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“Sure thing, boss,” he says, turning and walking back into the barn. Emmett stands there staring at me as he drinks his coffee. He looks to the side when the ranch hand comes back out with the tack in his hand. “Let me help you,” he offers, tossing the saddle on her back as we strap it on her and bridle her. She moves a bit, not sure what is happening, as I put one foot in one of the stirrups before hoisting myself up on her.
She backs up five feet. “It’s okay, girl,” I say. “We’re just going for a walk. You’re going to like it.” I nudge her side a touch as she walks forward, heading to the edge of the property. She is scared to go into the forest, but I lean down. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her as she walks, and the branches snap under her hooves, I go down the trail where we take all the other horses. “See? I told you it would be fine,” I reassure her as we make our way back. “I won’t lie to you.”
I get off her when we get to the fence, walking her back to the barn. “She needs water,” I say, walking into the barn and going to her stall. “I’ll be back after dinner,” I tell her as she walks over to the pail where the water is.
I walk out of the stall, leaving her with one of the hands as he takes off her saddle. Walking to the next stall, I do it all over again, making sure all the horses get their exercise. By the time I walk the last horse in, the sun is setting and the only one left in the barn is Emmett. “Hey,” I say, walking with the horse to his stall, “everyone gone?”
“Yeah.” He leans back in his chair, his feet up on the desk. “Need help with him?”
“No,” I reply, and he takes his feet down and stands up.
“Then I’m going to get out of here.” He grabs his keys off the hook behind him. “A couple of us are going for a drink.” I turn my head to him. “Want to come with us?”
“No,” I snap, turning back and going to grab some fresh water. He just nods at me as he walks out.
I put the water down in the stall before making my way to my house. As I walk up the steps, I get angrier and angrier with every second that passes. “I have a date tonight.” I hear her voice as I step into the shower. The minute she said the words, it was like someone threw ice-cold water over my head, and the blood inside me also turned to ice. She got out of bed—which was a first. Usually, she waited for me to leave before she did that. And, apparently, she hated me so much she washed the sheets each time. When I saw her standing there in just her barely there lace panties, my mouth watered right away and my cock stirred in my pants, obviously not picking up on the fact it wasn’t the time. Every single step toward home, I got edgier and edgier.
Getting dressed and making my way to the kitchen, I check to see what I’m going to eat even though I have no appetite. I take out one of the prepared meals I ordered for the week, nuking it for a couple of minutes, grabbing a beer, and taking a pull of it. I swallow the food only because I know I need to get something inside me, then finish the beer and head out.
The minute I start making my way toward the path, I hear her voice in my head.
“I don’t know why I should care,but I do, and I don’t need you showing up here in case someone is here.”
I ball my hands into fists as I make it to her house, not even pretending that I’m not going there. I should just go to see Jennifer, but my head and my feet are not on the same page. My eyes find her house in the darkness, as I walk up the steps and sit down on the swing and wait for her. Which is the dumbest thing I think I could be doing. I should get the fuck out of here and not be waiting for her to come back from her fucking date.
Every single noise has me looking to the side to see if she’s home. My hands are on my knees as I think of every time we were together since she’s been back. I think of the fact that last night, she refused to look me in the eyes. I think of the fact that she washes her fucking sheets every single time we’ve been together. I think of the fact that every single night instead of getting dressed and getting the fuck out of there, I stay. I climbed into bed with her last night and then curled into her when she gave me her back. I shake my head, not wanting to acknowledge what is going on.
I push up to my feet, the swing moving back and forth as I walk to the back door and turn the handle, expecting it to be locked, but instead, it opens. I walk into her house. “Autumn,” I say her name, wondering if maybe something is wrong with her car and she’s already home, but no one is home. I close the door behind me and shake my head. “She left her fucking door unlocked,” I hiss out as I walk to her bedroom. My eyes do a sweep of the room to see that she made the bed already, not sure if she washed the sheets. I smell her perfume in the air, and I clench my teeth together, thinking about her getting ready for her date and putting it on for him.
Turning back toward the living room and sitting on her couch, I lock my eyes on the front door. Feeling so off-balance, I literally think I’m going to trash her whole house while I wait for her. The possessiveness in me feels so unnatural as my leg moves up and down, the nerves in me unbearable.
I hear the crunch of gravel and see the headlights shine into the house before they go off, and the sound of a car door closing. I wait to see if another one will close. But the only sound is the one of her walking up the front steps and then the key going into the lock before the door opens and shuts right behind her.
She takes two steps into the house, putting her purse on the table, not even noticing I’m here. She makes her way to her bedroom when she looks over at me, and yells as she jumps back, putting her hand on her chest. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she hisses, “you scared the shit out of me.”
