Sweet Home Montana Page 20

  After a few seconds, Colt nods just once, still avoiding my eyes, his gaze firmly set on our hands. He lifts both of mine to his lips, kissing the backs of my fingers, my hands, my wrists, each kiss a little more desperate than the last. When he finally does look at me, he’s still so deeply conflicted, but there’s something else. Something I’ve never seen. He reaches a hand out, cupping my jaw, and he edges closer and closer until his lips press against mine in a kiss so full of raw sentiment, it’s both breathtaking and heartbreaking at the same time, and it ends just as abruptly as it began.

  “I’ve gotta go,” he whispers painfully, pulling away from my lips.

  I stare into his eyes, which are so contradictory it’s infuriating, but he gives me nothing more.

  “Fine.” I sigh, shaking my head in frustration.

  I pull away, cursing under my breath, my fingers fumbling as I try quickly to unfasten my seatbelt and get the hell out of the truck before I allow my emotions to get the better of me and say something I don’t mean. But he grabs me once again, forcing me back to his mouth, his lips and tongue relentless with every assault, each kiss drawing more and more of that emotion out of me until I taste the all-too-familiar bitter tang of salt as my tears fall into our heated exchange.

  This time, it’s me who pulls away, holding a hand against Colt’s chest in an attempt to keep him at arms’ length, despite my want and need objecting from deep down in my core. I swipe violently at my traitorous tears with the back of my hand, avoiding his eyes. I don’t want him to see my hurt.

  He grabs my wrist, trying so hard to stop me from getting out of the truck. “Quinny, don’t—”

  “Colt, just go!” I yank my hand free from his grasp, looking away and jumping down from the cab. “I need you to talk to me, to trust me enough to open up to me. You come find me when you’re ready.”

  And, without even risking so much as a second glance in his direction, I slam the door shut, blocking him out before he can say something that will make me change my mind. I cross the front lawn with my head down, taking the porch steps two at a time, warning myself not to risk glancing back over my shoulder. And once I’m safely inside the warmth of the house, I fall back against the front door, collecting myself as best I can. But that’s when the real tears start to fall. The tears of fear. Of loss. Tears of knowing that no matter how strong I try to act, maybe I’m not that strong after all. And, right now, all I want in the world is my dad.

  Chapter 23

  I didn’t sleep much last night. Understandably so. I tried everything. Tea. A warm shower. Soothing music. A boring-ass book. But nothing worked. All I kept thinking every time I tried to close my eyes was what exactly Colt thinks he did that is so bad. I know it’s serious. I’ve known him almost my whole life, and I’ve never seen him as scared as he was last night in his truck. But what the hell has he done that he feels is so bad he’s going to lose me again?

  I yawn on my way down the stairs, every bone in my body aching with every movement I make. When I step into the kitchen, I find Tripp standing at the island, his back to me.

  “Morning.” I walk past him, stopping at the coffee machine, and I see him turn in my periphery, his gaze heavy as it fixes on me.

  “Hey …” He clears his throat.

  I place a pod into the machine, sitting a mug underneath and press the button. When I glance over my shoulder, I find Tripp watching me, eating his toast, his eyes studying me carefully with an unreadable expression.

  “What?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

  “You okay?” he asks, and I can tell he’s taking in my puffy eyes, my splotchy skin, the telltale signs of a woman who’s spent the best part of her night crying herself to sleep.

  I sniffle from the cool morning air, my jaw clenching as I nod, looking away from him.

  “Did he tell you?”

  My eyes widen and I snap my head back, gaping at my brother. And from the look in his eyes, to the memory of what happened last night, Colt coincidentally showing up at Duke’s. My brow furrows in confusion as some of the pieces start to come together. “Did you tell him to come get me from the bar last night?”

  Tripp says nothing, his impassive gaze trained on me; he’s always had an enviable poker face.

