Mustang_A Mountain Man Romance

by S. Cook

  I learned that the hard way.

  I didn't want to think about that right now.

  We reached Long Pond and I parked the truck on the grass, with an amazing view of the forest and the river. I hadn’t been there for almost a year now and I was a bit ashamed of myself because of it.

  This had been the place that gave me clarity and perspective after Terry’s death. Something about the place brought me peace and was the place where I felt the closest to Terry.

  My physical therapist would drive me out here and we’d spend hours sitting and talking, looking at the water. It was calming and even though she’d keep a close eye on me, she never hovered, which I appreciated the most about her. That, and the way she was persistent in a non-pushy way.

  She made me realize that I wouldn’t learn to walk again if I didn't want to. I had to possess the will inside myself to walk again.

  She’d been right too. It was all up to me.

  Roscoe and I made our way across the grass then he ran off into the distance. He liked running, and I let him. He’d come back when he was ready.

  Like we all did.

  I walked down to the edge of the still water and searched for a smooth rock to skip. Tossing it sideways out onto the water, I counted as it skipped three times before sinking.

  “I’m trying to help her, Terry,” I said out loud. “I made you a promise and I’m sticking to it. I won’t let you down.”

  A sad smile crossed my lips.

  I made my way back to the truck and glanced over at Roscoe, who was still rolling around on the grass. I whistled for him and he ran towards me.

  “Come on, boy. Time to go.”

  We headed back towards home and I suddenly had an intense longing to hear Lynette’s voice. I stopped on the side of the road and dialed her number.

  Chapter Fifteen: Lynette

  The office was in total chaos, while I still tried to find a way to postpone the foreclosure. I wasn't being successful in any way, and it frustrated the shit out of me. I felt like a failure.

  Even though I had taken it upon myself to run the bar after my father neglected to do so, I felt responsible for the foreclosure. If I had worked harder, put in more effort, chose better staff, maybe the bar could have been a success.

  Maybe I could have saved it.

  I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. My neck was sweaty and sticky. I bunched my hair up on my crown and tied it with a hairband. After taking a deep breath, I composed myself and grabbed a handful of receipts that dated back to January of last year.

  The paperwork was so behind, and it was like a mountain before me, just as the debt was.

  Debt.

  I cringed at the word and exhaled slowly. I sorted through the receipts, placing them in different piles according to the categories I had created when I started this momentous task. There had to be a system, or I would go completely mad.

  When I heard my phone ring, I scanned the desk. Everything was covered in papers and receipts.

  Where the hell was it?

  I soon found it under a folder and answered it.

  “Hello, Army boy.”

  “You’re still calling me that, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “How are you?”

  “Overwhelmed,” I admitted.

  “That’s the most honest answer I’ve ever heard from you.”

  “Yeah, well. If you had to see the mass of papers and receipts in front of me, you’d understand.”

  “The bar’s paperwork is that far behind?”

  “Yes,” I answered, not wanting to reveal too much. “How’s Maine?”

  “Cold, but great. I wish you were here.”

  “I wish I was there too.”

  I didn't want to be here anymore. The bar, and everything else was becoming too much for me to handle and I wanted out.

  “I told my parents about you,” he said.

  A lump appeared in my throat and I tried to swallow it down.

  “You did?”

  “Of course.”

  “And what did they say?”

  It was a stupid question really, one that I already knew the answer to. They probably thought I sounded like a real piece of work, but were probably too polite to say that to Gabriel’s face.

  “They can’t wait to meet you.”

  “Stop kidding around.”

  “No, I’m serious.”

  “Why would they want to meet me?”

  “Because apparently when I talk about you, my smile reaches my eyes.”

  I paused for a second and let out the breath I didn't realize I held in. I remembered the picture that he had send me on my phone of the night we went on our first date. Then the photograph inside the binder.

  “Your parents are very observant.”

  “They know me too well,” he said. “You sound distracted. Should I call you later?”

  “No, it’s fine. We can talk.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Let’s just talk about regular stuff. You tell me about your day and I'll tell you about mine. That's how it works with regular people, right?”

  “How what works?”

  “This. Us being together, but not together thing.”

  He laughed.

  “There is an us?”

  “Yes, there’s an us, but this doesn't mean that you get to be a knight in shining armor or whatever. I still need to...”

  “Find yourself?”

  “Don't make it sound like a daytime talk show. But yeah, I guess.”

  “Fine then, we'll talk, but please don't ignore my phone calls. If this is all I get then you have to answer the phone. Occasionally.”

  “I'm sorry, are we actually negotiating the terms of this relationship?” Laughter bubbled up.

  “I guess. Come here boy!” The sound of heavy panting filled the phone. “Say hi to Lynette!” The dog barked loudly into the phone. “Alright enough. Good boy.”

  “Is that the dog? Roscoe?”

  “Yeah, it's my dog. He’s keeping me company since you’re not here.”

  I smiled, happy at hearing his voice.

