A Nice Day for a Cowboy Wedding

by Nicole Helm

  * * *

  They ordered room service. He’d really meant to take her out, but naked she made a million cases he could never win against. Besides, they could go out for breakfast. Probably.

  He could mostly forget about everything from earlier today. What did the past matter when she was saying she loved him? When she was naked and pliant in his arms, wanting to stay exactly right here?

  She was nestled up to him, and he’d lost track of time, practically dozing. Her fingers brushed back and forth against his chest, as if she were assuring herself he was there. Real.

  He understood the feeling.

  “You know, you never did tell me why Ben came,” she murmured sleepily.

  “I don’t plan on telling you while I’m naked.”

  “You might as well get dressed then.” She yawned, pulling away from him and stretching out in the giant bed. “Your endurance is impressive, but I think we’re going to need a slight window of rest.”

  He grinned down at her. “Slight.”

  She laughed, but reached over the edge of the bed and threw his boxers at him. When she grabbed his T-shirt, she didn’t hand it to him. She pulled it over herself.

  It was this kind of thing. Not just great sex, but an easy camaraderie. A partner in things: to talk to, tease, enjoy. This was what he’d wanted with Mattie, all those years ago, and, with the mature twenty-twenty of hindsight, he could see he’d wanted that more than Mattie herself. The idea of what a partnership would look like.

  With Cora, he didn’t care what it looked like. As long as it was with her. So, it didn’t matter if she told him about her past, because they had this. It was good enough. Had to be.

  “That night Boone and I had a disagreement, after you and Micah left, I went for a little bit of a walk to clear my head. I’d forgotten how often I’d done that before Boone went off to the rodeo. Boone and I have never gotten along well. The age difference, his natural distaste for authority. It’s always been oil and water.”

  “How come you and Gavin make it work then? He’s prickly too.”

  “Gavin’s natural state is angry, but it’s not usually geared toward people. He’s just . . . a grumpy asshole. Boone, he zeroes in on people, and he knows just how to get under their skin. I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

  “Like what?”

  He didn’t want to tell her. In fact, he opened his mouth to change the subject to what they were supposed to be talking about—his and Ben’s heart-to-heart, so to speak. His crap with Boone, the things about Dad, it wasn’t important. It didn’t matter anymore, but that was likely what she was telling herself about her own secrets.

  She had secrets she didn’t want to tell him, didn’t trust to tell him, so maybe he needed to take the first step. Give her all his.

  “He wanted to take Micah on that drive, and he just kept needling. Couldn’t see that it was irresponsible and dangerous, so I said . . .” He blew out a breath, and Cora nestled into him again, placing her hand on his chest just above his heart.

  “The thing is, I don’t go on those drives. They’re Gavin’s, because the last one I went on was when my father died.”

  Cora’s head whipped up as she leveraged her body up on her elbow. “Your father died on the drive?”

  Shane nodded. “And that’s about as much as was ever talked about. Horse kicked him in the worst possible spot, and he died. But . . . Well, there was more to it. I never did much talk about it. With anyone. Ever.”

  “Like with the money-stealing girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. Only it wasn’t out of embarrassment this time. It was . . . You see I was twelve, and, even as much as I loved ranching then, I was still a kid. Gavin had gotten to stay home because he was sick, which meant—to me—he got to sleep in and watch TV and play Nintendo and I had to work. So, I was pissy, lazy, and your average twelve-year-old asshole.”

  “I am familiar with those.”

  “I wasn’t paying attention, and I led my horse right into a drainage ditch. The horse went down, and Dad tried to catch me. He managed to get me out of the way without any damage, but his horse startled and—”

  Cora gasped before he could say the rest. “You were there?”

  “Yeah. There. And, responsible, so to speak.”

  “Oh, no. No, you don’t really think that.” She cupped his face with her hands, staring at him sternly. “Baby, that’s all accidents. Not your fault.”

