IF THIS WAS a family dinner, Skye thought, it certainly wasn’t greeting-card material. The table in the dining room groaned with food, but no one was eating. She and Izzy still weren’t exactly friends. Jed was distracted and Lexi and Cruz only had eyes for each other. Erin alone was normal, chatting about how school was almost over, the things she wanted to do on her summer break and how high she could jump now.
“You should come see me jump, Grandpa,” she said cheerfully.
Jed managed to look up and frown. “You win any medals?”
“I’m just starting, but I will.”
Jed grinned. “That’s my girl. You’re going to be the best. Bring home an Olympic medal and we’ll put it front and center.”
Erin looked pleased and attacked her mashed potatoes.
“I was a barrel racer in high school,” Izzy told Erin. “It was a lot of fun. We could practice together sometime.”
“Okay,” Erin said, always happy to spend time with her aunt.
Lexi whispered something to Cruz, who grinned. They were crazy about each other, Skye thought, trying not to be bitter. She didn’t begrudge her sister her happiness-she just wanted a little of the same for herself. Someone to lean on. Someone to share with. Someone to help and laugh with and smile at for the rest of her life.
Even knowing it was stupid, her brain turned immediately to Mitch. She hadn’t seen him since he’d found out the truth about Erin. Fidela had told her he’d landed in the hospital and was now on crutches. Apparently he hadn’t been ready for all the walking he’d done.
She wondered how he was and wanted to go see him. Not that she would. He would only try to beat up on her again. She shouldn’t think about him at all.
He wasn’t her ideal man. He was just some guy she used to know…and couldn’t stop thinking about. But who needed lust? She had loved her husband. Maybe their relationship hadn’t been all fire and passion, but it had been strong and admirable. She winced inwardly knowing no one who wanted to be in love was looking for “admirable.”
People wanted the fire, although in her opinion it was highly overrated. She burned for Mitch and what did that get her? A giant pain in her butt, that’s what.
“The teacher at school said you have mad cows, Grandpa,” Erin said into the silence. “I said our cows are very happy.”
Jed looked up, his expression furious. “What stupid bi-”
“Dad,” Skye said sharply. “She was just expressing an opinion and she’s Erin’s teacher.”
Jed glanced at Erin. “She’s an idiot.”
Erin put down her fork. “She knows a lot. She’s a good teacher, Grandpa. She just doesn’t know our cows.”
Izzy’s mouth twitched. “Perhaps we should invite her over. They could have tea.”
Skye ignored that. “She’s not saying the cows are unhappy. Mad cow is a kind of sickness cows get. If people eat the cows, then they can get sick, too.”
Erin chewed on her steak. She’d been raised on a working ranch. She knew where dinner came from. “But our cows aren’t sick, are they?”
“No. They’re fine. But people get confused.”
“Mostly grown-ups,” Erin muttered under her breath.
“You got that right,” Izzy said, looking at Skye.
Dinner limped painfully along. When they were finished and the table cleared, Lexi and Cruz took Erin out for ice cream. Skye paced restlessly in her bedroom before grabbing her car keys and running downstairs. She was probably going to get her head chewed off, but she had to see him. Had to know if he was okay.
At the Cassidy Ranch Fidela answered the door immediately.
“He’s in the barn. In his office,” she said, looking worried. “He’s been in there every day since he got out of the hospital. He won’t talk to me or eat. He just drinks. I don’t know what to do. You’ll go talk to him? You’ll make him feel better?”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Skye murmured. “I’ll check on him.”
“Good. He needs something.” She spoke softly in Spanish, her words almost like a prayer.
Skye drove around to the barn and got out of her car.
It was early evening. The air was still warm, with a hint of coolness. The bugs were loud, the horses quiet and she had the sense of being the last person alive. That lasted until she heard the crash of glass breaking.
Stuffing her keys in her jeans pocket, she hurried toward Mitch’s office. She found him standing by his desk, supported by one crutch. His left pant leg hung empty. A Scotch bottle lay in shatters by the wall, another sat on his desk.
