by Dahlia West
She should’ve known better.
She should never have told him about the baby.
She should’ve spared him.
She could, however, stop dragging him down with her.
“I want to go home,” she told him, feeling as though her limbs were heavy.
Austin nodded. “Yeah. We’ll go home. We’ll get some rest. We’ll get you well. I’ll—”
Leah shook her head and watched his brow furrow. “Not to Star Valley. I want to go home to Cody. I just want to go.”
A moment ago, mere seconds, really, Leah could’ve sworn truthfully that it was impossible to bring him any lower, to hurt him anymore than she’d already let him be hurt. But his face crumpled and his hand tightened on hers. She could hear his breath turn sharp and rapid.
“Leah—”
“I’m leaving.”
Austin seemed to have no idea what to say. He cried, though. A tear fell and slipped down his unshaven cheek. “Leah, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
“There’s no reason to stay anymore,” she said flatly, which was an easy tone to pull off given how sapped of energy she was right now.
“Leah, I love—”
“The baby was the only thing holding us together,” she said, interrupting him. “And now it’s gone. Call Candace. She’ll come.”
Austin merely blinked at her for a minute, maybe two. Leah could hear the clock ticking on the wall but didn’t have the energy to mark the passage of time. Then he finally turned, wordlessly, and left the room.
That was it, the last hammer to fall. She hated doing it. Hated herself, hated her life, hated everything in that moment and she knew that from now on, she always would. But Austin, with his easy smile and optimistic outlook, could never be allowed to share that bitter, hollow existence with her. And he would. She knew that. His sense of honor and obligation would never allow him to walk away from her. So she had to do the leaving. For his sake and his alone.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‡
Austin stepped into the hall but had no idea what to even do after that. He just stood in the sterile white hallway, feeling numb all over, barely understanding what had just happened. How had he gone from having a woman and a baby to having nothing at all? How had it all slipped through his fingers so fast?
A hand grabbed his arm. In his stupor he thought it might be hers and he closed his own over it, turning only to find Rowan standing with him in the hallway. “Austin,” she whispered.
“Is she okay?” he asked, remembering how pale she was, how frail she looked in that bed. “I mean…is she okay?”
Rowan nodded. “She is. We’ve got the bleeding stopped. We’ll keep her overnight, just in case.”
“She wants to leave.”
“Well, tomorrow I’m sure the doctor will—”
“No, she wants to leave.”
Rowan’s eyes widened. “She’s…upset. It’s too soon. It’s all too soon. Let her rest. She’s confused. She’s heartbroken. She won’t leave, Austin. She loves you.”
Austin looked at his phone in the palm of his hand, barely aware of having reached for it in the first place. “She wants me to call her friend.”
Rowan nodded. “She needs support. From everyone. Call her. She needs rest and people she loves around her and everything will calm down.”
Rowan was wise beyond her years, being a single mother and a full-time nurse would do that to a woman, Austin suspected. And he respected the hell out of her, not just for raising Willow alone for all those years but for having the courage to walk away from his bonehead brother Court when it would’ve been easier to stay and eat shit sandwiches every day while he cheated on her, for the sake of their daughter.
Austin and Leah’s life would’ve been good, though. It would’ve been everything Rowan and Court could never have had. As much as he wanted Leah all to himself, perhaps Candace could convince her she wasn’t thinking clearly. He swiped the screen and dialed the number he was supposed to call when Leah went into labor.
Candace answered on the third ring. “Hello? Hello?”
He frowned, not knowing how much to say or in what way. “Candace,” he said quietly.
“Austin? Why are you calling me? Where’s Leah?”
“She…she wants you. She wants to see you.”
The line was silent for a moment. “Why?” Candace demanded. “What happened? What did you do?”
He shook his head, which was ridiculous, because the woman couldn’t see him. “I didn’t. There was a storm. She…she fell.”
That silence again, heavier now.
“Oh, God,” Candace breathed into the phone. “Oh, no. Please no.”
“Please come, Candace,” he begged and if he was standing with her in person he would’ve gotten to his knees. “Please help me. Please.”
“I’m coming,” she half-yelled. “I’m coming right now.”
*
‘Right now’ means something different in Wyoming. Long stretches of mostly empty road separated city from city and Candace didn’t arrive until the next morning, having driven all night, though, to get to her friend.
Leah was upstairs resting when the girl pulled in front of the house. Austin met her in the driveway.
“She wants to go home,” he told her. “With you.”
Candace blinked at him.
“I need her to stay, Candace. I need her to…I just fucking need her, okay? Stay as long as you want and I mean it. I don’t care. But don’t take her away. I need her.”
Candace hurried upstairs without a word and headed up to Leah’s room.
Leah hadn’t even wanted to lie down in his bed—their bed.
Austin didn’t follow because he’d done enough hovering, enough talking endlessly while Leah said nothing. He waited below, pacing the floor. Unable to remain still. When she finally came downstairs again, Austin knew it before she’d even spoken. He saw the way Candace’s shoulders sagged, the strained look on her face.
