“I’m being straight with you, Libby. I’m not marriage material. Maybe you sensed that back then. After you left, I realized that I’m best as a loner. Loners don’t make good husbands, and they make really lousy fathers. And then, again, I haven’t had a particularly good role model in either department.”
“You’re selling yourself short. It’s a story you’re telling yourself so you don’t have to take another risk on commitment.”
“Maybe you’re telling yourself a story so you don’t have to face my reality. I’m just trying to be straight with you. I don’t want to end things, but I don’t see a happily ever after in the future, either.”
“For now, I guess I’ll have to go along with it if that’s the only way I can be part of your life.”
He reached for her, and she leaned her head against his chest. It had been a hard conversation, but he had needed to clear the air. He wouldn’t mislead her. Her cell phone jangled from its spot on the nightstand.
“Don’t answer it.”
“It must be important. No one would call now. It’s after midnight.”
Chance reached around her to grab the phone on the table and looked at the caller ID. He closed his eyes as he handed her the cell phone.
*
Chance tried to calm her down, but Libby was near hysterical as he held her in his arms, her whole body trembling. Lonnie had appeared at the door, and all Chance could do was shake his head.
“I’ve got to go. Now.” She squirmed against his embrace. He was afraid to let her go. Afraid of what she’d do.
“You are in no condition to drive. I’ll drive you.”
Tears streamed down her face like water pouring from a sprinkling can.
“How will you get back?” She squirmed again. He held her fast.
She wasn’t coming back with him? He took a deep breath. He should have seen that coming.
No strings. No regrets. That had been the plan. Too bad it hadn’t worked. But this time he had no one to blame but himself.
“Lonnie can come get me in the pickup.”
“It’s far.” She slumped in his arms like it was too much effort to fight.
“Let me worry about that.” He took another deep breath. “You okay to pack up?”
“Yes. Just let me go.”
“As long as I can drive you.” She looked at him with something akin to terror in her eyes. He wanted to make it better for her. He wished he could.
“Yes. All right.” She held herself stiff, and he released her from his embrace.
“Hurry!” she said as she scrambled off the bed. “I’ve got to get to the hospital before, before…” She shook her head. She’d been unable to say what they’d both been thinking.
Chance was surprised at how quickly Libby packed her suitcases, all three of them. Enticing Cowboy into his carrier was more of an ordeal, but some tuna fish placed at the far corner finally did the trick. Working out logistics with Lonnie was easier, and thank God the man was flexible. Lonnie was going to swing by in the morning, and with luck, they’d make Utah before the slack.
Getting back in the saddle would give him some much-needed focus, especially if Libby wouldn’t be coming back. He wouldn’t think about that now. He’d promised to get her to Cheyenne, and he would keep that promise.
Cowboy’s plaintive cries at being corralled filled the silence as Chance drove the car down the winding mountain road over the slick, wet pavement, rain drumming on the windows as if trying to get in.
Not too experienced in these kinds of emotional situations, Chance didn’t try to coax Libby to talk. He could remember the gut-punched feeling when he’d found out his mother had left him. His ten-year-old self had felt like crying knowing that what little comfort he could expect had walked away from him and that his world would be irrevocably and horribly changed. He hadn’t cried though. He wouldn’t give his ornery father the satisfaction, or the mother who would never witness it. No, he’d never showed any emotion other than anger at what had happened to him.
He knew Libby would take it hard if Sam Brennan, a man only in his early fifties, succumbed to the heart attack. She’d no doubt feel abandoned if her only living parent didn’t pull through. And if he did pull through, Libby wouldn’t leave his side. Not for a good long while.
They rode in silence except for the droning sound of rain and Cowboy’s occasional whines amid the whirr of wind and tires. He hadn’t put on any music because he wasn’t sure songs about loss and love, as country tunes were prone to be, was what she’d want to hear at that moment. Only one other car had come up the mountain to disturb the inky blackness. Even with the high beams on, it was still easy to lose the twisting road given the sheets of rain that blew across the windshield. Chance just hoped no deer or other animal decided to cross through the glare of his headlights.
He’d glanced at her a few times, but it was hard to see more than puffy eyes in the shadowed light as she stared straight ahead. As if she had felt him looking at her, she turned toward him, her face wet with tears.