“Well, lookee here,” he said, his words slurring. “Skye Titan. Is it your day to make calls on the local cripples? You gonna check on the widows and orphans after you see me?”
His skin was pale, his eyes bloodshot, but his hand was steady as he poured himself another drink from the fresh bottle.
“I wouldn’t want to be you when you wake up in the morning,” she said.
“You wouldn’t want to be me anytime,” he told her. “God knows, I don’t want to be.” He sank heavily into his chair and pushed the bottle toward her. “Help yourself. Sorry I don’t have another glass. You can drink out of the bottle. I don’t care.”
She ignored the invitation. “I wanted to see how you were.”
He waved the crutch at her. “Never better. How ’bout yourself? You’re looking particularly sexy tonight, Skye. Why don’t you take your shirt off so I can see those pretty breasts of yours.” He raised the glass toward her. “To your breasts, darling, and every man they’ve brought to his knees.”
He was beyond drunk. She eyed the bottle and wondered if he was in any kind of danger from alcohol poisoning.
She picked up the bottle of Scotch, walked over to the sink in the corner and poured it out.
“I’ve got five more just like that one,” he said.
She turned to face him and set the empty bottle on the counter. “Maybe, but you’re going to have to get up to find them and I doubt you’ll make it halfway across the room.”
His gaze centered on her chest. “That depends on my motivation.”
She ignored that. “Have you done anything since you got out of the hospital?” she asked. “Other than drink? Or are you just sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.”
He drained his glass. “You don’t get to play this game with me.”
“Why not? Someone has to. Look at yourself, Mitch. This isn’t who you are. I know you had a rough time, but you’re alive. You have a home and people who care about you.”
“Not a kid, though. Right? No kid.”
“You came home,” she said, determined to get through to him. “What about the guys who didn’t? What about the guys who don’t have a home or a family? I think they get first shot at the pity trough. You’re hogging way more than your share.”
He glared at her. “Don’t push me, little girl,” he growled. “I can still take you.”
“Not tonight, you can’t.”
“I can try and I promise that will hurt.”
She approached the desk and stared down at him. “Is that what you want? To hurt me? Will that make it all better? Fine. Give it your best shot. I dumped you, Mitch. I walked out on our relationship. Start the punishment.”
He slammed the glass back on the desk. “That’s just it, Skye. You didn’t dump me. You accepted my proposal. You told me you loved me and wanted to be with me forever and then you changed your mind because your daddy told you to.”
He was right. About all of it. “I was scared,” she admitted, her defiance gone. “Jed was going to turn his back on me. I couldn’t stand that. I’d already lost my mom. He was all I had left.”
“You were all I had,” he yelled. “I’d lost both my parents that summer, Skye. I thought we were going to be there for each other.”
She hung her head. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough.”
She straightened. “Fine. Then what do you want?”
“I want you to bleed the way I’ve bled. I want you to feel all of it.”
His anger and pain were living creatures in the room. They sucked out the air and made her want to bolt for the outside.
Then she finally understood.
“You think this is my fault,” she whispered. “You blame me for everything. If I hadn’t broken up with you, you wouldn’t have gone away. You wouldn’t have become a SEAL or lost your leg.”
He didn’t say anything.
She couldn’t believe it. “Are you sorry for what you did? The lives you saved? The difference you made?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is? You made a choice. We both did, and now we have to live with the consequences.”
“Must be tough for you,” he said, his voice thick with anger. “Living in your big house with your kid and all. Does the pain and suffering keep you up nights? Do you regret marrying Ray?”
Which was what it all came down to, she thought sadly.
She stared into the eyes of the man she had loved more than anything, but not enough to defy her father.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t. He gave me Erin and I would never wish her away. It’s done, Mitch. This is where we are.”
“This is where you are. I’m somewhere else.”
“I don’t know you anymore.”
“Too bad. I’m a helluva guy.”
