by Lexie Ray
I remounted my horse, intent on stopping whatever these idiots had decided to start when shots rang out again. My skittish mount reared and tossed me off, and I hit the ground hard, wheezing and gagging from the lightning bolts of pain radiating from my injured shoulder.
A whoop came out of the darkness. “I’ll find you, assholes!” a hellcat of a woman screamed, and I realized belatedly it was my hellcat — Paisley, her face shining white and furious in the night, riding a horse at full tilt and aiming a gun like she’d been doing it all her life. She probably had been, a more talented rancher than I could ever hope to be. There wasn’t a reason to be jealous. That was my wife. Ranching was in her blood. It was in my blood, too, but that didn’t mean I had to be as passionate about it. It was easier to unravel things right now, in this moment, the pain in my shoulder sharpening everything, honing it to a fine point. I’d figure out what made me happy. Right now, it was Paisley, a valkyrie riding on the swift wings of justice, defending the cattle that was her livelihood and passion.
“Get them, Paisley,” I shouted, pumping my good arm at her as she passed by. “You show those idiots they came to the wrong ranch!”
There were a few more shots, and then I saw Paisley turn her horse sharply back toward me.
“Avery?” Paisley was aghast, pale-faced in the night as she slowed her horse’s approach. “What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Lying in wait,” I said weakly, grabbing at my shoulder. It hurt even worse now, if possible. “Trying to catch the thieves.”
“You’re shot,” she said, stating the obvious, perhaps in shock.
“Looks like it,” I agreed. Lord. Was this simple fact the first thing we’d ever agreed on in our marriage?
“Can you ride?” she asked, looking around. “We don’t want them coming back here to finish you off.”
“It’s just my shoulder,” I said. “Should be fine.” I didn’t know about that, didn’t know how I could keep forcing words out of my mouth when I was in so much damn pain.
“Where’s your horse?”
I winced. That hurt more than the bullet. After Emmett was done murdering me for losing one of his precious horses — because they were all Emmett’s horses — Chance would do it over again for the money I cost them.
“Got spooked at the gunshots and threw me,” I said. Was there a bigger idiot in Corbin history than me?
“That’s all right,” Paisley reasoned. “Get up here with me. I’m sure your horse will turn up in the morning, though I don’t fancy the idea of him riding around the ranch all night with a shotgun still strapped to him.”
I groaned as I clambered onto the horse behind her. “I didn’t have a shotgun.”
“What?” She turned in the saddle to stare at me. “You weren’t carrying a gun?”
“No.”
“Why the fuck not, Avery?”
I didn’t know why Paisley was so furious, but her whole body tightened up like a bowstring.
“I didn’t want to. I don’t like them, and I didn’t know how to use them.”
“You just point and pull the trigger, idiot,” she groused. “Most of the time, you don’t even have to get that far. If someone just sees one on your saddle or in your hands, they won’t mess with you. You came out here and made yourself an easy target and for what? What did you have to prove by coming out here at night, in the middle of a cattle thief crisis, without a goddamn gun?”
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling a little lightheaded as the pain in my shoulder worsened with each movement of the horse. “I guess I just don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Here on this planet? Because in case you missed it, Avery, someone almost did blow you into the next world tonight. You almost got your wish.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing for you?” I asked, wondering how angry she’d be at me if I threw up on the back of her shirt. I was beginning to feel like I was going to have to in response to how much pain I was in.
“Why in the hell would you dying be a good thing for me?”
“So you wouldn’t have to be around me anymore,” I explained. “So you could do whatever you wanted. Be with whoever you wanted.”
“As much as you try to forget it, I married you,” she said. “Maybe not for the right reasons for either of us, but what’s done is done. You’re stuck with me, Avery Corbin, just as much as I’m stuck with you.”
I wasn’t sure if Paisley was trying to comfort me or insult me. But neither really mattered as I felt myself float off the back of her galloping horse and sink into the night.
Chapter 10
There were flashes of things I recognized: Hadley’s auburn hair brushing my face as she pushed all her weight against my shoulder, Tucker’s heavy brows behind a flashlight shown in my eyes, a backward glance from Chance at the wheel of the car. But there were things I didn’t understand — someone who sounded suspiciously like Paisley weeping from the front seat, though I hadn’t heard her cry like that since that day I saved her from the bully in elementary school. No, that didn’t make sense, either. She hadn’t cried then. She’d picked herself up and promised me the world. She’d cried like that before because she’d lived up to her promise and I hadn’t loved her enough, because after she’d given and given and given, me and life and everyone else had taken everything from her. Poor Paisley. Of course she should be crying.
When I opened my eyes fully again, I wasn’t in my trailer. It could’ve been Paisley’s house, but that didn’t feel right, either. Had they moved me back into my room in our house? That wouldn’t make sense — it was Toby’s room right now, and they wouldn’t have kicked him out of it for me.
“You’re in the hospital, Avery.”
I turned my head to see Paisley, her eyes rimmed in red, curled up in a chair. She was still wearing dust-covered jeans and a T-shirt splattered in what could only be my blood, stiff after drying.
