Last Chance Rebel (22 page)

It was hard to remember the last time he'd been happy. He wasn't sure this was happiness. But he was lighter than he'd been for a long time. Still, he didn't remember happiness hurting quite like this. Maybe it was impossible to feel anything without a little bit of pain when you knew how heavy the world could be. When you knew the cost of everything.

When he'd been young, he hadn't imagined the cost. His daddy had paid for everything, so as far as he had seen, it was all free. It was what his father was still doing. Paying for everything, trying to cover things that money would never be sufficient for.

He smiled, just a little bit, and he felt a piece of glass shift inside his chest, cutting him a little bit deeper while he let the moment roll over him. While he let this,
her
, mean something. It felt good, and it felt bad too. But he'd had a lot of years of just bad; he imagined she had too.

Right now, there was forgiveness, and she was holding him. So he would just focus on that. And let the rest take care of itself.

For a little while, at least.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

R
EBECCA
WOKE
UP
with a start. She opened her eyes, and found herself staring at her living room ceiling. She was lying on her couch, an unfamiliar weight resting on her stomach. Gage. She was holding on to his shoulders, resting in exactly the same position she had been since they'd finished making love.

It was getting dark outside, which meant they must have been sleeping for at least an hour. It got dark early this time of year, so she doubted it was very late. She never left her store early, but today she had. Today she had had a complete nervous breakdown on the floor then come back and got naked in front of Gage with the light on.

“Gage?” she asked, moving her hand down his back.

He stirred beneath her touch, shifting and looking up at her, a wicked half smile on his face. Her heart fluttered, her stomach turning over. She felt... She felt tender and new. She felt exposed, and she wasn't entirely sure if it was good or bad.

She didn't want to run away though. She didn't want to have a fight. She supposed maybe that was a good thing.

“I'm awake,” he said.

His brown hair was rumpled, his eyes sleepy. This was so intimate. Waking up with him like this. Looking at him. She wasn't covered by a blanket, wasn't covered by anything. For once, she wasn't covered up at all.

“Yeah, you look awake,” she said, lifting her hand and brushing a lock of hair out of his face.

Her heart ached. Looking at him like this, a little bit mischievous, a little bit boyish and a bit less tortured... It made her feel a bit tortured, and she couldn't quite say why.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Starving. But it's my turn to cook for you.”

She wiggled out from under him, standing up, searching the room for clothes.

“Do you need clothes?” he asked, reading her mind.

“We went over this. Potential health code violations and everything...”

“I solemnly swear not to report your food handling violations to the state of Oregon.”

She shot him a stern glare, then moved across the small room and into the kitchen. “I am going to make you a Bear family special.”

“I can't wait. I imagine it's tortilla based?”

“Yes. Because even now that is essentially the extent of my skills.” She took a large stack of flour tortillas out of the fridge and a bag of preshredded cheese. Then, she fished around until she found her sandwich grill.

She set about making the world's most basic quesadillas, which the two of them ended up eating naked on the couch.

“I've been mad at you for a long time,” she said, chewing thoughtfully.

“I've been mad at me too.”

She nodded. “I'm not now. When I said I forgive you, I meant it.” She did—that was the most amazing thing. She actually felt lighter, as though the weight were more than simply metaphorical, but as if there had been a literal ton of bricks sitting on her chest for the past seventeen years and finally releasing it made her breathe easier. Made everything seem different.

“It was never the scars,” she said, the words costing her. “I mean, yes, I don't love them. And, it did impact my self-esteem, I'm not going to lie about that. But men are men, and plenty of them made it very clear that they would sleep with me if I wanted to. Some of them were jerks. Some of them acted like I should be grateful for the attention. But some of them were fine. I was the one that made the scars a big deal.” She swallowed hard. “They've been the best suit of armor I ever could've asked for.”

“Rebecca...”

“No, let me finish. Maybe this is uncomfortable for you to hear. It's kind of uncomfortable for me to say. But it doesn't make it any less true. They weren't...not an issue. But they weren't the issue that I pretended they were. They're not the reason that I was never with a guy. They're not the reason that I had trouble making friends. But it's the reason I gave to people. The reason that I gave to myself.”