  “You told him to come get me, to tell me the truth,” I say more to myself than to him. The look of painful conflict in Colt’s eyes last night, the contradictory softness and desperation in his touch as he danced with me before almost pleading me to go with him.

  “Did he tell you?” Tripp asks again, his deep voice slightly more demanding.

  And I could lie right now. I could tell him that Colt did tell me whatever the truth is … and I could trick my brother into divulging everything right here, right now. But I don’t do that.

  “No.” I shake my head. “He didn’t.”

  Tripp releases a heavy sigh, a muttered curse hissed beneath his breath.

  “What is it, Tripp?” I ask, my voice raised slightly higher, wavering through my own emotion. “You’re my brother … my twin … Why can’t you tell me?”

  He just shakes his head, clearly unable to risk meeting the beseeching look in my eyes. “It ain’t my shit to tell, Quinny.”

  “I am your sister,” I cry, slamming my hand against the marble countertop in a show of fury. “For once, can’t you just have my back over Colt’s?”

  “This shit is bigger than just you and him!” Tripp’s voice booms loudly, violently.

  I cower, shrinking against the threatening tone in his words.

  “W-what do you mean it’s bigger than just him?” I ask so softly, scared of my own question.

  Tripp throws his half-eaten toast into the sink, shaking his head before tearing his fingers through his hair. “I’m late for the cattle drive … I gotta go.”

  I stand there, frozen to the spot, watching as he storms around the island, grabbing his hat and his jacket from the table. His boots heavy with every footstep as he continues out through the glass doors, disappearing into the cold and dreary morning. And I stare at the door as it slams shut with such force, the glass panels rattle. I blink hard as my tears make a frustrating and unwelcome return, trailing down my cheeks, fear and dread consuming me.

  ***

  Running on coffee and not much else, I sit outside Duke’s before it’s even open, waiting for Rylie. She’s really all I have in this town, the only person I can talk to who seems to get the kind of turmoil my mind is currently facing. I need to speak to her. I need her to offer me some semblance of reasoning because right now, after last night with Colt, after this morning with my brother, I’m on the verge of losing my shit altogether. And I know if I lose it, I’ll do something stupid, something I’m going to regret.

  My knee bounces with every tap of my foot as an insufferable combination of anxiety and apprehension courses through me. My heart races, but I do all I can to try to keep it all together. The last thing I need right now is to break down right here in the middle of the main street of town and give the unforgiving people of the Canyon something else to talk about.

  After a few minutes longer, the doors to the bar unlatch, opening wide, and I find Rylie in the doorway, her brows climbing slightly higher in surprise when she spots me right there, a small smile of confusion pulling at her lips.

  I stand tentatively, biting down nervously on my bottom lip.

  “Hey, doll,” she says, looking me up and down, a slight crease pulling between her brows. “Everything okay?”

  Almost before she can finish her question, I shake my head, glancing furtively up and down the street to check for prying eyes before I allow my emotion to get the better of me, and when I find the coast is clear, I allow my tears to fall, sniffling them back as best I can to no avail.

  Rylie gauges me a moment, looking at me long and hard, her face blank, yet full of an unspoken understanding. And before I can fall to the ground beneath the weight of my emotion, she closes the distance between us, wrapping her
arms around me and pulling me into an almighty, crushing embrace that I never knew I needed until right now.

  ***

  Duke’s Saloon is dark and empty and cold, and it reeks of disinfectant and stale beer. I’ve never been here while it’s closed to the public, and without the flashing lights, the flat-screens displaying a whole heap of different football games and baseball games, the jukebox playing some old tune long forgotten, the place lacks its normal charm. It’s cold and dingy. And it fits my mood just perfectly right now.

  “You take a seat, doll.” Rylie points to one of the barstools before moving behind the counter and placing her handbag up onto one of the shelves. “I’ll make us some herbal tea.”

  I watch as she busies herself with finding two mugs in one of the high-up racks, a canister of tea bags coming down with it.

