Rock Star Cowboys (McLendon Family 3)

by D. L. Roan

  Grey’s long sigh penetrated the silence, adding to the building tension. His dad reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a tin can. Steering the truck with his knee, he twisted off the cap, pinched a wad of tobacco and tucked it behind his bottom lip, popping the cap back onto the tin and tossing it onto the dash.

  Dumbfounded, Carson blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “Since when did you start dipping tobacco?”

  “Since your sister started dating,” Grey grumbled.

  “What does Mom say about that?”

  “Not damn near enough,” Grey said. “She gives that girl way too much rope.”

  Carson laughed, breaking some of the tension in his chest. “Not about Dani, about you dipping.”

  Grey threw him some serious side eye, picking up the tin and tucking it into the side panel of his door. “She doesn’t know,” he grumbled. “And don’t go telling her either. She’s got enough on her mind worrying about you.”

  And there it is. The knot in Carson’s chest tightened again and he braced himself for the conversation he’d been avoiding since Papa Joe’s stroke.

  “Is it me?” Grey asked.

  Carson glanced at his dad to find him frowning, his gaze darting between him and the road. Carson looked away. When it came to Grey, he’d learned a long time ago that it was best to let the top blow uninterrupted and then scramble for cover before the next eruption.

  “Was I too tough on you? Not tough enough? Did I drop the ball with you somehow that I’m not aware of?”

  What? “No!” Carson objected. How could he think that? “Dad, it’s not you.”

  “Because for the life of me, son, I can’t figure out what would lead you to do what I saw on that video,” Grey continued. “Unless I missed something fundamental in raising you. It makes no sense.”

  “You didn’t miss anything, Dad. It’s all me,” Carson groaned. “I totally fucked up.”

  “I didn’t even recognize the man on that tape.” Grey sighed.

  “Dad, I know you’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry, Car. I’m profoundly disappointed.”

  Carson turned away again, unable to withstand the force of the hurt and disapproval in his dad’s voice. Though he didn’t realize where they were, the hair on his arms stood on end as the white cross on the side of the road came into view—a beacon of light shining eerily in the darkness. Shit was coming at him from every direction!

  He balled his fist and pounded it against the door, biting back the string of curses that echoed in his head. In addition to the usual horrific images that assaulted him when they passed the cross, new images of Breezy were juxtaposed beside them. He remembered the sadness in her eyes, the steel rigidity of her spine as she fought for her right to mourn her brother. He’d been no better than the very people he hated.

  “Talk to me, Car,” Grey pleaded. “We’ve tried to give you some time to get your feet back under you, but your dads and I have been going crazy trying to figure out what’s going on with you. Your mom is worried sick. We want to help, but you have to tell us what’s going on.”

  The mention of his mom brought tears to Carson’s eyes. Disappointing his dads was one thing, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of her seeing him as fucked up as he’d been that night. “I know, Dad,” he choked out, the pain from the sudden lump in his throat making it impossible to speak.

  He sucked in a long breath through his nose and let it out slowly, determined not to cry in front of his dad. The tears clogged his throat, but he held his ground and forced them back again, thankful that Grey had backed off, giving him a chance to suck it up. One more word would have sent him over the edge.

  When he was sure he had himself in check, he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, unsure of what to say next. Where did he begin? He’d done and said so many things, to so many people, he could never take it all back. How could he tell Grey about that? He needed to handle his own mistakes, and there was only one place to start. If he could fix things with Breezy, he could set things right with Connor, and everything would go back to the way it was, or at least should have been.

  “What can you tell me about Breezy’s dad?” he finally asked.

  “That’s it?” Grey glanced over at him, his hands raised in exasperation. “This whole thing is about Breezy?”

  “Part of it,” Carson confessed. “You know what I said to her that night in the hospital.” There was no reason to repeat it, if he even could. “She said her dad was arrested that night. What happened?”

  Grey let out a deflating sigh. “Shouldn’t you be asking her these questions?”