I take her in, wearing a pair of green shorts that show off way too much leg, with a tight white T-shirt that falls just above the waist, showing off her stomach. Her hair looks ruffled, and that just pushes me off the edge. I fly off the couch. “Did you fuck him?” My voice is lethal as I cut the distance to her, close enough I can smell her. Close enough to make me lose what little control I have left. “Did you fuck him?” I roar out, my head moving toward her, and two things happen at the same time. One, her body shakes in front of me, shaking so much it’s a wonder she’s even standing. At the same time, she turns her head to the side, closing her eyes as if she’s shielding herself from me, as her hands come up to protect her face. The action makes me take a step back, my heart feeling like it’s going to come out of my stomach. “Did you think I was going to hit you?” My hand shakes that she would think that. I’m a lot of things, I know I am, but I would never, ever hit her.
Her hands go down as she opens her eyes, and her head turns back to look at me. I can see the fear written all over her face, and I’m expecting the worst answer. I’m not expecting the answer to knock me right to my core. “Wouldn’t be the first time a man put his hands on me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Autumn
I stand here in the dark, shaking like a leaf on a windy day when the storm is rolling in. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would come home and find him waiting for me. The anger rolling off him like I’ve never seen before, and I’ve seen him be fucking angry. “Did you fuck him?” He gets off the couch and makes his way to me. Standing in front of me, his body tight, his face comes so close to mine that I can feel him breathing on me when he roars out, “Did you fuck him?” On reflex, I turn my head to the side and hold up my hands, waiting for something to happen. My eyes are shut tight for a couple of seconds when he whispers, his voice cracking, “Did you think I was going to hit you?”
My hands go down as I open my eyes, and my head turns back to look at him. My heart pounds in my chest so hard it’s a miracle I’m not having a heart attack. There is anguish on his face as he asks me the question, but is he ready for the answer I’m about to give him? Am I ready for what is to come next? “Wouldn’t be the first time a man put his hands on me.”
His face pales as he takes a step back, as if I just struck him. “What the fuck?” His words are a whisper.
I don’t even notice the shaking has not stopped. I don’t realize anything standing here in front of this man who has made it a living hell for me for the past eight years. The man who hurt my soul, he just didn’t pick up his hand to do it. He did it with his words and by turning his back on me. “Shocked?” I ask him, my shoulders going back as I stand in front of him. The man who was kind, who was caring, who if I was having a bad day would go out of his way to make me smile. The man who will never see me as anything other than the woman who ruined his life. He just stares at me, his eyes moving back and forth, his mouth still open in shock. “The first time Waylon hit me was in this room.” I can’t believe I’m telling him this secret, a secret I’ve buried deep inside me. “It was after we had dinner at one of his parents’ fundraisers. Apparently, I wasn’t enthusiastic enough. He grabbed my arm so tight and twisted it, I thought it was going to pop out of its socket.”
“Autumn.” His hands go to his hair, and he pulls it in his own hands.
“He blamed it on the alcohol, saying that he was drunk.” I shrug. “I was naive. What could I do?” I’m not asking him to answer this question since I’ve been asking myself this for the last eight years. “He was Waylon Cartwright, his parents were the most influential people of the town, and I was the daughter of a widower, who was running a family business that was successful, but we were not Cartwrights.” I swallow down the bile that wants to come up, but I’m doing this. “You were right,” I say softly, “I didn’t kill them but, in the end, it’s because of me they died.” The air in the room goes still. “That night, the night of the accident.” I watch his face, like stone. “I asked him to open the door to the cabin so I could go to the bathroom. He was already agitated because of the fight he was having with his parents about him not doing anything with his life. And, of course, I was to blame for this since I was working with my brother and father. Again, I was making him look bad. He followed me into the bathroom, and I looked at him and begged him not to drive. Told him I would drive.” The scene plays over in my head. “He told me to shut the fuck up, no one was asking me. He took my head in his hand.” I hold the side of my head he gripped. “Fisted my hair in his hand, and then proceeded to knock it against the wall”—my hand drops from one side as the other one comes up to touch the place where I had the stitches—“so hard that I felt the burn as the skin tore open. I knew I would need to go to the doctor. I also knew I would have to come up with another story about it. I also knew that was the last time he would ever put his hands on me.” Charlie puts his hands on his knees as he hisses out, his breathing coming as if he just sprinted five miles without stopping. “I don’t think he would have fought me on it since the sex had dried up, as he said. Obviously, then he told me he didn’t know why he put up with me since I wasn’t even good at fucking. Which is also why he was constantly going on trips with his brother, so he could get his frustration out.”
Charlie stands up. “Autumn.” His face ravaged, his voice breaking, but I’m too far gone to stop.
“So I wasn’t driving that truck, but I also should have said something to you, to Jennifer, to anyone. I should have done what was the right thing to do. For that, I will forever live with the guilt that I lived and she didn’t. Not him, he got what he deserved. But I should have saved her. I should have been the one sitting next to him. You would have kept her safe.” He takes a step to me, and I hold up my hand. “But just so you know, I died that night also. I’m breathing, but inside I’m dead. There is nothing left for you to destroy.” I thought his face was ravaged before, but I was wrong. “I took your verbal punches over and over again, just like I did with Waylon. Unlike with him, I guess I deserve yours.”
