26
Cat
The stars glitter like diamonds across the darkness as I stare into the night sky. The air is hot and sticky, and what little breeze there is brushes across my skin. It’s humid, but I don’t care.
It feels like home.
The private event is finally here, and the restaurant is blazing like a beacon on the landscape. I slipped out about a half hour ago with a glass of champagne and am now sitting on the front porch steps back at the house.
The house is full again, packed to the gills with friends and family that came to celebrate Gwen and Jackson’s big night. Our hard work paid off, and everything went without a hitch. But right now, while they’re all still at the party, I’m trying to enjoy the silence.
I’m thrilled that my brother Jackson has found his happily ever after. I love Gwen and all the light she brings to our lives. I love even more that Nat has a fantastic mother who is so committed to my niece it brings the sting of tears to my eyes.
They did everything they set out to do. The food was a triumph, and the alcohol flowed freely. They’re all having so much fun, enjoying the fruits of their labor, but I needed to escape all the good cheer and overflowing happiness.
It’s too painful right now.
The ride I took the other day was exactly what I needed and what I feared. It didn't make me want to ditch my life and become a horse breeder, but it did remind me what happiness feels like—and that I’d recently been so very close to having everything I ever wanted.
But I do still love riding. So I did make one decision.
I talked over what I wanted to do with Jackson and Wyatt in between the crazy, and they were happy to oblige. It isn’t everything, but it’s something. It’s for me, and for now it will have to do.
Luckily, things around here have been insane, and I’ve been grateful for the distraction work has provided to keep my thoughts at bay. But now the adrenaline has worn off, and the sadness is creeping in once again.
With each day that passes, Caden feels more and more like a dream. The distance between us is crushing.
It’s for the best, or at least that’s what I’m still telling myself. I’ve survived the worst part. It’s got to get easier from here, right?
It’s just…hard.
The only thing I’m happy about is that I keep moving forward, keep taking the steps I need to get my life together. It’s been slow, but I’m doing it. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. At least I can thank Caden for that.
There’s the crunch of gravel to my left, and then the man himself appears from around the house, climbs the steps, and sits down next to me.
I glance at him. “I don’t remember inviting you to sit.”
He shrugs. He wore a charcoal gray suit this evening and looked as devastating as you might imagine. The jacket has long been discarded, but his white dress shirt still looks crisp. The starch of newness clings to the cotton. “I wondered if maybe I could talk to you yet?”
“Why?” I want everything at once. I want him to stay and leave. I want to cry under the stars before I go to bed, and for him to hold me close. I crack a bit and give him an opening—not sure what he’ll say, but wanting to hear it. “Is there anything left to say?”
“I have things to say.”
“You seemed content to keep your distance.” The silence between us, even though I put it there, hurt. I wanted him to fight. I think... I don’t know.
“You asked me to leave you alone, and I respected your decision.” He glances at me. “Besides, I had things to do before I could make my argument.”
“And if I don’t want to hear it?”
He looks out across the fields. “If you keep sitting here next to me, I’ll probably make it anyway.”
“How very Caden of you.” He’s sitting too close to me, so I inch over to the rail. I kicked off my high heels at some point, and now I wish I wasn’t barefoot. It makes me feel vulnerable and small, like he could break me.
But I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s already broken everything he can.
He glances down at me. “You look very pretty tonight.”
I have on a yellow spaghetti-strap sundress that’s nice enough. I turn to look at him. “That’s what you want to say?”
He shakes his head. “No. But it’s true.”
“Well, maybe you can get on with it.” I wave my hand in the direction of the restaurant. “I want to be alone, and you can go back to the party.”
“I don’t want to go back.” He meets my gaze. “I want to be with you.”
My heart gives a hard thump. “That’s no longer an option.”
“Maybe. But I hope that’s not true.” He raises a hand like he wants to touch me, but it falls to his lap. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you back.”
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.” I hate how much I want to turn to him and give in, how much I want him to kiss me and make me forget.
More than anything, I want to go back to that night when we skinny-dipped in the lake under the moonlight. Everything had been perfect, and the whole future stretched out before me, ripe with possibilities.
He’s silent, as though contemplating, but then he sighs. “I fixed everything with the Hayes family as best I could.”
