To his surprise, when Dax finally did react, it was with a laugh as he clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate the apology, I really do. But it’s not necessary.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but Dax shook his head. He wasn’t done. “None of us are kids anymore, Cole. We all went through a tough time after Mom and Dad died, and we all dealt with it in the best way we knew how.” His brother’s expression turned grim and his eyes distant with memory. “We each made our fair share of mistakes as we muddled through.”
“Yeah, but I was the oldest,” Cole said. “I should have been there for you guys.”
“And you were.” Dax honestly sounded surprised… and genuine, Cole noted with relief. “You were there when we really needed you. Alice and I always knew we could go to you and that you’d have our backs. That’s what mattered.”
He opened his mouth to protest but Dax cut him off. “Look, I know you and I had our disagreements over how to run this place, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t appreciate you. Our styles were just different, that’s all.”
“Plus, I had no place trying to run a ranch when I don’t know the first thing about it,” he added with a rueful shrug.
Dax tipped his head back with a laugh and Cole soon found himself joining in. It felt good to finally be able to laugh about all those arguments in their dad’s old office. The laughter felt healing, like they were sealing up old wounds.
“Maybe not,” Dax said, once his laughter died down. “But this place is yours too. It belongs to you and Alice, and James, for that matter.” His gaze was level and the laughter in his voice was gone. “This is home for all of you, so you all have a say in what goes on here.”
Cole nodded, emotion making his chest feel heavy. “Thanks, Dax. And you’re right. This is home—it always has been and always will be. Which is why I’m so sorry I took off—”
Dax’s groan cut him off. “Enough with the apologies. Don’t take this the wrong way, big brother, but Alice and I are doing just fine. We don’t need you to be around all the time taking care of us.”
Cole met his brother’s gaze straight on. He heard what Dax was saying—we don’t need you—and he also knew why he was saying it. He was giving him permission to leave again, to take off after Claire like his heart was begging for him to do.
He shook his head. That wasn’t an option; he’d known that from the start. He’d come back here to find a home, to make a life for himself, to be a committed brother. “You two might not need me, but what if I need you?”
Dax’s eyes widened slightly at that.
Cole looked over his shoulder, hearing the distant sounds of little girls laughing from inside the barn. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he tried to explain. “You and Alice, you’re my family. The only family I’ve got left.”
“And you’ll always know where to find us,” Dax said quietly.
Cole nodded. He knew what his brother was saying, and he appreciated it. But Dax didn’t understand. He let out a growl of frustration. “I’ve finally found it, Dax.” He shook his head, Dax might not get it but he had to try to explain. “I’ve finally found that feeling of belonging that I’ve been searching for, I’ve found my home.”
Dax drew in a deep breath, his brows lowered as he gave him a thoughtful stare. “Big brother, this ranch is your home, and it always will be. Lulu is your hometown, and it always will be. Alice and I…we’re your home and we always will be.” Dax reached out and gripped his shoulder, “But don’t you think it’s telling that you’ve just recently found that feeling of belonging? This ranch, your family, this town…we’ve always been right here. Only one thing changed in your life since you’ve been back.”
He stopped talking abruptly, giving his head a little shake. “I’m talking too much,” he muttered. Dropping his hand from Cole’s shoulder, he mirrored Cole by shoving his hands in his pockets. “Besides, it’s freezing out here. If you want to freeze your butt off while figuring out what it is you want out of life, feel free. I’m going back in to help Alice figure out how to wire those speakers.”
He turned and headed back to the barn, but Cole was too dumbstruck to respond, let alone follow him inside. So instead he stood out there under the bright stars and let his younger brother’s words seep in.
Actually, they didn’t so much seep as slap him across the face. He stared into space as the words rang in his ears, their meaning taking hold and shaking him to his core.
Claire. Finding her, having her in his life, that was what had given him the sense of belonging, the feeling of rightness. He’d finally felt like everything fit in his world, like he’d found where he belonged…and it had been with Claire, at his side and in his heart.
It was like the world shifted and came into focus with this new realization. Oh, he supposed he’d known deep down that getting together with Claire and finally finding this feeling of belonging wasn’t a coincidence, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think it.
He’d been too afraid that if he acknowledged how much Claire meant to him, how much he needed her, he wouldn’t be able to keep from following her. He wouldn’t be able to let her go.
And he couldn’t.
He supposed he’d known that too, somewhere deep down, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it. Because he hadn’t wanted to let Dax and Alice down…again. But maybe Dax was right. They didn’t need him, not like they once had, at least. They were grownups with lives of their own. He didn’t need to live here to be a part of the decision-making process or to help give his thoughts on what they should do with the ranch.
He could find a way to get back here to help, and he could send back money when he found a job. His heart ached at the thought of being away from his family again, especially now when things were going so well between him and Dax. He hated the idea of leaving Alice when she was so invested in this new guest ranch idea. But he didn’t need to be here to help her—she would have his support when she needed it and James and Dax were more than capable of helping her to see it through.
