Taken, Not Spurred (Lone Star Burn) (19 page)

“No, Charlie, I’m not. I came to Texas because I wanted to find out what was holding me back from writing—from being who I felt I should be.” He didn’t understand, but this time Sarah needed him to. “You know what I discovered? I was all locked up inside myself. We never really talked about what happened with Phil because that’s the deal we made that summer—we’d close off that chapter of our lives and pretend it never happened. But you know what living a lie does to you? It kills you slowly, Charlie. It’s not healthy.”

Charlie’s expression hardened at the mention of the brother they’d lost. “What’s not healthy is thinking that embarrassing yourself down here with some has-been celebrity is going to do anything more than hurt Mom and Dad. Grow up, Sarah.”

Slapping the leather beside her, Sarah said, “No, you grow up, Charlie. Grow up and face that something awful happened to our family and none of us got over it. You’re not here to save me. Admit to yourself that the only reason you want me back in Rhode Island is so you don’t have to be. I’m done pretending I never had a little brother. I don’t care if it upsets Mom and Dad, I’m going to ask them to send me pictures of him—pictures of all of us together. I want to remember him. I’m going to remember him. And if you can’t handle that, go back to New York and hide.” When Charlie remained stone-faced, Sarah asked, “Do you blame me, Charlie? Is that why you can’t discuss it?”

A visible shudder betrayed how deeply her words touched him. His jaw was white with tension. “God no. I never blamed you.” He didn’t say more and Sarah’s heart broke for him.

“It was an accident, Charlie.”

In a voice full of self-hate, Charlie said, “Mom and Dad asked me to watch both of you while they were cooking. I should have stayed with you, but I wanted to ask them something. I don’t even remember what was so goddamn important.”

“We were kids.”

“Maybe you can tell yourself that, but I was twelve—old enough to know better.”

Suddenly, Sarah understood what had torn her family apart. She closed her eyes for a moment to gather her strength, opened them, and said, “I’ve told myself it was my fault every day since he died. Every single day. Guess what? It was my fault. And it was yours. And it was Mom and Dad’s. We can keep blaming ourselves and each other, but none of that is going to bring him back. None of it will make us back into the family we might have been.”

Charlie shook his head, refusing to hear what she was saying. Sarah thought about Tony and the pain he refused to let go of. In the saddest of ways, Tony and her brother had more in common than either would likely ever know. Maybe it was time to admit that both were beyond her reach. “I thought I could heal Tony, but I can’t. If you want to torture yourself for the rest of your life, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to live like that anymore. I’m going to find a place where I can be happy. Good-bye, Charlie.”

Sarah opened the limo door before he could say anything and closed it behind her, raising her face to the cleansing brightness of the sun. She looked around and saw Tony standing in the barn doorway with Scooter. Melanie and Travis were putting her luggage in the back of her SUV. Melanie waved the notebook in the air, making sure Sarah knew it had made it to the vehicle, and gave her a thumbs-up regarding her parents. Sarah groaned. Only she and Tony knew the subject of her novel, and now she had to face him again to get her horse.

Tony walked Scooter to the trailer. Sarah took the lead line from him and stopped just in front of him, looking up into his eyes. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to storm away with some sophisticated cutting remark that would make him feel as badly as she did.

And she wanted to hug him and tell him that she understood.

Instead, she said softly, “Do you know how little it would take to make me stay? I love you.”

His face filled with a mixture of sadness and farewell. “I know.”

“I don’t regret any of it, Tony. Not one moment of it.”

His eyes glistened, then he turned and walked away, leaving her to numbly take directions from Melanie while one of the ranch hands finished loading Scooter. Sarah stopped at the turn in the driveway, waiting one last time, hoping to see Tony appear in her rear-view mirror.

He didn’t, and that was when she knew it was really over.

Chapter Twenty-One

T
ony stepped out of the barn to watch Sarah’s SUV pull onto the main road. Her brother’s limo pulled out directly after. Tony felt the presence of David at his side, but didn’t acknowledge it until they were both gone. Then, without looking away from the path they’d driven, Tony said, “Say it. Tell me I’m a fool to let her go.”

