The Trouble With Cowboys

by Melissa Cutler

  “Me too,” Amy said.

  “You returned to Chef Showdown after that. I’m honestly surprised.”

  She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. “In hindsight, I shouldn’t have. But at the time, I was only thinking about winning the money so we could keep the farm. I didn’t want our family to lose that on top of everything else. I told myself that Mom was my biggest supporter, so she wouldn’t mind. She was the one who suggested I audition. I never felt closer to my mom than the day I called to tell her I’d been accepted onto the show. If anything, I thought it would upset her if I quit, that giving up would be like letting go of her dream for me. But after I returned to film the semifinals, I had a complete breakdown while the cameras were rolling.”

  “I know.” He admitted quietly. But it felt like a lie of omission not to confess. “I watched it online this week. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. “It’s okay. I’m still making my peace with what happened, but the truth is, I knew what I was signing up for when I joined the show. It was a career gamble that would’ve paid off if I hadn’t—”

  “If you hadn’t been victimized by that conniving asshole, Brock,” he finished.

  “Victimized makes it sound like I wasn’t part of the problem. But what happened to me on Chef Showdown was my fault alone. I allowed Brock to take advantage of me because I fabricated an emotional intimacy that wasn’t real.” She regarded him with sad eyes. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s my M.O.”

  Kellan swallowed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He wanted so badly to tell her their electricity had been real. He not only felt it, but it knocked him on his ass. He wanted to confess to everything—his unwanted, exhilarating feelings for her, his link to Amarex, the truth about his parents. Now was hardly an appropriate time, though. Not with her mother’s life hanging in the balance and her two sisters in the car, analyzing his every word.

  “You’re being too hard on yourself, Amy,” he croaked. “The other contestants on the show, they were scared of you. Scared of your skill and your heart. The way you light up a room by walking in it. They were quaking in their boots because they knew you were the best contestant on the show. You outshone everybody.”

  Including him.

  “Kellan’s right,” Jenna said, laying a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “Brock and the others sabotaged you because they knew there wasn’t any other way to beat you at the game.”

  “Stop it,” Amy said, sounding tired. “You don’t need to massage my ego. What’s done is done.”

  Rachel squeezed Amy’s other shoulder. “They’re right, Aims. You owned that show until Mom . . . until she . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Amy reached up and took both her sisters’ hands. “I feel like we’ve been saying good-bye to Mom for almost a year, but I’m still not ready to let her go.”

  “None of us are.”

  Jenna set her other hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “We’ll get through this together, as a family, no matter what. Like we do with everything else.”

  Amy rested her ear against Rachel’s hand.

  A thick silence descended over the car. Kellan’s thoughts turned to Jake, and how differently Amy and her siblings handled tragedy from him and his brother. The Sorentino sisters banded together. They held hands and stuck it out. They didn’t run. They didn’t give up on each other. They had a mess of a family—a verifiable disaster of a legacy—but their closeness called to Kellan in an unfamiliar way.

  He was jealous.

  In the months following his parents’ arrests, he and Jake hopscotched through foster homes, awaiting word about whether any of their extended family would take them in. At first, they’d spent every possible moment together before and after school and on the weekends. After a while, they morphed from joined-at-the-hip brothers to roommates. They never could seem to articulate their individual pain, never could figure out how to work together. They ended up in a group home for teenage boys. The food was plentiful, and the couple who ran the house was nice enough.

  Kellan’s eighteen-year-old logic didn’t see the problem in leaving his fifteen-year-old brother behind when the system kicked him out. On his own, he could think of nothing but getting as far away from Florida as possible. He wanted answers from his family as to why they hadn’t opened their arms and their houses to two neglected kids who needed a place to stay.

  Once Jake aged out of the system, he followed Kellan’s lead by hitting the road west. They’d met briefly at a diner in West Texas. The resentment in Jake’s voice toward Kellan was palpable, shocking. Until that night, it had never occurred to Kellan that Jake felt like he’d abandoned him. Kellan was only twenty at the time of the meeting, and still angry at the world. Instead of apologizing to Jake, he’d gotten defensive and stormed out again.