“You used to be. Now you’re just a man who wants the whole world to feel sorry for him.”
MITCH HADN’T KNOWN it was possible to feel this bad and not be dead. He’d passed out in his office some time the previous night and had woken up on the floor shortly before dawn. It had taken him the better part of an hour to limp to the house. The crutches had been as much a hindrance as a help.
Showering, a pot of coffee and a handful of aspirin did nothing to ease the hammering in his head and the sour rock in the pit of his stomach. Nearly as bad was the fact that he didn’t remember much about what had happened, except he was pretty sure Skye had visited and he’d treated her badly.
The devil on his shoulder told him that she deserved whatever he’d said, but the rest of him wasn’t so sure. There were some lines he wasn’t willing to cross. It was a bitch not knowing if he already had.
Fidela fussed over him until he couldn’t take it anymore so he jammed a hat on his head and made his way back to the barn. If he remembered correctly, he had a mess to clean up in his office. Later, he would deal with Skye.
The dim quiet of the barn eased the pressure in his head. For about eight seconds.
“Mitch! Hi. Are you going riding? You haven’t been riding yet and you really need to ride Bullet. He’s very sad. I can tell.”
Her shrill, eight-year-old, high-pitched voice cut through him like broken glass. He winced and wished he was anywhere but here. At this point, physical therapy was looking good.
“Erin,” he said, speaking softly. “I’m not feeling too good today. Could you keep your voice down?”
“Why? Does my talking make your head hurt? Why are you sick? Do you have a cold?”
He wanted to groan. Yelling at her wasn’t an option. She might not be his kid, but he couldn’t be mean to her. It wasn’t much but right now that was the only bright spot on his otherwise tarnished character.
“Everything makes my head hurt,” he told her.
“I know what will make it better.” She put her small hands on her skinny little hips. “If you get on Bullet and ride with me I’ll be really quiet.”
“I will not be manipulated by an eight-year-old.”
She grinned. “Want to hear me scream?”
“Erin.” He growled her name in warning.
The grin widened. “Or I could sing. Come on, Mitch. Let’s go riding.”
Bouncing around on a horse was a particular brand of hell he didn’t want to experience. There was no way, he told himself. No way at all.
But he found himself looking into her eyes and seeing the hope there.
“It’ll make you feel better,” she whispered. “I promise. I won’t talk at all.” She looked at his left leg-or where it used to be. “I know you’re hurt. Fiddle told me you’d done too much. She said that your pros-y thing can hurt.”
She bit her lower lip and touched her own thigh. “I’d be scared if I lost my leg. I’d be so scared and hugs from my mom might not even help. It’s really sad.” She raised her gaze to his and he saw tears there. “I’m sorry you’re hurt now and that you got hurt before in the war.”
A single tear slipped down her cheek. “Would it hurt you if I hugged you?”
His throat got real tight and he had to swallow. When he shook his head, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, then hung on as if she was never going to let go.
She could have been his, he thought sadly. She should have been. He and Skye were supposed to get married. They’d have a family by now. Maybe a daughter like Erin.
Instead her father was some old guy who’d stolen Skye. No, he reminded himself. It wasn’t Ray’s fault. He’d only taken what had been offered. The real villains here were Skye and Jed. And he was going to get both of them.
“Say yes,” Erin said, looking up at him. “I won’t scream or yell or sing. Just come riding with me.”
“Okay. I will.”
She jumped back and hooted with excitement, then slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I’ll be real quiet now.”
“That would be good.”
He walked to Bullet’s stall, then held the door open while she led out the horse. Using crutches meant Mitch couldn’t help gather equipment, but Erin knew what she was doing and quickly had the saddle pad in place. The saddle was big and heavy. She half dragged, half carried it to him. He balanced on one leg, handed her his crutches and managed to swing the saddle in place.
Ten minutes later her horse was ready, as well. Mitch led Bullet over to the mounting block and hesitated.
“I haven’t been on a horse in nearly ten years,” he muttered. “And that was with two legs.”
