Page 57 of Cowboy

My mouth falls open. “Says the woman paid to lie about others.” My bitterness returns, swirling inside me with a mix of conflicting emotions.

“Bull, I know you’re hurting, and after what I witnessed in there with red ass, I understand even more. But I’m going to break this down for you. First, I do trust you. You’ve allowed me into your home, haven’t taken advantage of me, and provided for me, which also encompasses care and concern for Sprout. But I don’t ever want to see you in the arms of another woman again. You need a hug, I’m your woman.”

My mouth falls open to protest, but Scarlett continues.

“Maybe you shouldn’t trust me.” Her voice turns distant as her fingers fist in the material at the sides of her dress. “Trust is earned, and I’ve done nothing to prove myself to you. But here’s what I have done. I’ve been in your bed every night, giving you my body and my—”

What? What else is she giving me?

“ . . . my faith in you, that you’re a good man wanting to do the right thing.”

My shoulders sag at the answer, and I find it’s not what I’d hoped she’d say.

“I hate the way that man just spoke to you, and I hate that it’s because of me.”

I shake my head with a bitter chuckle. “Scarlett, forget Redd. He’s a nuisance, but he’s harmless. It’s only words.”

“But you shouldn’t have to listen to such things.”

“I don’t.” Most days, I ignore Redd because he’s just as she called him, a red ass.

We stand in silence for a moment. She looks up at me while I avoid her piercing gaze as though she’s reading me and coming to some conclusions.

“Being a man of honor, I know you’ll understand that I need to know the truth about Sprout. Finding out the paternity of Sprout is more about me than you.”

“How?” I question.

“I need to know he has nothing over me. I don’t want him to think he has any right to our child, and a test will prove he doesn’t. And if the test proves he is the biological father, I need to prepare for battle because he will not go near our kid without one helluva fight.”

I scratch at the back of my neck, dumbfounded by the conviction in her voice.

“Does he need to know? He doesn’t want you, Scarlett, and I don’t mean that to be hurtful. He’d only use Sprout.” I don’t know that man, but I know enough to sense he’d only use his child as a means to an end.

“I don’t want to tell him. I already told him Sprout wasn’t his, but I need to know the truth for me. I need to have proof it isn’t Shelton’s. I’d feel better knowing I’m not hanging onto a piece of him. But notice I said our child because in my heart, Sprout is yours. There’s a difference between being the father of a child and actually being a dad to a child. You’ll be Sprout’s daddy in every sense of the word if that’s what you want. That’s my gift to you. We promised to be partners, and unless you’d like to renege that offer, I’m staying put. If you don’t want me in the house, I can move somewhere close, but I think Vermont is the best place to raise our child. Our child. And this is where you live.”

She waves out a hand at me. Her eyes blink a few times, and I notice her swallowing hard before she continues.

“You don’t want to marry me, and I get that. It comes from fear, Bull.” Her voice softens. “Fear of being left behind. Fear of rejection. Fear of not being good enough. But I wish you could turn that fear into faith because I’m standing here, Bull, telling you that you are good enough. You are worthy of love. You are not going to be left behind by me. I accept things as they are, so I need you to accept me as I am. I made a mistake, a huge mistake, and I’m asking you to forgive me for it.”

She harshly swipes at the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes.

“Bull, you’ve done more for me in the past few months than Shelton did in years of marriage. I fricked up, but I won’t give up the goodness you’ve done for me. I won’t pretend it didn’t happen because it did. You’re good for me. We’re good together, and together is how I want us to be in whatever form that takes.”

I stare at her as her chest heaves, and she brushes another tear off her cheek.

“I’m done now,” she says, crossing her arms and looking off in the distance.

Stumped by all she’d poured out to me, the only thing I can think to say first is: “Did something happen with Shelton?” When did it come about that she might have a custody battle with him?

“He called me this afternoon.”

The words are a sucker punch to the gut, and I step closer to her.

“What did he want?”

“He wants me to come to Boston.”

“Over my dead body,” I growl. Gripping her upper arms, I beg her with my eyes not to leave.