Dances with Wolf (17 page)

The whole table laughed. Jess said, “You probably shouldn’t call your brother an ‘idiot,’ but—”

“Oh, go ahead and say it,” said Bridget.

“What is wrong with my son?” Karen said, clearly embarrassed.

They all guffawed, except for Abby’s dad. She caught his eye. He seemed to be regarding her with a special sympathy, like he was feeling all the anger and hurt that she was. She hadn’t seen that look from her dad since—well, since the prom.

The realization came crashing down on her. Wolf had done it again. The man had a special talent for socking her in the gut right when she was opening her heart to him.

Where was he? Why hadn’t he called? Had she done something to push him away?

And why had she let this happen to her, yet again? She must have been crazy to think he’d changed. Anybody foolish enough to dance with Wolf Olsen was only going to wind up dancing by herself.

Chapter Twenty

Wolf bolted upright as if from a bad dream. He rubbed his eyes and wondered what the ruckus was about—it was his alarm clock, country music blaring out of the tinny speaker. What the hell, what time was it? He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 11 p.m.? The radio had been cranked for hours, and he hadn’t heard a thing? Impossible.

In one motion, he threw the covers to the floor. His legs turned to rubber as he stood and made his way toward the bathroom. Nothing an ice-cold shower couldn
’
t remedy. Ten minutes from now, he
’
d be fit for whatever lay in store for him. He reached to turn the shower faucet, then stopped halfway and stared himself down in the mirror.

Only after turning on the water did he think to glance at his phone. Nine texts and an untold number of missed calls. He’d put the damn thing on silent. Sweat formed on his brow, and his pulse started to race. Two from Abby, four from Bridget, two from his mom, and even one from Luther that read,
Wolf Olsen,
you have f——- up again!

Oh God, no. Abby
’
s party for Bridget and Mark was already over, probably had been for a couple hours, minimum. Wolf groaned. His worst fear had come true—he’d left Abby in the lurch, again.

He hobbled back into the bedroom and punched in Luther
’
s number.

“Whoa, what rock did you crawl under, bro?”

“How much trouble am I in?” He groaned. “Just tell me.”

“You gotta be a little more specific.” He snickered. “With Abby? Or with Bridget and Mark? Or with Mom and Dad? Or with—”

“You could start with Abby, I guess. Man, I just cannot believe what happened to me.”

“Where are you, anyway? Are you in trouble?”

“Nah. I
’
m in Choteau.” Wolf snorted. “
And
in trouble. I basically slept seventeen hours straight.”

“Tell me you didn
’
t get mono from one of those barrel-racing girls.”

“No, man. I only—” Could Luther be trusted with the biggest secret of Wolf
’
s life?
I only want Abby. She
’
s always been the only one.

“You only what?”

“I only…want to make it up to Abby, and her folks. And Bridget and Mark, too.”

“You’re gonna have an uphill battle, man. Marcie
really
unleashed on you.”

“Right in front of everybody?”

“Nah, she was venting with Doc in the kitchen. She is
scary
.”

“And how about Mom and Dad?”

“They were pretty embarrassed. Especially when everyone gave their toasts to Bridge and Mark. You
are
the best man. You don
’
t want me to step up and take your place, do you?”

“No, I
’
ll figure this out. I’ll think of some way to make it up to them.”

“Better be something huge.”

Good idea
, Wolf thought. A simple apology wasn’t going to cut it, he knew that much. But what
could
he do to get back on Abby’s good side?

The shower water was cold enough to remind him of the February, long ago, when he, Abby, Bridget, and Luther had skated on the edge of Flathead Lake.
Wolf ha
d fallen through the ice, all two feet of it, but Abby had been genuinely worried about him, had taken off her own gloves and stretched them over his big callused fingers, then rubbed his hands between her own while he gulped down the thermos of cocoa she
’
d brought in her backpack. He
’
d felt loved,
cherished
even, though he
’
d been too young and dumb to realize how precious a gift it had been.

How could he have let her down, again? Did he even deserve another chance?

