Page 45 of We Drank the Dawn

Wordlessly, Rudy slid into a seat.

The bartender came back. “Hey fellas, what can I get you?”

Rage roiled beneath my surface as I denied my heart’s need to replay and analyze Peter’s words. So I hissed below my breath. “I’m leaving.”

“You sure? We’re gonna have a great time,” Cody said. I didn’t spare him a glance, aching that my husband couldn’t see the way Cody leered at me. What would he do if he knew?

Peter said, “Go ahead. I’ll hitch a ride back with these guys.”

“That is a terrible idea. You’re going to get plastered.”

“Why don’t you worry about you for a change?”

I huffed with hurt then looked at Harlan, whose buttons of his plaid shirt strained against his bulky frame. “Is everyone leaving?”

“Yep. The rest of ‘em are on their way out.”

I turned back to Peter, desperation unfurling in my chest as I whispered, “Please come back with me. Please, Peter.”

He turned toward me, his brown eyes dark and liquid, and he gave me a smile, faking stability for the cowboys looking on. He clapped me on the back as if I was a bro, his previous tenderness evaporating like a really delusional dream. “Nah. I’ll stay. I’ll see you later though.”

My heart, bleeding and reeling, gave up the fight prematurely, leaving him to his devices. If he wanted to get drunk out of his mind because he thought his life sucked so much, then so be it. I slid off the bar stool and backed away. What did it matter to me anyway if he wanted to forget stuff for a night? Who cared? Whatever.

But a hundred memories that shaped my past lurched up in my heart and churned my insides with anxiety. I shook my head, trying to remember that Peter was human. And he was hurting. That was all. He would drink, have a hangover, and maybe have a rational conversation tomorrow.

Tag, Wren, Hollie, the girls, and Cooper were loitering around the table as Bea spoke to a few new fans from the audience. The stage was dark and quiet and soft country music now played over the speakers.

Hollie looked up with a frown. “Are the cowboys at the bar?”

“Yep.”

Cooper’s gaze darted that way and our conversation from the trail ride came flooding back to me. I hated that Peter would play a part in every one of Cooper’s bunkmates coming back to Meadowbrook smelling of alcohol. Did Peter know there was a rehabbed individual on the ranch? Maybe he wouldn't have partook if he did…not that that knowledge had stopped the cowboys.

As if she could see the internal war waging in him, Hollie gently put her hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He pulled his eyes away from the bar and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do they have a car to drive?” I asked.

Hollie nodded. “They’ve got Harlan’s truck.”

I fought a swallow down my tight throat as I followed them out to the parking lot and stood at the back door of Tag’s truck, waiting for him to emerge and unlock it. Over and over and over, I told myself that Peter would be okay, but his words shook the ground beneath my feet.

“I can’t give you any more adventures, Sarah.”

Even though I dug deep for arguments, my heart couldn’t find any. Because he was right, I couldn’t force him to stay. I couldn’t force him to keep trying. And I didn’t even want to.

“I’m done trying, Sarah. I’m done.”

Suddenly, Bea was there, gripping my shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

I lifted my head and a rogue tear left my eye. Honesty slipped from my lips. “No.”

The truck fired up.

“Where’s Peter?” She shifted sleepy Wren to her opposite hip.

“He’s—at the bar with the cowboys.”