by Lexie Ray
“Missing a leg?”
“Too much like my fiancé.”
And that’s when it became crystal clear to me, why she didn’t want to be in love with me, Hadley’s next words washing over me.
“It broke me so thoroughly that I didn’t so much as look at another man again,” she said. “Maybe I’m a freak, but I haven’t dated—haven’t had even the tiniest inclination to share any part of my heart or body with another man. I wouldn’t even accept a male lab partner when I finally did go back to school. They called me the ice queen. But you…”
She trailed off, looking away from me again. “It’s not fair, you know, to either of us. You’re so much like him, and that’s not fair to me. We’ll always wonder if I’m just using you as a substitute for him, even if he’s never coming back. We can never be sure of each other. And it’s not fucking fair.”
Whatever strength that had kept her from crying had left her, and she sobbed great big, gulping torrents of tears. She cried with no reservations, completely devastated, feeling her dual-edged loss at its fullest.
I stood slowly, warily, wondering what I should do, what needed to be done to respond to this torrent of truth. There was no coming back from this, no apologies or posturing.
“When I saw you with her, it was like losing everything all over again,” she said, hiccupping as she struggled for air. “Everything came rushing back, and I knew I couldn’t do it again, couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t expect to love someone again.”
I was suddenly and brutally happy I’d chased Eileen off. Even if she never understood the magnitude of her crime, it was big enough to break Hadley’s heart, and I wanted to protect that precious part of the woman weeping in front of me as much as I could.
I approached Hadley slowly, not sure how she would react to me, whether she would push me away. But I couldn’t just stand here and watch her cry. It would be easier to sprout wings and fly.
She stiffened when I folded my arms around her, then changed her mind, clinging to me like she was trying to save herself from going under again. She was right. It wasn’t fair for her to feel like this. This was too much for anyone to cope with alone.
“I’m here now, Hadley,” I said. “I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”
“I can’t lose you, too, Hunter,” she said, her words muffled by the front of my shirt. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to come back from it.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going to speak to Eileen again. She knows better than to come back here.”
“I love you.”
“I know you do. I love you, too.”
“But there’s probably always going to be a part of me that wishes I didn’t.”
“Well, there’s always going to be a part of me that’s plastic, so no one’s perfect.”
She laughed through her tears, and I smiled.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Yes. But you love me, so maybe you’re an idiot, too.”
“That’s fair. I am an idiot.”
Were there two more imperfect people in the world standing together right now? I drew back a little bit and looked at Hadley, her green eyes bloodshot from crying and exhaustion, her auburn hair greasy and falling apart. She was even more beautiful than she ever had been to me before, and I knew it was because, in spite of everything, all of the doubts inside of her own heart, she came back. She came back to me.
I kissed her, lightly at first, then deepened it as she grabbed at me. I felt that kiss creep up my spine, held her tight, tried to reclaim what we’d had, even though I understood this was a new phase of our relationship, completely different from the helpless attraction we shared. Now we came into this thing with clear eyes, because we wanted to be here. It was so powerful to realize, that things could return to a sort of new normal. I’d never have my leg back, but that didn’t mean life was over. Life was simply different, a new normal. After everything Hadley and I had been through, both separately and together, nothing would ever return to being the “same.” We woke up different people every single day. What mattered was that we stayed together and hung onto the fact that we loved each other no matter what.
“You gave me back my life, don’t you understand that?” I asked her, touching her damp cheek, sticky with tear trails.
“You did the same for me,” she breathed, and she kissed me again.
Epilogue
I hated it here.
That was the truest kernel of my soul, the one I kept most carefully guarded.
It was my truth. I hated it here. I hated the ranch. I hated living here, working here, being here. I hated all of it.
This hellhole had taken everything from us, from me, and the rest of my brothers were too blind to see it for what it was. We worked ourselves to the bone for something none of us wanted, a share in a place that was slowly but steadily dragging us under.
I should’ve hated my brothers, too, but I didn’t. I resented them, sure, but I didn’t hate them. They were misguided, and I didn’t like the way they more or less forced me into working the ranch right alongside them, but they were family—the only family I had left. I just wished they could see that life could hold so much more potential outside of this sun-scorched patch of earth. We could’ve gone anywhere we wanted, done anything we wanted, if we’d cut ties with this place and moved on. We’d had dozens of offers of fellow ranchers trying to buy the place, but it was a point of pride for my brothers to keep our parents’ dream alive and sink their entire existence into this place.
Why did all of my brothers love this place so much? Even the ones who had escaped the ranch came back, drawn like metal to a magnet. I didn’t understand why. I’d left and come back, too, but that was a much different story. Why couldn’t any of us Corbins get the hell out of here?
“Avery!”
I turned just in time to see myself nearly get run down by my baby brother on his favorite horse.
“Chance will never forgive you if you rob him of a ranch hand,” I reminded him, and that was true. I was nothing more than a ranch hand to my oldest brother.
“You got that right,” Hunter agreed. “He wants to see you. Something about the cattle logs being out of date. He sounded pissed.”