Cost
co flowers wouldn’t cut it, Wolf decided as he sped past the big-box stores on Highway 93. He eyed the clothing stores, the recently shuttered Barnes and Noble, and even a great-looking vintage Ford pickup truck in a sweet shade of baby blue. But that would be too extravagant, too showy.

He pictured Abby as she must have stood alone last night on her parents
’
deck, a Juliet minus her Romeo, while the rest of the family toasted the first Olsen wedding of the younger generation. He should have been there with his arm around her. Like Abby, he should have been ready to share news of his own with the most important people in his life—that the two of them were going to build something together, something real and lasting. They were
meant
to be together, he should have been bold enough to say, so strong that nothing could tear them apart again. Why was he always realizing what was in his heart when it was too late? He should have known how important this was, not just to Abby but to himself.

The “shoulds” were overwhelming. How much had he damaged her over the years? She seemed so strong now, so mature. Could he earn back her trust? As if in response, Wolf
’
s ribs ached, his knees pinged, his calves tightened up anew. To be with Abby now, he needed to be as honest with her as she’d been with him. Would he tell her the real reason for his absence? It seemed like a feeble excuse, his physical ailments, in the face of Abby
’
s less visible but all too acute pain. But it was all he had.

Before he could reach the turnoff to Bigfork, he found himself in the parking lot of Ranch & Home.
The way to a woman
’
s heart is through her horses.
Where had he heard that before? It seemed like sound advice. And what other options was he left with?

He jumped from the truck, wincing as he landed, and limped his way through the aisles until he found what he was looking for: a genuine leather carryall for Abby
’
s tools-of-the-trade—her soft rope halters and blankets, her dried apple and molasses treats, her herbal remedies. He could even get it branded with her name on it. Just outside of Kalispell, there was an old guy, Fred Willow, who did beautiful leather-welding work. Maybe he could go there and get it done right now. Now here was a gift that would acknowledge how much he’d come to respect her profession, how much he shared her love for four-legged beasts.

Package in hand, he got back into the truck and drove to Mr. Willow’s place. He had no time to waste.

…

Abby went through her morning routine on autopilot, trying to block out the dull ache in her chest. Matt Markley
’
s gelding was coming along nicely. And so was Matt. He
’
d learned to approach his good-looking roan gelding without making so much commotion. He routinely carried carrots in his back pocket and didn
’
t seem as self-conscious when Arrow sidled around him to extract a treat. His awkwardness only returned when, all too predictably, he’d asked Abby if she
’
d like to stay for lunch.

“Maybe another time,” she
’
d said, handing him Arrow
’
s reins
, though she cursed herself for sidestepping him yet again. She knew she
’
d never stay in
or
go out with Matt Markley. Fake a smile, fake having a good time—it just wasn
’
t in her repertoire. As far as going through the motions went, she didn
’
t have a repertoire
of skills, a fact for which Wolf could be held accountable. She
’
d never had to pretend to be anyone but herself with him. But how far had that gotten her? All the way to zero and back.

After they got home, she let Stella out of the truck to romp next to the spring calves. Although the dog was one hundred percent retriever, she had a border collie
’
s desire to round up any animals in sight. She watched Stella
’
s tail wag from side to side, faster and faster, like she was in a time trial for happiness. How much simpler life was for her. “You don’t know how good you’ve got it,” she told the pooch.
Great, Abby, keep talking to the dog. Show the world you
’
ve gone crazy once and for all.

“Hey, Abby,” her mom called from the upstairs window. “Luther
’
s on the phone for you. Said he
’
s been trying to reach you.”

Her phone had been on silent, but sure enough, there were two missed calls from him. “Tell him I
’
ll call him back.”

Stella nosed Abby
’
s hand and together they walked toward the barn. It was too hot this time of the day to take Beau out for a ride, but she could groom and fuss over him at least. Anything was better than standing still and facing down her own dark thoughts. She pulled a curry comb and brush from the tack room
’
s top shelf and approached Beau, whistling softly. Best to practice her own medicine, even though this horse had tolerated Abby
’
s first foray into horse whispering with good humor. She began at Beau’s head, pulling burr and snags from his mane. Next, she picked his feet, nestling his hoof atop her knees. Stella circled around, begging the occasional pat on the head.

