Surrender: A Bitter Creek Novel

by Joan Johnston

  “Sorry I couldn’t be more help solving your problem with Leah,” he said at last.

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Wait. And hope. How about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, what about you and Tag?”

  “There’s nothing—”

  “Don’t try to bullshit me. She’s in love with you. If I remember correctly, you spent a lot of time sulking in your room when she broke up with you in high school. You saved her life getting the two of you out of that plane and into the cave. She saved yours treating that wound in your leg. That sort of life-affirming experience tends to bond people.”

  “We’re not stuck in a cave anymore. We have separate lives.”

  Aiden snorted. “If Tag’s the woman you want, you should run after her as fast as you can.”

  “I can’t run anywhere.”

  “You don’t have to be standing on two feet to let her know you’re interested. She showed up in this room the instant she got out of her hospital bed, and she sat there beside you day after day until you woke up. That says something.”

  “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong now?”

  “I threw her out. I told her not to come back.”

  “You’ll kick yourself from here to Sunday,” Aiden said, “if you let her get away a second time. Maybe I won’t end up with the love of my life, but there’s no reason you have to screw up your love life as well. Don’t just lie there.” He gave Brian a slap on his back. “Do something about it.”

  He turned and marched out of the room, leaving Brian with a stinging shoulder and a great deal of food for thought.

  BRIAN WAS EXHAUSTED. And frustrated. Angry with both himself and his doctor. His recovery was progressing much slower than he’d expected. He’d been warned it would take six full weeks—from the end of August until mid-October—for him to heal enough to leave the hospital. But the slower his recovery, the less patience he had.

  He missed Tag. Despite saying, with absolute certainty, “I’ll be back,” she hadn’t come to the hospital again. Which left him wondering what had happened to keep her away. Aiden had urged him to call her, but he’d stubbornly refused, arguing, “I want to be off crutches first.”

  He hadn’t seen or spoken to her since she’d left his room in a huff.

  He’d been relieved at first that he didn’t have to hide his suffering from her or pretend he was doing all right, when he felt discouraged and depressed at his lack of improvement. At the same time, it would have been nice to have her around to soothe his tattered soul as he struggled to get well.

  He knew she was only a phone call away. But he never made the call.

  Brian wasn’t sure what had stopped him. Except, his leg looked like a mangled piece of meat, and he didn’t want to subject Tag to the sight of it. He could hardly bear to look at it himself, and he didn’t want her to hear him screaming—from the excruciating agony—when he tried to use the damned thing.

  He left the hospital without telling her he was well enough to go home.

  Aiden had insisted he stay at the ranch during rehab, even though it meant a drive back and forth to town, an hour each way every day.

  “I need to know you’re okay.” The anxious look in Aiden’s eyes had nearly undone him.

  Brian was concerned when he learned that things hadn’t improved between his brother and Leah. Aiden needed him to be nearby as much as he needed his brother to keep him on an even keel during his recuperation.

  If that weren’t enough reason to move home, his father had chimed in, “Who’s going to cook for you if you stay in town? Who’s going to do your laundry? Who’s going to drive you back and forth to therapy? You’re better off here.”

  Brian was certain he could have arranged everything if he’d been on his own, but it was easier to let his needs be taken care of for him.

  At least, it was at the start. By the first week in November, he was like a bull with an unwanted rider on its back, bucking in all directions to get free.

  Brian knew his family cared—and Aiden needed him as a sounding board for his romantic woes—which only worsened his guilt about wanting to get away. He still relied on crutches to walk. He hadn’t even graduated to the cane he’d initially thought so abhorrent. He felt trapped.

  So one day, while Aiden was out on the range, and Angus was locked behind the door of his office, he called an Uber and escaped to town.

  During the long ride, Brian contemplated his situation. His slow recuperation was partly his own fault. He’d tried doing too much too soon and had set back his healing a couple of weeks. Not that healing had been going along without a hitch. He’d needed more antibiotics, and his leg throbbed even when he wasn’t putting weight on it. And if he had to listen to Aiden say one more time, “Just be patient, Brian,” he thought he might go bat-shit crazy.

  Worst of all, his slow recovery meant he wasn’t able to drive. He would have felt foolish buying a truck that had all the necessary equipment to operate the vehicle attached to the steering wheel, when he expected to be able to use his Chevy Silverado any day. But he’d been in rehab for five weeks—three weeks in the hospital and two weeks out—and “any day” hadn’t arrived. He was at the mercy of his brother, his father, or one of the ranch hands, if he wanted to go anywhere or do anything. Which necessarily meant Angus and Aiden were able to keep track of where he was and what he was doing every second of every day.

  Brian was tired of being dependent on other people, tired of asking for favors. Even his use of an Uber wasn’t without its downside. One of his high school football buddies was driving and brought up the subject of all the girls the two of them had dated, including Taylor Grayhawk.

