I could have just knocked to announce myself. I knew I would have been invited in. I could have said hi and finally asked Chance my question, but instead, I backed away from the door and out of John’s room. Chance and John were sharing a moment too intimate to throw myself into. I didn’t know why a son shaving his dying father’s face felt so private—I felt as if I’d just walked in a couple making love—but I couldn’t interrupt them. They had few moments like those left.
In my room, I flipped on the lights and kept the door open a crack so that when Chance left his dad’s room and walked by, I could catch him. To kill some time, I decided to finally unpack my suitcase. I’d been putting it off for a bunch of reasons, but it was clear to me now that this wouldn’t be a get-in-and-get-out-quickly kind of trip.
When I was done, I started weeding through the old clothes and shoes I’d left behind. John hadn’t had them packed up and dropped off at some thrift store the way I guessed most people would have. In fact, most of the boots were still lined up how I used to keep them, and the shirts still hung from one side of the closet and the pants on the other. Nothing had changed about my room, but everything around it seemed to have. From the people to the place . . . this room was the only part of Red Mountain that had been frozen in time. Other than Chance.
When I thought of him, I crawled out of the closet and found I’d killed a whole hour sorting through my old junk. With a grumble, I headed for the door. I guessed Chance was long gone from John’s room, and the darkness at the end of the hall confirmed that, so I headed to the first floor. I was about to go to the kitchen, guessing he was there with the cheesecake Faye had been enjoying earlier, when I heard the voice of the person I was looking for coming from a different room.
Moving toward the library, I paused to the side of the door—again—so I wouldn’t interrupt. Chance was talking with Chase, although it didn’t look like Chase was in the mood to have whatever conversation they were having.
“Come on. Why don’t you come out and help me tomorrow morning?” Chance’s voice trickled into the still hall. “It’ll be good for you.”
Chase let out a sharp exhale. “Good for me?” Then another sharp exhale. “Chance, come on. Some girl didn’t just stand me up on our first date. My wife died. In her twenties. Because of me.” A thud sounded as I guessed whatever Chase was close to had just gotten introduced to his fist. “There’s nothing I can do or you can do or anyone can do, short of bringing Jenny back to life, that will be ‘good for me.’”
“That’s not what I meant,” Chance replied. “I’m not trying to get you to forget. I’m just hoping to take your mind off it for a few hours.”
Chase laughed a few high notes. “Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t want to take my mind off it? Have you ever considered that you don’t have the answers to every problem? Have you ever considered that not all of us are so damn perfect like you?” Chase’s voice continued to rise until it was booming.
“I’m not, nor do I pretend to be, perfect, so why don’t you let that theory go right now?” For the first time in their conversation, I detected an edge in Chance’s voice.
Chase replied with another sharp laugh. “Could have fooled me and everyone else who’s ever had the privilege of meeting Mr. Perfect.”
“Chase—”
“Just leave me the fuck alone.” The volume was gone from Chase’s voice, leaving behind the pain. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to be distracted. I don’t want to be mended. Just leave me alone.”
They were silent for so long I almost stuck my head in the doorway to see what was happening.
That was when Chase’s voice dialed up a few notches. “Now. Leave me alone.”
When I heard footsteps getting closer, I crept down the dark hall, not wanting to be seen. That was yet another conversation I didn’t want Chance to know I’d overheard. It was one I wished I hadn’t overheard.
When Chance thundered out of the library, he turned down the hall and headed for the foyer. His shoulders were tense, his steps thunderous. I wasn’t used to seeing him like that, which might have been the reason I cowered for a few extra minutes before following him out the front door.
I didn’t think to grab a jacket before stepping into the cool night, nor did I consider grabbing a flashlight before heading out into the dark. All I was concerned with was finding Chance. My question for him took a backseat to my desire to make sure he was okay. I guessed he knew, as I did, that Chase was lashing out from a place of pain and guilt, but that didn’t always make a person feel better.