Finally, Abby reached the gelding’s tail, a handsome arc of nearly blond hairs. An image of Wolf
’
s untamed locks crossed her mind before she could banish it. Actually, she
’
d like to grab him by the head right now and push him into a bucket of hot mash. How could he stay away on a night that meant so much to her? Did he have any idea of how much hidden pain that had uncovered? She buried her face in Beau’s mane. Tears streamed down her face. She
’
d held her head high for so many hours. The barn with its late afternoon warmth seemed the safest place to let it all go.

Stella
’
s low rumble alerted her. She wiped her hand under her eyes. She just wanted to be left alone.

Wolf
’
s Tony Lamas stirred the dust under the stall door before she saw his face. Damn his hide. What business did he have creeping up on her like this? She sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her face again.

“Abby?” he said softly. “
Can I come in?
”

He didn
’
t wait for an answer but opened the door, motes of dust raining down on her. She couldn
’
t decide what to say. He reached out to touch Beau, stroking the horse with one hand under his muzzle.
Just like I taught him to do
, she thought. Beau had the audacity to whinny in gratitude. So much for loyalty.

“I brought you something.” She looked down at his hands without meeting his eyes. He was carrying a cardboard box with a copper ribbon wrapped atop it.
Ranch & Home,
she thought, without enthusiasm. She still refused to meet his eyes.

“It doesn
’
t make up for not being here last night, if that’s what you were thinking. There
’
s no
gift that’s going to excuse that.”

You hit the nail on the head,
she thought, but stayed silent. He didn’t deserve a response, anyway.

Wolf cleared his throat. “Like Luther said, I know I missed a great party.”

“It’s fine,” she said. Did he really not have an excuse at all? Did he really think that a damned gift would satisfy her?

“Abby, sweetie. I
’
d do anything to turn the clock back.” He reached around to grasp her shoulder, but she shot him an icy look that made him think better of it.

“That makes two of us.” Her voice was flat. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “Anyway, I got the message.”

He shook his head. “There was no message…it’s just…I know I made a huge mistake.”

She stood up and dusted her pants off. “So, what happened, Wolf? You can’t tell me you forgot?”

“I wish I could explain it, but I can’t. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. Some stuff happened in Polson, and…I needed to work it out.”

“I
’
ll bet,” she said sourly. Another lame excuse from Wolf Olsen. He was telling her
some
truth, like he’d done when he’d apologized for prom. But Abby deserved nothing but the whole truth, and it sure didn’t look like she was going to get it.

“Really. I need you to believe me.”

“What am I supposed to believe, exactly? You haven’t even told me anything yet.” Abby let loose of Beau
’
s mane and crossed the stall, turning at the door, then
crouch
ing down in the sawdust. Finally, she looked at him. There was something new and raw in his eyes, a hint of fear, perhaps. Something desperate and unknown.

“Something…happened to me between the roping and the steer-wrestling down in Polson. I got hurt…pretty bad.”

“What, you didn’t show up because you were feeling…
achy
?” She rose so abruptly that for a moment, Stella jumped to her feet, her nose in the air, sniffing danger.

“It was a little worse than that, Abby. I had to go to visit a doctor.”

“You made it to the engagement party just fine. You’re telling me this supposed injury got worse over time?”

“It wasn’t just the injury. It was the meds.”

Okay, now he was going to blame it on his pain meds? She couldn’t stand these weak little justifications. “Oh, please.” She reached out for the door latch. “
I don’
t have the time for this.”

Wolf put his hand on top of hers. The package fell to the sawdust.

“Please. Just give me a minute to explain.”

“I can
’
t believe I set everything I know about you aside and trusted you again. But you know what they say: fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on
me
.”

“It’s not like that. This time, we’re going to make it happen, for
real
. It can work between us, I know it. I want to be there for you, Abs.”

“But that’s just it. You weren
’
t there. Isn
’
t that the whole point, Wolf? At the most important times, you’re a no-show.”