  Thinking back to that meeting made him ache with regret. But he never could figure out a way to make things right between them.

  The parade of ranches scattered over the plains of the high desert gave way to rocky slopes and pinion trees. The white-topped mountain ridges that signified the outskirts of Albuquerque grew nearer with each passing mile. Kellan rested his forearm along the closed window, concentrating on the bite of cold glass and the dashed lines of the highway, anything to keep from taking Amy’s small hands in his, or thinking about how different his own fractured family was from the damaged, yet united, Sorentino clan.

  They crept down the final descent through the mountains behind a convoy of semitrucks and after two and a half hours on the road, finally spotted the WELCOME TO ALBUQUERQUE sign nestled between two audacious billboards. The four-lane route stretched into a broad freeway as Albuquerque passed by them in a blur of concrete suburbia.

  “Can we talk more about pie?” Tommy asked, breaking the silence.

  “Maybe when we get to the hospital, you and I can go in search of some pie,” Kellan said. “If it’s okay with your mom.”

  “She says yes,” Tommy squealed, clapping his hands.

  “Hold on, there, buddy. Let’s get there first,” Jenna said. “I can’t think about anything else until we do.”

  They reached Presbyterian Hospital around two o’clock. The sprawling campus buzzed with activity, but Rachel, Amy, and Jenna negotiated the crowds at a breakneck pace, pushing through the sliding glass doors and across the reception area, to the elevators leading to the ICU. Clearly, they knew their way around the place.

  Inside the elevator, Kellan snagged Jenna’s attention long enough for her to transfer Tommy to his arms and rattle off her cell phone number. When the elevator doors opened on the ICU floor, Kellan and Tommy remained inside, with Tommy waving merrily at the backs of his mom and aunts as they disappeared down a hallway. As soon as they were alone and the elevator had begun its descent to the basement that housed the cafeteria, Kellan stood Tommy up and squatted so they were at eye level.

  “If the cafeteria doesn’t have pie, are you going to fuss?”

  Tommy shook his head, his eyes wide and serious. “Oh, no. I’ll eat any kind of sugar. That’s why I have a sweet tooth.”

  Kellan ruffled his hair. “Fair enough, let’s see what we find.”

  Hand in hand, they strolled from the elevator into a quiet hallway, following the signs and smell of coffee to the cafeteria.

  Three hours, four cups of coffee, and two slices of apple pie later, Kellan stared at a muted television set in the waiting room adjacent to the ICU, with Tommy passed out on his chest, his face burrowed into Kellan’s neck.

  Jenna had popped out once, an hour or so earlier, to check on them. Tommy was already deep in slumber. Jenna smoothed the hair around his ear and kissed his cheek. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she sounded strong as she explained that their mom had survived surgery. They didn’t know any more details and were awaiting the arrival of their mom’s primary doctor, who was on the way from her office across town. Meanwhile, all three daughters felt the need to keep vigil at their mom’s bedside.

/>   After assuring her that he was fine taking care of Tommy for as long as was necessary, she kissed the tip of her finger and pressed it to Tommy’s lips, then slipped through the doors to the ICU.

  Kellan turned his face into Tommy’s hair, smelling his little-boy smells, measuring the rhythm of his breaths. It felt good having a child sleep in his lap. As it felt with Daisy or Rowen—good and peaceful and life affirming. Holding him got Kellan thinking about what a lucky little guy Tommy was, growing up in a household of smart, vibrant women who loved him. It got Kellan thinking about the things he wanted for his own children one day, and about innocence and forgiveness. Hope. Holding Tommy made him sad for himself and Jake, and the years they wasted with hurt feelings and purposeful negligence.

  Carefully, carefully, he threaded his fingers through his pocket, past the tie he’d stuffed inside after Tommy had used it as a napkin, and wrangled his cell phone out. He scrolled through the contact list, searching for his brother’s name. He didn’t remember inputting it into his phone, but his need to hear Jake’s voice hit him with a fresh urgency.