  “I’ve tried, Dad. She’s so shy about everything. I don’t want to push her away or say something stupid again.”

  Grey nodded and gripped the steering wheel, pulling the truck to the side of the road.

  “Why are you stopping?”

  “It’s taken this damn long to get you to open up and I don’t want any distractions.” The truck stopped and Grey threw the gearshift into park, leaning his elbow against the door as he stared out the windshield. “What do you want to know?”

  “Papa Joe said he was terrible.”

  Grey nodded in agreement. “Only Breezy can tell you firsthand, but I imagine living with that man was as close to hell as a person could get this side of death.”

  He listened as his dad told him about Breezy’s mother, who’d actually been their birth mother’s friend, despite the Grunion-McLendon feud.

  “She died when Breezy was about six, I think. I don’t know all the particulars, but there was no money and a lot of bills, so the Grunions let them move into that old, run-down hunting trailer.” Grey shook his head. “Probably the nicest thing they ever did for anyone, if you can imagine.”

  “Why?” Carson asked. They were family, and the Grunions owned the second largest farm in the state next to theirs. Money certainly wasn’t an issue. “Why wouldn’t they at least help Breezy and Ford? They were only kids.”

  Grey leaned back against the door and folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t know. Guess the Grunions found someone they hated more than us. They never gave those kids a dime or a second thought.”

  “Shit.” Carson sighed. “So their dad started drinking?”

  “I’m pretty sure he was neck deep into the bottle long before then,” Grey confirmed.

  “Papa Joe...” He cleared his throat. Thinking about what his Papa’d said made him sick to his stomach. “He said that their dad used to beat them.”

  Grey nodded. “I don’t think he got his hands on Breezy, but we caught sight of more than a fair share of cuts and bruises on Ford. We even tried to intervene a few times, but it only made things worse. When the kid quit school to get a job, we offered to hire him on here at the ranch, but he was too scared his father would find out. Apparently their prejudice against us was the only thing his father and the Grunions shared in spades.”

  “That’s why Mom invited Breezy to the creek on Sundays, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” his dad said. “With Ford working two jobs and her dad passed out drunk more than not, the girl had nobody. Your mom was trying to offer her some form of normalcy, and someone to trust.”

  Fuck with a capitol F.

  “To answer your initial question about the night of the accident,” Grey continued, “the story is that her dad was drunk. Two Deputies drove over to give him a ride to the hospital to see Ford before he died, but the old man refused. The Deputies witnessed him assault Breezy when she tried to make him go.”

  “What kind of father would refuse to go see his dying son in the hospital?” Carson’s hands began to tremble as he pictured Breezy, the scrawny freckle-faced girl he’d caught watching them in the woods that day, being shoved around by that drunk. And then he’d...oh, God help him. The empty look in her eyes as he’d laid into her at the hospital...

  He dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing them over his face as he let out an infuriated grow
l. His chest constricted so tight he thought he might be having a heart attack. After piecing together what his dad had just told him with what she’d said about her brother’s funeral, he didn’t know how she could stand even the sight of him.

  “Son, I don’t know what this has to do with anything, but if what you said to Breezy that night is what has you torn up like this, you need to talk to her. I know more than I’ll ever tell you about what it’s like to say something you can never take back, but she is still here, alive. You have a chance to make things right with her.”

  He latched on to his dad’s advice like a lifesaver, bolting upright in his seat with a fresh wave of inspiration. Grey was right. There was still a chance. There had to be, if the way she kissed him tonight meant anything.

  “You’ve got to get me home, Dad,” he pleaded. “I need to see her.”

  Grey didn’t move. He sat there staring at him, studying him. “Am I going to see any more of those videos?” he finally asked. “Because I swear to God, Carson, if you make your mother cry one more time, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

  “No! Dad, I promise. No more videos. No more fuck-ups.” Christ, he felt like he was sixteen again! “Now can we go? Please?”

