Mariah cheered up when she met Buddy, and we brought him home. While my mother wasn’t ecstatic about having an animal in the house, she was happy to see Mariah smiling again. With Buddy came a tentative peace and a fun distraction, and I was grateful to the dog for providing both.
But as the days crawled by, I continued to miss Cheyenne with an intensity that refused to let up. Not only that, but I mourned the life I’d imagined for us—and holding the keys to a house we were going to share brought only sadness and regret.
I picked up Mariah and Buddy, and we drove over to our new address, where my daughter and I watched our new dog run around the snow-covered yard and check out his own little abode.
“You think he likes it?” Mariah asked as he sniffed around the old doghouse.
“I think so. Look at his tail wagging.”
She laughed. “He’s so cute. I wish Cheyenne could see him.”
At the mention of her name, my chest caved in. It was unfathomable to me that I’d never hold her again, kiss her again, make her smile, make her laugh, hear her whisper my name while I moved inside her.
Was this really all my fault? Was Mariah right? Had I not loved her the right way? Had I not loved her enough? Had I not tried hard enough to show it?
I had no idea anymore. All I knew was that I was back at the bottom of the rut with no light above me and no way out, sinking in the muck. And it felt like I’d thrown myself there.
When Griffin texted and asked me to go out for a beer that night, I almost turned him down. I was exhausted, I was behind on packing for the move, and I didn’t necessarily want to hear a lecture. No doubt Cheyenne had told her family about the breakup. Was he going to be angry with me for hurting her? He understood that it had been her choice, right?
In the end, I decided to meet him, if only to get out of my bedroom. The walls were closing in on me.
We met at the pub and sat at the bar. McIntyre came over and poured us a couple beers. For a few minutes, we nursed them in silence. Since I’d sort of felt like a kid sitting in the principal’s office waiting to get in trouble, I was a little surprised that he wasn’t talking.
“How was your trip to Nashville?” I asked.
“It was good. Blair’s family is . . . something else.”
“You got along with them?”
“I did, but four days of Beaufort will last me a while.”
I almost laughed.
“So what’s going on with you?” he asked, casually sipping his beer. It was obvious he knew.
“I take it you’ve talked to Cheyenne.”
“Yes.”
“Is she . . . okay?”
“No, Cole. She isn’t.”
I felt like he’d punched me in the gut. “Fuck.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t even know.” I straightened up in my seat. “One minute things were fine, and the next she was crying.” I felt my lip begin to twitch.
“Really?”
I slumped over again. Elbows on the bar, head in my hands. “No.”
We sat in silence for a minute. Griffin nursed his beer. “Look, I don’t want you to be mad at this, but I also talked to Beckett and Moretti.”
“About me?” Sitting back, I glared at him. “What the fuck for?”
“Because we’re worried about you, Cole. You’re not okay.”
I stared at the surface of the bar, scuffed and nicked and beat-up from years of abuse. “No. I’m not.”
“So I’m going to ask you about some stuff, and don’t bother lying. You’re the fucking worst liar in the world, and we both know it.”
I grimaced. “Fine.”
“Who’s having the nightmares? You or Mariah?”
“Me,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Did you lie about that to my sister because you don’t trust her?”
I shook my head. “I lied because I was ashamed.”
“Okay. So far, so good. But this next one might be tough.” He fortified himself with another sip of his beer first. “Did you fuck shit up with Cheyenne so that you wouldn’t have to deal with your glass-half-empty attitude?”
I glared at him again. “It’s more than that and you know it.”
“You’re right. It’s more than that, which is why you need to be talking to someone who isn’t a mechanic right now. I can fix anything under the hood, because I can see it.” He reached over and rapped on my skull with his knuckles. “But whatever’s wrong under there needs somebody else.”
“I’m not fucking broken,” I said defensively, pushing his hand away. “Maybe this is just the way I am, and people around me need to deal with it.”
“Maybe,” he agreed with a shrug.
“See? This is why I was better off alone. I don’t know why no one believed me.”
He held up his hands. “Totally fine. If you wanted to be alone for the rest of your life, Cole, that would be A-OK with me. I’ll still be your friend. But that’s not what you want.”
I scowled, because he was right.
“Last question. Are you in love with her?”
“Yes.” That one was easy.
“Then I lied. I have another question. Do you remember what you said to me when I was being a dipshit about Blair? When I broke up with her and told her to leave because I never wanted to need someone?”
I tried to recall my exact words but couldn’t. “No.”
“Well, I do. You said losing someone you love hurts like hell. But there wasn’t one day with Trisha you’d take back, even knowing how it ended.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. “Now I remember.”
“You still feel that way?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“So then why are you throwing away all the days you could have with Cheyenne, even if you knew exactly when the world was going to end?”
“But if I knew, I’d be prepared,” I snapped, angry that he was poking so close to the bone. “That’s the point.”
Griffin exhaled. “Okay. Last thing for real, and it’s not even a question. During that same conversation we had back then, you said that given how long we’d been friends, you’d expect me to tell you if you were fucking something up in a big way.”
I grimaced, knowing what was coming.
