The baby crib came into view, the familiar gray wood easing some of my worry.The nursery.But why was the sun up?
I glanced to the alarm clock and cursed. 6:57 AM.
What the hell? How had I slept in so long? My body was so used to 3 AM that I hadn’t needed an alarm in years.
I thought of everything that’d happened last night. The adrenaline. The fury. The guilt. The pain of reliving my past. I guess if you looked at it like that, it made sense I’d slept in. But still… Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I made my way through the house.
I wouldn’t let myself dwell on what had happened last night. I wished I could say that my talk with Chey made me feel lighter, happier, but truth was, it hadn’t. My past didn’t justify my actions. What I’d done wasn’t okay. It never would be. And I’d have to livewith that now… But at least now someone knew all of the broken, cracked, and ugly parts of me. Maybe now, I could start to heal.
I wondered where Cheyenne was. Maybe she’d fed and cleaned? A wave of guilt trickled to life in my chest. She shouldn’t have to do that. Not with how pregnant she was. I swear, any day she was gonna pop.
She must’ve still been out in the barn, because she and Brandy weren’t anywhere in the house. I pressed the button on the coffee maker, wondering why she hadn’t started it yet. She was always making a pot of decaf first thing in the morning—leaving all the remnants on the counter because she’d forgotten to put all the stuff away. Frowning, I made my way into the room. I needed to hurry. We had a jackpot roping today. The Hill Country Classic to be exact. The bane of my existence, more like. It was the one fuckin’ event in Texas Cash and I hadn’t won at least once.
Today would be the day… unless I didn’t get a move on.
Coming to a stop before the dresser, I noticed a piece of paper with my name scrawled across the front in pretty, neat handwriting. Fear skittered down my spine, the crushing weight settling over me making my limbs heavy. My lungs felt tight, labored, as I slowly reached for the note.
My fingers fumbled with trying to unfold it once. Twice. My eyes scanned over the words with the third try.
Maverick,
I want to start off by telling you that I am so sorry. I’m so sorry that you have gone through countless traumas…so much hurt and pain and horror. I am in awe of your strength, your courage, and your fierce ability to do good. You are such an amazing man who deserves nothing but happiness.
Which is why I have to leave…
Nate’s coming after me. He threatened me again, and I don’t want to cause you more pain by dragging you into the mix. Last night… The Fire. They’re all my fault. I keep hurting you, and even though it isn’t intentional, the damage can’t be undone.
I love you, Maverick. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never cared enough about a person to want to settle down, to stay in one place. I wanted that with you, but Nate isn’t going to stop, and I can’t stand by and let you fight my battles for me.
You deserve… Well, you deserve to have someone who only brings you happiness. Who makes you smile and adds light to your world. Someone better than me. You deserve someone as good and kind and wonderful as you, and we both know I am not that, nor have I ever been.
I wish this letter could make you angry enough to hate me, but you aren’t built like that, Mav. Maybe time and distance will ease the hurt. I know that this is shitty and cowardly of me, but it was the only way.
Please don’t come after me. Please move on.
-Cheyenne
My legs gave out, my kneecaps cracking against the polished concrete floors. But I didn’t feel it, not as the crushing weight of despair filled my lungs and drowned me.
Which is why I have to leave.
Gone? She was gone?
No. No…she couldn’t. I’d bared my soul to her. I’d told her all the deepest darkest parts of me and she’d kissed my tears away. She’d held me. She’d loved me. She couldn’t be gone.
I needed her. I needed her to bring the light she’d talked about in her letter back. She was the sun to me. She was it. Did she realize all she’d done for me? How much she’d helped me these past months? How could she think she wasn’t enough?
I should never have told her about my past. Not right after the whole fight with Nate. I’d scared her. Pushed her too far. Spooked her like if you moved too quickly with one of the babies. I’d been so focused on the progress we’d made that I forgot her flighty nature.
And now she was gone… because of me.
Despite the crushing weight of my sorrow, I stood, opening the drawers of my dresser. All of her clothes were gone. Racing through the house, I wrenched open the front door. Her truck was gone too.
No. No. No. No. No. No.
My lungs seared as I tried and failed to get air down my throat. Rage—pure, undiluted, unrelenting rage trembled to life in me, so violently my limbs vibrated from it. Fisting my hands so hard that I cracked open the scabs forming from the night before, Iturned and punched the wooden column on the front porch. Pain bloomed, spiderwebbing up through my knuckles and into my wrist. The crunch of broken bone filled my ears. But the physical pain was a welcome reprieve from what I felt in my heart.
Please don’t come after me.