  He sighed in relief, his heart galloping in his chest when his dad righted himself in the seat and put the truck in gear. Before they turned into their driveway, Grey reached up and pulled something from above his visor and handed it to him. “Put that in the glove box, will you?”

  “What is it?” He asked before he recognized the familiar binocular shape.

  “Night vision goggles,” Grey explained. “They aren’t very good, though. Uncle Cade’s looking into an infrared thermal imagery camera for me.”

  “Damn, Dad. Are you planning a high-tech hunting trip or something?”

  “I will be, the next time that damn boy brings Dani home late.”

  ~*~*~*~*~*~

  The sound of gravel crunching under tires caught Connor’s attention. He propped the pitchfork in his hand against the barn wall and pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It had been a while—too long—since he’d felt the cleansing effects of good old fashioned manual labor.

  He was only pitching hay, and the stock barn was small, consisting of a few stalls for the family’s personal mounts, but work was work. It felt good to sweat off the waning effects of the most god-awful flu he’d ever had. “Aaaachoo!” Even if it did trigger his allergies.

  The barn door creaked open and Matt walked in. “Hey son,” he said, looking surprised to see him. “I take it you’re feeling better.”

  “Almost a hundred percent.” He nodded. “How was the festival?”

  “Crowded,” Matt said as he propped the barn door open. “Brought the pit smoker home so I can weld a new vent hood on before the weekend picnic at the creek. Want to give me a hand unloading?”

  “Sure.” Connor followed Matt out to his truck and jumped into the back. He hefted one end of the fifty-five gallon drum while Matt lifted the other and they made their way into the barn, setting the heavy load down at the far end of the aisle between the stalls.

  “Thanks.” Matt dusted his hands across his pants, leaving twin swaths of charcoal on the denim. “Dammit, your momma’s gonna kill me.”

  Connor laughed as his dad tried to wipe off the smudges, creating more with each swipe and finally giving up with a defeated sigh.

  “What are you doin’ out here workin’ in the barn this late anyway?”

  “Waiting for Car. You didn’t happen to see him at the park, did you?”

  Matt shook his head as he turned and closed the barn door behind them. “I thought the two of you were stayin’ home to avoid those media clowns that follow you around like hound dogs.”

  Shit. “We’d planned to, but he snuck a ride in with Jonah at the last minute.” To see Breezy, no doubt. The sneaky bastard. They were supposed to go over together to see her at their grandparents’ in the morning, but maybe if they had some time alone, Carson would get his head out of his ass and see the truth about her.

  “Did you see the new colt?” Matt asked, walking over to where the mother and baby were stalled.

  “Sure did. He’s a beauty.” He stood next to Matt and peered over the stall door. “I laid down some fresh bedding before I threw in some hay. Momma’s pretty protective. Almost got nipped on the ass on the way out.”

  “Momma’s usually are,” Matt chuckled. “The good ones anyway.”

  Shoulder to shoulder, their arms slung over the stall door, Connor watched the colt move. He didn’t know as much about horses as their dads, especially Mason, but he knew enough to see that the colt came from good McLendon stock.

  He glanced over at his dad, taking note of the changes the years had brought. Matt’s hair was still the same dirty blond as his own, but the stubble on his jawline was speckled with sun-bleached gray. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes were deeper and his shoulders seemed broader somehow, if that was possible. The close call they’d had with Papa Joe made Connor wonder how many of these moments he’d lost, and how many more he’d get.

  They’d already missed watching Dani and Jonah grow up. Dani was headed off to college next year and no one knew what Jonah had planned. They barely knew Cory. Everything was changing so fast.

  The thought of going back on the road and missing any more than he already had withered his spirit. If his last phone call panned out, there would be some big changes, good changes, but he and Carson had only begun to mend their fences. He couldn’t possibly reveal his plans to his brother, not yet; not when Carson was only just warming up to Breezy. If Car was warming up to her. Thanks in part to the damn flu they’d caught, things were moving much slower than he’d have liked. While patching things up with Carson had been great, his brother hadn’t said a word about taking the next step with her.

