Chapter Eighteen
Macey
“Mace.”
At the gentle shaking of my shoulder, I open my eyes. I’m staring at the same thing I was looking at when I finally closed my eyes—the white walls and bright lights of the hospital waiting room. The antiseptic smell is in my nostrils, and I sneeze as I sit up straight.
Logan’s arm tightens around my waist, and I turn and look at him. Tousled dark hair, whiskey eyes fixed on me like nothing else could ever interest him as much—I’m a lucky girl.
I don’t mean to say those last four words out loud.
But I’m exhausted, defenseless, and what’s in my head comes right out of my careless mouth.
Logan’s eyes crinkle at the corners, but he doesn’t tease me like he normally would.
Instead, he tells me Daddy’s still stable, Mama and my siblings are home and asleep, and that we should do the same.
“You want to be strong for tomorrow,” he says.
He doesn’t say the wordsfor the intervention. He doesn’t have to.
I don’t tell him about the conversation I had with the town mayor over my cell phone as I paced the hospital halls. How he adamantly insisted that this was the last straw, how he’s “given your daddy endless chances, and every time, Macey, I swear, every darn time, he makes me regret it.” I especially don’t tell Logan how the only way I could get him to agree to let The Cowherd continue to serve liquor was by telling him I’d run the bar. And not just temporarily this time but for good. Forever.
I swallow down a scream as I process the reality of what this deal with the mayor means. It’s a decision that all but promises that my dream to break free of the family bar, to become a writer and follow my own path, is over for good.
I follow Logan numbly out of the ICU waiting room, down the long hallway, and into the elevators. We exit the hospital lobby, and Logan puts his hand on the small of my back as we make our way through the parking lot to his truck.
We stop at a twenty-four-hour burger joint and fill up on hamburgers, fries, and milkshakes.
And then, we drive. With the windows down and the gas pedal pushed to straining, we fly down the empty country roads.
I let the hot wind dry the few tears that surprise me enough to leave my eyes, and I silently pray.
I pray for my father and the sickness that controls him. I pray for my mama and my siblings. I even pray for The Cowherd, the place that’s always both plagued and anchored our family.
Logan slows the truck down before he pulls into the dark, secluded driveway of his cottage on the edge of Wild Ranch. He flicks off the engine and turns to me. “Did you make sure you also prayed for yourself?”
I look at him, startled. “I’m not the one who’s sick and hurting.”
“You may not be sick, but you’re sure as hell hurting. And starting tomorrow, everything’s going to change for you again at The Cowherd.”
“Right.” I don’t tell him things will be changing forever.
I don’t dare. Logan’s like a caveman when it comes to protecting me, especially regarding my father. And words can’t describe how grateful I am for his support each and every day. But because I know this, I also know that he would, no doubt, fight me on my decision, and he’d be in my corner so much I might be tempted to side with him. And I can’t. I can’t take my own side because my family has to come first.
In time, maybe I will have a chance to pursue my own dreams. But right now, I have to make sure I save my family.
Like he knows I’m done talking, Logan opens his truck door. “Let’s get some rest.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll fix up the couch, and you can take my room,” he says as I trail behind him up the walkway. “Hopefully, you can get a few hours of sleep in before the damn rooster wakes us. It’s like a deal with the devil having that bird so close to my cottage.”
He’s being a gentleman. But I don’t want a gentleman tonight.
I need this one last night of freedom. And I need it with Logan. Yes, we were just together last night. Yes, according to our rules, we technically shouldn’t be intimate again for a year. But the heat wave’s still going strong. I’ve had a shitty day. My family’s a mess. And my body, and heart, are weak.
As we pause outside the front door of his cottage, I reach for Logan’s hand from behind.