“I don't need to be let off the hook,” he said. “Not to this degree.”

“That's not why I'm doing it. Trust me. I have no problem making you suffer, you know that.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I feel like things are changing though.” She knew what he meant by that. That he thought maybe her judgment was clouded because she was getting attached to him. Because of the sex. Well, she couldn't exactly dispute that. But that didn't make this revelation any less real.

Now that she had moved the rest of the junk out of the way. The anger, all of the blame that she directed his way... She could see inside of herself a little bit clearer. The break in the wall that had begun back in the store earlier with Jonathan was continuing now.

“It doesn't matter,” she said. “I mean, the way that I feel about you... What's happening between us... It doesn't change this. It doesn't change the truth. There are a lot of things in life we don't choose. I didn't choose these scars. But I definitely have chosen how to use them. I'm smart about it. Aren't we all? Like wounded animals. We figure out how to guard our pain.”

She swallowed hard. “Nothing ever hurt worse than my mother leaving,” she continued. “Nothing. But it was a lot easier to make you the villain there too. And I did. For a long time. I think Jonathan still does. Because if he doesn't, then maybe it's me, and I know he doesn't want that. And if I don't, then maybe it's me too.”

“It was her,” he said, his voice rough. “It was always her.”

Those words settled uncomfortably inside of her. Because it was so easy for her to give her mother a pass. Because she had always let herself believe that maybe things were just harder for her. That maybe Jonathan was made of stronger stuff, that maybe Rebecca was too.

She had thought for a long time that it was because she was protecting her mother. Now, she thought it was just because she was protecting herself. Because behind all of that denial was a wall of rage so intense it might consume her completely.

“She left me,” Rebecca said. “She left me. When I needed her the most. It was never your job to stay,” she said, looking at Gage. “It was her job to stay with me no matter what. Because I was her daughter.” It took all of her strength then, not to double over and howl in pain. This was why she had shielded herself from the reality for all of this time.

But from the moment Gage had walked into town layers had started stripping away. Like an old house being stripped down to the studs, to what created it, to what really made it. Without all of the excuses and the renovations to hide the truth.

And now, finally, she felt like they were at the center of it. At the heart of it.

“I think I hate her,” Rebecca whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Strong arms came around her, pulling her against his body. He stroked her hair, and the tender gesture only made her cry harder.

“I know I do,” he said, his voice husky.

“It felt good to say it,” she said, her voice muffled. “It doesn't fix anything though.”

“Well, that doesn't really matter. What matters is that it felt good, right?” He tightened his hold on her. “It's nice if you can feel good for at least a little while.”

“Is that what you've been doing? All those years on the road? Trying to feel good just for a little while.”

“I told myself that I was punishing myself. It sounded a lot more gallant than running away. Like I was denying myself something by being away from my family. But, you're probably closer to the truth.”

“I was running away too. Just in place.”

The moment she said it, she knew it was true. She thought back to all the little birds that decorated her shop. How much she liked them. How much she had always identified with them. They could go wherever they wanted but they always stayed in the same place.

She realized that's what she was doing. She was hiding right there in Copper Ridge, using it as an excuse too.

“You know what? It would've made more sense for me to leave.”

“You think so?” he asked.

“Of course. I've always talked about how everyone here feels sorry for me, treats me like I'm special—or broken—because of my scars. All the men here know me. And that makes it hard. So I could go somewhere and make myself a stranger. A place that doesn't have my history. But then... How could I use it?” She laughed. “My family doesn't have any kind of great reputation, and I still stayed. Being a stranger somewhere would be an asset to me. I wouldn't be the abandoned, scarred daughter of a single mother. But, out there on the road you're not Nathan West's son. That doesn't help you at all.”

He stiffened. “Well, that was part of it. I didn't want to be Nathan West's son. Not anymore. Not when I realized what all that meant.”

She swallowed hard. “I would have been tempted.”

