Page 127 of Risking it for the Cowboy

“Don’t say a word! Thaddeus, not a word!” Tyler raced across the gravel as the officers whirled toward him and tensed, hands migrating to their sidearms. “Tyler Dixon, attorney. My client is invoking his right to silence and isn’t sayin’ another word until I’ve had time to confer with him, we got that straight?”

*

T.R.’s pockets were patted. His legs were patted. His chest and arms and neck and crotch were patted. It only made him feel like more of a fish in a bowl to be stared at. Mom and Dad would be so proud, living up to their expectations, he thought wryly.

He hated that this was how it was ending. Hated that Daisy would suffer the hardest, and that T. Rex had let his wing girl down. Hated that he was never enough. That he was never going to have the life he wanted, the roots he wanted, the legacy he’d always hoped to harness here, grasping at dreams on the wind. Years of hard work, of being denied employment because he struggled to read, or because of this conviction on his record, or fired when he’d lied about priors because he’d been desperate for a job, any job, so he could stop living in his truck under overpasses. None of it had mattered in the end.

He was … weary.

His eyes connected with Charlie’s. So distant, so betrayed. Yeah, it was over. He’d aimed at the stars like the hopeful fool he’d always been. But things didn’t get better for him. There was nothing that would repair the damage done tonight.

“Don’t worry about me coming around, Flower Girl,” he said softly. “I know I can’t fix this. I also wouldn’t’a done any different if it meant protecting you. Just promise me you’ll press charges against him for hitting you. Tyler’s still your best bet. Don’t walk away from a good thing because he’s related to me.” Another tear streamed down his cheek, unashamed.

He gazed hard at her lips now, wishing he could have one more taste, then let himself be walked past her to the police cruiser and this time, unlike two weeks ago, he didn’t look back. Something told him, he wasn’t going to get the same carte blanche that Jason had been getting all these years. But even if he did, without his reason anymore, would it really matter?

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Tyler jumped in his truck to follow them to the police station.

…wouldn’t’a done any different if it meant protecting you.

Farther down the hill, Charlie could see lights coming on in the wranglers’ and farmhands’ barracks. Shaking, she went back inside. Where was she supposed to go? Daisy would wonder why they were leaving to return to the farmhouse, and yet, she needed space too. Space to understand everything that had happened tonight, because why had she not seen the signs? How had she let Thad swoop past her defenses, all charm and charisma, blinding her to the truth?

And his tears? So innocent. So misleading and yet, so unapologetically himself, and in that moment, she’d wanted to blurt out that she loved him, scold the police for arresting the wrong man.

She swiped at her cheeks and eyes, and began moving through the cabin, picking up random things Daisy had left out—one boot, the other missing, the crayons on the coffee table, Artex’s bed, Charlie’s banjo case and stacks of books she’d been reviewing for her fall syllabus filling a row of built-ins, making the room look loved and lived in, her cardigan over the couch arm. On her knees, she looked under the sofa for the other boot but pulled out the sock that had been missing from the wash this morning. Behind the bathroom door, she looked for the boot but found only a wadded towel that had slipped from the single towel hook currently holding three towels.

She unhooked the toiletry bag and stuffed the toothbrushes from the holder on the whiskey barrel back into it. Collected her moisturizer and nail polish and conditioner and serums cluttering up the barrel and, honestly, he didn’t have room for any of this here anyway. This cabin had been built as a getaway, not a family home. It only had the loft for goodness’ sake. They’d made Daisy a bed on the couch each night, knowing this wasn’t perfect, and yet, knowing it wouldn’t be permanent. She moved to the back door, glancing onto the porch for the boot—

Another vehicle was crunching up the gravel in the distance. Charlie slowed, then took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes and peering out at who might be approaching along the ridge at—she pulled out her phone—Twelve-thirty at night?

Her phone rang. Heart?

A moment later, Tyler’s old blue farm truck came to a halt in front of the house and Heart climbed down, her dear friend, her phone to her ear.

Heart looked up at her. Tapped off the phone and began walking.

“Hey.” Charlie tried to smile.

Heart opened her arms as she hopped up the porch stairs, wrapping her in an embrace. And the tears undammed. A sob tore up her throat.

“Oh, honey,” Heart crooned, and the two simply stood, rocked, as she clenched her friend and Heart rubbed her back. “Tyler threw on a T-shirt and peeled out of here when he saw the police on the security cam. Are you okay?”

She pulled away and went inside, busying herself in the kitchen, looking under the stools for Daisy’s boot. Felt Heart watching her and hated that their first time seeing each other after almost three weeks was of Charlie, broken and crying, like it so often had been over the years. The boot wasn’t in the kitchen, either. Where the hell was it? After only a few days of living here, they’d apparently gotten comfortable.

Maybe it was upstairs.

“I’m fine,” she bit out.

She wasn’t fine. She was twisted in knots.

“Charlie, I’ve known you for years. And I know you’re not fine. But I know this past week, you started to seem like you might be someday.”

She wanted to scream at everyone to leave her alone. She hated the shame that washed over her at the handprint on her face. Hated that sick feeling Jason always stoked within her returned tonight.

Trouble.

Had she missed the mark on Thad? Had he gotten her in the worst sort of trouble? Had he embroiled her back into the same situation she’d once worked so hard to escape?