesn’t love me.”

Alison’s arms were around her before she could say anything else. “I will cut him,” she said, “right in the junk.”

“Thanks,” Lane said, her voice muffled.

“I probably won’t actually do that,” Alison said. “I’ve worked hard to build a life for myself. I really don’t need to end up in prison. Although, I bet if I talked to Sheriff Garrett he would make me a really good deal.” She pulled away from Lane. “He would probably attest to my psychological issues and general rage at the male species.”

“I really appreciate your willingness to go on psychiatric lockdown over my emotional trauma. But you don’t need to do that. It’s my fault.” She sucked in a shaking breath. “We both said what we wanted... Or, what we didn’t want at the beginning. I’m the one that changed. I decided that I wanted more. Because I decided to do this stupid emotional healing thing, where I let down all my walls and demanded to be loved. What a stupid idea. I should have stayed dysfunctional. Then I would have my friend, and I would have sex.”

Alison nodded. “I see the appeal.”

“What was I thinking?”

“Well, I imagine you were thinking that you couldn’t limit yourself for a man. For anyone. Trust me, if you try to shrink yourself down for a relationship you’ll end up disappearing. I’ve been there. I’ve done that.”

“Yeah,” Lane said. “But Finn isn’t like Jared. He would never... He would never hurt me on purpose.” Except, last night had felt both pointed and purposeful. “Physically,” she amended.

“I feel like I’m the wrong person to have walked in on this crisis,” Alison said. “I have nothing but a dim view of romantic relationships.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t like to see you sad.” She lifted a shoulder. “I also would be a little sad to be the last single one in the group, so I suppose there’s a silver lining for me.”

Lane snorted. “Good. I’m glad that your needs are being met.”

“Hey,” Alison said, popping the lid on the pie box, “I am seeing to your needs too.”

“Thank you,” she said, meaning it. “But I can’t afford to go full food coma until after I close up shop.”

Alison stood there for a moment. “I have to get back soon.”

“Sure,” Lane said.

“I’m training Violet. She’s kind of delightful. I mean, if you can see past the snark. But I actually don’t have to see past the snark to enjoy her. I kind of like it.”

“Well, at least one of us has a working relationship.”

Alison frowned. “This sucks,” she said. “I wish it were me. You know, that I could take your place. Because I wouldn’t care.”

That made Lane laugh with sincerity. “Well, in that case, I wish you could be me too.”

“What are you going to do?”

She took a deep breath. “What I was doing. I’m going to get the subscription boxes working. I’m going to use products from the Laughing Irish. I’m going to grow my business, just like I wanted to do. Honestly, if I learned anything from dealing with the reappearance of Cord McCaffrey in my life—even if it was just a virtual reappearance—it’s that I can’t afford to let pain from the past dictate my future. Even if it’s really serious pain. Although, in this instance, I suppose I am letting pain from my past motivate me, but, that I think might be okay.”

“You’re a badass,” Alison said, “and not nearly as pathetic as I was when I went through my divorce. You’re going to rebound nicely.”

Lane tried to smile. “Thank you. I’ll try to cling to the rebound hope.”

“I’ll check in with you later. You want Rebecca to come over in about an hour? Then Cassie can come after her.”

“You don’t have to take tragedy shifts. I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine, but she kind of preferred to do her weeping in private.