  “Tell me about your day, baby. And then I'll tell you about mine.”

  “Well, like I said, my parents would love to meet you.”

  “Do you think they’d approve of me?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because you come from a wholesome family, who live in Maine.”

  “And you think only wholesome people live here?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed and I rolled my eyes.

  “You’re being silly. They’ll love you.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  “Okay.”

  “I miss you.”

  “Me too,” I said with a long sigh.

  “So, this is the way it’ll work?”

  “For right now, yeah.”

  “Then I'll take it,” Gabriel said gently. “I’m willing to wait for as long as I need to for the rest.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ll be back in Florida before you know it.”

  “Okay, I’ll be here waiting,” I answered and listened as the line went dead.

  I lowered my phone and stared at the paperwork in front of me. Tears welled up so fast that within an instant the whole world was blurry around me.

  Gabriel couldn’t come back fast enough.

  I needed him as much as I hated to admit it.

  ***

  The days flew by quickly. I missed Gabriel, but between my regular work at the bar and trying to clear my way through the paperwork, I barely had time to think. We tried to text each other as much as we could and to talk whenever one of us could get a free minute. Which wasn’t as often as I would’ve liked.

  Most of the time it was my fault. I kept crazy hours working at the bar and usually didn’t make it
home until around the time Gabriel was getting up to go to work.

  I could tell Gabriel was worried about me. He could hear the anxiety in my voice though I didn’t talk to him about any of it. I didn’t feel the need to drag him down into my issues.

  Once again, I was back at the bar, readying the tables for another night when someone pounded the door so loud that it rattled the glass in the frame. I left the back room, dread filling my gut. The pounding at the door was insistent.

  I turned on the light in the bar. Instantly, I recognized the form through the glass. As I approached, he pounded the door again. I let my hand hover over the lock until the rattling stopped. I unlocked the door and opened it in one swift motion.

  My father stood in the doorway. He pushed past me, the smell of alcohol stronger on him than the bar on its busiest night. I closed my eyes, shutting the door and locking it behind me.

  “Dad, what are you doing here?”

  He paced the room, back and forth like an animal. He shook his head and pointed a finger at me.

  “I thought you were better than this, Lynette. I thought you were stronger.”

  He slurred his words together, already piss drunk, which was normal but there was something else.

  “What are you talking about? You should go home and lie down.”

  “Lie down? And let you destroy what I worked so hard to build?”

  When his eyes locked on me, my breathing sped up in my chest.

  He knew about the foreclosure on the bar.

  I swallowed down the bile coming up in the back of my throat.

  “Dad, it's not that way. It's not as easy as you think. Just calm down,” I held my hands up. “Please.”

  “Easy? It's not easy! You were supposed to handle this. You were supposed to take care of all this!” he shouted, motioning to the bar around us. “And just look at it. Look at what you did. It's filthy. What did you do with all the money?”

  I hugged myself and looked away.

  “What money? There’s no money. There never was. I tried to keep the bar going, but you left everything a damn mess! I've been trying but-”

  His sudden motion of his fist shocked me into silence.

  The sound rang out sharply in the empty room.

  He had actually hit me, not a threat but a real hit. In all the times I’ve seen him drunk over the years, he’d never laid a finger on me. I touched my eye, pain blooming under my fingers.

  I was shocked.

  “Okay, you have to get out. You have to get out of here right now.”

  “Or what?” he sneered.

  “Or...”

  I was at a loss for words. What could I do? Call the cops? And then go borrow money to bail him out of jail?

  “What? Are you going to call the boyfriend you've been parading around with? You didn't think I knew about that? People talk. People tell your daddy when his little girl is out being a whore when she should be working!”

  His voice was low and angrier than I’d heard in a long time. His words shocked me, cut me. I closed my eyes. This was far worse than I could’ve imagined. I no longer knew the man who was once my father.

  “Please leave now.”

  “I’m not leaving until you make this right,” he said.

  His sudden hand on my throat surprised me, the tight grip crushing my windpipe. He moved me to the bar, dragging my feet across the floor. I fought against him, kicking and scratching at his hand. He threw me against the bar, knocking the wind out of me, then clamped his hand over the back of my neck.

  “This is where you were supposed to be. This is where you should have been! If you’d taken care of this place like you were supposed to, the bank wouldn’t be calling now.”

  He screamed at me over and over.

  The front door was rattling again. I pushed the noise to the back of my mind and struggled to get loose from my father, to breathe. My father held the back of my neck pushing me against the unyielding wood of the bar. His voice filling my head with so much venom.

  My hand scrambled for something, anything to throw off his attack. My fingertips found a bottle and with the last bit of strength I grabbed it, pulling it to me. Gripping the bottle by the neck, I swung it around to meet the side of my father's face.

  The bottle shattered against his cheek. He paused for a moment, releasing me. I stilled, breathing hard. In the back of my mind I heard my name being called through the door. I looked down at the jagged, broken bottle in my hand and dropped it to the ground. Blood was pouring down my Dad’s face. He looked angrier than ever.