He clenched his fists as though that would somehow hold him together even as his insides were tearing apart. “No,” he growled.
“She’s packing,” said Candace quietly.
“I love her,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“I’m going to marry her.”
Candace nodded. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. For what it’s worth, I think she should stay.”
Austin nodded, grateful for the sentiment even under the circumstances. They stood in awkward silence until Leah appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying her suitcase. He didn’t want to take it, childish as that was. He didn’t want to help her leave him. Walker took it when she reached the bottom, doing what he couldn’t bring himself to do.
He did follow them outside as a thousand more arguments, a million more apologies, floated into his mind and almost formed on his lips. The words wouldn’t come though and he didn’t know why. All he could get out was “Stay” in a hollow, broken voice.
She ignored him completely and got into the car.
As Candace started the engine, Austin started forward, to throw open the door maybe, to drag her out and convince her, somehow, some way.
Walker grabbed his arm, though, and held him back. “Let her go,” he murmured.
“To hell with that,” Austin spat and took another step forward.
His brother’s grip tightened and he held Austin firmly as the car drove away.
“To hell with that!” Austin repeated and struggled to get away and go after her. “To hell with you!”
“Give her some space,” Walker replied calmly. “Give her some room to breathe. You, too.”
Austin shrugged off Walker’s hold angrily, turning on his brother because it felt better to glare at him than to watch his woman leaving him. “What do you know? Huh? You won’t take anyone. You won’t take Dakota. You’ve never given a single piece of yourself to anyone else so you’ve never had a single fucking thing to lose!”
He stormed away, not toward the house because there were too many people there and he couldn’t stand to see the concerned and pitying looks on their faces anymore. Instead he went to the barn, threw a saddle on Colter. The horse could tell he was upset and stamped his hooves on the concrete flooring of the aisle. He pranced in circles as Austin put his leg in the stirrup. Austin didn’t bother to chastise him or lead him to a corner where he’d be less restless.
No sooner was he seated in the saddle then he gave the horse a slight squeeze. It didn’t require anything more. All the tension the animal had been feeling exploded in an instant and they were in full gallop just as they sprinted out the open side door and into the adjacent field.
Austin ran him hard, to get away, get clear of it all, though with every step things got worse, not better. The pain in his chest didn’t subside at all. It was reckless to keep this pace but what did he have to lose at this point? A fall, a broken neck, would be welcome compared to what he was living through now.
Colter was a seasoned trail horse, though, and every step, every stride was measured and well placed. They raced on, over the rolling hills, down into the valley, where Austin barely slowed him as they entered Goodman’s Gulch, and then only because while he didn’t give a shit about himself, he wouldn’t risk breaking the horse’s leg on the rocky terrain.
At the bottom, the true bottom, he practically leapt from the saddle, landing hard and going to his knees with the force of the impact. Colter was lathered and breathing hard and both man and horse crossed the few feet toward the river, with Colter breaking off to get a drink and Austin heading straight for the stone marker that was now taunting him.
“Fuck you!” he bellowed, raging at the thing. “Fuck you, because I wasn’t gonna leave! I wasn’t gonna leave! But you did. Didn’t you, you sorry fucking bastard.” Austin fell to his knees and put his palms in the dirt to steady his trembling body. “You left us, you son of a bitch! You left us and now it’s all gone to shit and I don’t know how to get through this! I don’t know who to ask! I never once thought I was a better man than you, until now. Because I never would’ve left her.”
There was no answer, though. Even the birds in the trees were quiet. And the silence didn’t feel like peace. It didn’t make him feel better. He felt his blood boil, felt his synapses spit and crackle. His vision blurred. He was alone now, all alone, and had no idea what to do.
He shouted, a raw guttural thing, that wasn’t really a word at this point. There was an echo in the valley all around him, but louder, more piercing.
Somewhere a beast screamed. And didn’t stop.
Austin finally realized it was him. He was an animal, he supposed, in the disconnected part of his mind. His rage and fear felt primal, palpable. It was unfair, unnatural, to lose a child, to lose your hope for a promising future with one turn of the head or the slip of a foot.
In the absence of reason and logic, overtaken by a pain so brutal it felt as though he were bleeding, Austin staggered to his feet, past the stone marker of his selfish, uncaring father, and charged into the Snake River.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
‡
Leah had used every ounce of strength she had left to get herself downstairs and into the car without giving in to the selfish whispers in her ear that told her to turn back. She had laid awake all night in the hospital, bargaining and pleading for it all to have been a horrible, gut-punching dream she could wake from. He’d sat with her, in a chair in the corner, silent because she’d been pretending to sleep, to avoid him.
It had been torture, having him that close and wanting to call him to her but knowing she shouldn’t. Her whole body had burned with wanting him to lie down beside her and hold her against him. When dawn came and she was discharged, she picked her old room, to put a door and space between them. Otherwise she might break down and lose her resolve.
When the door opened, she steeled herself, but it was Candace who entered the room.
“Oh, honey!” she cried as she rushed to the bed.