Lunging across the yard toward the barn, I listened for any noises that would give away where Chance had disappeared to. I felt like I’d spent the whole night chasing Chance and still hadn’t caught up.
Outside the barn, I listened. The only sounds coming from within were the noises of the animals bedding down for the night. His truck was still parked out front, so he couldn’t have driven off. Where would he have gone? I blew out a tired breath when I realized that Chance could be headed anywhere on the thousands of acres around us. He knew it all, and disappearing was probably as simple of a decision as what direction his boots took him.
I should have caught him before he’d escaped through the front door. I should have called out to him in the hall. Now I wasn’t sure when I’d see him next.
The next sounds I heard weren’t what I’d have considered typical noises on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. Nope, they were something different: a series of low grunts followed thunks! and whacks! that echoed around the area. Running toward where it was coming from, I found him behind the barn, clutching what looked like a crowbar. He swung it again and again into a large fence post. The post was already leaning at a forty-five degree angle—with a few more hits, it would be totally laid out.
Chance’s back was to me, but I felt the emotion pouring off him. It was so scalding I wanted to turn around and leave, but something about seeing him come undone and fall apart made me move closer.
The crowbar was a blur as it swung over and over into the fence post. Chance’s cries seemed to be as effective at breaking it as the crowbar. When the post finally gave out, it crashed to the earth with a sharp snap, followed by a low whine. Chance stood over the broken fence post, the crowbar still clutched in one hand, while his shoulders rose and fell with his labored breath. He looked so different from the Chance I thought I knew, but still, I kept moving closer.
It was the stick that snapped beneath my boot that moved his attention from the shattered post to me. At first, Chance didn’t seem to see me, but after a few moments, his vision cleared and his whole face fell.
“Did you see all of that?” His voice was low, tight from the exertion.
I nodded, moving closer. “Enough.”
The crowbar slipped from his hand, falling to the dirt beside the fallen post. His forehead creased as he let out a long breath. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, casting his gaze down.
I kept moving closer until I was a couple feet away from him. “Don’t be sorry. Please, don’t be sorry.” I waved at the shattered post. “It’s actually a relief to see you acting . . . normal.”
Chance’s gaze landed on the post. “This isn’t normal.”
“Your dad is dying. Your brother is losing his mind . . . and your other brother lost his mind long ago. Taking it out on a fence post is nothing in comparison to what I’d want to do if I were in your position. Trust me, it’s a relief seeing this.”
The toe of Chance’s boot kicked the post. “How is anything about this a relief?”
“Because it means you’re not a perfect human being who always says the right thing and does the right thing. Because it means you’re a bit more like me than I thought you were.”
Chance sighed. “Why does everyone keep accusing me of that?”
“Of what?”
“Of being perfect.” The word came out as though it tasted bitter in his mouth.
I lifted my
gaze until it almost met with his. “Because compared to the rest of us, you’re the closest one to it.”
He shook his head, refusing to meet my eyes. “I feel every single thing everyone else does. I feel rage and hate and despair and jealousy and every last visceral emotion humans can feel. I just do a better job at concealing them.” He kicked the post again. “Most of the time.”
“So you’re saying you mask the way you feel instead of showing it?” I tried not to smile at the annihilated post. “Most of the time, at least.”
“Exactly.”
“Why? Why not just unleash the hell when you need to or unleash whatever else it is? Why keep all of it bottled inside?”
“Because I’m afraid if I don’t keep what I feel to myself, I’ll lose everything that’s important to me.”
My eyebrows came together. “How would beating the shit out of a few fence posts every once in a while be responsible for you losing what’s important to you?” Other than a couple hours in the morning to repair it, it didn’t seem like a big waste to me.
“It’s not just my anger and frustration I keep to myself.” His voice grew quieter, although his breathing was still irregular.
“What else then?”