  Jake’s phone number wasn’t there. And with him being a cop, Kellan knew he wouldn’t find any personal information in an Internet directory. He considered leaving a message at the LAPD, but had no idea what location he worked out of. Frustrated by his own pathetic ignorance of the details of his only brother’s life, he navigated to an Internet search engine and typed “Jake Reed.” A six-month-old article on Jake’s latest heroics popped up. Kellan had read it before, more than once, but he read it again. This time without so much of a sense of brotherly pride, but a sense of longing.

  The door to the ICU opened. Rachel stepped out and flopped into the seat next to Kellan, puffing her cheeks with a belabored exhale.

  Bracing a hand on Tommy’s back, he shifted in his chair so he could look at her. “Any news?”

  “Yeah, but none of it good. The surgeons weren’t able to do more than patch the bleed. And every single doctor in the room is hedging their bets about whether or not she’ll wake up or breathe again without a respirator. It’s wait and see about this and only time will tell about that. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in education in that room and all they have to say is that we need to wait and see.” She huffed. “No shit, Sherlock.”

  No one Kellan loved had experienced a medical emergency like this. The closest he got was the two times Lisa had gone into labor. He thought about how he’d feel if Vaughn got hurt on the job. The horrible waiting, trusting doctors to know their stuff and make the best choices. It would be brutal, the helplessness.

  “Is there anything more I can do? Get you all something to eat or drink? Call anyone?” he asked.

  Rachel’s gaze settled on Tommy. Her expression softened. “No. This is good, what you’ve done. Jenna would’ve crashed the car if she’d driven us here. I appreciate you stepping up.”

  “Not a problem. Glad I was there.”

  “Why were you at our house, anyway?”

  “I needed to talk to Amy. Still do, but it can wait until a better time.”

  Rachel’s mouth screwed up. “You hurt her last night. Pretty badly. She didn’t give me the details, but she never was good at hiding her feelings. Did you come over this morning to apologize?”

  His heart sank at the confirmation that he’d caused her pain. Almost seemed inevitable after the chain of boneheaded decisions he’d made the night before, starting with the way he’d ignored his conscience and kept their date in the first place. He needed to apologize and explain as best he could, but he certainly wasn’t going to bring Rachel into the loop before he squared things with Amy.

  “Think I’ll wait and talk to Amy first.”

  “When you and I talked on Sunday, you promised me you wouldn’t hurt her. And that’s the first thing you did.”

  “The circumstances changed, okay? And really, it’s none of your business.”

  “When someone hurts my sister, I make it my business.”

  Kellan crinkled his eyebrows in an oh, please look. He felt his hackles stir, his defenses gearing up for battle. “You know what? I don’t care what you say, you’re as nosy and gossipy as everyone else in this town. This is the second time you’ve tried to put yourself in the middle of our relationship. If Amy wants you to know what’s going on, she’ll tell you.”

  They glared at each other until Kellan broke away, a little ashamed for snapping at someone whose mom was suffering a life-threatening health scare a few rooms over.

  “You think I’m being pushy.” She picked at a splash of mud on her jeans. “But Jenna and Tommy and Amy are my only family. I’m going to protect them no matter what.”

  “I respect that about you. I do. All I can tell you right now is that I’m going to do the best I can for Amy. You’ll have to trust me.”

  “Why would I trust you?”

  He squinted up at the florescent lights. “That’s a good question. One I hope time will answer.”

  She snorted. “Wait and see—my least favorite phrase in the English language.”

  He smiled, a peace offering. “You want me to say it in Spanish?”

  “Nice try.”

  “Is Amy okay?” he asked. “I mean, with your mom. Is she coping? I haven’t seen her since we got to the hospital.”

  “She’s hanging in there, but she can’t hardly tear her eyes away from Mom, like she might disappear or something. One thing about Amy is she’s tougher than she looks. And she’s definitely tougher than she thinks she is.”

  “You’re right about that.” He’d only known her for a week, but in that time, she’d proven herself to be one of the strongest, most resilient people he’d ever known. Rachel got up to leave, but Kellan stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Listen, you’re going to think this is the pot calling the kettle black, but I have to ask you something.”

