Chapter 38

Tabby sat where he’d left her, numb. The night had fallen in on her.

Confusion, darkness reigned. Not outside in the black forest—there it was normal—but in her. The joy, the goodness she’d felt with Cole, now mixed vilely with the grotesque look on his face as he’d read the horrible words. The outrage at something he never saw coming and that he himself had set into motion, still hung in the air. It colored the place where they’d always managed to become a unit, through whatever trials life had thrown at them.

It was like the breath in her body was barely there. He’d run from her, from their little oasis, as if it was filthy.

She jolted when he stalked back into the cabin.

“Gotta go. It’s not right, how I left you the last time, without telling you. But I'm going. Right now, to my spot. I'm taking Storm. I don't know how long I’ll be away, but I'll let you know as soon as I'm back.”

Her brows raised.

But this time, clarity descended on her, in a blinding shot. She was ready for him. And despite the awareness of what he was going through, of all their discussion might cost him, she was angry.

This is the last damn time I’m being left out of a life-defining decision that is also life-defining about my life.

She knew he needed time. Time to process, time to get back to his center, and to who he was. Time to decide his path in this weirdest, most terrific of conundrums.

Time to push back against the void that threatened to swallow him whole.

But she didn’t damn well care. She tossed his jacket at him. “Here.”

He reeled as if she’d slapped him. “You get that I have to go, right?”

“Yeah. You have to go and make decisions about your life. And decisions about things that affect me, too. Things that change the entire shape of my life, and my world. Without involving me. Yeah, typical. A real partnership. Sterling. Simply sterling.” The last bit, she said with sarcasm. “I get it.”

His brow furrowed. “Surely, you understand that…”

But she couldn't stay quiet anymore. She'd been through too many things like this in her life, where things were decided without considering her. Where she’d put everyone else first, because they were going through tough things.

She'd reached her tolerance. Was way past it.

She found her voice.

“I’ll tell you what I understand, Cowboy. Seeing as you've already made the decision to go, why don't you set yourself down there for a couple of minutes and let me tell you exactly what I understand.”

Confusion, mingled with anger flared in his face. “Think I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself. You always do, anyway.”

He gritted his teeth. "Fine. Talk. I’ll listen. Then, I'll go.”

Well, it seemed she had the floor.

“About this whole needing to leave for days on end to go to a stupid canyon and listen to what the universe has to tell you. Well, who’s been giving you strength all these weeks, Cowboy, when you’ve needed it? The night after that damn fire, and later, when you thought you’d lost everything? It’s not been your precious canyon. It’s been me.”

The righteous indignation, the truth of it all, just about choked her. But she had to get this out. Now. Aimed right at him. At the man she loved and the man who was, on one level, very conveniently forgetting her.

Her. 

Maybe he had his reasons; maybe they were to protect her.

The hell with it. If she needed protecting, she’d damn well tell him. It was her life, she was the one who knew what the hell she needed, and when.

Not him.

“Truth is truth. I’ve been right here, going through everything with you. By your side. Doing for you and taking care of you, and without the strength or reward of knowing we’re a couple, and united. Not asking for a damn thing back. Just giving you what you need. Because…” her voice broke.

“…because I love you, and that’s what you do for your partner. For the man you love. You love him, in the good times. Then you love him, when the chips are down. No matter what’s happening to him, or to you. You just do.”

His gaze darted around wildly for a moment. Yeah. He was uncomfortable. But his eyes were still terrible.

“There’s also been this big discussion between us, of my scars. Now don’t start,” she said. “This is my time to talk. You're going away with your precious horse, and I won't have any say in anything. I want my say, now.” She waited a beat.

“So. I’m scarred physically, and you've worked hard to show me it really doesn't matter. I've learned. See? I'm not wearing makeup anymore. Don’t even wear it out anymore. Anyone doesn’t want to see the way I am—who I really am, outside and in, can go take a hike. Right?”

He nodded, a bit of fire sparking in him. “Damn straight.”

“So then. I don’t need to be perfect. Why the hell do you? Maybe it’s an affliction of all men, but this nonsense that unless you're perfect you're not good enough, is crazy. I suspect there’s been more going on here, the last few months. That you suffer from depression.”

She saw as his eyes widened at that, then darkened, but it didn’t matter. She was going to speak her fill. “Don’t rightly know for sure. But it changes nothing for me. The notion that if you can’t provide everything you can when you’re at your best, emotionally and otherwise, then you’ve got to be manly and bow out of the relationship, is garbage. That that means that you’re not a man that a woman can genuinely love. Nonsense. That the woman deserves better.”

She shook her head, anger high in her. “You also feel you can't be in a relationship without having Dawson Ridges. If you can’t provide me a bloody ranch.”

She scowled. “You claim that, and that it’s principle.” She halted, caught her breath, sucked in a big gulp for the next round, and treated him to this tidbit. “Let me tell you, Cowboy. It’s not principle. What it is, is ridiculous.”

“Then you come every night, and we lay in bed together. Every night, Dawson. That’s eight hours, plus the one we spend together before that. So, you recharge having dinner with me, Cowboy. By talking over our day. Then you recharge laying beside me. With my energy going to you. That’s a fact.”

She noticed he was getting a bit edgy. Probably didn’t like the truth, she thought.

Tough saddle sores.

