Wild Card (North Ridge #1)

“Shane Nelson!” My mother exclaims as she leans across the passenger seat and rolls down the window, staring up at him. “Jesus Murphy, what are you doing here?”

Now he grins at her, looking relieved at the distraction. I hate how beautiful his smile still is. “I live here, Mrs. Waters, just like you do.”

“Ms. Waters,” she reminds him, her voice going cold for a second. Then she smiles. “You know I never see you anymore.”

“I’m a busy boy,” he says.

“A busy man.” I don’t think I like her light tone, like she’s welcoming this whole interaction. She was always the one to tell me that leaving him and North Ridge was the best decision I ever made. It had practically become her mantra.

Shane’s eyes flit to mine briefly, but it’s enough for the fire in my chest to strengthen. “I only heard you were back today.”

I nod. “Just came to deal with family business.”

“Apparently I have lung cancer.” My mother drops the words like a loaded bomb.

Shane barely flinches. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not sure I believe the doctors in this town anyway.” And at that, she coughs, looking momentarily embarrassed. “Lucky we happen to be headed your way.”

Now he looks stunned. “You are?”

She nods. “You didn’t know?”

He’s avoiding my eyes now, but yeah, no way in hell did he know. He finally looks as uncomfortable as I feel. I take a bit of petty pride in that.

He shakes his head. “Know what?”

My mother sighs dramatically. “I used to think word spread quickly in this town. Well, I suppose I should come get in your truck and you can drive us to the ranch, unless you happen to have a gas can in your back and like standing in the rain like a damn fool.”

I’m already soaked to the bone, but I’ve barely noticed even though the rain isn’t letting up anytime soon. I can’t notice anything but him.

“Of course,” Shane says quickly, opening the door to help my mother out of the car. He still has his manners, something Hank ingrained into all of the Nelson brothers. That makes this all worse.

I grab both our purses from the car and follow Shane and my mother, my eyes briefly trailing over his tall body, his wide shoulders that only a lifetime of ranch work can bring, his firm butt in those jeans.

Jesus. What is wrong with me?

I close my eyes briefly, trying to get a hold of myself. I immediately think about Samuel, my boyfriend back in Toronto. Smart, ambitious, determined Samuel. A million ways different from Shane, a million times better. Sure, we’ve only been dating for about eight months but it’s really going somewhere, I know it is, it has to.

Focusing on Samuel makes me feel better. For a while there I was starting to think I didn’t miss him as much as I should.

But then I’m getting in the truck, and it brings back so many memories that I half expect to find my bra behind the seat.

Luckily, my mother sits shotgun beside Shane, leaving me in the back seat, wishing I could shrink away. I’m good at that, pretending I’m not somewhere, trying not to take up space.

The truck rolls off down the highway while my mother talks nonstop. It doesn’t matter with Shane—he’s always been the silent type—but my mother isn’t normally this chatty either. My heart winces a bit as I’m hit with the realization that my mother is really lonely.

Ever since I landed at our tiny regional airport a few days ago and she met me there (again, she shouldn’t have been driving), she’s been talking to me like we are old friends. Because we’ve never been close, I was taken aback by it and just listened. But with her excitement over the dinner and the way she’s now blabbering on to Shane about the weather, I know for sure she’s literally all alone.

My mother doesn’t work. I thought she had a job at the library but she acts like she hasn’t had that for some time. Her apartment is in a state of disarray, dirty and messy and littered with cigarette butts. She honestly doesn’t have a soul except for me, and now she’s battling cancer. She’s acting like she’s fine and it’s no big deal, but of course it’s a big deal. It’s a fucking huge deal, no matter the stage of it.

My heart clenches. I can only hope Hank still loves his wine and whisky because I’m going to need a lot of it to get through all of these competing feelings that are bashing me on the side of the head. Even though we’ve never been close and my mother has burned me in so many ways, I still feel like shit that I haven’t been the best daughter.

And then of course there’s Shane, someone else who lit me on fire and left me high and dry. Two people who have had the biggest impact on my life and they’re both sitting right in front of me.

The rain doesn’t let up until we’ve crossed the bridge over the river and pulled into Ravenswood Ranch, the truck sloshing over mud-filled potholes as we head up the long drive.

It’s just as I remembered, and the nostalgia is getting more punishing by the second. To the right is the stable where I learned to ride, to the left is the big red barn where I watched Shane tattoo heifers and weigh bulls, where I spent many summers touching it up with coats of paint.

At the base of Cherry Peak, where the long, gradual slope of yellow grass and sagebrush turns to pine, is the main house, a sprawling old thing that always had a great deal of charm. Behind that, even though I can’t see them clearly from this angle and through the rain, should be the worker’s cottage and the guest house. Beyond that, in the folding fields and hills, are more ancient log barns and hay sheds and hidden places that contain a million memories.

It doesn’t look like a single thing has changed. I don’t know why I expected everything to be different, to look different and feel different. Maybe because in six years, everything about my own life has changed. But here…at Ravenswood Ranch, it’s like going back in a time machine.

And I’m not sure I like the results.

“We’re here,” Shane says, his voice jolting through me, and for a moment I have to wrestle with what year it is, who I am now. So many things aren’t jiving, especially being back here with him.

I find myself cursing my mother for not putting gas in the car, but in her condition who can blame her. Besides, it’s not her fault Shane is here. If anything, Hank was the one who assured me that Shane wouldn’t be here for dinner.

While my mother opens the door and starts to climb out, Shane briefly catches my eyes in the rearview mirror.

Beautiful golden brown, the color of strong tea, and brimming with intensity. Those eyes used to know me better than anyone.

He doesn’t know you anymore, I remind myself as I look away.

I climb out of the truck, the rain having stopped in the last few moments, and hear the loud, gruff voice of Hank as he opens the front door. “Well, looky here,” he says with a big smile. All my years here and I hadn’t known Hank to smile very often, so the fact that he genuinely looks pleased to see us throws me off. Hell, what isn’t throwing me off right now?