  She settled into the chair. “Shoot.”

  “What’s going on with you and Vaughn?”

  Her spine stiffened and her expression grew defensive. “And you accused me of inserting myself into other people’s business?”

  “Like I said, pot and kettle. So . . . what happened between you two?”

  She found a splash of mud on her forearm to pick at, and took to bouncing her leg. “What did Vaughn tell you?”

  “He didn’t tell me anything.” Not true, but he was a smart enough man not to tell her that Vaughn didn’t seem to care for her. “It’s just that, the other day, after you left, he was agitated. He had the urge to take up smoking again.”

  Her bouncing leg stilled. “He’d stopped?”

  Interesting. “Eleven months ago.”

  She swallowed, her stare growing more vacant. Then she seemed to shake herself awake. “Good for him. For his health, I mean.”

  With an observant eye on her, he fleshed out the details. “He never said what prompted him to quit. The decision seemed to come out of the blue. But once he made the choice, he was all in. He stopped cold-turkey and was impossible to be around for a month or so. He yelled a lot and moped around. Lisa Binderman swore he was going through the classic symptoms of heartbreak.”

  “Heartbreak?”

  Kellan didn’t miss the catch in her whispered word. “You know, because he ended his relationship with nicotine. Anyway, after a time, he started smiling again, cracking jokes. Got back to his old self. But it took a while. Smoking really had a hold on him.” Narrowing his eyes at her, he decided to take a calculated risk. “But when he saw you on Sunday, something inside him seemed to snap. He got that same damaged look in his eyes as he had after he quit smoking. Why do you suppose that is, Rachel?”

  “How should I know what’s going through his head?”

  “Something tells me you do.”

  She turned her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “And if I told you it was none of your business?”

  “Then I’d say, when someone hurts my family, I make it my business.”

  “Touché.”

 
“Look, I’ve known Vaughn for twelve years and other than the month he quit smoking, he’s never gone to such a dark place in his head as he did when he saw you. I don’t like having one of my best friends upset.”

  Sniffing, Rachel stood. Discomfort rippled over her features. “I’m sorry I upset him. I’ll have to work harder to avoid him in the future.”

  Whoa, there. What in the hell happened between them? Something major, that much was clear. Because now Rachel was looking like Vaughn had the other day—restless and bitter and full of private pain. He snagged her hand. “Hey, did Vaughn hurt you?”

  She wrenched away from his grip. “Yes, he did. But I hurt him too. And that’s all you need to know.”

  She strode away, the ICU doors flapping closed behind her.

  Chapter 12

  Amy must have drifted to sleep while Kellan drove to Catcher Creek because she roused when the car paused at the base of the highway off-ramp to find her cheek pressed against the cold window. Then a picture of her mom, frail and unconscious, buffeted by tubes and wires and machines, pierced her haze of drowsiness. Sorrow, colder than the window, seeped into her system.

  Then guilt arrived, trotting out to sit on her heart, threatening to crush her. She’d wished for her mom to die. Sitting vigil at her mom’s bedside, she’d prayed—spoken directly to God—about allowing her mom to leave this world for the next, for Him to have mercy on her and let her die. What a horrible daughter she must be to think such thoughts.

  She resisted further movement, feigning sleep. She needed this quiet time to sift through her memories of the day. A blanket draped over her midsection and legs kept her warm enough to stave off shivering. She fingered the material. Kellan’s suit jacket. A sweet gesture, kind and chivalrous. As he always was. Except when he admitted his mistake in bringing her to his house. Except when she laid her heart on the line and he reminded her that all he wanted was a one-night stand.

  She moved her partially closed eyes to the left. The clock read eleven-fifteen. They’d remained at the hospital until Mom was stable enough to move to the stroke unit on the seventh floor. The whole time, Amy longed for Kellan’s reassuring presence, the strength of his embrace . . . and hated herself for wanting him despite everything. Jenna brought reports of his goodness to Mom’s room, gushing about how sweet he looked holding Tommy as he slept, and how much of a lifesaver he was to care for her son so she could focus on Mom.