“And so, Cole, I say to you, as you did to me, you’re fucking something up in a big way. You also told me I was being a real asshole about it, but I’m going to be the bigger man and not call you names.”
“Thanks,” I said flatly.
At that point, we were interrupted by a few people who’d seen the news story about the baby, and I had to shake some hands and pose for a picture. When we were alone again, Griffin chuckled. “Guess this town really needed a hero.”
“I’m not a fucking hero,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. “I was doing my job.”
“You saved a life either way, jackass. And maybe that little girl is going to grow up and cure cancer. Or be President. Or save the whales. You never know what good things can happen, Cole. But you have to believe they can.”
I frowned, although I fucking loved the idea of that tiny baby growing up to do great things. Nothing made me happier than imagining the good Mariah was going to do. I loved being a father. Watching my daughter grow up was the greatest gift that life had ever given me.
Suddenly I pictured her perfect-day collage, which was still hanging on my mother’s refrigerator. It was obvious from the photos she’d chosen what mattered to her—family, tradition, love. Those things mattered to her because I’d raised her that way—they mattered to me too.
I thought about my perfect day—it was summertime, and I was on the pitcher’s mound at the ball field, and Griff was over on first base, Moretti was at second, and Beckett was behind the plate. The Mavs were down, and I had a no-hitter going. I looked over to my right, and there was Mariah, playing by the fence with her friends, and in the stands, there was Cheyenne. She was holding a baby on her hip and pointing at me with a smi
le on her face, and I knew she was saying, That’s your daddy right there.
It was so real I could feel the sun on my skin, smell the dirt and the sweat, feel the love in my heart.
I wanted it—and it wasn’t going to happen at the bottom of this rut.
Could I claw my way out? But how?
Cheyenne had said I had to fight—but when the enemy was something buried deep within you, how could you face it down?
“You think she would talk to me?” I asked Griffin.
“Now I’m going to call you an asshole. Of course she would. She loves you.” He pointed at me. “And even though I told you jerks never to touch my sister, I’m going to let this go.”
Finally, I managed to laugh. “Sorry about that.”
“You should be.” He finished his beer. “I will say this, though. Do not mess with her. She’s always been a pain-in-the-ass little punk sister, but she’s my pain-in-the-ass little punk sister. And no matter what she says, she still needs her big brother to look out for her.”
I nodded. “I hear you.”
“Good.” He clapped me on the back. “She’ll be at our place for New Year’s Eve. Show your face. Say nice things. Don’t be a dick.”
As if it were that simple.
But I would try.
Thirty-One
Cheyenne
I checked my phone for the hundredth time, agonized to see it had only been ten minutes since I’d last looked.
“Will you stop?” Blair said, taking a tray of spring rolls from the oven. “It’s not even nine yet, and already I can tell you want to go home. You’ve got hours until midnight.”
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
“Into what?” she asked, grabbing her kitchen tongs to transfer the rolls to a platter. “Leaving your house? Putting on lipstick? Trading your I-give-up sweatpants for a gold sequin miniskirt?”
“All of it.” I looked down at my outfit. “But especially the miniskirt.”
She laughed. “You look fucking hot, and every guy in here is trying to work up the nerve to approach you. You need to stop hiding out in the kitchen.”
“Give me a break. Most of the guys in here I’ve known since I was born. They’re all Griffin’s friends.”
“Not true,” she argued. “I specifically invited some new people tonight to make the party more interesting. See that guy talking to Beckett by the window?”
I looked over and saw who she meant. “Yeah.”
“Well, he’s been staring at you since he got here.”
Self-conscious, I touched my hair. “Who is he?”
“His name is Zachary Simon. He’s a lawyer, new in town. Just moved from Mason City.”
“How’d you meet him?”
“He’s a regular at the bakery every morning. He said he had no plans tonight because he doesn’t know many people in town, so I invited him. You should go introduce yourself.”
“Blair! He could be a serial killer or something. You don’t even know this guy.”
“I’m not saying you should go out to the alley with him, I’m just trying to get you out of my way here.” She moved around me to grab her oven mitt. “And it wouldn’t kill you to have a conversation with someone new.”
“It’s no use,” I said with a sigh. “I’m not over Cole. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
Blair gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”
“Still no word on whether he’ll show up tonight?”
She shook her head. “Griffin didn’t say much about their conversation. Just that Cole said he still loves you and he’s trying to work through some stuff. He might come tonight, he might not.”
“Yeah. That’s what Griffin told me too.” A lump jumped into my throat, and I tried to wash it away with champagne.
“He was annoyingly tight-lipped about it all. But I guess you can’t fault him—Cole’s been his bestie for what, almost thirty years? They’re loyal to each other.”
“I know.”
Blair finally stopped bustling around and faced me. “Look. You’re here, you’ve got a nice glass of champagne, you look like a million bucks, just go say hi to the new guy, okay? For me. Do it now. Beckett just walked away from him, and he’s all alone. I feel bad.”
I sighed again. “Fine. For you. But I’m warning you now, I don’t think I’m going to make it to midnight. I miss my couch and my sweatpants already, and if Cole shows up, I might embarrass myself by crying in my bubbly.”