“He always sounds pissed.” Those damn cattle logs. They were the bane of my existence. I wished someone else would do it, keeping tedious and thorough details about each and every braying mammal we had on the ranch, but it was somehow my duty to be so boring. I loathed it, and I knew Chance had finally noticed that I hadn’t been keeping good records.
“What are you doing all the way out here without your horse?” Hunter asked. “Want to hitch a ride back to the house so you can deal with Chance?”
“Hell, no,” I said with a snort. “I’m taking a walk. I’ll get back to deal with Chance whenever I get back.”
“Don’t you get enough exercise working the ranch?” Hunter joked, more comfortable astride the back of the horse than he was on his own feet. Well, only one of them was really his. The other was artificial.
“Walking’s not exercise,” I retorted. “I do it to think. Don’t you get enough horseback riding done while you’re working?”
“I like going fast all the time,” he said, clicking his tongue at the animal and rocketing away at an almost instant gallop. I watched them until they were a dot on the horizon, then nothing, lost to the expanses of this rotten ranch. He loved the damn place, had ever since his first ride on a horse in Tucker’s arms as an infant. I remembered Tuck catching hell from our parents for that stunt.
Fine. It’d been good to see Hunter get better, borne along by love for the ranch and love for Hadley. That’d been a high moment, but those were getting few and far between. That was just part of the ranching life. When things were bad, they were really bad. Right now, they were the worst they’d ever been.
Last year, Chance had taken out a loan to keep us going. We’d had to buy feed for the cattle in the drought, had to t
ruck in water as the river dried up to sustain the herd. No substantial rain had fallen since that deal with the bank, and the money had already run out. We could hardly grow hay, let alone maintain all our cattle, but us idiot Corbins seemed convinced that everything would eventually turn around, that we’d have a windfall of cash or the skies would open up and pour rain and everything would get better again.
I’d abandoned my count of how many days we’d been without. It got too damned depressing. I could keep track just from the way the leaves fell off the trees, the grass crackled and snapped and broke, the desiccated fish skeletons littering what used to be the river bottom.
When were my brothers going to understand that this place was going to suck up all of our dreams? We were already drowning in debt. What would happen when the inevitable struck? How would we repay everything if the ranch wasn’t worth a dime? It would be impossible for any of us to start over, impossible for me to ever escape this place.
I wrenched the mailbox open—it was rusty as hell for how dry it had been—and took the bundle of catalogs and envelopes out. When was the last time anyone had checked the stupid mail? A couple of letters fell to the dust underfoot, and I stooped to collect them before the dry wind rasped them away.
My eyes widened when I saw the one that had landed on top, brushing the dirt away to make sure I was seeing it correctly.
“Foreclosure notice,” it blared in thick, red letters.
A hole opened up in my stomach, thinking about the rest of my brothers who gave a damn about the ranch. In spite of their best efforts, the bank was moving to reclaim this property. They’d all be gutted at the news, scrambling to figure out what to do, selling everything that wasn’t bolted down to try and get us back on our feet.
It was going to be an ugly time.
But could anyone blame me for feeling…if not elated, then relieved? We’d been limping along, trying to stave off the end for so long. Now, the end was upon us. We knew what shape it was taking.
I smiled, looking at that blessed envelope.
The ranch was done.
###
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STRONGER
Chapter One
“Girl, what’s so interesting about that dumpster that you be in there for five whole minutes?”
I froze, cradling the McDonald’s wrapper against my chest. “This is mine,” I called over my shoulder. “I found it.”
“I don’t like seeing folks going through the trash, especially not behind my nightclub,” the voice said. The accompanying shuffle of footsteps was my only warning before someone grabbed my shoulder and whirled me around.
I did the only thing I could think of. I shoved the half-eaten burger completely into my mouth and chewed defiantly, staring up at a black woman more than twice my size. Her heavily made-up eyes widened in shock.
“You did not just eat that,” she declared, her mouth twisting with disgust.
Clutching the greasy paper in my fist, I swallowed the cold morsel. It was the first time I’d eaten in days.
“I found it,” I repeated, wishing she’d leave me in peace. There was still cheese to be picked off the paper. If the paper was greasy enough, maybe I’d eat it as well. The possibilities were endless and I wanted nothing more than to be left alone with my find.
Something shifted on the woman’s face. I noticed for the first time how finely she was dressed. The sequins on her top shimmered in the waning light and her pantyhose were pristine—no runs in sight. It made me feel self-conscious about my own clothes—torn jeans and a smelly, over-sized T-shirt. Her elaborate up-do prompted me to touch my own greasy hair, which hung in clumps.
“How old are you, girl?” she asked.
“I’m 18,” I said. At least I was pretty sure I was. I’d caught the date recently on a discarded newspaper in the dumpster; it told me I’d missed my own birthday last week.
“You lying to me?” the woman demanded. “You look more like 15.”
I scowled. “I’m 18. My mom always said I looked young for my age.”
After saying this, my face fell. My mom. She probably would have been worried sick. Well, maybe she would have. It was hard to tell. Things were different when it was just me and her. We’d talk. Laugh. All the things normal mothers and daughters did.
