A Real Cowboy Always Trusts His Heart

by Stephanie Rowe

  She remembered that moment, lying there with him, feeling the strength of his body surrounding her. She'd never forget it. She'd never felt that sense of rightness again. "What thought?"

  He met her gaze. "I wanted more. I wanted that moment again and again and again. I wanted you to save me. "

  Her heart started to pound. "Really?"

  "Yeah." His blue eyes were intense and turbulent, churning with self-hate. "I wanted you to give up college and stay in Rogue Valley with me. I wanted that so badly that I started to panic at the idea of you leaving me."

  She couldn’t believe what he was saying. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  He met her gaze. "You had a chance to get out of the hell that we all grew up with. You had a full-ride to Harvard. I was…I was nothing more than a demon who would destroy you if I kept you." He shrugged. "My only chance to set you free was to walk away. Otherwise, I'd keep you. If I let myself decide to keep you, it wouldn't have mattered if you wanted to leave. I would have found a way to destroy your dreams and trap you in my hell."

  Shock rippled through her as she stared at him. "I would have stayed for you," she whispered. "If you'd shown me any of that, I would have stayed."

  He nodded. "I knew that."

  She leaned back, stunned by his words. What if he'd told her? What if she hadn't left? "Did it ever occur to you that I could have made my own choice?"

  He met her gaze. "You would have chosen me, and I couldn't let you do that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because you were special. I was poison."

  A tear slipped out of her eyes and strayed down her cheek. "Poison? How can you say that? You were my guardian angel."

  He was quiet for a moment, then he looked at her. "If your mom had still been alive when you were eighteen, what would she have wanted for you? To attend Harvard and follow your dreams? Or to give that up, get a minimum wage job at a convenience store in Rogue Valley, and marry a man who came from violence, alcoholism, and anger? What would she have wanted for you?"

  Zoey sat back, her heart tightening. She didn't have to think about it. She knew. "Harvard," she whispered.

  He inclined his head. "I wanted Harvard for you, too, Zoey. And so did you, even if you were too young to realize it."

  She swallowed, biting back tears. Was he right? Had she used his rejection all these years as an excuse to doubt herself and hate her only friend, when he'd actually given her exactly what she would have wanted?

  Ryder leaned toward her, searching her face. "I have to ask you something."

  She nodded, wiping the back of her hand across her cheek. "Sure."

  "Now that it's ten years later, and you saw how your life turned out, do you wish you hadn't gone to Harvard? Do you wish you'd stayed here?"

  She closed her eyes at the question, reliving all the anguish over the last few years. The betrayal by Nathan on so many levels. The slow destruction of her soul. How lost she felt.

  And then, she thought of the joys of learning, of growing since she'd left Rogue Valley. How empowering it had been to find a huge world opening up to her through her professors, her classmates, and the city of Boston. The wonder of becoming so much more than she ever would have been if she'd never left. Would she have traded all of that to avoid the pain? To have had a chance to stay in Rogue Valley with the boy she'd loved with all her heart?

  She wanted to say yes.

  She wanted to say she'd loved Ryder so much that she'd been willing to give it all up for him.

  There were so many nights she'd huddled in bed, aching for a sense of belonging, one that she'd never found, except when she was hiding in the circle of Ryder's arms.

  Hiding. That was the operative word, the one that scared her the most, her need to hide instead of fight.

  She'd hidden behind Ryder her whole childhood, and for the last ten years she'd never forgiven him for stealing that shield from her and making her face life on her own. All she'd wanted to do was hide, and she hadn't found anyone willing to let her hide behind them except Ryder.

  She wanted to tell him yes, she wished she'd stayed, because otherwise, she'd have to admit to herself that the last ten years of bitterness she'd lived with since he'd ghosted her had been nothing but an excuse to keep from living.

  But as she sat there across from him, could she keep telling herself that she wished she'd had the chance to remain the scared, fragile girl who'd hidden behind him?