“What a stupid place to be in,” I remarked, coughing a little. My mouth was dry, and Paisley uncrossed her legs and stood to pour me a glass of water from a plastic pitcher.
“A stupid place for stupid people,” she said, handing me the glass. It tasted good to me even though whatever ice that had been in it melted long ago, leaving the liquid lukewarm.
“What happened?” I asked, examining my memories and coming up significantly short.
“You were shot.”
“I mean after that.”
“After that, you fell of my horse and hit your head.” Paisley looked away. “Hadley said it probably wasn’t a good idea to expect you to ride a galloping horse while losing so much blood.”
“Where is everyone else?”
Paisley gave a long sigh. “I stayed here with you because everyone else had to go back to the ranch. Hunter and Emmett stayed behind to continue to watch the herd, but then Hunter had some sort of episode because you’d gotten shot and everything’s gone about to shit, Avery.”
“Because of me.”
“Because of lots of things. But yes, you’re right on up there.”
Hunter having an episode could only be bad. He’d seen a lot in Afghanistan, and he didn’t need to see me all bloody and bullet riddled. I couldn’t do anything right for this family or this ranch. It would be better if I were somewhere else, unable to cause any angst ever again. God only knew what or who Hunter was raging at. It had happened several times before. Hadley had explained to us about post-traumatic stress disorder and everything to expect from that, but I’d been his trigger.
“Everyone was worried about you,” Paisley relented, watching me. “You gave everyone a big scare, but the doctors say you’re going to be okay. If you can believe it, the concussion was worse than the bullet wound.”
“You were crying in the car. I remember.” I studied her. “Why?”
She laughed at me as if that should be obvious. “I was worried about you.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Doesn’t it? Can’t I be worried
about you?”
“You don’t love me,” I said. “You said so in as many words.”
“We want different things, maybe, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you,” she said. “Why were you even out there tonight if you don’t give a shit about the ranch?”
“I didn’t know where you went,” I said. “I didn’t want to wait around and be worried for you.”
“Like I used to wait around, worried for you.”
“Pretty much,” I acknowledged.
“We just can’t seem to get on the same page, can we?”
“I hope we can, someday.”
“Is that really what you want?” Paisley shook her head. “Don’t answer that. You’re all doped up on pain medication.”
“I want us to be on the same page, Paisley. I told you I loved you earlier today. I wasn’t on pain medication, then.”
“Were you drinking?”
“No, of course not. I never drink when I’m working.”
“It was a shock to have so many cattle missing. I would understand if you were drunk. It would be understandable, and it would explain why you were stupid enough to leave the gun at home.”
“I wasn’t drunk, goddammit.” She was making me sound like a complete idiot. I pretty much accepted that I was, but it didn’t help she thought the same thing. It dashed whatever confidence I had left.
“But you don’t want to be a rancher.” She looked at me, wringing her hands. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that you’ve completely changed your mind on that, too, just like you changed your mind about me, right?”
“I know how I feel about you,” I said. “I love you. The ranch is another story.”
She shook her head. “It’s not one or the other, Avery. The ranch and I are a package deal. You know that.”
“That’s just the way it is for me. I’m sorry. I wish I could just tell myself who to love or what to do and be done with it. That’s just not how it works for me.”
“Avery, what is it that you want?” she asked. “Tell me. Tell me what you want to do.”
“I don’t know what I want to do.”
“Sure, you do. I know you don’t want to be here, so there has to be somewhere else you’d rather be.”
I searched myself. I’d wanted so much for myself — a life apart from the ranch, a passion my brothers didn’t share, to be fucking happy. That’s what I wanted above all: to be happy, only I didn’t know how. I’d never known how.
“I just don’t want to be a rancher anymore,” I said. Getting shot had shaken me. Sure, the ranch had always been my home, but was I ready to give my life for it? Everything seemed so precious, now, and I was worried that I’d spent so much time doing what I didn’t actually want to be doing that I’d wasted my life.
I hesitated before making eye contact with Paisley, halfway afraid of what I would see there, but if she was surprised, I couldn’t tell. She mostly looked tired, all cried out and fought out and everything, hair wild and tangled, blood spattered, covered in dirt. Beautiful.
“Be whatever makes you happy, then,” she said, handing me an envelope. “You’re the only one who can do that for yourself.”
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Inside the envelope was a bundle of cash — there had to be at least $5,000 — and a thin sheaf of papers. They were legal documents, already signed by Paisley and another person, and I struggled to understand the gist of them until I caught a word I did recognize: divorce.
“You’re divorcing me?” I asked, dumbfounded, wondering why that realization hurt worse than the bullet hole in my shoulder. “Now?”
“No,” she said. “You’re divorcing me, if that’s what’ll make you happy. No stipulations. No traps.”
“What’s the cash for?”
She shrugged. “We’ve been together a while. I understood you didn’t want to be here anymore. The cash is a going away present. Buy a plane ticket or hop a bus or train to somewhere. Go be whatever you want to be. You don’t have to be tied down to me anymore.”
I shook my head. “We can’t get divorced. What’ll happen to the agreement for the ranch?”