  “I'm sorry, Dad,” I whispered.

  He grabbed my shirt, dragging me off the bar. I landed on the floor. I tried to scramble to my feet, but they slipped on the wet floor and I dropped to the ground again. My hand landed on a broken bottle and the sharp shards sliced my palm. The smell of blood filled my nostrils and I felt sick.

  “Dad, stop, please.”

  I begged as he pulled his arm back, his fist tightly clenched. I closed my eyes and braced for the inevitable hit.

  Chapter Sixteen: Gabriel

  I burst in through the back door after hearing the screams from inside the bar. It was a male's voice, deep, low, and angry. Even though I didn't hear Lynette’s voice, I knew she was in there. Where else would she be?

  To my horror, I saw Lynette on the floor, her hand covered in blood. A tall, burly man stood over her with clenched fists. He had his back to me and didn't acknowledge my presence.

  I grabbed the man’s shoulder, dragging him away from Lynette and as he whirled around, I punched him hard in the face. He grunted and swung his arm at me, but missed. I planted another punch on his cheek, knocking him to the floor. I leaned over him, preparing to beat him to a bloody pulp for hurting her.

  I glanced over at Lynette and the terrified expression on her face made me realize that I must have the look in my eyes that my unit jokingly called Gabriel’s beast mode.

  My eyes would darken to a point where they almost seemed black in color, and a snarl would be on my lips like an animal attacking, protecting its own. Nothing could snap me out of that mode, except for rendering me unconscious.

  But now, right at that moment, there was something else that brought me out of that mode.

  The look on Lynette’s face.

  She wasn't only terrified of her attacker, but now she was terrified of me. I saw it in her eyes, and it snapped me right out of it.

  “Gabriel, stop,” I heard her yell.

  When I hesitated, she threw her whole body against me full-force to shove me away from him.

  “Please, don’t,” she whispered, her voice small and strained.

  When the attacker groaned and pushed himself off the floor, I shielded her with my body. I could feel her trembling against me.

  “Get out of here, you piece of shit, or I’ll call the cops,” I yelled at the man, who was now on his feet.

  “No, Gabriel. Don't! That's my Dad,” she said.

  My eyes widened in surprise.

  “What?”

  She ignored me but stayed behind me for protection. I felt warm blood against the back of my shirt, seeping through the thin fabric.

  “Just go, Dad!”

  The man looked at me and then spit on the floor at our feet.

  “You're just like your brother,” he said to her. “Not worth a shit.”

  I tensed up and felt like punching him again. How dare he say such a thing. Terry was a million times the man he would ever be.

  I felt Lynette’s arm against mine and she whispered, “No, don't. Please just don't. I'm fine, it’s fine.”

  Her father stomped out of the bar, the sound of glass crunching under his feet. My rage only grew. I couldn't believe that she would allow him to beat her like that and then let him leave, like it was nothing.

  I let out a breath and turned to her. He eyes were wide and terrified. I put my arms around her.

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered as I looked at her hand. “You�
�re hurt.”

  “Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Are you okay? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Maine. I'm sorry about pulling you off him,” she rambled, some of it was completely inaudible. “How did you get here so fast?”

  She was in shock, and judging by the blood all around us, she might pass out from blood loss at any given moment.

  “Lynette! Look at your hand! You’re not fine. I was worried about you so I caught a flight down tonight.”

  She glanced absentmindedly at her hand and frowned.

  “Oh, damn. Look at that. I didn’t realize the cut was so deep.”

  Clearly she was light-headed. I needed to get her to the hospital.

  “Can you walk?”

  “Sure,” she answered and then swayed against me.

  She seemed fine, but I knew it might not last long. Not with the amount of blood flowing from her hand.

  “I hurt myself,” she said as she looked at her hand again and then looked at me. “Where's your cane?”

  I shook my head and slid my arm around her waist to hold her up.

  “We have to get you to the hospital. I think you're in shock.”

  “No! I'm okay. See?”

  She broke away from me and walked to the kitchen with quick strides, knowing I couldn't keep up. I followed her, and the trail of blood that she left behind.

  Suddenly and without warning the smell of blood threw me back in time.

  A scene of war suddenly flashed in front of my eyes and I was reminded of the accident again. The blood trickling down the dusty hill. The screams of my injured unit. The searing pain in my legs. The hot tears that stung my eyes as I held Terry’s lifeless body in my arms before everything else went black.

  I blinked the memory away and hurried into the kitchen. Lynette stood by the freezer, with a towel wrapped around her hand.

  I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and frowned. My face was pale and my eyes were full of worry. I’d managed to locate my cane on the floor and leaned heavily against it.

  She smiled weakly, “See, nothing to worry about.”

  I walked over to her and touched her face, but she flinched away as soon as my skin touched her bruised cheek.