He also wasn’t used to getting on the right side, but without a prosthesis, he didn’t have much choice.
“You can do it,” Erin said, standing in front of Bullet and stroking his face. “I’ll hold him. But I don’t think he’ll move. He’s special.”
Trained for a cripple, Mitch thought bitterly. He leaned his crutches against a post, then hopped up the three stairs, holding on to the railing to stay upright. When he was on the mounting block he gripped the railing and half lifted, half threw his left leg over the saddle. He shifted his weight, pushed off with his right leg and found himself in the saddle.
“You did it,” Erin crowed, the sound ripping his head from the inside.
But he didn’t remind her to be quiet, mostly because it felt pretty good to be on a horse again. She passed him the reins. He urged Bullet forward and the horse moved.
Erin climbed on her horse like a little monkey and joined him as he rode outside.
The sun was bright and hot and made his head throb, but he ignored it. Bullet’s movements were familiar, making him wish he hadn’t been so stubborn about riding. This felt good. Almost normal.
“I knew you could do it,” Erin told him.
“Yes, you did and you were right.”
She grinned at him and he smiled back.
They rode toward the cattle and circled around the herd. To their right was the fencing for the chickens.
Erin pointed. “There’s a break in the fence. We need to tell Arturo so the coyotes don’t get them.”
The coyotes could have them all, he thought. Damn chickens.
“You tell him,” he grumbled.
“Don’t you like the chickens?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“This is a cattle ranch.”
“Diversification is important.”
He looked at her and laughed. “How do you know that word?”
She pressed her lips together and looked smug. “Sometimes Arturo and I talk. He’s teaching me about the ranch. He said you can’t just depend on having one thing. Like cows. You need more. So if something bad happens, you’re safe. It’s like bringing your raincoat if it looks cloudy. If you don’t, you might get wet.”
“You’re saying chickens are a raincoat?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I guess. Arturo said it, not me.”
“My family has run cattle on this land for nearly a hundred years. No Cassidy ever kept chickens.”
“They didn’t use computers, either, but you do.”
He glanced at her. “You’re very smart.”
“I know. And it’s not their fault they’re chickens. You shouldn’t be mad at them.”
“I’m not mad.”
“You look mad when you talk about them. They’re really good chickens. They eat coconut.”
He reined in Bullet. “What?”
“Maybe not a whole one, but part. It’s in their food.”
Coconut? “Do they get piña coladas, too?”
“I don’t know.”
He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“It’s so they don’t eat soy. You’ll have to ask Arturo. I don’t know what it all means.”
Coconut? Sure. And they were probably served dinner on silver trays, with champagne.
“Where’s your mom and dad?” Erin asked.
“They died nearly ten years ago.”
Her mouth twisted. “That’s sad.”
“Yes, it is. They liked to travel a lot. They were in Europe, taking a small plane from Italy to a resort on the Black Sea. The plane crashed.”
“Do you remember them?”
He nodded. They hadn’t been around much. His father had grown up hating the ranch, feeling he was trapped by the land and the cattle. He’d married and had Mitch, but inside he’d been waiting until his father died so he could escape.
Mitch had been nearly ten when his grandfather had passed on, leaving Mitch’s parents free to travel the world. They’d been gone within a month. Arturo and Fidela had stepped into the emptiness, giving him the stability he needed.
He hadn’t missed his parents that much, although he’d found himself feeling lost when they died. Maybe it had been the realization that he had no other family. Skye had been there for him and at the time, it had been enough.
“You want to go fast?” Erin asked, looking eager.
Mitch found himself wanting to see what he and Bullet could do.
“Sure,” he said.
She leaned over her horse and whispered something. The animal shot ahead. Mitch tightened his muscles and Bullet raced after her. The wind blew in his face. Despite his amputation, he stayed on the horse without a problem.
Freedom, he thought, grateful for the chance to experience this again. He owed Erin for pushing. Owed and would find a way to pay her back. He would also pay back Skye, but for very different reasons.