  “My secret stash,” she says with a smirk, winking at me as she pours boiling water into each of the mugs.

  Peppermint wafts from the steaming mug placed onto the counter before me, and I quickly wrap my icy-cold hands around the porcelain, holding it close in the hope it might help to warm the crippling cold racking through me. I release a trembling sigh, which is when I meet Rylie’s sad eyes watching me from across the bar.

  “Talk to me,” she says softly, reaching out and gently touching my arm.

  “I’m so scared,” I admit. “He won’t tell me the truth. No one will tell me the goddamn truth!” I shake my head incredulously. “We had the best night of our lives the other night. We shared so much. I fell more in love with him than I even thought I could. I realized that I want to be here. I want to be back here with him. This is where I belong, with Colt.”

  Rylie takes a sip of her tea, nodding once and listening to every single one of my scrambled words.

  “Then yesterday Tripp warned me to take it slow with Colt. He told me that a lot of shit went down after I left. And then last night, Colt came here to get me because Tripp told him to! Tripp told him he needed to talk to me, to tell me the truth!”

  Rylie nods again. “I saw you two leave together.”

  I shake my head. “But he didn’t tell me the truth, Rylie! He won’t tell me the truth. He just keeps telling me that he’s scared I’m going to hate him, that I’m gonna leave him when I find out!”

  I place my mug of tea down onto the counter before my trembling hands drop it. Wiping at my tear-stained cheeks, an unexpected sob rattles through me, and I cover my face with my hands, crying quietly. “I love him so much.” I glance up at Rylie through bleary eyes. “What isn’t he telling me?”

  She just watches me with an obvious sadness in her eyes, shaking her head slowly.

  “I’m sorry to come here and lay this all on you.” I grab a napkin from one of the holders on the countertop, wiping my eyes and my nose. “I just don’t really have anyone else I can talk to.” I laugh a derisive laugh, shaking my head at my own pathetic ridiculousness. “You’re literally all I have.”

  I expect Rylie to laugh at my admission. To say something equally as pathetic. To lighten the mood. But she says nothing. And when I look at her again, I notice the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes as she stares at me, gripping her mug with everything she’s got, as if it’s her lifeline.

  “Rylie?” I steady her with a serious look. “Are you okay?”

  She snaps out of her daze, shaking her head once at herself before forcing a smile onto her face, blinking away the tears. “Yeah. Sorry.” She sniffles. “I guess I just know how you feel, is all.”

  I study her for a long moment, taking everything in from the sadness in her eyes, to the way she appears so confident and flawless. I could tell when I first laid eyes on her that there was so much more to Rylie. She’s a woman with a broken past and there’s an obvious sadness she tries so hard to mask. She hasn’t just had her heart broken before; her heart is broken, now, and I suddenly feel like the worst person in the world.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here and just—”

  She stops me, holding her hand up in the air. “Don’t you dare apologize, Quinn.” She continues, her emotion causing her voice to waver ever so slightly, “Just promise me one thing.”

  I regard her a moment, her seriousness cutting through me. I nod.

  “Please don’t give up on him,” she says so quietly, I almost miss it.

  My brows pull together in confusion. She’s talking about Colt.

  She smiles softly at me, nodding. “You deserve to be happy. And so does Colt. Y’all are meant for each other. I can tell.”

  But there’s so much more to her words. So much more that she isn’t saying. But she doesn’t continue. And, for some reason, I know not to press her. She’s right. I can’t give up on Colt. We are meant for one another. And I know that no matter what he’s done, nothing can be so bad that I wouldn’t want to be with him. I need him. He’s a part of me. I’ve already lost my father. There’s no way I can risk losing Colt. Not again.

  ***

  I spent the afternoon racking my brain with everything Colt could possibly be keeping from me. By the time I hear the familiar sound of the wranglers banging around in the far barn, music blaring from the bunkhouse, signaling they’ve returned from their cattle drive, I’m an utter wreck of emotion.