“Here’s the punch line. Why do you feel you’re any less of a man if you lose Dawson Ridges? Who the hell cares what you own, anyway? Anyone that really loves you, who truly cares for you, will stick with you. As long as you don't push them away, that is. Especially if you’re neck-deep in manure, especially if things are going bad and you’re facing a shitstorm, a real woman will cleave to you, the more shit you’re in. And be proud to breathe the same air you do, stand beside you. Because you're a good man.”

She hoped, so bad, she’d reach him.

Cole interjected. “Planning on wrapping it up any time soon?”

“Almost there. So. If you’ve got depression, fine. We’ll deal with it together. As a team, and count us lucky we’ve got each other. I could be sick with something too, and I expect you to hang around for that, as well, Bucko. All in. Team.”

“Number Two. You don't need to own a spread. You don't have to have assets. You don't need to be the big man in the community, the one everyone looks up to, that takes care of everyone. The perfect one. Your contribution—your presence and ethics, no matter what condition you’re in—are the contribution. Hear?”

Suddenly, she was done. She breathed a heavy sigh. “That’s it, Cowboy. Having Dawson Ridges or not doesn’t mean a damn thing. A real man can build a quality life with or without a ranch. With or without holdings. With or without money and mind this one—even with or without perfect health and the ability to minister to his woman every minute.”

Her chest tightened. She’d almost used up her chance to reach his heart. To make a case for the incredible gift of their love, before he went back into the grey. Before he once again cut off their relationship, because of his so-called, laughable, high set of principles.

He couldn't give what a man should give.

Whine, whine, whine. Blah blah blah.

Bull-cracky.

Her voice softened, even as her throat seemed to turn in, all on itself. “Don't turn your back on those who love you because of your so-called principles. Or possibly, fear. Sure, principles have their place, but sometimes, Hot Stuff? They’re just crap. And there’s only one good use for crap.”

She pointed to the manure pile a short way from the cabin. “Add your pile to that pile, be done with it. Don't look back.”

He still looked upset, but she hoped he’d heard her, because she'd spoken her fill. The rest was up to him. She couldn't control any of it, no matter how much he loved her, and needed her.

Or no matter how much she needed him.

She knew he was still reeling about what he'd learned. It was enough to make anybody reel. She knew that. Still.

It was all in his hands, here on out.

“Gonna head out now.”

She sighed. Felt her heart breaking, silently, in her chest. “Fine.”

“But before I go,” Cole moved closer to her. Didn’t touch her because—oh probably, he wasn't worthy of a relationship anymore. And another big Blah with a capital B. She rolled her eyes inadvertently, and he caught the expression. “I think that was for me.”

“Think you’re right.”

He laughed, but she saw the pain in it. He still hadn’t made a decision. They could still be done.

“You've done a whole lot of talking about what a real man should think and do. Well, what about you? What does a real woman do when everything falls the hell down around her? When she’s faced with this shit and the mess her man has suddenly become? When can’t he give her what every man knows he needs to give his woman? The basics?”

Well. She was incredibly glad he’d posed the question, because he'd thrown a spotlight on what she'd actually done.

And that, she was proud of. No matter how this all played out, she was damn proud of who she'd been today, and in the recent past, and the decisions she’d made.

Even if she was slated to be lonely for the rest of her life, without the man she loved and wanted to be with more than anything—the man who was actually her mate—she'd always be proud of this. All her life.

She answered him, straight. “I know what a real woman would do, because damn it all, I’ve done it. Tonight. Before this, as well. Stuck to my principles, and stayed by your side. Told you the truth, in all its many facets. Told you I love you, no matter what, and that I need you beside me. And that the whole of Dawson Ridges, no matter how wonderful it is, is worth less than a pig in a poke to me. I love you because of you, and sometimes? Truth be known, Cowboy, in spite of you. Like right now. But the truth is still the truth. I love you, and I’ve stayed by your side. No matter what it cost me, and it may just have cost me everything, I’ve done it, and I’ve done it with heart.”

Something glazed over in his eyes, and she wondered. Had that brief look of admiration he’d sported turned to… a spark of envy? That she could be so clear, while he was stuck back in the miasma? Still trying to figure this all out?

Well, if he wasn’t man enough to have figured out who the hell he was without the magnanimity of Dawson Ridges and the spectacular Dawson name backing him up, his loss.

He gave her a brisk nod, then strode purposefully toward the door. Away from her.

She had one last parting shot to aim.

She followed him to the door, and he stopped, out of cold politeness, she read. That pained too. She took a quick moment to scan his face, the face she loved. He was so handsome, but he wasn’t without flaws. The man was almost perfect for her, truth be told, but that one flaw he did have?

It was a killer.

She laid one hand on his arm and appealed to him, from the deepest part of her heart. A heart that was crying. One that already missed him, and knew it would, for years to come, if he didn’t make the decision she hoped. He’d always be part of her blood.

Even if she did her best to be a modern woman who moved on oh so easily. Who put herself first, had all the self-esteem and all the self-respect. Glided on to a happy future, without the man she’d once put all her hard-won trust in.

Ha. She was no storybook babe or kickass heroine, but a real woman. And that wasn’t so easily achieved, no matter the big, all-fired political correctness of it all.

Ha again.

She aimed the question right at him, and hoped it struck deep and hard, and that he wouldn’t be able to dislodge it from his soul, no matter how hard he tried. Because it really was the essence of every damn thing. The ultimate question. And he got to face it, now. Today.

“The real question here, Cole Dawson, is—what kind of a real man are you going to choose to be?”