“Again with them?” I shake my head. “Out of all the things to talk about, why them?”
He frowns. “Because I want you to see I’m taking responsibility for my mistakes, and I don’t know how else to do that but to tell you what I’ve done to rectify my poor decisions. I want to show you somehow that I’m serious.”
I sigh. I’ll ask the question he wants me to ask, because he seems to think it’s important, and part of me needs to hear him out. Maybe that’s how I’ll get closure and start the process of moving on. “What did you do?”
“I called Robert Hayes, apologized for my actions, and said I’d provide training to whomever he wanted on some of my techniques as restitution. And I gave Meredith what she wanted.”
“What’s that?”
He smiles, but it’s small and doesn’t reach his eyes. “The recognition she craves. I told her father she should get the job as head of the company. I also told her I was wrong to take off the way I did. It satisfied her enough to understand I was never going to be part of the package. So she went home where she belongs, hopefully to claim her rightful place. It wasn’t much, but it was something I could do to make up for the damage I caused.”
I press my fingertips to my lips. My chest is tight, and that weight I’ve been ignoring is getting heavier. “Glad you worked it out.”
“I also went and saw my mom.” He laces his fingers between his splayed knees. “She’ll probably never remember me again, but I’m going to look into a place around here so I can go visit her a couple times a week. I might not have been the best son, but I figure I can make amends by being the person she wants me to be in this stage of her life.”
“You’ve been busy.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m glad he’s making these steps, just like I’m glad I’ve been making mine, but disappointment is like a rock in my stomach. These are things I wanted to do with him. Not in spite of him.
“I needed to take action before I tried to talk to you again. It’s the only way I could think of to show you I’m invested—not only in you, but in me.”
I nod. “I’m glad, but it doesn’t change anything for me. “
“I figured it wouldn’t.” He reaches into his pocket and brings out a piece of paper. He hands it to me.
I open it up, and what I see brings tears to my eyes. “Riding lessons?”
He nods. “I had ideas to buy you a horse, but then I realized that was impractical. The stables aren’t ready, and I couldn’t just start making repairs on land that doesn’t belong to me. And what if you don’t want one? I thought lessons would be a way to start, and a way to support what you’re building in your life, independent of me.”
I can’t bel
ieve it. He bought them from Shooting Stars Stable. My voice shakes. “This is so weird.”
“Why’s that?”
I look at him, really facing him for the first time. I bite my lip and fight through my tight throat. “I bought a horse. And I talked to Wyatt and Jackson the other day about how I wanted to renovate the stables.”
His expression widens in surprise, and then he laughs. “I guess it was the right gift then.”
My fingers tighten on the paper. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He looks at me. “I’m glad, Cat. I want you to be happy.”
A tear slips down my cheek. “I’m trying.”
A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I also want you to know, I’m prepared to quit if it means you’ll believe me.”
“How would that make me believe you?” I feel a swell of panic at the thought of him not being around.
And in that second, I make peace with the fact that I still want him. It just clicks in my head, and all the fight goes out of me. I’m only arguing with myself anyway.
Right or wrong, I’d rather see him every day and be miserable than not see him at all. And maybe I won’t always be miserable, because Caden and I aren’t finished. Suddenly I know that.
Not because he wasn’t wrong—because he was—but because I’m not done. I don’t have to make that the end of our story.
I wonder if this is how my mom felt. As quickly as the thought enters my mind, it vanishes. That’s her narrative, not mine. I can write a new, different story.
He pushes a lock of hair from my shoulder. “If you think I love you because you come with a farm, I’ll quit the farm so I can have you. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.” His navy eyes are intent, and more serious than I’ve ever seen them. “I won’t hesitate for a second. If it’s a choice between you and the job, I’m going to choose you every single time.”
Despite my fears and worries and anger, it’s happening. I’m thawing, and goddamn it, I want to believe. Just one time in my life, I want to believe without fearing something is going to reach out and snatch it away from me.
Not quite ready to fall into his open arms, I shake my head. “That’s not fair to Wyatt and Jackson.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Wyatt and Jackson.” He crooks a finger under my chin. “You, Catarina McKay, are my one and only priority, now and forever.”
My heart skips a beat. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you not to leave.”
