"I wasn't grievin'. Not him, at least. I thanked the good Lord the day I found out he died."
I nod, understanding his words a little better than I might have otherwise, thanks to Quinn. It doesn't matter that Buford had worked hard to try to right his wrongs when he faced his own mortality. Sometimes it really is just too late. Buford did what he could to gain a semblance of respect from his oldest and youngest children--but whenever Maverick's name would come up, he just kept saying that it was a lost cause and to let it be.
What if that's the case here too? Are we a lost cause? Should I just let it be?
The silently asked questions make me pause as my heart speeds up.
"That man hated me, Leigh. Always did. I don't have a single memory of him not hatin' me. I didn't find out until I had been gone for about four years that he didn't just hate me because I was my mama's favorite. He didn't hate me because I didn't love the ranch. It wasn't because I wanted to ride. He hated me because when Mama left, she left her bastard son behind. When she left me she left him with a daily reminder of her infidelity. When it became clear that my callin' was ridin' and not ranchin', I might as well have signed my own death certificate. I found out after my first big win that my biological father was another rider that she had caught the eye of when the rodeo came through Austin. There I was, his bastard, followin' in my real father's footsteps."
He reaches out, leaning over Earl, and my shock-filled eyes drop to his outstretched hand.
"Bottle," he commands.
I mutely hand it over, watching his throat work as he swallows.
"He beat me, Leigh. It wasn't so bad when I was a real little young'un, but when I stopped ridin' around the sheep--things got bad. After that day that I started learnin' the ropes and ridin' the stationary barrel over at Triple R ranch, there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't put his hands on me. I never understood what I'd done wrong. I couldn't figure out how to make it stop. I hid a lot of how bad it was from Clay and Quinn, but even so they understood that why I left had everything to do with runnin' from him. I knew that it had to be done because every single day that went by, he was breakin' me further. That was when I started trainin' harder and focused on one thing--usin' my talent and gettin' the fuck away from Pine Oak."
I swipe at the wetness under my eyes and keep my silence, letting him say everything he needs to say. Having him opening up like this, letting me in, and showing me a part of him that I know brings him pain has me nervous that one sound or movement might break the spell. My heart continues to break with each word he speaks, but even through that, understanding why he left goes a long way to ease the pain I've carried around like some stupid scar since.
"I found my mama, you know. What a mistake that was. She was so strung out on booze and drugs. She had no clue who I was. She thought I was someone lookin' to score some ass for a couple bucks. It took me almost nine hours to get her coherent enough to even hold a conversation that made a little sense. The second she realized who I was, she just put it all out there. How I was a mistake from one night of fun. She got that taste of the high life and couldn't think of anything else. Stuck around, but even I'm not sure how she did that and still managed to bring Quinn into this world. The second Quinn was in school, though, she was gone. I still can't wrap my mind around the woman I saw as my mama bein' the same one wasted out of her mind on the streets. She's done so much damage to herself that she might as well be a vegetable."
"Where is she now?" I ask, my throat thick with emotion. He gives a little jolt of shock, almost like he had forgotten I was there. His silence continues as he looks into my eyes, and I silently curse myself for speaking and halting his train of thought.
"In California," he tells me in a sad tone. "She requires constant care now and will remain at the long-term-care facility until she dies. Last I checked she had a grocery list of health issues that wasn't getting any shorter. The doctors are shocked her body hasn't shut down yet, but for whatever reason, she's still breathin'."
My mind fires and I know instantly, without a doubt, that he is the one taking care of her. Even after everything she did to him and his siblings, he can't let her go. "Do you still see her?"
He shakes his head, his blazing green gaze holding me captive. "I haven't been in a year or so. The last time I was there she had to be sedated, she got so upset. All I did was walk into her room and it was like she had seen a ghost. She went insane, Leigh. I decided it was too much, her seein' me, so I keep my distance and make sure she's comfortable."
"I'm sorry, Maverick." And I was. I hated that this was the reality for him and his family. "Clay and Quinn, they don't know all of this, do they?" I ask.