Most of all, he hated leaving his family and his home. He’d just gotten back, he’d found a rhythm and a way to fit in here. Helping Marty at the garage, assisting Alice with her plans for the ranch, giving Dax a hand with chores.
For the first time in a long time, he’d felt useful here. Necessary, even.
Dax had said it best, though. They didn’t need him. Not really. They might like having his company and his help, but they didn’t need him.
But Claire did. Oh, not in a weak, helpless kind of way. Nothing about Claire was weak or helpless. But, unless he was very much mistaken, she needed him like he needed her. They belonged together and every second they spent apart would be painful. They complemented one another, they made each other better, or they made each other want to be better, at the very least.
But maybe he couldn’t speak for her. Maybe she saw him as a passing fancy, someone who was there for her when she needed it, but not one who could go with her into the future.
It was possible. He looked up at the stars as he thought of her excitement to head back to New York. She’d hid it from him to some extent, but he’d been able to see how thrilled she’d been to get the call that she was wanted back in her old life, in the far-off world she’d come from.
And he was happy for her, he really was. But he was miserable as well. And maybe, just maybe, she was miserable too.
There was only one way to know.
His brother’s words had opened up a new possibility, one he hadn’t allowed himself to think about because he’d been so intent on proving to Dax and Alice that they could count on him. But Dax’s words had merit. They didn’t need him like that, not anymore. They were grown adults with lives of their own. And leaving the property didn’t mean he had to leave for good. He could find a way to come back and help. He could find a way to be the brother and son he wanted to be while also being there for the woman he loved.
Loved. The word struck him to his core, win
ding him with its truth. It coursed through him like a living entity. He drew in a deep breath, a flicker of hope breaking through the heavy gloom he’d been drowning in since she’d left.
Maybe there was still a way to make this right. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince her that they stood a chance. That their lives didn’t need to be separate, even though their interests were worlds apart.
His home might be in Lulu, but he loved to travel. And she might have obligations in New York, but he’d seen her here in her hometown and knew without a doubt that there was something here for her, too.
He let out a huff of a laugh as he stared up at the sky. Aside from him, of course. Though he hoped that he’d be a big part of the appeal.
But her mother was here, and Ellen, and the dance students… Not to mention, she’d felt at ease here. It might sound strange to others, but he’d felt from day one that he could read her. He could sense her emotions which she guarded so closely, hiding them away from the world.
But he saw. He’d always seen. And he’d seen how at home she’d felt here.
Maybe there was a way for them after all. It sounded insanely optimistic even in his head, but it was worth trying, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that what it meant to live fully and to try to be the best one could be? He could be the brother his siblings could trust as well as the man Claire deserved at her side. He could keep his commitments to Marty and to Dax and to everyone in this town while still doing right by his woman.
They could do this. Whether it meant making it a long-distance relationship or maybe splitting time between their two worlds, surely they could find some sort of compromise. They could find a way to make this work. Or, at the very least, they owed it to themselves to try. It wasn’t every day one was given this kind of miracle, it would be downright ungrateful not to make this work. All of it. If he was truly the loyal, trustworthy man he wanted to be, he could do right by Claire, by his family, and himself.
They could make this work.
He shook his head as the new realization made him come to terms with the fact that he’d been short-sighted, single-minded, and wrong in trying to predict how and where life would take him. He should have known it wouldn’t be that cut and dry. Life was rarely so simple as he tried to make it.
Once again, he had to admit that he’d been wrong.
Then he sighed.
Which meant that Dax was right.
Again.
Chapter Twenty
New York was busier than Claire remembered. It had changed.
Or maybe she had changed.
Either way, it was different. All of it. She couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly, but as she watched her super serious teenage ballet students resume their position, she couldn’t shrug off the feeling that it was all… wrong.
Not bad, necessarily. Just wrong. Different. Not what she’d hoped or expected.
But then, when had life ever gone as expected?
At some point she probably should have learned that lesson.
And she was lying to herself. She did feel bad. Maybe not with the city or the teaching, but with…everything. She’d never felt anything like it. Even when her ankle had given out on her and her career was trashed, she’d never felt this. This emptiness, this void, this hole in her heart and in her life where once there had been such energy.
She moved her neck to the side to crack it, feeling every day of the age difference between her and these young, fresh-faced girls. Maybe those six months away from dancing had affected her physically in more ways than she’d thought.
Or maybe you just miss Cole.
That thought had occurred to her more than once. It had occurred to her quite often, in fact. Maybe even every second of every hour of every day since she’d returned.
This wasn’t what she’d expected.
But then, what had she expected?
Truth be told, she supposed she’d envisioned coming back to her old life and fitting in seamlessly. But it wasn’t her old life, for better or for worse.
