Page 78 of Kicking Up Dust

“I need you to know how important Blair is to me,” I tell him, leaning over so I can pull a folded-up envelope from my back pocket. I don’t give it to him right away. There won’t be any taking back what this letter says once he gets it, and while I’m sure he needs to know this, I’m also terrified of how he’ll look at me afterward. I try to channel Blair’s bravery from last night.

“In a roundabout way, even if you don’t particularly care for her, she’s incredibly important to this family as well.”

“I never said I didn’t care, Colt,” he says, voice gruff.

“No, but I know how you are, Maddie. There’s nothing wrong with it, but you don’t grow attached to anyone without a reason. I know you care about Blair—and about the baby, in your own way—but only because you know they’re important to me. I think this might change things.”

I pass him the letter, but don’t let go of it yet.

“The first thing I need you to look at when you open this is the date in the upper right-hand corner. It’s an old note. It doesn’t… this isn’t how I feel anymore. This isn’t me anymore. But it’s the person I used to be before Blair.”

His brows furrow as I let go, but I can’t watch him read it. I look off at the mountains as the sound of the letter being pulled from the envelope seems to echo. His breath hitches just a few seconds in.

I don’t need to read over his shoulder to remember what it says. I’d written and re-written it several times before the night I left the stack of letters in the truck, the same as every one of my family members’ letters.

Dear Maddie,

By the time you find this, I’ll be gone. I know it’s unfair of me to saddle you with this, but I also know you’re the only one in the family who will be able to take care of it all. I wrote my banking information in a journal I stashed in the nightstand of my old bedroom the last time I was home. Don’t let the costs of my funeral touch the ranch’s accounts. Any money left over goes to Mama.

I know we’ve never seen eye to eye, but with the last words I’ll ever say to you, I want you to know I love you. I’ve always looked up to you, and I’m sorry that I’m so goddamn pig-headed, and that I’ve made your life hell. It was never about you. Every fight I picked was just me trying to find an outlet, a way to make someone else hurt so that I could be free of the pain for a few minutes. Your only mistake was being the one that took it the best, but I think that says a lot about who you are as a big brother.

Please make sure Mama doesn’t hold onto this too long. I think it’ll be a relief to her, not having to watch my rides every night, not knowing if I’m going to get hurt on a bull or speeding or overdosing or any of the other ways I often fuck up. Get Bailey to Chase as soon as you can. They may not be together anymore, but he’s her person and he’ll be able to be there for her in a way no one else will be.

I love you, Maddox.

I’m sorry.

I hope you can forgive me.

Love, Colt.

Maddox is quiet for so long, I almost risk looking back over at him, but I’m terrified of what I’ll see. For the second day in a row, my lower lip is doing that pathetic thing it likes to do when I’m trying to hold back tears, and I fucking hate it. The longer he goes without talking, the more I feel like I’ve fucked up.

Finally, his hand finds my neck and squeezes.

“Look at me,” he says with a tone that makes me feel like a kid again. I do, but I immediately wish I hadn’t.

I’ve only seen Maddox cry one other time—at Dad’s funeral. Never before then, and never since. Never, until now. His fingers grip the hair at the base of my neck as my face crumbles, and he pulls me forward, pressing his forehead against mine.

“Never, do you hear me?” he grits out, stern.

“I won’t, Maddie,” I swear, my voice barely a whisper. “I won’t, but it was so close.” He swallows and pulls away, putting the letter back in the envelope. He doesn’t pass it back to me, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about him keeping it. “Don’t show that to Mama. Or Jamie or Bailey or anyone else,” I warn him.

He grunts in acknowledgment and I guess I’ll have to take it as a promise.

“What stopped you?”

“Blair,” I tell him with a sideways smile, though the way he nods tells me he already knew. “I was on a roof in Fort Worth.” His eyes squeeze shut and I realize he doesn’t want the details. Doesn’t want to be able to picture it. “She messaged me, asked if I wanted to meet up again, and I figured what’s a couple more days? Needless to say, that’s when she told me she was pregnant.”

Maddox swallows and hangs his head, white-knuckling the edges of the tailgate.

“I didn’t know you were…” he trails off.

“Depressed,” I fill in for him. “Yeah, that was sort of the point. I didn’t want anyone to know. Bailey knew, but I think that’s more of a twin thing.”

He huffs a laugh, but it’s completely humorless. We sit in silence again for a few minutes and I have no clue how to fill it. Is he angry? Just hurt? The sick part of my brain wonders if he wished I’d followed through with it, but I shut it down quickly like Melissa’s been teaching me.

“Austin’s been trying to tell me that I can’t take the blame for everything, but I’m having a hard time not taking the blame for this.”