  “I know, mostly. Intellectually, I know it, and I’ve accepted that in a lot of ways. I don’t think I could ever truly shed the guilt, because if I’d done things differently . . . Well, but I didn’t. It was a rough thing, and I . . . Well, the way the men told the story, Dad just fell. I guess maybe that’s what it looked like to them. I went with it.”

  “You never told . . . You never told anyone?”

  “No. Though I gave Boone the short version the other night, and I shouldn’t have done it like that. But I was angry he didn’t . . . He wouldn’t listen. He never listens. I’ve been trying to protect that asshole for so long, and just having failure after failure. I just wanted him to get it for once, that it was for his own good. That I knew best.”

  “You just lived with that for what? Twenty years? You just . . .” She stopped, and a clear look of understanding passed over her features. “You decided you were responsible for everyone, because that would make up for it.”

  “That feels a little pat, but maybe not altogether wrong.”

  “Shane.” She rubbed her palm against his cheek, and then she did the damnedest thing. She buried her face in his neck, and she started to cry.

  “Hey, hey.” He squeezed her tight. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I just can’t imagine. I just . . . can’t.” She kissed his cheek. “And I think you’re amazing.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Just . . . amazing.”

  “I was supposed to be talking about Ben,” was all he could think to say.

  She wiped her cheeks and nodded, clearly working to pull herself together. “Well, you should tell me about that too.”

  “It’s not quite as dramatic.”

  “Thank God,” she said, the tears mostly gone.

  “He told me, among other things, that my mother made him want to be a better man, and that he’d sign a prenup because he didn’t want the ranch. So, I told him I’d walk Mom down the aisle, though I haven’t had a chance to tell Mom yet.”

  Cora sniffled, and her eyes filled again.

  “Why are you crying now?”

  “Because you’re the sweetest.” She managed a wobbly smile. “And I know how happy your mom will be, and I . . . I’m just so glad you’re mine.”

  They lay there for a while, and Shane waited, fruitlessly, for her to give that piece of herself. To offer it up, without any extra coercing. But it didn’t happen.

  He kissed her temple. “I hope you know you can tell me anything too. Nothing would . . . You can trust me with anything, is all.”

  He felt her stiffen, and he waited for it. Any inclination she might fill him in, even a little.

  “Okay,” she said finally.

  But she didn’t go further. Didn’t tell him. He wanted it not to matter. He’d try really hard to make it not matter.

  Time, with time, they’d get there.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cora couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this relaxed or happy. And there was none of that horrible sense of impending doom that usually followed happiness.

  No, this was hers, and it was going to stay hers.

  She’d decided that she was being paranoid any time she caught Shane staring a little extra hard. It wasn’t as if he could see through her to all her remaining secrets. He was just looking. Not examining her under a microscope, trying to find some hidden piece of her.

  But there were none. Because that woman she’d been once upon a time didn’t exist anymore. No hidden pieces. They’d all been obliterated.

  So, the parano
ia would have to go. She’d find away.

  The next morning, they finally made it out to a restaurant for breakfast, and enjoyed a little bit of a walk around Denver, though when Cora had admitted to missing the ranch, Shane had swooped down and kissed her hard on the mouth.

  “Thank God,” he’d said with a grin.

  They’d enjoyed their hotel room for the remainder of their time, then packed up the rental car to drive home.

  Home.

  She felt somehow exhausted and exhilarated all at the same time as the beautiful Colorado landscape passed by her window. She felt like a woman reborn, with a million determinations in her mind.

  She was going to make Deb’s wedding the best event Gracely had ever seen.

  She was going to make sure Micah had as much Tyler ranch as he could handle, and, when school started, she was going to make sure he handled both. Because she was a good mom who loved her son, and he wasn’t going to fall through any cracks with her at his side.

  Shane was going to be the best role model for her kid without ever even trying. Micah could hero-worship Boone all he wanted, but Cora knew the older Micah got, the more he would understand the true mark of a good man because of Shane Tyler.

  Her man. Her future.