In a surprising twist, David didn’t. Instead, he said, “She couldn’t stay. You’re not ready for her. Staying wouldn’t change that.”

In that moment outside of time, Tony admitted, “I hurt her and I never meant to.”

David took his time answering. “You’ve hurt a lot of people since I met you, Tony, and I’ve never seen you look sorry about it.”

“I never felt sorry,” he said. “I stopped feeling anything a long time ago.”

“Until Sarah,” David diagnosed.

Softly, Tony agreed, “Yeah.”

The two men continued looking out over the empty driveway in silence. Finally, David said, “Five years ago I came here thinking I’d find a man celebrating his court victory. I was ready to cut you down a peg or two and shove a bit of reality in your face. But you taught me something instead.”

They both knew the condition David had found him in, so Tony didn’t bother to ask. He’d rather not know.

David continued, “I learned that in a tragedy there are no winners, only people struggling to survive the aftermath.”

Tony nodded slowly and said, “You sure I was worth saving? I am one miserable bastard.”

“And you always will be until you face your past.”

“I face it every day, every night. It never leaves me,” Tony said in frustration.

“I’m no psychologist, but it seems to me that when something pesters you that much you haven’t dealt with it the way it needs to be.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Tony would have asked, but David had walked away.

A week later, Dean came by around dinnertime. Tony was sitting at the small table in the kitchen, not touching the plate of food that Melanie had placed in front of him. He hadn’t eaten in days. Nor had he left the house. He’d tried to go back to the way things were before Sarah, but instead of feeling nothing, he felt an overwhelming sadness.

“You look like hell, Tony,” Dean said.

Tony rubbed a hand over the week’s growth of beard on his face. He felt like hell. “Isn’t there sheriff business somewhere that you’re late for?”

“You drinking again?”

Tony shook his head, pushed himself away from the table with two hands, and stood. “No, but if I were I wouldn’t need you here butting into what has always been none of your business.”

“You’re my brother. You are my business.”

“Half brother. Consider that your ticket to freedom from any responsibility.”

Dean sat back against the kitchen counter, not appearing bothered by Tony’s foul mood. “I’ve been making excuses for you since the first time I met you. David said you haven’t been feeling well.”

“Is there a point to this conversation? If so, make it and get out.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Dean said, “I should. I was never happier than the day I found out I had a little brother. I know you blamed my mother for yours leaving, and maybe I always felt a bit guilty about that. I never stopped hoping you’d get over it. When you bought this place, I moved here because you were self-destructing. Everyone figured it was only time before someone found you dead. I came here for you, Tony. And I stayed, smoothing over every mess you made. Keeping your ass out of jail every time you threw someone off your property with enough force to have warranted an assault charge. Now you’re self-destructing again, and I can’t sit back and watch it happen. I don’t expect you to be grateful.”

“Good, because I never asked you to get involved in any part of my life.”

Dean’s face whitened a bit in anger. “You’re right, you never did—and you never thanked me. You’re an ungrateful ass.”

“Then why are you still here when you know I don’t want you to be?” Tony goaded.

Dean pushed off the counter, his hands clenching at his sides. “I give up. You want to be as miserable as our father was.”

“I’m nothing like him.”

“Are you kidding? You’re
exactly
like him. He was one cold, unfeeling bastard. Do you even know if he’s still alive? I don’t, and I don’t care. He’s going to die alone, just like you will if you don’t wake up.” Dean turned to leave.

“Dean,” Tony said, his tone free of all its earlier sarcasm.

Dean turned back.

As close to an apology as he could voice, Tony said, “I don’t know how to be anyone but who I am.”

Releasing a long sigh, Dean said, “Yes, you do.”

Dean had always seen good where there was none. Still, Tony felt driven to tell him what he’d been considering. “I’ve been thinking about going to see Kimberly Staten’s father.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Is that wise?”