"No. What good would it do? They don't need to see her like that anyway. It's not somethin' I'll ever be able to get out of my mind."
"You should probably let them make that call on their own, honey."
He had looked off in the distance again, but the second the endearment slips from my lips, he jerks his eyes back to my face, studying me. "Maybe. Something to think about," he allows.
"Do they know? About Buford not being your real dad?"
He shakes his head. "They're all I have left, Leigh. Admittin' I'm not their full biological brother would change things. I just know it."
I shift my body before reaching out and taking his large hand in mine. "It wouldn't change a damn thing. They're your family, regardless of the fact that you don't share the same father. I honestly think . . . well, I think it would help them let go of their own pain from the past."
His hand turns, shifting so our palms touch, and his fingers contract against our hold. "I'll add that to the list to think about. How's that?"
With a small smile, I nod.
"You gonna help me with that?"
I feel my brows turn in. "Help you with what?"
His eyes crinkle, a tiny smirk forms on his full lips. "Dealin' with that list when the time comes."
"Yeah, Maverick." I sigh. "Even if I'm just there as a friend to turn to. If you need me, I'll be wherever you need me."
Once again, the silence grows. His eyes continue searching mine, but this time he doesn't look pained--instead, a look of reverence is shining through the bright green depths. I know what is likely to come next, and I'm not sure how I'll handle it. I just know I'm ready.
"Maverick?" I ask, breaking the silent tension. He raises his brow for me to continue. His grasp on my hand still held in his tightens. "Why didn't you just tell me this? You say that you knew how I felt about you, but why was hurting me the only answer? You could have just left . . . you know, without doing that."
He continues to look into my eyes while petting a now sleeping Earl with one hand and sweeping his thumb against the sensitive skin at my wrist with the other. I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart, waiting for him to speak.
"No other answer I have could ever make sense of what I thought was my only option back then. I knew that what I felt for you was strong. I was drawn to you, just as you were to me. My whole damn life you were the only one that ever made me feel like I wasn't lost. You came into a room and I didn't feel trapped. You were completely clueless about how I felt, but even without any indication that I returned your feelings, you never hid how you felt about me. I knew if I gave in to the pull I felt to you, I would be here forever, and with Buford around, I couldn't stay. I also knew that on the off chance I got out and was able to keep you in the process, you would have followed me without thought. You would have given up everything you were meant to become and I couldn't let that happen. I was ashamed and felt weak because I had allowed Buford to treat me like that for so long. I didn't think I was worthy of you. In my head, it was better for you to hate me and let me go than to look at me like a coward and one day resent me for stealin' you away from the future you always wanted here in Pine Oak."
"I can't pretend to understand how you came up with that logic, Mav, but you were young and I reckon just trying to find your way ou
t of what you felt was an impossible situation. I can see that now. It doesn't make it hurt any less, but I get it. I never would have looked at you as weak. Ever. I honestly don't think I could have ever resented you, but I can also see why you would think that possible. To be honest, who knows what would have happened?"
It breaks my heart even more knowing that he felt the same pull to me, but left because he didn't feel like he had any other choice. He had been abused for so long that survival mode had kicked in and became the only thing he could focus on, and because of that, it cost both of us so much.
"I should have stayed."
My eyes shoot to his from where they had drifted while I thought.
"Maverick--" I say with a sigh.
"No," he interrupts. "I should have stayed. I should have been strong enough to stick it out. Things could have been so different. For both of us."
"Or we could still be right where we are right now. You can't let yourself think that way because you honestly don't know how our lives would have gone if a different path had been taken. We can't dwell on what could have happened if things were done differently, Maverick. Nothing can change the past. I understand now why you did the things you did. I know that wasn't easy to tell me, but thank you for explaining. I'm not sure that knowing that back then would have changed things. I do know that I would have wanted the best for you--just like I do now--and I really do think you leaving to chase rodeo gold was the best thing you could have done for yourself. Even if that means admitting you did the right thing pushing me away."
He rakes his hands through his hair. "Do you know how hard that is? To just accept the way things went when you know there were mistakes made? To not dwell on the things we wish we could have done different in life?"