  Yes, indeed. Life was good.

  So, somehow it didn’t surprise her that, as Shane drove the rental car across the Tyler ranch property line, she could see an ambulance with lights flashing in the distance. Not at the house, but farther back.

  She must have made a noise, some kind of gasp, because the car lurched to a faster pace. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s . . .” But he didn’t finish his sentence. He drove, too fast, but not up the drive. He cut through the fields, straight toward the ambulance.

  Cora held her breath. It would just be a ranch hand.... A ranch hand with a minor injury. That’s all. Maybe even a butt dial or a prank call or something . . . anything. Please God, anything other than what her heavy beating heart feared.

  Don’t overreact. Don’t think catastrophe. She repeated those admonitions even as she held her breath.

  As they got closer, Cora saw all the Tylers. Deb and Ben, Molly and Gavin. Boone, pacing back and forth next to—

  “Oh, God.” She had her car door open before Shane had even stopped the car, and only the seatbelt and his grabbing her arm as he slammed to a stop kept her from tumbling out while the car was still moving. But the minute it was stopped, he let her go, and was unbuckled and out of the car almost as fast as she was.

  “Baby.” She scrambled to a skidding halt, falling to her knees next to Micah, who the paramedics had fastened to one of those awful beds they put in ambulances.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, face dirty and tear streaked. His eyes weren’t focused, but he seemed to know she was there. There wasn’t any blood. Then she glanced down, trying to take stock of his body, but his arm was twisted all wrong and her stomach revolted, so she had to look away from it and back to his face.

  “Baby, sweetheart, Micah. What happened? What—” She reached out to touch him, just to brush that too-long hair off his forehead, but the paramedic gently restrained her arm.

  “You’re the mother?” the person asked, while a uniformed man did some awful thing with awful tools and oh, God, her baby. Her baby.

  “Yes, she’s his mother,” Shane supplied, and it was only then Cora realized he was holding her. Kneeling behind her, arms wrapped around her.

  “Can you give us some room? We’re going to get him in the vehicle, all right?”

  She didn’t get to her feet, but somehow suddenly she was on them. Because Shane had picked her up, basically. Up, because her legs had ceased to work, and against him because, well, comfort she supposed.

  But how could anything be a comfort when her baby was all strapped to something so awful she didn’t even know its name?

  “He’s sedated,” the female paramedic said gently. “He has a bad break in his arm. We have to transport him to the hospital where they’ll have to do surgery.”

  “What? What?” Cora couldn’t make sense of it. Any of it. “How? What . . . I don’t . . .”

  They were moving Micah into the ambulance, and the only thing keeping Cora upright was Shane. “Shane?” She looked up at him helplessly.

  “Can we ride with?” Shane asked, his voice rough but even.

  “The mother can ride with us. The rest of you can’t. Ma’am? Are you up to it?”

  Up to it? Her baby was in an ambulance, headed to the hospital. For surgery. She had to be up to it. Had to be.

  She nodded once, firmly, and the female paramedic nodded at her partner, who walked swiftly to the driver’s seat. The female paramedic smiled kindly. “I’ll help you in,” she said, holding out a hand.

  Cora swallowed, found her feet, her strength, and stepped away from Shane.

  “He’s going to be okay,” the woman was saying as she helped Cora into the back. She motioned her to something like a bench where she could sit almost next to Micah on the bed.

  “It’s a bad break, but it’s a fairly common one. I know your kid’s being hurt is scary, and you’re still going to worry, but I just want you to know, everything is going to be okay.” The paramedic reached out to pull the back doors closed, and Cora could only watch silently as Shane disappeared.

  * * *

  Gavin, Boone, and Ben were still holding him back from getting into the ambulance. Shane didn’t think Cora had noticed. He hoped to God Cora hadn’t noticed because he hadn’t been thinking.

  The minute she’d stepped into that ambulance, he’d lost it. He’d only wanted to be in that ambulance with them. He’d only wanted to be the one helping her while she looked so damn lost. All he’d known how to do was fight.