“I never told him that I was sorry about his daughter. It’s time I do.”

Dean approached Tony, then stood in front of him in a show of support. “You want me to go with you?”

Tony shook his head. “No.”

“Then why tell me?”

I don’t know.

There was a past between them that he’d never spoken of, and maybe it needed acknowledging. “I may never be a good brother to you, but I don’t blame you for my mother leaving. I can’t imagine any woman being able to stay with him for very long.” The past was there, vivid between them. “I always resented how happy you were, how easy your life looked. You and your mother would visit for a day, laughing and talking about where you’d been or what you’d done together, giving me a glimpse of what a family could look like, and then you’d leave again. I used to wonder what it would be like if I left with you. I doubt our father would have cared if I had.”

“You could have come with us. My mother would have taken you in.”

Tony didn’t doubt the truth of that. Dean had gotten his giving side from his mother. “That was your life, not mine.”

“It could be yours now. You don’t have to be our father. Whatever path you take today is one of your choosing, not anyone else’s.”

Tony put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, the first time he’d ever voluntarily touched him. “I want to be the man Sarah believed I was.”

Dean nodded in understanding, then stepped back and said, “Then clean the fuck up, because you smelled an awful lot better when she was here.”

Tony smiled, lowering his hand and releasing some tension in a short laugh. “That might explain why Melanie has been leaving my food and running away.”

Dean smiled back and joked, “Probably had nothing to do with your foul mood, either.”

“Me? Moody?” Tony looked across at his brother in feigned surprise.

Dean’s smile widened. “Come to dinner at my mom’s house this Sunday. She’d like to see you.”

The automatic refusal died, unspoken, on Tony’s lips. The past only had the power he gave it, and Margery, Dean’s mother, was another part of it that he’d denied for too long. “I’d like that.”

Dean left smiling, probably the only time Tony had ever seen him leave happier than when he’d arrived.

Two weeks after leaving Tony’s ranch, Sarah had just returned from a long, cathartic ride in the fields surrounding Melanie’s parents’ home. Her cheeks were still flushed from the rush of Scooter’s ground-covering gallop. She’d smiled through untacking and brushing him down and was cooling him off by hand, walking him on the dirt road in front of the horse barn.

She missed Tony, but she refused to let herself wallow in the feelings that swamped her when she thought of him. She couldn’t hate him. He’d never been anything but honest with her. She was the one who had invaded his home, practically thrown herself at him, ignored all the warnings he gave her, and then left when she’d discovered that he was the man he’d always claimed to be.

Melanie’s parents, Steve and Cindy, could not have been nicer. They set her up in the attached apartment that they said they’d made for Melanie when she was pregnant. Why she hadn’t stayed there and why they had kept it empty weren’t questions anyone offered to answer, so Sarah didn’t ask. She understood family taboo topics.

For now, she helped their three daughters, all in their late teens and early twenties, do the barn chores and clean up after meals. It never ceased to amaze Sarah that the women in Mel’s family were so friendly, happy, and feminine. The way they did their nails, carefully styled their hair, and pored over fashion magazines gave Sarah an instant rapport with them.
Vogue
was a language Sarah was fluent in.

Things were comfortable at Steve and Cindy’s home, except when Melanie and Jace visited. The first time had that awkward it’s-been-a-long-time feeling to it. But Melanie kept coming to see Sarah once a week and, although the atmosphere felt strained, at least everyone was civil. Sarah wanted to ask what had happened that made them all so uncomfortable around each other, but she didn’t.
I haven’t spoken to my brother since I left Tony’s house, so who am I to judge?

Sarah spun at the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires.
Can it be? Has he finally come?

A slap of disappointment was quickly followed by confusion. Her brother, dressed like he was going to attend a board meeting in the city, stepped out of a stretch limo with a cardboard box so large it required both of his arms to carry. Sarah rushed to put Scooter in his paddock and returned to the driveway.