Everything was perfect until him.
“That’s it,” the woman declared. “It’s time to get you off the streets. I don’t know how long you been on them, but you’re coming home with Mama now.”
Leaving no room for argument, the woman took me by my elbow and marched me toward a green door. I sputtered a protest as she grabbed the McDonald’s wrapper from me, but she shook her head furiously.
“No, ma’am,” she said. “You want a hamburger, I’ll fix you a hamburger.”
“Who are you?” I asked, dazzled by this force of nature.
“Why, I’m Mama, honey,” she said, peering down at me. “I own this place.”
The door opened to reveal a cavernous nightclub. Workers—all of them women—bustled around the space, preparing it for the night’s business. Sumptuous leather booths lined the walls while cozy tables dotted the floor. Velvet curtains had been pulled back to reveal a stage. Just below it was a dance floor. An enormous disco ball already shimmered above it, throwing spots of light around the room.
“Well, what do you think?” Mama asked, well aware that I’d been struck speechless. I never imagined I would be in such a nice place. I didn’t feel like I was good enough to even take a nap in one of the booths.
“It’s beautiful,” I finally managed, awed by the enormous canvas paintings of attractive men and women dancing together.
“Thank you,” Mama said humbly. “Cocoa!”
One of the workers set down a tray of napkins before jogging over to us. She was as beautiful as the nightclub, her hair braided and swept past her face. Her long legs were smooth and unblemished and her body was lithe and well proportioned. She looked like she took good care of herself—or had someone who did.
“Hey, Mama,” she said.
“Hey, yourself,” Mama replied. “I need you to take—ooh, girl, how rude of me, I didn’t even get your name.”
“I’m Jasmine,” I said.
“A pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mama said, smiling. “Take Jazz upstairs and show her where she can get herself cleaned up. Meanwhile, I’ll be frying up a hamburger for her. Be a doll, Cocoa, and let her borrow one of your uniforms to wear for now? I’ll take her out shopping tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, Mama,” Cocoa said before looking at me kindly. “Let’s go.”
My legs followed automatically. I hoped this entailed a shower. My last attempt at bathing—in a fountain with a chunk of soap I’d pilfered from a gas station bathroom—had been rudely interrupted by a police officer. Since then, I’d sort of let myself go.
We climbed a flight of stairs and walked into a hallway. It was empty. Most of the doors were shut, but they were decorated colorfully. Many had names in cutout letters and posters of pop stars alongside magazine clippings of everything from cute, drooling puppies to scowling models strutting the latest fashions down the runway.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“It’s Mama’s boardinghouse,” Cocoa answered over her shoulder. “You’ll be staying here.”
“But I don’t have any money,” I said, feeling miserable. All I wanted was a shower and a clean bed. Would I ever be able to have them again? I really didn’t think so.
“Most of us girls didn’t, either,” she said, smiling. “Mama lets us stay here in exchange for working at the nightclub. Look.”
We paused in front of a door while Cocoa produced a key from a chain around her neck. She fumbled with the lock for a moment before opening it. A flip of the switch illuminated a bunk bed, a couple of dressers, two chairs, a table, and even a small TV.
“This is my room,” Cocoa said proudly. “I expect you’ll be living with me. My old roommate, Candy, just moved out.”
Cocoa bustled around the room, pulling out a washcloth and towel from one drawer and pushing a bucket of hygiene products into my arms.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you the bathroom.”
We walked across the hall to another room. It housed three toilet stalls and as many showers. The showers were separated only by curtains, but they seemed clean enough.
“We’re all responsible for keeping our rooms clean, but we change up the other chores,” Cocoa said, practically reading my mind. “Now, undress in one of the showers and toss me those dirty clothes.”
I felt a little embarrassed that Cocoa would have to touch the things I’d been wearing for months and months. I didn’t even have underwear anymore. When a pair of panties tore, they were pretty much finished. Stepping into the shower with the bucket, I quickly wriggled out of my clothes and handed them out to her.
“Is there a place where I can wash them?” I asked, poking my head out from the curtain.
Cocoa snorted. “Sure, we have a laundry room downstairs, but we’re not washing these. These are past all hope. Besides, you’ll have my uniform to wear tonight and Mama’s going to take you shopping tomorrow. Say goodbye to this trash.”
“Goodbye,” I whispered before turning on the water. The shirt had been something I’d salvaged during one of my many forays into dumpsters, but those jeans had been with me from the beginning. It felt like I was shedding my own skin.
Nearly all of my melancholy was washed away at the first burst of water from the showerhead. I smiled and closed my eyes, simply enjoying the feel of the liquid sluicing down my body. The hot water eased tensions I hadn’t even known I was carrying, making my shoulders sag with relief.
I could have cried at smelling the glorious shampoo. It was a coconut-scented off-brand, but I didn’t care. It was perfect. Working the suds through my hair, I carefully picked out all of the snarls. There had been a point where I seriously considered hacking all of my hair off just for the sake of convenience. That had been when I didn’t think I’d ever see a shower again.
