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It’s the disappointment of Carlos, my good friend, that hurts the most.
CHAPTER 36
SHORTLY AFTER MIDNIGHT, I’m sitting awake in my hotel, stewing in my thoughts. I feel about as low as I’ve ever felt as a Texas Ranger. I’ve made mistakes before, but never quite this bad.
I brought a six-pack of beer to my room and figured I’d drink about half of it and then sleep a few hours before heading back to Redbud in the morning. But I haven’t been able to sleep a wink. Now the beer is warm and I’m flipping through the channels, trying to find something—anything—to take my mind off the mess I’ve made of things. There’s a replay of a baseball game on ESPN and an old Western on Turner Classic Movies, but neither holds my attention. There are music videos playing on CMT, but the songs are mostly ones I don’t know and don’t much like. I don’t even think about picking up my book—no way I’ll be able to concentrate on the words.
I need someone to talk to.
I think about calling Megan, but shortly before I got back to the hotel, I got a goodnight text telling me she missed me and would talk to me tomorrow. I don’t want to wake her. Dad’s someone I’ve always gone to for advice, but I don’t want to wake him, either. Besides, I’m not sure I really want to confide in him. He’ll be as disappointed as my fellow Rangers if I tell him what I did.
That leaves one person I can think of.
Willow.
She works crazy hours—concerts that keep her out late, studio sessions that go deep into the night, hectic travel schedules that keep her on the go, no matter the time of day. I know she’s in Redbud, visiting family, but she still might be awake.
I pick up my phone and send a text.
Any chance you’re up?
A few seconds later, my phone rings with an incoming call from her.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” I ask.
“Nah,” she says, sounding cheerful as always. “I played a show at the Pale Horse tonight for old times’ sake.”
That’s the local bar where she and I first met, where I used to watch her perform before she made it big in Nashville. I can’t help but feel a powerful nostalgia for those times.
“I’m sorry I missed that,” I say.
“What’s up?” she says. “You okay?”
“I’ve had a shit day,” I say. “I needed someone to talk to.” Then I add, “The person I most wanted to talk to was you.”
“I’m here for you,” she says happily. “Willow Dawes Therapy Inc. is open twenty-four seven and free for Texas Rangers and ex-boyfriends.”
I don’t go into details, but I tell her I screwed up royally at work. I’ve got two lieutenants and a captain who are all disappointed with me. Worse, one of those lieutenants is one of my best friends. Worse still, I’ve betrayed the trust of another friend—a former Ranger who didn’t do anything to warrant the mess I’ve made of his life.
Willow listens sympathetically, then says, “You didn’t go into this line of work because it was easy. Or even because you liked it. Being a Texas Ranger is a lot of weight to bear. But you took the job because you’ve got the shoulders to bear that weight.”
I think of Parker, who quit the Rangers because it was too much for him. The hard decisions, the gray areas, the rules put in place to keep you from making mistakes.
“Maybe I can’t bear the weight,” I say. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe the Rangers are better off without me.”
“Now you’re just feeling sorry for yourself,” she says.
She doesn’t say this in an unfriendly way, but still it’s hard to hear.
“Look,” she adds, “as far as I can tell, the answer to your problem is simple.”
“What’s that?” I say skeptically.
“You have to try to make things right.”
It sounds so simple but hearing her say it resonates deep within me.
“Maybe you won’t succeed,” she says. “Maybe all these guys will stay pissed at you forever. But you have to try. It’s the only way you can move on.”