I give him a small smile, his eyes going to my lips instantly. "Yeah, I know how hard that is, but it's those mistakes and what-ifs that help mold us into the people we become. It's because of those things you try not to dwell on that you're able to make new decisions for your life as you grow."
He lets go of my hand. I pull it back into my lap, still feeling the warmth of his touch. He picks Earl's big body off his chest and places him on the cushion next to him before standing. My eyes follow his movements. He stops in front of me and holds out his hand. I take it without question, shivering when our skin touches again. My feet hit the rug, and when I expect him to drop my hand, he doesn't. Instead, he brings our joined hands up until they're folded between us. His other hand comes up to my jaw, tipping my head back so I'm looking into his eyes. He's so much taller than I am, but with the way he's bending down, our faces are just a breath away from each other.
"I can't fix the past, Leighton. I can't erase it, no matter how hard I wish I could. Hell, I can't even promise that I'll ever be able to forget it. The only thing I can do is to make sure that each day I live is worth somethin', from this day forward. I could spend the rest of my life stuck livin' for nothin', or I could work my ass off to make sure that I make up for my past mistakes, so I can make sure they become mistakes I learn from and finally find a way to live for everythin'."
My breath falters, and had he not been holding me up, I would have collapsed. My hand, held in his, tightens. The other, which had been limp at my side, reaches up and tentatively pushes up his chest until I curl my hand around his neck. His eyes darken. I lick my lips and I feel his arousal jerk at my stomach.
"I'm terrified." My voice comes out as a whisper.
"Me too, darlin', me too."
He closes the distance between us and presses his lips to mine. He doesn't move to deepen the kiss, but instead just holds his mouth there. Our breaths mingling as we stare into each other's eyes. He peppers my lips with a few more closed-mouth pecks before lifting his head, keeping our faces close while he waits for me to speak.
"You're asking a lot, Maverick. You're asking me to forget the past, everything that happened, and take a giant leap of faith. I want to, I do, but--"
"Baby," he starts, looking into my eyes. My heart picks up speed at the endearment he's never used with me. "All I'm askin' is that you give me a chance. Give us a chance. It wasn't our time back then, but we wouldn't be back together like this if it wasn't meant to be now. I can't promise that it will be an easy ride, but stick with me and I'll show you that I'm pretty damn good at holdin' on for the long haul."
"What happens when it's time for you to leave again?" Just thinking of him taking off makes my heart clench in despair.
"Leighton, I'm not goin' anywhere."
"You say that now, Mav. Can you honestly say that the urge isn't there? After everything you've just told me, I wouldn't blame you if it was. Plus, ridin' is in your blood. You can't just give that up."
His eyes flash. "Darlin', my last ride was almost two months ago. Too many blows to my head over the years and doctors said I wasn't fit to ride anymore. Even if that wasn't the case, I wouldn't be able to leave you behind. I've had one night with you and I have a feelin' that even forever will never be enough. I've had a lot of time to think about what comes next. Tryin' to find a new direction in my life now that ridin' is no longer an option. It didn't matter which direction I could think of goin', you were always right there with me."
Is he sticking around because he has nothing left to chase? Does he really want to be here, or is this just a fallback plan now that Buford is gone? My mind races as I try to analyze his words, looking for a hidden meaning. He's telling me everything I've ever wanted to hear, but it feels like it's too good to be true.
Maverick's eyes crinkle as he runs his fingers over the crease between my eyebrows, the one I get whenever something is troubling me. "Stop thinkin' whatever it is that's goin' through your pretty little head, Leighton."
"Why are you staying? Can you tell me that you would have come back had Buford not died?"