  She let her breath out.

  No. She couldn’t.

  She had no idea who she was supposed to be now, but the one thing she had to admit to herself, finally, was that she didn't wish she'd stayed who she once was.

  Leaving Ryder and the town behind was the only way she could have changed.

  The only way.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him, at the deep blue of his eyes, searching hers. "For ten years, I hated you for dumping me after prom night."

  He nodded.

  "I didn't think there was anything you could say that could pry that hate out of me. There was no excuse you could give that could make it okay."

  Regret flickered in his eyes.

  She took a deep breath. "But now…" She sighed and met his gaze. "I can't blame you anymore," she said softly. "I have to let it go, because you're right."

  His eyebrows went up. "About which part?"

  "I would have stayed with you if you'd given me the chance." She let out her breath, a deep sigh that seemed to strip away a decade of anger and regret and blame. "And that would have been the wrong choice."

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryder felt like he'd been punched.

  He jerked back, almost flinching at her words.

  As broken as Zoey was right now, she would still have chosen the hell of the last decade over being with him.

  Wow.

  "Ryder?" Zoey frowned at him. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, sure." He gripped his hands beneath the table. Her answer made it clear he'd done the right thing to let her leave. It should feel like a relief that the doubt was gone, but it didn't. It felt wrong, wrong, wrong. "So you don't hate me anymore?"

  She smiled faintly. "No." She sighed. "It actually feels like this huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

  "Does it?" He felt like he couldn't breathe. Remembering how intensely he'd felt about her, how it had been to hold her in his arms after lovemaking, how deeply he'd needed her…it had brought back emotions he'd forgotten. A need. A need that was still there, burning inside him.

  "Yeah. It's exhausting to convince yourself to hate someone you love." Her smile became stronger. "It's like I'm finally free from the stories I told myself about that night. I used it as an excuse to feel powerless and angry, and miserable, and now…" She shrugged. "You've taken that away."

  He raised his brows. "That's good?"

  She nodded. "I obsessed over how stupid I had been to trust you. I thought that I'd misjudged your feelings for me. I never would have slept with you if I'd thought you didn't love me, but when you walked away like that…" She shrugged. "I thought it was because I didn't mean anything to you. I felt like an idiot. I felt betrayed."

  He pressed his lips together and nodded.

  "But now I know that I wasn't stupid, or used, or taken advantage of." She reached across the table and held out her hand to him. "We loved each other, in whatever way we were capable of at the time. We both suffered from that night," she said gently. "But now we can put it behind us. We loved each other, and we had the moment we were meant to have, and then we had to go live our lives."

  He didn't take her hand. He couldn’t. Put it behind them? It was raging through him right now like a fucking inferno.

  Her brow furrowed. "Ryder?"

  He cleared his throat and dragged his hand out from under the table and took her outstretched hand in his. Her fingers were warm and soft, and his entire gut clenched at the feel of their hands intertwined. "Yeah. It's good. Move on and that shit."

  "Yeah." Sh
e took a deep breath. "I can't even tell you how much better I feel. This weighed on me all the time, and now it's just gone." She met his gaze. "The worst feeling in the world was to lie in bed at night, have my thoughts stray to you, and to believe that the person I trusted most in the entire world had betrayed me."

  Jesus. "I'm so sorry—"

  "No." She shook her head. "You didn't betray me. I wasn't wrong to trust you." She looked down at their joined hands. "I get to trust you again, and that is the greatest gift."

  He nodded. "I'd never betray you, Zoey. Ever."

  "I know." She squeezed his hand. "I didn't know why I came home, until now. It wasn't because I wanted to move back. It was because I needed to heal the scars of that night before I could fix anything else."

  "And they're healed? Just like that?" Because his scars sure as hell weren't healed. If anything, they were worse after this conversation.

  "Not entirely, but it's a start." She held out her arms. "Hug me, Ryder."

  With a low growl, he pushed back his chair and stood up. She jumped up, wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face against him.