  I need to see Colt.

  I need him to talk to me.

  I won’t leave him until he tells me the truth.

  Hurrying downstairs, I stop in the foyer to pull my jacket on over my sweater before continuing out into the cool dusk air, following the rocky trail down between the stables, toward the bunkhouse, trying so hard to psych myself up the entire way, repeating over and over again in my mind exactly what I’m going to say when I see him.

  When I make it to the bunkhouse, to the patio out back where the ranch hands are sitting around a fire drinking beers, I spot Cash across the way, talking to one of the wranglers, Tripp sitting on one of the logs in conversation with Bernie, an older cowboy who has worked here at the ranch since I was a little girl.

  Tripp notices me through the flickering flames of the fire, his eyes meeting mine, and I stand there watching as he excuses himself from Bernie, standing up and coming toward me. He glances off to the side a moment, and I can tell he’s considering his words before stopping right in front of me, steadying me with a knowing look.

  “Where is he?” I ask, looking around.

  Tripp’s jaw tightens with his hesitation.

  “Tripp?” I ask again through gritted teeth, my voice slightly more demanding.

  “He’s at the cabin.”

  I nod once before turning, but before I can leave, Tripp grabs a hold of my wrist. I look down to where his big hand holds me tight before flashing him a warning glare, and he quickly lets me go, his eyes warily regarding me as he holds his hands up in surrender. He shakes his head once. “Quinny, please. You shouldn’t go there, you—”

  I ignore my brother’s pleading warning, continuing on my way back up the path. With everything I have, I know it’s now or never. I need to find out what the hell is going on, and not my brother, nor anyone else who seems to know the truth, is going to be able to stop me.

  ***

  In what feels like less than a few minutes, and such a blur I can’t even remember the drive over here, I find myself pulling in to the makeshift parking bay outside the cabin, but my brows knit together in confusion and my eyes narrow when I find a shiny Mercedes G-Class parked right next to Colt’s truck.

  What the hell?

  Taking a few deep breaths in through my nose to try and calm the anxiety coursing through me, I stare up through the windshield, to the lights illuminating the windows, and a million and one conflicting thoughts race through my mind.

  He’s up there with someone.

  This is why Tripp was just warning me.

  I shouldn’t be here.

  What if this is his secret?

  What if Shelby was wrong?

  Oh my God, what if he’s secretly married?
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  I feel sick to my stomach; the pain almost unbearable.

  But I deserve to know the truth. And with one last deep, fortifying breath, I force myself out of my car, glancing dubiously at the Mercedes on my way past. But I continue despite my reluctance. And I don’t allow myself to even breathe until I’m at the top of the front stairs, standing right on the other side of the door, staring at it for a few beats. I consider knocking. I work up the courage. And I actually have my hand hanging in the air, knuckles prepped and ready to tap against the stained glass, but then, what will I say? What will I do? I don’t know if I’m ready for this.

  Against my better judgment, I do knock. Once. Then once more. Then again. I force my hand away before I go for a fourth, pulling my thumb to my mouth and nervously chewing on my nail as I wait, my heart wreaking havoc in my chest with every excruciating second that passes. I actually consider turning and running. Maybe this is a truth I’m not ready to deal with. Maybe I should just leave, pretend I never even stopped by. But then the handle dips, the latch clicks, and slowly the door opens, and my heart jumps up into the back of my throat when I find a familiar face staring back at me.

  No. It can’t be.

  What feels like the insufferable pain of a million knives suddenly starts to stab me right in my back. I can’t breathe. I feel weak in the knees, and in that moment, I’m afraid I’m going to fall. But somehow, I find the strength I need to stand tall, my eyes pricking with tears as the realization comes over me in shocking, unrelenting waves.

  Of course. How could I be so damn stupid.

  “R-Rylie …?” I stammer, my cracking voice wavering.