  Tag was the last person he wanted to talk about, but his friend wouldn’t let the subject go. Brian answered with “Yeah” and “Sure” and “Uh-huh” for the entire hour it took to get into town, and reconsidered the necessity of buying a truck intended for people without the use of their legs.

  When he finally stepped inside the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar it was nearly dark, and the lights inside were inviting. He looked forward to having a drink without someone asking if it was a good idea for him to be consuming alcohol when he was taking medication.

  Brian made his way to the bar on his crutches and realized when he got there how difficult it would be to seat himself on one of the saddles the bar used for stools. His lips flattened in disgust. He was going to have to think about such things for the rest of his life.

  He was about to head for a table when he heard his name called.

  “Brian?”

  He recognized that sultry voice. He shifted his gaze and found Tag sitting on one of the saddles. His stomach did a quick somersault and landed sideways.

  “Hi, Tag.” He was so glad to see her.

  She looked surprised to see him, but he wasn’t sure how glad she was. He couldn’t read her expression. Cautious? Anxious?

  He didn’t want her to take off, because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move fast enough on crutches to catch up to her. He searched for something to say, but he was distracted by the sight of her.

  She looked deliciously sexy. She’d let her blond hair grow even longer, and it looked bouncy and silky at the same time. She wore mascara that emphasized the long lashes above her blue eyes and lipstick that made him want to invade her mouth with his tongue. She wore a red cashmere sweater that fell off one smooth shoulder, a pair of jeans with a row of faux diamonds on the back pockets that emphasized her beautiful ass, and tooled leather cowboy boots.

  “You look good,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Thanks.”

  After his stint in the hospital, he’d wondered if his libido was gone, along with a chunk of his leg. He got proof in the next th
irty seconds that it was humming along on all cylinders, when a thick, hard ridge appeared behind the zipper of his jeans.

  She searched his face and said, “You look good, too.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  She glanced at the crutches he had propped under his arms. “Things not going as well as you hoped?”

  “Not nearly as well as I’d hoped. I’m headed for one of those tables. Want to join me?”

  He saw her hesitation and willed her to agree. At last she said, “All right.”

  She hadn’t seemed enthusiastic, but at least she hadn’t said no. He signaled the bartender, who brought him his regular drink, a twelve-year-old single-malt scotch. He pulled out a chair for her, then sat himself down to her right, laying the crutches on the floor. He eyed her drink, some kind of liquor mixed with what looked like Coke and a slice of lime, which she’d carried with her from the bar. “Can I buy you another one?”

  She shook her head. “I’m driving.”

  “Lucky you, driving.”

  “You can’t?”

  “Not yet. To be honest, I’m not even close.”

  “Bummer.”

  She swallowed the last of her drink, and he had the feeling she was going to bolt. He wasn’t sure what to do to keep her in her seat. He blurted, “I should have called.”

  “Yes, you should’ve.” Her voice was decidedly cool.

  “What have you been doing with yourself?”

  “This and that.”

  She wasn’t making this easy. But why should she? He was the one who’d kicked her out of his life. Apparently, she was in no hurry to step back in. Of course, now that she was running, he felt obliged to chase her. Even if he had to do it on crutches.

  “I’ve been out of the hospital for two weeks,” he said.

  “I heard.”

  “I’ve been staying at home.”

  “How is that going?”

  “What?” He was so distracted by the nipples that suddenly budded under her sweater that he’d lost his train of thought.

  “Recuperating at home,” she said. “How’s that going?”

  He pulled his gaze away from her chest and focused it on her face. “Not as well as I’d like.”

  “It’s too bad you don’t live here in town,” she said. “At least then you could get around on your crutches, you know, visit the guys at the firehouse, get to rehab more easily.”

  She was right about that. Maybe he ought to stay at a hotel tonight and spend time tomorrow looking for a more convenient place to live.

  “I moved to town last month,” she said.

  “Did Matt do something to piss you off?”

  “No more than usual. I just decided to leave the ranch on my own terms, rather than wait for him to shove me out the door.”

  “Where are you living?”

  “I’ve got a one-story place on Snow King Mountain.”

  He whistled. “Nice.” Brian considered how great it would be if he had a one-story place of his own in town. No stairs, the convenience of being close to rehab and the fire station, so he could drop in to bullshit with the guys, or just go get himself some lunch or dinner in one of the restaurants in town. No father asking when he was going to get back to work. No brother asking him how he was feeling.

  And then he had a brilliant idea.

  He took a drink and swallowed to give himself another moment to consider before he said, “How many bedrooms do you have?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “How would you like to rent one to me?”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “Come on, Tag. Have a heart. I’m a cripple. I—”

  “You said you wanted me gone, Brian. Now you want to live in the same house? I don’t think so.”

  “Aiden and Angus are killing me with kindness. If I don’t get away from the Lucky 7 soon, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. You don’t want me ending up in prison for murder, do you?”