  Ryder took a deep breath as she settled against him. Her breath was warm against his neck. Her breasts crushed against his chest. Her arms tight around him. Jesus. He pressed his face into her hair and breathed in. She still smelled like lilacs. He tightened his arms around her, holding her tighter.

  She wasn't eighteen anymore.

  He wasn't twenty-four.

  They were both older, battered, and bruised by life.

  But the way he felt when he held her in his arms that night hadn't changed.

  No, he was wrong. It had changed. It had become a thousand times more intense.

  But what hadn't changed was who he was, a man who even Zoey agreed she was better off without. Poisoned by the Stockton blood in his veins.

  "I missed my best friend," she whispered, her voice muffled by his chest.

  He closed his eyes. A best friend.

  Fuck friendship. He wanted more. He needed more. He needed everything.

  Swearing, he released her suddenly and stepped back. Sweat was beading on his brow. "So, we're good, then?"

  She nodded. "I need you, Ryder. Will you help me?"

  "Help you?"

  "Help me find my way back." She searched his face. "I need to find myself, Ryder. I don't want to make friends here. I don't want to get involved in a relationship. I need to…I don't know…somehow find a way back to my life in Boston, the one I used to like. I don't know how to do it, but you might. Will you help? You're the only one who knows me. The only one I trust."

  She didn't want a relationship. She was glad she'd gone through hell instead of staying in Rogue Valley with him. She wanted him to help her get back to her life. In Boston.

  She wanted him to help her leave him.

  He let out his breath. He'd helped her leave him once. It had not gone well.

  This time?

  He stood there, looking into her eyes, as she asked for his help. Those green eyes that used to sparkle with mischief and delight. Those green eyes that used to search for him when he'd climb in her window. Those green eyes that used to follow him around the room whenever they were together.

  Where was the sparkle? The light? The one she used to shine on him?

  How could he say no? He couldn't. He'd help her leave him, because he had to.

  He sighed. "I'll help."

  Her face lit up. "Really?"

  He froze, shocked by the expression on her face. Relief. Hope. Happiness. The first spark of life he'd seen since she'd been back.

  Realization rocked him back. Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch. His mind leapt back in time, over the years, to this moment, to that moment, frantically cataloging events until there was no doubt in his mind.

  All the sparkles he'd worked so hard to protect over the years? The light in her eyes that made her shine? The only time he'd ever seen it was when she'd been with him.

  Son of a bitch.

  He was the source of her light. He was what made her shine. He was what she needed. He, the guy who was poison, darkness, and hell, was her light.

  Jesus.

  Dane was wrong. He'd been wrong. Ryder wasn't her darkness. He was her light. How was that possible? It wasn't, and yet…it was.

  She frowned. "Ryder? You don't want to help me? I totally understand if it's too weird."

  He looked at her, at those beautiful eyes, and he knew. He wasn't going to help her get back to Boston. He was going to help her heal…and then he was going to keep her.

  Somehow. Someway. He was going to find a way to become the man she deserved, and prove it to both of them. He'd never trap her, he'd never force her, he'd never take away her freedom of choice, but somehow, someway, he was going to find a way to make it happen between them…and he had to do it fast, because she'd made it clear that she was on her way out the door as soon as she could manage it.

  She dropped her hands from his arms. "Never mind—"

  "No." He caught her wrist, encircling it gently, so as not to scare her. "I'm here for you, Zoey. You got me."

  Her face lit up again. "Really?"

  He grinned. "Hell, yeah."

  She had no idea.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Zoey awoke at five o'clock the next morning to get ready for work, there was a lightness in her heart that hadn't been there in a very long time.

  Ryder hadn't rejected her.

  Instead, he'd loved her so much that he'd freed her.

  She peered at herself in the bathroom mirror, staring into her own eyes. How much sadness she'd seen in them over the years. Loneliness. Fear. Excuses.