Leah hugged her fiercely and tried not to tell herself her friend was a stand in for Austin as she held her close. “I have to go,” she said, throwing back the sheets.
“Listen, Leah, I don’t think—”
“No, I have to go. I have to go home. I have to just…go. Okay?”
“Leah, he is really messed up.”
Hot tears filled her eyes and she rubbed them hard. “I know.”
“I don’t think you should go today. Maybe tomorrow, or in a few days. He said I could stay. I could—”
“Now. It has to be now. Right now.”
“Honey, you look exhausted. You look sick, Leah. You should stay. And I’ll stay, and together we’ll ta—”
“I’m leaving,” said Leah firmly. “And if you won’t take me I’ll find another way.” She pulled her suitcase out of the closet and went into Austin’s room, stuffing it quickly.
“I’ll…I guess I’ll go to the car.”
After she was alone, Leah stood over her closed suitcase having packed in a hurry but now not wanting to actually go downstairs. She didn’t want to see Austin, didn’t want to say goodbye. She had to do it, though, had to muster her courage one final time. She picked up the case and headed toward the stairs.
Seeing him walking the floor didn’t help matters. Her first instinct was to go to him, to try and comfort him. Instead she passed her suitcase to Walker and headed straight out the front door of Snake River.
“Stay,” he said hoarsely and she very nearly did. Summoning up the last of her strength, she opened the car door instead and climbed inside. As Candace drove away, she finally broke down, unable to keep it inside anymore. She cried, sobbing in great jagged heaves.
Candace’s foot let off the gas. “Leah? Leah, do you want me to turn around? Do you want to go back?”
“No,” Leah choked out. “No, just keep driving!” She clutched her belly, trying to hold herself in, trying to keep it together. It was an hour before she was so worn out she simply stopped spluttering.
“Well, maybe you should just take some time, you know?” said Candace softly. “Just take some time. Nothing has to be decided right now.”
The fact that her best friend’s words were tempting (too tempting) made it clear to Leah in a single moment of understanding what needed to happen.
It was then, and only then, that she finally decided what she need to do.
*
She wasn’t sure how much sleep she actually got in the night, but she crawled out of bed early, dressed, and made her way to the kitchen where she only sipped some water and stared at her phone. She should call her parents but she could already imagine the devastated look on their faces.
How could she do it? How could she destroy them not once but twice? Not to mention all the other times before that with the leukemia, like some slow-motion car accident with Leah behind the wheel, taking her mother and father over a cliff.
She put the phone down and pushed it away. Once was enough. Once was bad enough.
Candace came out of her bedroom ready for work but with a deep frown on her face. “Are you going to be okay? Should I call your mom to come and stay and you guys could talk—”
“No. No, don’t do that. I’m fine. You just go to work. Everything’s okay.”
Candace looked unconvinced but eventually she grabbed her server’s apron off the coat rack and headed toward the front door. “Call me,” she said firmly. “If you need anything, anything at all, call me.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
“I can bring home some cheesecake,” the girl offered. “I mean…shit…is that stupid? Is that a dumb thing to say?”
Leah managed a weak smile that she hoped was convincing. “Candace, it’s fine. Cheesecake is fine. Go ahead. Don’t worry about me.”
“Okay, I’m going. But I’ll have my phone with me.”
“I promise to call,” Leah lied.
“If I can get off early,
I will!”
Leah waited a full five minutes, in case Candace changed her mind, then levered herself off the couch and stepped into her shoes. She couldn’t have her best friend hovering over her day after day, night after night. She couldn’t stay in this apartment, staring at the cracked paint on the baseboards. And she couldn’t go home because she hated—hated—that look on her mother’s face, that look that said nothing would ever be good again, that there was nothing left to look forward to.
As much as Leah’s mother meant well, that look haunted Leah and she saw it every time she closed her eyes. It was the same look Austin had on that terrible day. Too many people were looking at her, but not seeing her. Leah realized she didn’t want to be looked at, didn’t want to be seen, by anyone—not anymore.
She felt bad about Candace’s cheesecake as she locked the front door behind herself and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‡
Austin was already hip-deep in the water of the Snake River when a set of powerful arms wrapped around him from behind. He was neither surprised nor was he prepared, throwing himself to side in an attempt to escape, foot slipping on the small stones of the river bed and costing him the precious traction he needed to get away.
“Come on!” Walker shouted into his ear, hauling him backward.
Austin bellowed again. It felt like no. It sounded like a battle cry. He tried again to throw off his brother’s hold but the current and his lack of leverage made it all but impossible.
“Please,” came Walker’s voice in his ear once more, this time echoing the way Austin felt in his chest. “Please.”
Austin allowed himself to be dragged through the water and up onto the bank.
“Whatever you need, you’re not going to find it in there,” Walker told him.
Austin’s mind rebelled, though. The river felt right. It felt necessary. Perhaps he’d sinned somehow, and in doing so brought chaos down on them. Perhaps the river could wash it all away. Perhaps the river could save them all. “Go! Just go! Just leave me!”