He lets out a sigh, his breath fanning against my face. "I was lost, Leigh. I had just been told I could no longer have the only thing I was livin' for anymore. I kept myself angry and drunk, not thinkin' about anythin' because I didn't allow myself to get sober enough to think. Would I have come back without his death? Honestly? Not as soon as I did, but I would have come back. I made sure the life I had been livin' was so full of trainin' and ridin' that I didn't give myself time to think about anythin' other than the competition. I wouldn't let myself think about what I was missin' out on. But once the ridin' was gone, and once I crawled out of that bottle I had been swimmin' in, well, darlin', the only thing I had left was to look at the regrets I wished I could take back. So it might have taken me a little while, but I still would have realized that what was missin' was you."
He's telling me everything I want to hear. Things I would have given into just like that, with no thought, years ago, but a decade of pain has the doubt still lingering.
"We don't even know each other anymore." He smirks devilishly, and memories of our one night together flood my mind, making my cheeks heat. "Don't say it. Don't you dare. I'll amend that. We don't know each other well enough anymore to even know if we're compatible." That smirk turns up a notch, his perfectly straight white teeth flashing at me. "Jesus Christ," I grumble. "We don't know each other as the adults we've become is what I'm tryin' to say, Maverick Austin Davis, get your head out of the gutter. We can't make a decision this big based on the fact that we're combustible between the sheets."
"Best I remember there weren't any sheets involved."
I lift my hand and slap him lightly against his pec. He laughs. A carefree expression takes over his face that I haven't seen since we were younger. Long before the innocence of a child's mind vanished and reality took hold.
"You didn't even know who I was when you got back in town," I whisper. I can't help the sadness I still feel over that. I might have brushed it off with Quinn, but deep down that hurt more than I care to admit. I would have recognized him in a dark room, and the fact that he couldn't do the same, even after all he just admitted, hurts.
I watch h
is eyes work. Their hold on me paired with having him this close almost make me forget what I just said. He struggles with his words, I can tell because his mouth parts a few times before closing, as though he's working out what to say. His brow furrows, his lips thin, and he swallows thickly, all the while just looking into my eyes.
"You have to understand, Leighton, when I tell you I was in a bad place . . ." He trails off, his hold on the hand between our bodies tightening almost painfully. His eyes continue to search mine. "I was blinded by that. I had so much anger burnin' inside me. Not just about being called back for his funeral, but also because I had been strugglin' for a long damn time drunk, angry, and a whole lot scared. I didn't know what was comin' next, and for someone that always knew what he was doin', flyin' off the handle filled me with fear. Too many emotions fightin' for the top spot inside me and I couldn't see a damn thing past that. Like I said, it blinded me. I've got no other excuse for that, darlin', but I can tell you now--had I been in my right mind, no damn way I would have been able to step into a room and not realize who was standin' right in front of me."
My lips pinch, and I have to fight myself not to fly off with a smart-ass comment. I almost win. Almost. "Yeah, well . . . I don't exactly have the same little boy body that I did when you saw me last, so I guess it makes sense that it was easy to forget me when that was the last memory you had."
Anger flashes bright across his face, and his nostrils flare. "I told you I'm sorry and I regret what I did to you back then. I explained to you why I hid my true feelings for you behind those harsh lies, but if you are going to keep holdin' that between us, we're gonna get bucked off before we can even climb in the saddle." His tone is low but lethal.
"I'm sorry," I hush, looking down in shame.
"Don't be sorry, Leigh. You're allowed to be mad still. I haven't proven to you that I can be trusted in what I'm sayin', but I mean it--if you can't find a way to let it go, we don't stand a chance."
I nod, afraid to look back into his eyes.
"You say we don't know each other anymore, but you'll always be the same girl I've always wished was mine. Your hair is still the same color of the fields when the wheat is blowin' in the wind. Those eyes look just like the bluebonnets that grew behind your house--so deep blue they almost look purple. I've never seen another person with eyes like yours. When you're mad, you still bite your bottom lip and pull your brows in. It almost looks like you're just thinkin' hard, but you always used to do that when you were tryin' to keep from sayin' somethin' you couldn't take back. Your freckles still refuse to go away, even under a layer of makeup. I could keep goin', but judgin' by the way those eyes I love so much are waterin', I'm thinkin' you're wantin' me to shut up." He laughs deep in his chest, the vibrations tickling against my hand.