Lost Rider

  Her body shifts as she rests her head on my shoulder, giving me the silence for my thoughts but keeping herself close in support. My mind swirls and my heart pounds. I know she feels the rapid beating because she brings one of her hands to my chest to rub soothing circles.

  "I don't want to hurt them more," I whisper hoarsely.

  "Honey," she cries softly, leaning up to look at me, "don't you think that by knowing the truth it might be what they need to heal?"

  "What, Leighton, the truth that I'm not really their brother? The truth that our mother was more interested in fucking cowboys and doing blow than her own children? How do I even justify keeping that from them? This pain that kept me away from all of you for too long, driving me to a life of regret and torment . . . how would giving them my reasons and truths do anything but crush them? What part of that would help them heal?"

  Her hands come up, swiping at the tears that I can't hold back. I close my eyes and try to calm down.

  "Look at me, my handsome cowboy," she softly demands. I inhale a deep breath before opening my eyes and focusing on her. "First of all, you are their brother. The fact that you don't share their father will not mean a lick of shit to them. They love you, and that will never change. Second, your mother doesn't deserve you keeping that from them. What she does deserve is to come face-to-face with the children she abandoned. She doesn't deserve the peace that comes with Clay and Quinn not knowing her sins. They made their peace with Buford so that they could put it behind them and move on. His death was the best thing that could have happened to them. By giving them the rest, you're allowing them the ability to finally get some closure on it all. You aren't crushing them, honey, you're healing them. You have to trust them to be strong enough to ride that out."

  I look away, glancing at Earl as he gives me a pissed-off look for pushing him from my lap to make room for Leigh. As hard as it is, I know she's right. For the most part, she knows them better than I do. I haven't been around long enough to see the sides of them that she's describing. I don't doubt the truth to her words.

  Now that I'm forced to see what they haven't wanted me to see, it's as clear as day. If giving them this heartbreak means they can heal, the only thing I can do is make sure I'm there to give them the same support I get from Leighton--love--and if that means they have a chance to find what I have with this woman, I have to give them every chance to accept that love when it comes looking for them. I didn't have this for so long that I felt the void of that loss burning in my gut daily. I don't want that for them. I don't want a life of loneliness for them because they're too afraid to let someone get close enough. And if telling them the truth about our mother will help get them there, then I reckon I don't have any other choice.

  "You'll be there with me?" I question, knowing it isn't even something I have to ask, but needing the confirmation from her to ease my trepidation.

  "I'll be with you every step of the way, honey. Forever."

  I nod, not trusting my voice.

  "I love you," she says softly.

  I choke down the lump in my throat, feeling my chin shake, and hold up two fingers. Understanding dawns on her face at the same time I lose my fight, wrap my arms tightly around her, and cry like a goddamn baby into her neck.

  29

  LEIGHTON

  "How to Breathe" by Matthew Mayfield

  For the past two weeks, after our conversation about telling Clay and Quinn the truth about their past, Maverick has been struggling. It's not an obvious struggle. He hides it well, but not from me. He'll be fine one minute, and the next, he's just staring off into space. I know it's because his mind is working in overdrive, worried about what the truth will do to his siblings. I hate it, but I know there isn't anything I can do until he gets it all out. I understand his fear in telling them--causing them more pain--but because I'm an outsider looking in, I don't have any doubts that this is something they need to hear to move on with their lives. Just like Maverick, his siblings are built from a formidable mold. It will sting, no doubt, but the Davis kids are born warriors.

  "Are you okay, honey?" I ask the silent man looking out our front window. We invited Clay and Quinn over for dinner tonight, so that Maverick could have a chance to talk to them, and he's been a hot mess, pacing the living room for the past half hour. I've given him his space, interrupting his taciturn brooding only long enough to give him a new beer when he was finished, but I can't stand the heavy quiet any longer without at least trying to be there for him.

  "Yeah, darlin'," he sighs deeply, and I stand there wordlessly, waiting for him to get it all out. "I just hate knowing at the end of tonight, they might hate me."