But I’d barely gotten my question out before his hands folded around my face, his body pressed into me, and his mouth crushed into mine. I was too shocked to respond. I was too shocked to even think about how to respond. With a shove and a slap? Or by burying my hands into his hair, pulling him closer, and kissing him back in the same feverish way?
His hands were warm, his lips searing against mine . . . I could have melted into him and just let myself enjoy the way his body was making mine feel. I didn’t have to think about the way his mouth on mine made me feel or how his body fitted against mine gave me desires I couldn’t assign a name to. I didn’t have to think about how I knew I should push him away, but all I wanted to do was pull him closer. I didn’t have to consider what this growing feeling was or what it meant or where it should go. I didn’t have to worry about anything—I could just enjoy the kiss and the way it made me feel . . .
That fantasy was cut short when Chance pulled away.
Staggering back a few steps, he muttered a string of curses while he rubbed his temples. “Shit, Scout. Shit. I’m sorry.” He kept taking long steps back, whipping his head from side to side. “I didn’t mean to . . . I shouldn’t have . . . I’m sorry.” When it seemed like he was half a football field away, he finally stopped moving. “I’m sorry.”
I was still reeling from the kiss, the abruptness of it and, most of all, the way it had made me feel. Since I’d gotten back to Red Mountain, I’d known that my feelings for Chance had evolved into something else. But up until that kiss, I’d been happy to stay ignorant to what they were. I couldn’t continue pretending my feelings hadn’t shifted away from friendship. Had I only “friendly” feelings for him, my body wouldn’t be firing to life the way it was. If I still thought of Chance the way I had growing up with him, I wouldn’t have wanted him to kiss me again.
As he continued with his string of I’m sorrys, I broke out of my haze. “Yeah, I heard you the first five dozen times. You’re forgiven. No more apologies please.”
“Scout—”
I lifted my hand, stopping him. “Just . . . it’s okay. Can you give me a minute to let this all settle in?”
Chance settled his hands on his hips, shaking his head at the ground. “I shouldn’t have done that. I wish I hadn’t.”
I hadn’t decided how I wanted to feel about our kiss. I hadn’t come to a definitive conclusion about what it meant, but hearing him say those words kind of broke my heart. He regretted it. Or he was pretending he regretted it. Either way, the fact that I was so upset about his regret gave me my answer as to how and what I felt for him. “Listen, it’s been an emotional night for you. It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“Too late,” he muttered. When I moved toward him, he backed up again.
“Chance, just forget about it tonight. Let’s both sleep on . . . what just happened . . .”—what the hell had just happened?—“and we can sit down and talk about it tomorrow. How does that sound?” I didn’t know how I was able to be the calm and collected one given what I felt was the opposite, but one of us had to stay even-keeled, and Chance didn’t seem up for playing his normal role.
His head slowly lifted, his eyes finding mine. What I saw in them made me take my own steps back from him.
“I’d rather we just forget the whole thing and never talk about it again if it’s okay with you.”
Really, a scalpel to my eyeball wouldn’t have been as painful as those words. How could he not want to talk about it? How could he just want to forget it? How could he refuse to talk to me when I really needed to sort out what I felt for him and what I’d felt coming from him?
“Chance . . .” I wasn’t sure what I would say next, but as soon I said his name, he turned around and started walking away.
“I’m sorry, Scout. I can’t do this right now. I can’t have another heartbreaking conversation tonight.”
I stood there staring at the patch of darkness Chance had disappeared into, the taste of his lips lingering on mine, and accepted that Chance might have been the greatest guy I’d ever know. And I’d let him get away twice.
“YOU SHOULD COME. It won’t be the same without you,” I said as I walked into the library where Chase was wrestling with a very healthy wolf pup on the floor.
“Nah, I’ll have to pass. Besides, someone has to stay behind with wolfy and make sure he doesn’t turn the nurse’s meaty white thighs into a midnight snack.” Chase winked at me while the wolf ran circles around him, occasionally letting out a small yelp to get his attention again.