For the worse, obviously, because she wasn’t living the dream life. She was compromising. Funny how it hadn’t felt like a compromise when she’d been teaching grade schoolers. With them it had been all about the passion, the joy… the dancing.
With these girls? No one doubted their passion, and one must assume they found joy in it, or had, at least, at some point. But that’s not what it was about here at the academy. Here it was about the career.
The career, the roles. That was everything.
The joy, the passion, the music, the dance? They were just side benefits, if they were there at all.
She watched the girls before her, so serious and so determined.
So young.
Had she ever been that young?
She knew it was only ten years ago that she’d been like them—so single-minded, so focused, so bound and determined to succeed.
And she had.
For the first time in a long time she allowed herself to appreciate what she’d accomplished rather than dwell on the goals she hadn’t had a chance to fulfill. She’d done it, what she’d set out to do as a child.
But that was just it. She’d been a child when she’d made those plans. She’d been young and optimistic, a dreamer and a doer. Her whole life had consisted of dance. But maybe, just maybe, she’d outgrown those dreams.
Maybe at some point along the way, her dreams had changed. Or, if they hadn’t, maybe they should have. Maybe she was meant for more than just dancing. If there was one thing living in Lulu again had taught her it was that there was more to life than careers and ambition.
There was family, there were friends… She swallowed a thick lump that threatened to choke her as an image of Cole filled her mind, making her chest ache.
There was love.
The girls in front of her spun in graceful synchronicity, seemingly unaware that their instructor’s gaze was no longer seeing them. Her brain had kicked into overdrive and she was barely able to keep her breathing even, let alone pay attention to the girls before her.
These girls. Children, really. Oh, older than June and her friends, but still so young. Seeing them gave Claire the perspective she needed, the perspective she’d been missing since the accident occurred.
Her life had changed. Shifted. What she’d thought was a tragedy had been a turning point, life’s way of shoving her off the path she’d been so determined to follow.
And at the time, she had thought it a tragedy. But now…
Images flashed in her mind’s eye of all that had occurred since the accident—the time she’d spent with her mother, real time, not just phone calls and emails. She thought of the friends she’d reconnected with, namely Ellen and June. That would never have happened if she’d been on her perfectly laid out course.
Her heart picked up its pace as if it had already moved on ahead of her brain, not waiting for her mind to catch up with what it already knew.
If her accident hadn’t occurred, she wouldn’t have found love.
She clutched her chest and fought for air as she thought of Cole—the emotions in his eyes when he looked at her, the way he made her feel when he was near—as though there were no one else on the planet aside from her. As though she was safe and protected, cherished and adored whenever he was near.
She felt loved. And, miracle of all miracles, she loved him right back, with everything that was in her. For the first time in her life, she’d met someone who’d slipped past the walls of her reserve, who saw beneath the surface and into her heart. She’d met someone who appreciated her for all that she was, and not just for her talents and dedication.
That was beyond anything she’d ever expected in her life. Her short-sighted, narrow-minded, one-track brain hadn’t had the imagination to dream of a love like that. It hadn’t been able to dream of anything greater than the ballet career she’d imagined in her childhood. A dream she’d lived, a goal she’d conquered.
She was startled back to the moment when
the music clicked off and the girls’ dancing came to an abrupt halt.
The class was over. And so was she. She was done here. She didn’t belong at the academy, not any longer. She had a new home now, and new dreams.
She looked around the stark room, with its sterile white walls and shiny barre. The acoustics were perfect, as were the girls who danced before her.
They didn’t need her help. Not really. She knew a gaggle of elementary school girls who needed her more. They needed someone to expose them to the world of dance, which they wouldn’t have access to otherwise.
That, she realized with a start, felt like a noble calling. It might not have been the dream career of her youth but one that suited her now, as a grown up.
The girls were watching her, waiting for her critique. She threw a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle that was entirely out of keeping with these serene and serious surroundings.
But really, it had just dawned on her that she would far prefer to be teaching a bunch of unruly, giggling girls in a barn. She shook her head as laughter bubbled over. Who would have imagined?
Ignoring the dancers’ quizzical looks, she dismissed them with the briefest of notes on their rehearsal. She had too much to think about, too much to do.
As she followed the girls out of the suffocating, sterile room, she experienced a weightlessness like she’d never known.
No, that wasn’t true. She recognized the feeling, but the only other times she’d experienced anything like it was when she’d been dancing on stage—when a partner would pick her up and twirl her around, when the lights and the music and the audience were just right. When she and her partner were in perfect attunement and it all clicked into perfection.
At those times she’d felt this kind of gravity-defying joy.
Never like this, walking down a loud, bleak hallway at the academy. But she wasn’t here, really. In her mind, she was already planning the next stage of her life and it looked glorious. Open-ended, filled with new beginnings, excitement and joy, and…yes, love.
Dancing Queens & Biker Kings: Sweet & Rugged in Montana Page 19