She gave me a shove in the direction of the window. “Go.”
Pressing my lips together, I walked casually over toward the new guy, who gave me a friendly smile as I approached. He was really very handsome, with wavy dark hair, warm brown eyes, and an athletic build. But I didn’t care. In a way, it would have been much easier if my pulse had started to race when I got close to him, but it didn’t. In fact, he wore too much cologne, and the first instinct I had was to sneeze.
Thankfully, I held it off.
“Hi,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Cheyenne.”
“Zachary,” he said, closing his hand around mine. “You’re Blair’s friend. She told me about you.”
“She talks a lot,” I said, shooting Blair a murderous look over my shoulder. “I hear you’re new in town.”
“Yes. Only been here about a month. But I like it.”
“What brought you to Bellamy Creek?”
“My job. I’m an attorney for . . .”
But I completely lost track of what he was saying because suddenly I saw Cole appear at the top of the stairs. I might have gasped, because Zachary broke off mid-sentence and looked at me a little funny. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, anything but. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
He started up again about whatever it was he did, but I didn’t hear a word of it because Cole and I had locked eyes, and he was headed my way. The look on his face told me he was not happy to see me talking to some other guy.
Well, tough!
He hadn’t so much as called me in a week! I’d thought seeing him would make me cry, but seeing him like this—jealous and possessive, all fists clenched and chest puffed out—just made me mad.
Even if it was kind of hot.
I moved a little closer to Zachary and laughed as if he’d said something funny, which totally confused him.
Cole reached us, his jaw tight. “Cheyenne.”
“Cole.” My heart was banging hard against my ribs.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“I’m already talking to someone.” I glanced at Zachary, who looked annoyed and baffled in equal measure, not that I blamed him.
“I can see that.”
Zachary held out his hand. “Zachary Simon.”
Cole hesitated before taking it. “We’ve met before. I’m Cole Mitchell. I pitch for the Bulldogs.”
“Ah.” After a very brief handshake, Zachary nodded.
“You two know each other?” I asked.
“He plays for the Mavs,” Cole said, his icy blue eyes trained on Zachary.
Oh, Jesus. Fucking old man baseball.
“Not anymore,” Zachary said with a laugh. “I moved to Bellamy Creek, so I’m hoping there might be a spot on the Bulldog roster next season.”
“We’ll see.” Cole looked at me. “Cheyenne, please. Can we talk?”
“Go ahead,” Zachary said graciously, moving toward the couches. “Nice meeting you both.”
I faced Cole. “What do you want?”
“Lots of things.” His eyes, softer now, traveled over me from head to foot. “But you’re so beautiful, I can’t think straight.”
My walls crumbled a little, but I was determined to stand tall, just like he was. “Thank you.”
He struggled for words. “I miss you. Mariah misses you.”
At the mention of his daughter, I softened further. “I miss her too. How is she? Does she love her new dog?”
“Yes. But she’s been p
retty miserable without seeing you. And so have I.”
“Guess that’s the theme this Christmas,” I said, taking a sip of champagne. The glass trembled in my fingers.
“I know, and it’s my fault.” Then he glanced around. “And I have a lot of things I want to say to you, but this doesn’t feel like the right place.”
Hope was rising in my heart, but I refused to let it come to the surface. I’d missed him too, but missing each other wasn’t enough. “What’s the right place?”
“Will you leave with me?”
“Now?”
He nodded, taking my hand. “Please.”
“It’s New Year’s Eve, Cole. I’m at a party,” I said, as if I gave a shit about any of it.
“I know, and I’m sorry. This wasn’t the plan. I just”—he glanced toward Zachary Simon—“saw you talking to that guy and fucking hated it.”
I pulled my hand back. “No. That’s not good enough.”
“Huh?”
“Missing me isn’t enough. Getting jealous isn’t enough.”
His expression turned angry. “What will be enough? I’m fucking trying here, Cheyenne. Why won’t you listen?”
“I am listening, Cole. But what I’m hearing is nothing new, nothing that reassures me you’re ready to deal with your issues.”
“And what will prove that?”
“I don’t know,” I said, the tears finally spilling over. “But not this.”
Without another word, I left him standing there, set my glass on the kitchen counter and went to grab my coat from the bedroom. When I came back out, he was waiting for me in the hallway.
“Please don’t go,” he said, his expression tortured. “Let me try again.”
“Don’t make this difficult, Cole.” I buttoned up my coat, my eyes blurry with tears. “It will embarrass us both.”
“Everything okay?” Blair appeared behind him.
“Everything is fine,” I said. “I’m just getting my coat on. I’m taking off.”
Cole took me by the shoulders and spoke quietly but ferociously. “Listen to me. I love you. I want a life with you, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to have it. Somehow I’ll find a way to prove it to you.”
At that moment, I desperately wanted to melt into his arms and tell him it would be okay, but I knew that wasn’t the answer. If I did, nothing would ever change. “I hope so, Cole.”
Make Me Yours: The Bellamy Creek Series Page 29