“I know, and I hate myself for that.” He rubs a thumb along the line of my jaw. “It’s kinda a catch-22 though, you know? The only way for me to prove I won’t bail on you is for you to give me a chance to stay.”
And he’s right. The only way to know if I can trust him is to trust. There’s no other way around it. More tears spill over as I blink, and he brushes them from my cheek.
He whispers, inching closer. “What can I do to make you believe?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“I have an idea.”
The hope beats like the wings of a bird against my ribs. “I’m listening.”
He wraps his big hand around the nape of my neck. “Every day, starting tomorrow, I’m going to ask you to marry me. I expect to work for it, but I hope one day you’ll say yes.”
I blink, shocked at the words. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. I need you in my life. And one day I trust you’ll let me know I’m worthy of walking by your side.”
“We haven’t known each other that long. You don’t want to marry me.”
“But I do.”
“How?” I need to know, need to understand so I can put faith in it.
“Because I miss talking to you.” He leans in. “Miss the way you try to bait me into an argument.” Closer. “Miss the scent of your shampoo on my pillow.” Close enough to feel the heat of his body. “Talking through the trials of the week over a pitcher of beer on Friday night.”
My head tilts.
Our mouths brush together.
“I miss the way you make me think.” He licks my lower lip. “And how you don’t care if your hair gets in the mud.” A scrape of teeth over my soft flesh. “You make me a better man.” His fingers tangle in my hair. “And despite my flaws, I think I make you a better woman.”
I turn, shifting toward him, nodding slightly. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong to give in. But I love him, and I want to.
His arm twines around my waist, and then I’m moving, climbing into his lap and straddling him. My dress pools around us.
I meet his eyes. “I’m not ready to forgive you.”
His hands slide up my thighs. “I miss the way you feel in my arms and the weight of your head against my chest as we go to sleep.”
I shiver under his touch and his palms settle over my hips. “Go on.”
“I miss the way you put too much syrup on your pancakes. And the way you close your eyes when you eat something delicious, like it will help you taste it better.”
“I put the perfect amount of syrup on my pancakes.”
His lips lift in a smile. “I miss the way you are afraid of Mrs. Potts and the way you look at your niece and how you love your family. I want to be worthy of your devotion.”
I want that too, even though I can’t say it out loud.
“I miss the way you told me you loved me.” His fingers tighten. “But do you know what I miss most of all?”
I shake my head. “What?”
He meets my gaze, and what I read in his eyes stalls my breath in my chest. “I miss feeling home. In my entire thirty-six miserable years, you are the only thing that has ever felt like home. When I’m with you, life might not always be easy, but you make it better. With you, life makes sense.”
And with that, I tumble into him, weaving my hand through his hair, pulling him toward me and capturing his mouth.
The second our lips meet in earnest, it’s an explosion of passion.
We’re instantly on fire.
Instantly consumed.
Our tongues tangle.
I groan.
He growls.
Our hands are everywhere, roaming and urgent. I arch into him, and he grips my hips hard, pulling me closer.
He pulls away and says in an urgent tone. “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you.”
“I’ve missed you, Cat.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
Our lips meet again in a hard kiss, and it goes on and on, lips fusing until we’re breathless and panting and straining.
He scrapes his teeth along the curve of my neck, whispering into my ear, “You know how you’re always wanting me to rip off your panties and claim you?”
“Yes.” I rock into him, feel the press of his erection against my swollen center.
“Well, today’s your lucky day.”
“Thank God.”
Then he’s kissing me again.
And I’m fumbling with his zipper, wrapping my fingers around his steely length. He’s finally free.
He curses.
Hooks a finger at the hem of my panties and pushes the fabric to the side.
I cry out when he impales me, swift and sudden. There’s no preamble, no finesse, and I love every second.
He works his cock in and out of me until I’m stretched taut and filled.
I rock my hips, pressing against him.
I have to say something before he pushes me toward mindless oblivion. I have to make sure he knows. With considerable effort, I manage to tear my mouth away.
He’s pushing into me, and my hips circle down. Sensation flutters through my core, sizzles through my body.
We fit so perfectly, I lose my breath.
But I still manage to push the words past my lips. “You’re right. You are home.”
“Yes.” He grips my hips, slamming me down. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Finally, at long last, I am claimed.
It’s everyt
hing I thought it would be, and more.
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