“Come on, come! We can put him in his enclosure for the night to keep Faye’s thighs off the menu.” I fastened my watch and moved on to combing my wet hair with my fingers. “You should get out. Mingle. Have a couple drinks. Dance a few songs. Those were things you seemed to live for not too long ago.”
Chase’s hand grazed the pup’s fur when he passed by. “I am mingling. As for the drinking and dancing, I waved good-bye to that after graduating college.”
“Then what do you do for fun now?” I sat on the arm of the chair as I wrestled into my boots.
“Fun? What’s that?” Chase’s forehead lined.
When the pup yelped, he got Chase’s attention again and was content for a few more seconds.
“I don’t know if I remember the concept either¸ but I’m going to do my best to try tonight.”
When I’d mentioned to Chase and Chance that I really needed to get out of the house and away from all of the heaviness within it—John had gone from sitting in a chair at the table to being strapped into his electronic wheelchair so he didn’t slide out of it—Chase had been the one to suggest taking a trip into Jackson Hole and for a carefree night of drinking and dancing.
We all knew that meant we could pretend to have a carefree night, but we’d have to pretend really hard. I was at the point where I felt I could pretend really hard. Of course watching John deteriorate had been the worst of it, but between having to ad-hoc a growing healthier and larger wolf pup and interpreting Conn’s steer-clear-and-avoid policy whenever I came within a two-room radius of him, I was in need of some R&R from the ranch.
Not to mention the Chance situation. Lumping him into the same category as the others who were causing me so much distress seemed unfair, but that didn’t change the fact that he was causing me plenty of it. Not intentionally—at least I didn’t think it was intentional—but something was going on between us. I sensed it in the way our eyes stayed locked at the end of a conversation, like we were just waiting for the other to add something else. Or the way I felt him when he was gone, almost as if he was looking right over my shoulder. Or the way he’d looked at me last week when we’d almost run into each other as I was leaving the shower and he was heading toward it. I’d had my bath
robe on, but the way he looked at me in that moment . . . it was almost as if he couldn’t decide whether to avert his eyes and run away in embarrassment or slide me against a wall and graze his fingers along all those parts my bathrobe was hiding.
I could barely look him in the eye for more a second before feeling like I was about to blush anymore, and now we were going out together. Thanks to Chase, we were going out alone. I didn’t mind being alone with Chance—I’d spent the majority of my years there with Chance—but I did mind being alone with him when I realized what I wanted to do with him . . . alone. It wasn’t pulling pranks or helping him muck out stalls anymore either. I wanted stuff far less innocent and far too confusing to explore.
After the kiss-and-run from earlier in the week, Chance had kept his word and not brought it up again. I hadn’t either . . . at least not directly. But I’d spent every hour since he’d kissed me thinking about it, reliving it, and wondering what it meant. He hadn’t been himself that night, and the kiss might have stemmed from that, but it hadn’t felt rash . . . or empty . . . or nothing more than a mere distraction. It had felt like something else entirely, and I was waiting for Chance to confirm it.
“Please say you’ll come? I’ll pick up the tab on your drinks tonight. So long as it’s under five,” I said, remembering several of Chase’s wild nights. He couldn’t throw it back like Conn, but I’d have to take out another loan if I offered to and Chase went all old-school on me.
“Thanks for the offer, but really, I’m good here. I don’t want to leave this little guy alone outside all night.”
When it became clear that Chase’s attention was being shared, the wolf stopped sprinting around him and settled for standing on his chest right before dropping into an exhausted, panting heap.
Chase grinned and wound his arms around the pup. “See? How can I say no to that? I’d have to remove my heart from my chest to walk this guy out to that pen and leave him there all night.”
I dropped back into the chair and accepted that no amount of pleading or bribing would get Chase to tag along tonight. “Yeah, because why would a wolf pup want to spend time outside at night?” I tried to glare at the man and beast twisted around each other on the floor, but to be successful would have required not having a heart.
Three Brothers Page 14
