He loved her. He missed her. Could she forgive him for leaving her when she needed him? And what would Sam Brennan say if Chance did ask Libby to marry him?
Given her father’s heart attack and Chance leaving Libby when she needed him, would she even see him? Maybe he should just wait until after he knew he had made the NFR and then look her up around the holidays. See how things were faring.
But what if it was too late? What if Ben had come back to offer support? Or she’d found someone else who would help her through what had to be the toughest time of her life? He should be that someone. He should be that forever someone.
“Lonnie, would you mind if I dropped you off and headed to Cheyenne?”
*
Chance stepped out of his truck and into the bright sunshine of a September day. The dealership in Casper was humming as one might expect on a mild Sunday. Colorful sale flags billowed in the gentle breeze.
Instead of moving on into the showroom, with its tarnished metal-framed architecture screaming 1980s, Chance surveyed the parking lot jammed with cars, mostly the latest Ford models, with huge Discount and For Sale signs covering their front windows. It was clear someone was trying to move inventory.
The glare off the showroom windows prevented him from seeing inside. It would be easier if he knew she was in there. Easier still if she wasn’t busy.
Hell, who was he kidding? None of this would be easy, for either of them.
But then it hadn’t been easy to look up Deidre again. He didn’t know where it would lead with his mother, but despite initial intentions otherwise, they’d established a thread of a relationship. Whether that would become something more, he couldn’t say, but he was no longer closed to the possibility. Despite his anger, he’d finally accepted that his mother had tried to spare him. And, strange as it was to admit, maybe she had. He’d been taken from his father. Given to people who were decent. He’d finished high school and lived his rodeo dream.
If his mother had stayed, endured the beatings, kept drinking, would he have been better off? He couldn’t know for sure, but his gut told him no, and his mother surely wouldn’t have been.
Her mistake had been in not telling him. In letting him think she had abandoned him. Hadn’t cared. Chance was beginning to understand that she hadn’t contacted him out of fear his father would find her. That realization was followed by another—she’d been weak, beaten down, and he had been too young to do anything to help her.
When he had recognized he couldn’t do anything to stop his father, he’d felt powerless. And ashamed. And he’d struggled all his life to overcome those feelings.
He wasn’t powerless to act now. And he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t do something. If he didn’t try. If he let Libby go—again.
She’d tried her darnedest to convince him she was worthy of his trust and love. And he’d done his darnedest to block any feelings in that direction. But he no longer wanted to hide from the truth. He loved her. He needed her in his life, to be happy. And he was ready to take her on her terms—with her father in tow, if need be. After all, Libby seemed to have enough love to go around.
Her last attempt at convincing him had been a doozy, what with bringing his mother into things. But he couldn’t say he regretted it.
He just hoped he hadn’t slammed the door so hard she’d given up on him. If so, he’d have to try to win her back. She’d been persistent—he was determined.
Inside, the showroom was studded with gleaming new cars in vivid colors of red, blue, yellow, even purple. Who bought cars in such colors he couldn’t say, but they were sure eye catching, if nothing else.
A number of customers milled around the automobiles, poking their heads into the open windows and lifting up trunk lids. A few customers sat at desks across from people with name tags and eyes glued to computer screens. Libby wasn’t among them.
Maybe she wasn’t here today. Or maybe she was tucked away in some office in the back. She always said she wasn’t cut out to sell cars. He breathed in the new-car smell that permeated the showroom as he strode toward the back.
“Need help, buddy?” A tall, gray-haired man dressed in a dark sweater-vest, white shirt, and navy casual pants asked from behind the latest F-150 pickup.
“Yeah. Libby Brennan in?”
The older man gave Chance the once-over. Good to know someone was watching out for her.
“Miss Brennan is out today. I’m Ed Farley, acting manager. What can I help you with?” He held out his hand and Chance shook it.
“Is Libby sick? I’m…I’m an old friend.” Chance wanted to say he was much more, but until he saw Libby, he could barely claim friendship.
“Hadn’t you heard? Her father had a stroke.”
“You mean a heart attack, don’t you?”