  "Oh, Maverick." I worry, closing the distance between us to envelop my big, strong cowboy in a hug. "They could never hate you. They might be hurt, but they won't ever turn that on you."

  "I hope you're right," he muses.

  "I know I am. Don't doubt them."

  I feel him nod when his chin moves on the top of my head. I back up, give him a smile, and stand on tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss just as we hear a knock at the door, heralding their arrival.

  A couple of hours later, I stand up to clear the table, shooing off Quinn when she stands to help.

  "You're being weird," she mutters, rolling her eyes when I swat her with a dish towel again.

  "I've got this, Q. Go sit with your brothers."

  "Weird," she grumbles again, but complies, going back to the table to sit with a huff.

  Maverick and Clay make small talk about the old barn demolition that Maverick is starting tomorrow. He decided to gut the whole thing himself, something I'm happy with because he'll be able to channel his emotions into that project.

  "Come here please, darlin'," Maverick calls to me from the table, and my heart sinks at what's coming.

  I go to him, drying my hands on the way, and drop the towel on the island before moving to his side. His arm snakes out and hooks around my waist before pulling me into his lap. The nervous flutters in my belly have me fidgeting with my hands, trying to ease the tension radiating from Maverick into me. He reaches out with one hand and places it over mine, stilling my movements.

  "Why are you two acting so strange all of a sudden?" Quinn questions sharply. Her eyes are flying between her brother and my face, puzzlement dancing in her tone. "Are you pregnant?"

  "No!" I rush at the same time that Maverick lets out a "not yet." I shoot him a glare, but he just winks in return.

  "Well, something is wrong with you two." Quinn levels me with her I'm-your-best-friend-and-I-see-right-through-you gaze. "Is your hooha broken again?"

  "Jesus, you're something else," I grouse. "My hooha is just fine, but thank you for your concern."

  She gets a mischievous glint in her bright green orbs. I rip my hand out from under Maverick's hold. "Don't you dare," I fuss through clenched teeth, pointing at her.

  "What? I was just going to say that I'm happy his pocket monster isn't branding your uterus anymore."

  "Quinn!" Clay snaps. When I look his way he is obviously trying to stifle a laugh, but clearly having picked up on the nervous energy as well, he's more concerned with that.

  She holds up her hands but thankfully keeps her trap shut.

  Silence continues, the apprehensive air turning into a deep cloud of foreboding.

  I give Maverick a supportive smile. "It's okay, honey," I tell him softly, cupping his strong, clenched jaw. I don't look away, holding his stare. "It's okay," I repeat.

  I feel his jaw work under my palm. A flash of fear blankets his face, the look gone just as quickly as it appeared. We ignore his siblings and I hope like hell that I'm able to give him the encouragement he needs with my small cues.

  "I need to tell you two something. Something I've been keeping from the both of you," he rumbles thickly.

  "This isn't easy, so please let me get it all out. I'll tell y'all anything you want to know after, but I just need y'all to let me tell you everything, okay?"
>
  Quinn nods, chewing on her bottom lip.

  Clay lifts his chin, his hand coming up to run through his short black hair. A sure sign of his apprehension.

  "You two know why I left. Or more important, what drove me out of here with pure rage-filled determination. Buford was a bastard to me--to all of us--but you know why I couldn't stay here or be anywhere near that man. I've never hidden my reasons, but when I left I found out a lot about the man who pushed me to leave the people that I love."

  I pull his hand into mine and hold it tight, not looking away from Clay and Quinn. I want to be Maverick's shield here, but I also want them to know that I'm here for them as well. I hate the dread I see in both of their faces, especially knowing that fear will quickly morph into hurt.

  "Fuck," he hisses, and I feel his forehead against my shoulder. He stays like that for a second before getting whatever he needs to continue. "I found Mama a few years after I left Pine Oak." He pauses when Quinn gasps. I see Clay's jaw flex and his lips thin. They keep their silence. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know about her, but after. Our first meeting was fuckin' shit, but in the end I learned a whole lot I never fuckin' knew. I always wondered why Buford treated me like crap, but never took it that far with y'all. He was shit to both of y'all, to be sure, but not like he was to me. It was my talk with her that had me searchin' out a trainer I hadn't worked with before: Trey Mavericks."