  She laughed, and the bubbly sound woke up something inside him that had been dormant from the moment she’d walked out of his hospital room—and his life. He suddenly saw Tag stark naked in all her glory. He had no trouble imagining what it would be like to put himself inside her.

  Then he remembered how ugly his right leg looked—a vein-streaked, hacked-up, scar-laden, red-and-purple mess. He’d have to hop his way to bed on one leg. He wasn’t even sure whether he could support himself on his knees without causing some kind of cramping in his calf, which would be humiliating.

  His arousal died a sobering death.

  “How about it?” he said, his voice harsh with the realization that he had a long way to go before he could make love to her.

  “It would never work, Brian. Our families would have a fit.”

  “Do you care? Aren’t we past that? Didn’t we already decide not to let them rule our lives?”

  “That was before. This is after. Things have changed.”

  “What? Name one thing.”

  “You’re not a whole man.”

  His face blanched. It felt as though she’d stabbed him in the heart.

  She grabbed his arm to keep him from rising. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You still don’t know how much use you’ll have of your injured leg, whether it will allow you to resume your work as a firefighter—or not. You have a lot of decisions to make about your life.

  “If you move in, it could complicate things even more. Sitting here, knowing how badly you treated me, I still want you. And I believe you want me.” She shot him an expressive look from beneath lowered lashes that made it clear what she meant. His body reacted immediately, proving her right. “I don’t see us denying ourselves what we want for long.”

  He would have jumped in, but she didn’t give him a chance.

  “I wish I could ignore the feelings I have when I’m with you. I can’t. My point is I don’t want to end up getting hurt—again—when you finally make up your mind what you’re going to do with the rest of your life and decide you don’t want me to be a part of it.”

  “Can I say something now?”

  She nodded.

  “All you’re doing is renting me a room. I’ll feed myself in town. I’ll get myself to rehab. All I want is a place to stay that’s far away from my loving family.” He smiled to ease the bite of his words. He loved his family, he just needed some distance from them.

  She smiled ruefully, and he held his breath, hoping that meant she was going to give in.

  “You know this is a mistake, Brian.”

  “Please, Tag. I’m desperate.”

  He saw her uncertainty, her fear, and finally, her surrender. “All right,” she said. “When do you want to move in?”

  He felt a knot of tension ease in his shoulders. “Tonight.”

  She made a face. “Tonight? Isn’t that a little sudden?”

  “I told you, I’m at the end of my rope. I can buy whatever I need for now at the drugstore and get a bag of clothes from home some other time.”

  She looked skeptical. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “Absolutely.” He saw several thoughtful wrinkles appear in her forehead and asked, “Is there another problem?”

  She looked sheepish. “I’m trying to remember whether I left dishes in the kitchen sink and magazines strewn all over the living room.”

  “Just so long as you have sheets for the bed—”

  “Oh, I made up all the beds.”

  “All the beds? How many are there?”

  “Four. One in each bedroom.” She looked embarrassed as she admitted, “I was having so much fun, I got a little carried away decorating. I just…” She shrugged. “Did the whole place.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Finish up
your drink, and I’ll take you there.”

  Brian realized Tag might be right. He might be making a mistake moving in with her. She was clearly wary of renewing their romance. He would have to respect the limits she’d set and tell his libido to take a hike.

  But he didn’t see where he had a choice. It was move in with her or go certifiably crazy. One danger seemed a whole lot less frightening than the other.

  IN SEPTEMBER, WHEN Brian had thrown her out of his hospital room, Taylor had been shocked and hurt. In the days that followed, he hadn’t called to apologize. He hadn’t communicated at all. It was painful to admit that Leah might be right, but if Brian didn’t want her, she sure as hell wasn’t going to run after him—no matter what she’d told him when she’d made her defiant exit from his room.

  Then she’d missed her period.

  Taylor was as regular as clockwork, but she gave herself the benefit of the doubt. She’d been through a horrendous experience that could have thrown her body clock off.

  She hadn’t been suffering from any kind of trauma when she missed the second one in October.

  Taylor had taken a drugstore pregnancy test, which turned out positive. So did the next three. She was definitely pregnant.

  Her first response was elation: I’m going to have a baby! Her second response was a swollen throat and tears stinging her eyes that were not the result of happiness: The timing couldn’t be worse. And then, a combination of both: This is Brian’s baby, too. I have to tell him. But when? And how?

  He’d kicked her out of his hospital room and told her not to come back. Taylor didn’t want Brian making some kind of noble gesture, like marrying her to give the baby his name. It didn’t escape her notice that she pictured him doing the old-fashioned “noble” thing, rather than telling her, “It’s your problem. Take care of it.” The point was she didn’t need him to rescue her. Women all over the world were bringing up children on their own. She was certainly capable of raising a baby without Brian’s help.