“I like working with you Corbins,” she said. “You’re good people. The agreement stands. You just don’t have to be a part of it anymore.”
Just like that, Paisley was releasing me from a contract she’d devised as a way to be with me — and save her status as the head of her own ranch. I should’ve been grateful. Hell, I should’ve jumped up from my hospital bed and run singing and dancing down the hallways. Why did I feel like a pit had opened up in the very bottom of me, holding these divorce papers?
“All you have to do is sign,” she said. “You don’t have to do it now.”
“Paisley …”
“There’s nothing really to say,” she said. “You don’t have to feel like you have to say anything. We’re two different people, Avery. I get that, now. I was too blind to see it before, maybe, or too naive. But this was never going to work out between the two of us. I was a fool to try and trap you in it, a fool to think this would bring me happiness.”
I thought she was going to cry again, but she set her shoulders and sniffed.
“If it’s all the same to you, I think I want to go home,” she said. “Do you want me to call one of your brothers to come and sit with you?”
“I don’t need anyone to sit with me,” I said. “I’m a grown man.”
“I know.” Paisley walked toward the door — the bloodstains were a lot worse on the back of her T-shirt — and then turned like she was going to say something else, but then she shook her head, seeming to think better of it, and left.
Left, just like that.
Without even saying goodbye.
I couldn’t reconcile in my mind why that was the worst thing that had happened to me today, but there it was, a wound deadlier than the one I had. I was all alone, just like I’d wanted to be, and it was somehow the opposite of what I thought I’d wanted.
For a few papers clipped together, the divorce agreement felt awfully heavy in my lap. Or maybe it was the cash — my wife paying me just to leave her alone. It was enough to buy a plane ticket to practically anywhere in the world, and maybe that was what I wanted. Maybe getting the hell out of Texas would be just the thing to set me right again.
Chapter 11
My shirt was a total loss, soaked through and through with blood and cut off of me, but my jeans and boots were still serviceable. There was nothing dramatic about simply walking out of a hospital. Not many people are very interested in stopping a surly, shirtless, wounded man in the middle of the night.
I picked up a souvenir basketball T-shirt at a gas station that was still open, feeling woozy from pain medication and blood loss and just the suddenness of everything that happened tonight. I’d been shot, offered freedom from my marriage, and basically a blank check to go anywhere in the world.
I hailed a taxi stopped outside a fast food restaurant and settled gingerly in the back.
“No puking in the car,” the driver warned as I shut the door.
Did I look that bad? “No worries,” I said. “Take me to the airport, please.”
“If you say so.”
I probably looked suspicious as hell, I realized, sick and dirty and tired and without so much as a piece of luggage. It was a wonder the driver didn’t call the cops or something to get my crazy ass out of here.
But after just thirty minutes or so, the glittering monolith that was the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport appeared, towering, roadways snaking around in every direction, full of possibility for the future.
Would I find what I was looking for here, a destination, a place where I belonged?
I paid the driver and stepped out of the taxi, feeling strangely rejuvenated. The only sleep I’d gotten was after I’d hit my head on the ground falling off Paisley’s horse, but I felt remarkably well for a man with a concussion and a bullet wound.
I was goi
ng to get away from all of this. I was going to finally seize control of my life and do things I wanted to do. This was how I should’ve been living my life all this time. It was a shame it took getting shot to make me start now.
Feeling like I was better late than never, I strolled — staggered, really — into the airport. I figured it would’ve been pretty quiet at this time of the morning, but it was slowly waking up, airline employees opening up kiosks and ticket counters, a janitor buffing the floors glossy, early-bird passengers arriving to start snaking through the security lines. Where did I want to go? That was the question now. Where was I going to go when the entire world was at my fingertips?
Maybe I’d just keep traveling until I ran out of money or found someplace that felt like home to me. That notion was surprisingly attractive, bouncing around from one place to another, not knowing a single soul in contrast to the small town that knew all of my family’s business. For the first time, it would be just me. Not the Corbins. Just Avery.
It was terrifying and empowering all in one, but I wasn’t just Avery anymore.
Until I signed those divorce papers, I was a husband, the second half to a marriage. Paisley didn’t depend on me. She didn’t depend on anyone. But she was my wife through a series of unfortunate occurrences. For better or for worse. It had been on the worse end of things for quite a while. What would it take to make things better? What kind of understanding would Paisley and I have to arrive at?
I thought it would be enough to tell her that I loved her, but it hadn’t. She’d rejected me thoroughly, informing me that my love for her wasn’t going to be enough unless I could find it in my heart to love ranching, as well. The ranch was inextricable from Paisley’s existence. That’s the way she felt, the way she needed me to understand what our marriage was. It was her and the ranch or it was neither. That was my decision because she refused to separate herself from it.
That hurt me. I loved Paisley, but I just wasn’t sure about loving the ranch. I’d hated my existence on the ranch for so long that it was no small wonder that the ranch had nearly killed me — well, cattle thieves on the ranch. It was a wakeup call, sure, but I wasn’t sure what I was waking up to. Could I love the ranch enough to satisfy Paisley? Could I love the ranch enough to keep her?