  But today, for the first time, there was a sliver of hope. The tiniest little sliver of hope. Hope that she could find her way forward. That she could feel better. That she could find her way to the life she'd tried to build for herself, and find the joy that she'd never quite been able to access.

  She now felt the tiniest thread of hope that she could become strong enough to stand on her own feet and claim her own life. Not through a man. Not through anyone but herself. She saw now that she'd hidden behind Ryder since she was little. After she'd moved to Boston, she'd hidden behind Nathan.

  And now…she needed to learn to stand on her own.

  She took a deep breath, and braced her hands on the sink, searching her face. "I am strong," she whispered.

  A ripple of energy sparked inside her.

  She said it again, this time, a little louder. "I am strong."

  More energy. Almost excitement.

  "I am strong!" She almost shouted it, and banged her fists on the sink. The words seemed to echo in the bathroom, repeating themselves as they faded.

  "Hey!" Someone banged on her door. "Everything okay in there?"

  She froze, startled by the unfamiliar male voice. There was a man in the house? "Who's there?" she asked.

  "Brody Hart. Who are you?"

  Brody? It took a few seconds for her to remember what Ryder had told her about the Harts, and that Brody owned the house. Shit. What if he didn't want her there? She quickly pulled her sweatshirt on and hurried out of the bathroom, across her room, and opened her door.

  Standing in the hall was a man who was pure cowboy, muscle, and brawn. Brody was tall, well over six feet. His jeans sat loose on his narrow hips, but his tee shirt showed off chiseled muscles in his upper body. He was wearing a black cowboy hat, well-worn boots, and his belt buckle had a logo with two horses entwined around an H and an E, which she was guessing stood for Hart Enterprises, or something like that. He was pure male, and his eyes were dark and assessing as he studied her. "And you are?" he prompted.

  "Zoey Wilson. Dane's sister. My apartment burned up yesterday and Ryder offered me a room here. I can leave if you want—"

  A smile lit up his face. "Family is always welcome," he said. "It's great to meet you." He held out his hand. "Brody Hart."

  She was startled by how frien
dly he was. His smile was warm and genuine, his gaze steady and welcoming, although she could see the dark shadows in his eyes, ones that seemed to be etched permanently there. "Thanks." She shook his hand, and his grip was strong and firm, his skin just rough enough to tell her he was a man who wasn't above hard work.

  "Want some coffee?" he asked. "I was just heading down to make some."

  "Um, sure." She glanced at Ryder's door, which was still closed. "Ryder said you weren't in town. When did you get in?"

  "Just arrived about an hour ago."

  She blinked. It was five in the morning. He'd arrived in the middle of the night? "Did you drive?"

  "No. Flew. It's faster." He grinned at her. "Welcome back, Zoey. I've heard a lot about you."

  She smiled back, surprised at how relaxed he made her feel. She didn't usually feel comfortable around strangers, but there was something about Brody that made her feel like she belonged. "It's all lies," she teased. "I'm really not such a bad person."

  "No? You're pure trouble." Ryder walked out of his bedroom, wearing only a pair of sweats, as if he'd yanked them on and rushed out into the hall. She caught her breath at the sight of him. She might have thought Brody was chiseled, but Ryder was pure heat. His abs were defined, his stomach completely taut. His hair was tousled, standing straight up, and he looked disheveled and adorable.

  He walked right over to her, slid his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her up against his side, so the heat of his body was burning through her sweatshirt. "Brody, this is Zoey Wilson. She's been the love of my life since she was six years old, so don't fuck with her or I'll have to kill you."

  She was so startled by his comment that she glanced at him. He winked at her, which then made her unsure if he was kidding or not.

  Brody's eyebrows shot up. "Well, damn, bro. That's good to know." He grinned at Zoey. "Coffee, you said?"

  She nodded. "That would be great."

  "Excellent. Ryder? You come around yet or are you still in denial that coffee is one of the Seven Wonders of the World?"

  "None, thanks."