  He clears his throat. "I never wanted to tell y'all this. You have to understand, I kept this from you both because I was fuckin' terrified that it would be too painful, but I've recently realized you might need this to put whatever might be hauntin' y'all two behind you forever. Trey, he became the closest thing to family I had while I was gone. Not just because he ended up bein' my trainer for the majority of time I was ridin', but also because he's my family."

  "I don't understand," Quinn whispers.

  "I'm gettin' there, Quinny," he breathes. "Trey's my uncle. My biological father's older brother."

  "What?" she says with a gasp.

  I steal a look at Clay to see his own shock present with wide eyes.

  "When I finally managed to track down Mama, she told me about her affair. My real father was a cowboy named Trent Mavericks, who's since passed. She named me Maverick after him, but in doin' so she gave Buford a constant reminder that she fucked around on him. Knowin' that, he used his hate for her and her actions as the fuel to hate me, well . . . it made sense. He hated me. Not for any other reason but because of the reminder I was. My dreams of ridin' just made him spite me more. I know there wasn't a thing I could have done to change that."

  "Goddammit!" Clay exclaims, standing from his seat to pace, his shoulders pulled tight.

  "I love you both so fuckin' much that it killed me knowin' that you might see me like he did. The bastard."

  "Mav," Quinn cries, tears rolling from her eyes. "None of that changes a damn thing. You have to know that," she pleads.

  Clay turns at her words, his features carved in granite. "Nothin' they did would ever make you less of my brother. I don't give a fuck shit about the blood that runs through your veins. You are our brother."

  Maverick's grip turns painful, but I don't dare show it. My eyes pinging from both Clay and Quinn, wishing I could ease their pain.

  Maverick pushes on, the words spilling out of him now that he's gotten going. "I want you both to know, I never wanted to tell you this, but I know now it wasn't right to keep it from you. Leighton, well . . . she's been here when I wasn't. She knows you both better than I probably do now. She's been my rock workin' through this shit, but more important, my voice of reason. I pray I don't cause you more pain with this knowledge. And maybe give you peace so you can put some shit behind you. I've had a lot of time to come to terms with this shit, but it's because of her that I've been able to put it behind me and start to move on. You both deserve that in your life. I know now in order to move on you have to open your hearts and don't let our fucked-up history repeat itself. Don't live your lives with the anger we were taught."

  Quinn is openly sobbing now, her head pulled down into both of her hands. Clay moves to her side, pulling her to her feet before wrapping his arms around her. He looks at Maverick, the silence thick. My own heart is lodged high in my throat, but I don't move. Whatever happens next will tell me everything. If I need to build a wall around my cowboy to protect him from heartache or if I break down like a baby while a family heals.

  "Brother," he grunts, his voice even deeper with the heaviness now weighing on him. "Get over here," he commands with conviction, pulling an arm away from Quinn and stretching it wide.

  I hurry to stand, almost tripping over Maverick's big booted feet. I whip my head back, watching him climb from his seat, a sob catching my throat when I see one silent tear fall from his sad eyes. He walks past me, catching my hand and pulling me with him before falling into his brother's arms. I give him a squeeze, my gaze holding Clay's. He gives me a bleak smile before mouthing to me "thank you." That was all it took for the floodgates to open wide. I press my forehead to Maverick's shoulder, giving him whatever he needs by keeping me close during this moment.

  Quinn gives a sniffle before lifting her head and wiping her face on Clay's shirt. He looks down, some of the harshness leaving his face, and gasps at her. "Did you just wipe your snot on my shirt?"

  "Shut up," she hiccups, turning in his hold to face me. "I always knew you would bring my brother home."

  I jerk, letting go of Maverick's hand and pulling her close. "I didn't bring him home, Q. He showed me, just like I showed him, where his heart was meant to be. All I did was love him."