“Tempted to do what?”

“To stay. To use all of the power. It's a ‘get out of jail free' card. I've never had one of those. I mean, aside from my scars, which I used as best I could. That's what most of us do. We take the hard stuff, and we use it to our advantage. I know that your dad isn't great, but you could have used that.”

“That's the problem,” he said. “That's exactly what I would've done if I had stayed.”

He leaned in, kissing her, hard and rough, cutting off the thread of the conversation. She had a feeling he did that on purpose.

But the kiss was hot, and sure, and it filled her with the kind of deep, sweet warmth that touched her in hidden, freezing places inside of her that had been cold for so long she had forgotten they could be anything else.

So she let him change the subject. Because she liked this one so much.

When they parted, they were breathing hard. He pressed his forehead against hers, looking at her, his dark eyes intent on hers.

She lifted her hand, tracing the deep grooves by his mouth. This man, her monster, was quickly becoming her very favorite thing and she wasn't sure what to do with that. It terrified her. Though, at least now she had an idea why.

It was the losing him, that was the thing that would hurt.

But she'd spent the greater part of the past seventeen years dwelling on pain in order to prevent herself from experiencing any more. She was going to let that rest. At least just for a little while. Something was happening. Something was changing.

He was changing her.

She wanted that too much to stop now. No matter how bad the impact of losing him might feel.

She supposed that should be terrifying. To the Rebecca she had been a few hours ago, it would have been. Depending on someone, admitting that she needed him in any capacity, would have been devastating.

She wasn't afraid of it now, and she couldn't quite pinpoint why.

“Are you going to stay tonight?” She tried to phrase the question casually, even though there was nothing casual about the way she felt. Her heart was rambling around her chest like a frightened mouse.

“Your bed is a little bit short for me.”

“Actually, I think you're a little bit tall for my bed. Mattresses are a pretty standard size, Gage. You're the one that exceeds normal parameters.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“Probably,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips in spite of the fact that part of her was pretty sure he was just trying to make excuses to put some distance between them.

She didn't really think he was more distant now than he had been before. She was the one who was drawing a little bit closer. She was the one who had a little bit less armor than she had in the beginning. That was why she felt it now.

She was the one who had changed. It wasn't him. So, she could hardly take it personally now. That was what she told herself.

“I should probably go home,” he said.

She waited for him to issue an invitation for her to come with him, but he didn't. She let the silence hang, for just a little bit longer than was natural. She was kind of pathetic.

“Okay,” she said, trying not to reveal any disappointment.

He got dressed, and once he was completely covered up she felt silly sitting there naked. Like suddenly she fully realized that she'd been naked when before it had just felt right. A full, Garden of Eden situation happening right in her living room.

“Okay... I guess... I'll see you tomorrow when I come by to check on the horses.”

He reached down, plucking her up off the couch and pulling her against him, kissing her. A wave of relief rolled through her. “See you tomorrow.”

It wasn't exactly what she had wanted, but it was better than she'd thought she was going to get.

“Okay,” she said, “tomorrow.”

After he left, she settled onto the couch, and she felt a little bit happy that he had left. It was probably a good thing that she had a few moments to spend alone with her thoughts. It had been a hell of a weird-ass day.

She took a deep breath and got up, pouring herself a glass of wine, then pacing the length of the room.

She just walked for a moment, going over everything that had happened. She had forgiven him. She really had. It had released something inside of her. Had allowed her to let go of something she had been holding firmly in place for more years than she should have.

It made her think about her mother, about that wound inside of her that had been left behind when she had left. It was the big one, the one that she had never wanted to look closely at. The one she had never even wanted to take steps to heal because that would mean acknowledging that it was there in the first place. She didn't want to do that. It was too difficult.

But, now she knew it was what she had to do.

She looked over at her phone, chewing on her lip. It was probably a bit soon to call Jonathan. It wasn't like she was going to spend the rest of her life not speaking to him. But he might not answer. This might have been the last straw. Maybe it was the excuse he needed to finally cut ties with his needy younger sister.