  “Dad, can I ask you something?”

  Matt gave him a singular nod. “Anything, son. You know that.”

  Connor swallowed. His mom and dads were always flirting with one another; their public displays of affection pegged into the ‘no shame’ end of the scale more often than not. He knew from experience that if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up with more information than he cared to know.

  “Spit it out.” Matt chuckled.

  “When you met Mom, you knew, right? That she was the one?” He and Carson knew Gabby wasn’t their birth mother. Sarah, their dads’ first wife, had died giving birth to them. Gabby came along six years later and was the only mother they’d ever known.

  The lines at the corners of his dad’s blue eyes crinkled as his smile broadened. “Yep. The very second I saw her in your classroom.”

  “But, Grey didn’t. I mean, you and Mason had to convince him, right?”

  Matt turned and studied him, his head tilting to the side. “You remember that?”

  “I remember some things,” he rushed to clarify. “I remember Grey wasn’t happy at first that Mom was here.”

  “Not exactly,” Matt snorted. “He knew she was the one. There were things he had to get straight in his head before he’d let himself believe it.”

  “Things about our birth mom?”

  “Yeah, most of it was about her,” Matt offered. “You’d have to ask him about that, though. Why? You have a girlfriend waiting for you back in California, or Nashville, or wherever it is you two are calling home these days?”

  Connor shook his head. “No. No one there, and Falcon Ridge will always be my home, Dad. I hate California.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” Matt said, giving him a curious, insistent look. “But don’t stop there. Who’s this girl?”

  Connor hesitated, toeing at the hay poking out from beneath the stall door. He was almost afraid to say her name, afraid it might jinx it or something.

  “Damn.” Matt let loose with a long whistle. “Whoever she is, she’s got your number. I’ve never seen so many teeth in that blonde head of yours.” />
  Connor couldn’t budge the smile on his face, the memory of Breezy’s kiss making his insides light up brighter than the stage lights at the country music awards. “It’s um...Breezy Youngblood.”

  “I knew it!” Matt gave him a playful shove.

  “You did?”

  “Of course!” His dad chuckled. “That girl followed the two of you around like a lost puppy dog for months!”

  She did?

  “When did this happen?” Matt asked, giving his arm a prodding poke.

  Connor shrugged. “It hasn’t yet. Not really.”

  “But you think she’s the one?”

  He thought back to the day in the basement when he’d seen her curled up in Carson’s arms. That familiar flutter returned to his chest. “I know she is.”

  “Ha-ha!” Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “Hot damn! I remember that feelin’. I can see it in your eyes.” He pulled Connor into a back-slapping hug before letting him go with another embarrassing low whistle. “So, what’s the problem?” Matt prodded. “Is it Breezy?”

  “No, it’s not Breezy.” He released a disappointed sigh. At least he didn’t think so. They’d talked on the phone a few times, but being sick and not seeing her for over a week was wrecking his confidence. “It’s Carson,” he said, pinching the back of his neck to release some tension.

  “I don’t understand,” Matt said, pushing himself up to sit on one of the work benches that lined the back wall, his attention laser focused on Connor. “What does Carson have to do with you and Breezy?”

  He gave Matt a dubious look. “Dad, c’mon. Don’t make me spell it out.”

  Matt studied him for a second before his eyes widened with understanding. “You want to share her?”

  “Well, yeah.” They were dangerously close to the Too Much Information zone of their conversation and he was getting nervous.

  Matt laughed. “Sorry, but I’m a little shocked. I didn’t think the two of you wanted to continue the family lifestyle.”

  “It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he admitted. “I’ve never imagined my life any other way.”

  “I see.” His dad slid off the table and walked over to scoop up a length of lunge line that had been left tangled on the floor and began to untangle it. “Carson doesn’t share your feelings for Breezy?”