Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(5)
“You earned that lecture fair and square.”
He groans. “I miss when you used to bat your eyelashes to get me out of trouble.”
The corner of my lip ticks upward reflexively. God, I used to do that all the time. When I was a teenager hanging around the ranch, Grandpa Wells and Bennett both treated me so much like the daughter neither of them had. Which meant I got away with murder and, because Denver was always the one with me, he got away with everything, too.
“I can’t, anyway. I need to get back right away,” I say.
I promised Dad I would be home by dinner, because Mom’s condition always worsens in the evenings. Early-onset Alzheimer’s disease at just shy of fifty-nine years old. Something had been off for a long time before my dad insisted she see a doctor, and I kick myself daily for not being around more often to notice the signs. Not that it would help with a fatal disease. But I could have been here to help sooner. To spend more time with her. On the days when I really feel like wallowing in a pit of depression, I find myself wishing I’d never left town to begin with.
The clearing of a throat brings me out of my stupor. Denver raises an eyebrow, eyes locked on mine. “I said, what’s the rush? The rodeo will be long over by the time you’re back.”
I stare back, narrowing my gaze. “I…uh, need to be around in case some intoxicated cowboys get hurt at the barn dance.”
He seems to accept that answer, sucking his lips in for a moment of thought. The ambulance slows to a stop at a red light. Finally, we made it to Sheridan.
Rattling over a speed bump as we turn into the hospital emergency parking lot, Denver clears his throat. “Aren’t you curious about why I ended shit with her?”
“Not in the slightest,” I lie.
“Yeah? I guess you probably know why, anyway.”
Because he’s a fuckboy looking for his next conquest, is my best guess. Hit by a wave of claustrophobia, I frantically grasp the back door handles, needing out of this personal hell on wheels. I expected to grapple with mixed emotions about moving back to my hometown—into my childhood bedroom, no less—but not about him. I didn’t anticipate his smug smile to send blood rushing up my chest and cheeks. I didn’t anticipate Denver fucking Wells.
Denver
I slide my ass into Austin’s passenger seat, avoiding the look he’s giving me, and reach for the seat belt with a wince. Concussion and a broken collarbone. Could’ve been a lot worse, honestly. Maybe Aus should focus on the fact that I didn’t die before he starts his parental-type speech.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I groan, leaning my head against the cool windowpane and shutting my eyes.
I held it together pretty well around Blair, still hopped up on adrenaline and probably a hint of shock—both from the fall and seeing her. Admittedly, I was unable to stop smiling because she finally came home like I prayed she would for years. Not that she noticed how happy I was to see her again, because she actively avoided interacting with me.
And the instant I watched her drive away, it all came crashing down.
“You good?” Austin asks as the truck lurches backward out of the parking stall.
The painkillers for my collarbone do nothing to ease the ice pick lobotomy going on in my skull—a seething halo of pain making it hard to focus. Even in the late afternoon, the cloudy skies are too bright and the truck engine is too loud. Plus, the carefully constructed wall around my heart’s already threatening to crumble over the girl who was the reason for building it in the first place.
But aside from all that, yeah, I’m good.
“Yeah. You should see the other guy.” Not opening my eyes, I hold my good arm up to shoot a finger gun in his direction.
I hear his hand scrub across his beard. “You’re an idiot.”
“You love me.” This time I do open one eye, just enough so I can see to give him a little love tap on the upper arm.
“Know what I love more? Not wasting half my day to come pick your ass up from the hospital.”
“Thanks, big bro. I love ya, too.” I slouch down in the seat, tilting my head so the truck pillar blocks the sun. “It’s like old times with you and Blair coming to my rescue. Didn’t know she was back in town until she was suddenly doctoring me up right there in the arena.”
She’d appeared like a fucking angel, cloaked in sunlight and staring at me wide-eyed when I came to. Of course, I saw her before that—it’s why I fell off the horse in the first place. But having her so close, talking to me, face awash with concern, was unparalleled. She looked nothing like she used to, in fancy clothes that didn’t suit a rodeo, hair neatly tied up, and more makeup than she even wore to prom. Nothing like the small-town girl I knew. Still, she’s as stunning now as she was then.
“You didn’t know? She’s been at the ranch with Cassidy damn near every day.”
Migraine be damned, I open my eyes and turn to look at Austin. She has? How am I the last to know about this?
“Huh. Must’ve missed the memo.”
“Would you have cared anyway?” He raises a brow.
Maybe? Yes? I blink down at the floorboards. “Nah, you’re the biosecurity guy. I don’t give a shit who comes and goes on the ranch.”
“Right.” He reaches for the dented travel mug in the cup holder and takes a long gulp. “So are you finally done rodeoing?”