  Quinn smiles through her tears. "So, Maverick Mavericks, tell me about your father." The heaviness parts. I can feel it like a fog dissipating around us. My beautiful best friend giving her brother the assurance he feared wouldn't come, proving that nothing will ever change between them, and she did that by just being her.

  30

  MAVERICK

  "Trouble" by Ray LaMontagne

  "You payin' for her care?" Clay questions, his rocking chair moving steadily as he gazes into the dark front yard.

  "Yeah," I exhale.

  "You should let her rot."

  I move my gaze from the nothing I had been focusing on and look at Clay. Really look at him. He's the picture of frustrated pain. A mask I'm all too familiar with wearing. We've been talking for hours, all of us, and I fucking hate that I've brought this to him, but I know deep down Leigh's right. He's never going to stand a chance at finding something like what I have with her if he doesn't move on completely. All I can do is be here for him.

  "Clayton." He turns and gives me his attention. I suck in a breath. It's like looking in the mirror. The rage and confusion all swirling around like a tornado inside of him, each one battling for dominance. "Talk to me," I plead.

  "What do you want me to say?" he roars, throwing his hands in the air.

  "Start with what's on your mind, big brother." Quinn speaks from behind us, walking around our chairs to sit on the wooden porch, her back to the railings.

  I hear movement behind me before Leighton's hand slides from my shoulder to rest right above my heart. She doesn't move, just keeps her hand there in silent support.

  "I'm still tryin' to wrap my head around that shit, Quinny. I knew she ran around on him. Everyone in town knew she ran around on him. I never, not fuckin' once, thought all that sprintin' she had been busy doin' was the reason Dad . . ." He trails off and then clears his throat. "I never imagined Buford's hate toward you was because of that shit, Mav. Blamin' you for somethin' so completely out of your control. Even now I can't understand it. I gave him my forgiveness and fuck if now I feel like he didn't deserve that kind of peace before he died."

  Fuck. "He's still your father, Clay," I say vehemently.

  "He's no father of mine." The lethal power behind the words leave no room for argument. He needs time, I know that, and I'll do whatever I can to help him thr
ough this.

  I look down to my sister. She is just as angry as he is. She hides her hurt with laughter and jokes, but she feels deep.

  "He was a terrible father," Clay continues. "I refuse to justify his abuse. I couldn't even before I knew all this shit, and nothing changes that. You were an innocent kid, Mav. You didn't ask for any of that, but he punished you all the same. I gave him what I thought he needed to leave this earth with some peace. I struggled with that then, but it's nothing compared to how I feel now. Mama should have been here. She should have shielded you. She was never fit to be a mother, though. That shit was clear in the little time she was here, but I can't help the part of me that wants to blame her for all of this. The years you suffered because of her actions. The years we all lost with you because of them. I made excuses for her. Never once would I let myself believe that she actually wanted to leave us. I know better now and I fuckin' hate her for it. Not sure who I hate most, her, him, or myself for not doin' what I could to protect you."

  "Not your cross to bear, Clay. I mean that shit. Don't for one second take that on."

  He looks at me, his features carved in stone, and I know he wants to fight me on it. "You were just a kid too, Clay," I add, whether he wants to admit it or not. We might have been able to fight back physically, but Buford had done his damage on all of us and it was because of that fear he instilled that none of us fought back against his abuse.

  "Do you think she even loved us?" Quinn questions, changing the subject and asking what all of us have probably wondered. Leigh's hand twitches and I reach up to keep it against my heart. Needing her to keep me grounded.

  "In her own way, Quinny. I think she did in her own way." I push the words out even though I'm not even sure how many of them are true.

  "How can you defend her?" Clay barks.

  "How can I not? I know you're angry, Clay. I get it--trust me, I do. You have to remember, I've had a lot of time to get to this point of acceptance. I hated her for a long time too but holding on to that was dragging me down. When I think back to the time that she was actually here, she didn't act like he did. She smiled. She laughed and played with us. That woman is the one I choose to remember instead of the ghost of her that haunted the house long after she was gone. That woman is the one I cling to when I wake up shaking with the nightmare of what she became. I have to believe that she loved us, even if it was a tiny part of her."