  Thank God for everyone’s stopping him from taking that fight to Cora. He had to get himself under control. Slowly, he stopped struggling, stopped fighting the arms holding him back. Tried to focus on the voices telling him to calm down, that everything was going to be okay.

  The kid’s arm was broken. Broken. Micah needed surgery, and Cora . . .

  Focus.

  Broken arm. Gavin had broken an arm in middle school, but he hadn’t needed surgery. Mom had driven him to the hospital, and Shane had stayed home to watch the other kids.

  But this was different. Micah hadn’t been an idiot middle schooler showing off for Lou by jumping out of trees. Micah had been in the care of Shane’s family, and they had failed.

  He had failed.

  Slowly Ben and Boone and Gavin let him go, and Shane focused on the cold ball deep inside his gut. A kind of numbness. A focus. He needed to solve this problem.

  “What happened?” he demanded, low, cold, furious. He couldn’t even begin to try and get anger out of him. The boy was hurt. So, he focused on controlling it. On using it to be his center. Cold fury would get him to the next step.

  “Shane.”

  He whirled on Boone, and it all came together in a painful blow. Boone looked pale, shaken. His voice had broken as he’d said Shane. “I’m so—”

  “You fucking took him.”

  “I—”

  Shane didn’t think. He couldn’t think. His body reacted of its own volition as his arm swung out, his fist connecting with Boone’s jaw. He barely felt the blow. The crack of bone slapping against bone was nothing but a faint sound far in the distance. Dimly he heard the gasps of his family as Boone stumbled back, his leg buckling so he fell onto his ass.

  “I told you no,” Shane roared down at him, the rage and pain and betrayal and failure engulfing him. “I told you it was dangerous and he wasn’t ready, and you took him?”

  Boone didn’t try to get up. He sat on the ground looking up at Shane, looking downright sick. “Look, I made a mistake.”

  “A mistake? You made a mistake? That boy’s arm is broken so badly he needs surgery, and you made a mistake.”

  “There was a snake. The horse spooked. He fell and—” Boone snapped his jaw shut, clearly
grappling with some emotion, but it didn’t dim any of Shane’s fury. “I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry. You were right, and I am sorry.”

  Shane wanted to hit him again. Kick him. Pummel him again and again. But Shane was afraid if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and clearly the fall was as much because of Boone’s old injuries as because of Shane’s punch. That flicker of weakness, of vulnerability, was the only thing that kept Shane from losing it completely.

  “You’re a worthless son of a bitch,” he said, low and serious, because if he couldn’t land a physical punch, maybe he could land one that would do some damage. Reach some part of him.

  “Shane. I said I was sor—”

  “Dad would be ashamed down to his soul, more so than even me,” Shane continued. “That boy could be dead, and then what would your ‘sorry’ mean? You should leave this ranch and never show your face again.”

  “Shane Michael Tyler.”

  “Don’t,” he said, holding his hand up as his mother advanced on him. “That boy . . .” Shane couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. “I was very clear in my instructions. No drive, and you keep him safe. Safe. Do you have any idea . . .” He’d been about to say what they’ve been through, but, hell, even he didn’t know what they’d been through. Not really.

  He turned and started walking for the rental car with its doors still open, engine still running. “I’m going to the hospital.”

  Molly hurried after him. “I’ll drive you.”

  He shook his head, about to slide into the driver’s seat. “No.”

  Molly grabbed his arm, stopping his progress into the seat. “You’re shaking, Shane.” She squeezed his arm, eyes soft and sympathetic. “I’ll drive you.”

  “I’m going.”

  For the second time, Shane whirled on Boone, who’d gotten to his feet and was limping toward the car. “Like hell you—”

  “You blame me, right? This is all my fucking fault? Well, I know it, and I’m damn well going to apologize to that kid, and his mother, to their faces. No matter how much you hate me and wish I was gone, you don’t get to decide how that shakes out.”