Charlie stopped, still holding the box in front him, his sunglasses too dark for Sarah to be able to predict his mood. “I brought you something,” he said gruffly.

Not the warm greeting some might have offered, but considering how they’d left things, it was a promising start. Sarah pointed to the side door of the house. “Come on in out of the heat. I’ll get you a drink and you can show it to me.”

Inside the small apartment that she was temporarily calling home, Charlie set the box down on the table in the small living room and looked around. The furnishings were mismatched leftovers she’d thought were quaint until he stood appraising them.

“How are you?” he asked, surprising her.

“Busy. I’m writing more than I ever thought I could.”
But that’s not what you were asking about, is it?
She added, “Sad, but I’m okay. At least, I’m determined to be.”

“Have you heard from him?”

Tears pricked Sarah’s eyes, but she forced a brave smile. “No, but I didn’t expect to.”

Charlie sat down heavily on one of the couch’s thick cushions. “He wasn’t the right man for you.”

Sarah went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of water. She handed one to her brother and sat in a chair across from him. “Maybe not, but it was my decision to make, not yours.”

“I know,” he said, removing his sunglasses and pinching the ridge of his nose as if fighting a headache. “I’m sorry.”

Had Sarah not been sitting, she would have sunk to the floor in shock. Her brother never apologized—ever. She was pretty sure he’d been genetically shortchanged on the ability to. Her voice thick with emotion, she said, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

Pocketing his glasses, Charlie turned to face Sarah directly and said, “And I needed to hear what you said to me at that ranch. I didn’t want to hear it, but I needed to.”

Sarah raised a hand and covered her trembling lips. Silent tears poured down her cheeks as she watched her proud brother reach across all that had divided them. “I went home to see Mom and Dad when I flew back. I asked them for pictures of Phil and any albums they had of us all together. It’s all there in that box. They saved everything.”

Vision blurred with tears, Sarah rushed to the box and opened it reverently. Just as Charlie had said, it was full of photo albums and loose photos in clear plastic bags. She flipped one album open and smiled through her tears at the first photo. Charlie at nine years old and she at five, sitting on a hospital bed posing with their newborn brother, Phil. They looked happy and nervous at the same time, like they were afraid they’d break him.

Sarah wiped one of her wet cheeks and said, “Would you look at them with me, Charlie?”

He crossed the room and put an arm around her shaking shoulders. “For as long as you want me to.”

She and Charlie moved to sit side by side on the couch with the box of photos wedged between them. She showed him the first photo and said, “We really were so young.”

Faced with the evidence of his own youth, Charlie said, “Do you remember how everything made him laugh? It didn’t matter how many times we showed him the same puppet, he was just as amazed by it.”

As they turned the pages of the album, Sarah said, “I remember how determined you were to teach him to walk. And then when he learned to, you were sorry because he followed you everywhere.”

Sarah stopped at one photo and smiled. She and Phil were in a wagon that Charlie had tied to the back of his bike and was pulling up and down the long paved driveway of their parents’ house. “I believe you had two shadows you couldn’t escape.”

Charlie looked at her sadly and said, “I did.”

“What happened to us, Charlie?” Sarah whispered.

His face tight with sadness and shame, Charlie said, “I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. I wanted to be as far away from all of this as I could get.”

“We all did. But running away from it never made me feel better. Pretending it hadn’t happened was slowly killing me.” Sarah hugged the album to her chest, her eyes filling with tears again. “Thank you for this. Ignore the tears. You’ve made me really happy by coming here.”

Charlie lightened the mood by referencing the mascara that was smeared across the lapel of his suit coat. “Does that mean this is the last suit Texas will ruin? My other one still smells like lemonade.”

Sarah gave him a playful swat. “You deserved that.”

A glimmer of a smile tugged at Charlie’s mouth. “That was one hotheaded housekeeper.”

Sarah sat back and slapped her leg as she realized something. “Oh my God. You like Melanie.”

“No.”

“She’ll be here for dinner tonight with her son, Jace.”