With a final wistful look, Brandy and I crept out of the room.
I’d beaten Ryder andCash to the barn. Unsurprising. Ryder was always out closer to 5. Cash…well, I was lucky if Cash even made it out before 8 AM. I’d already finished throwing hay to the horses in the barn and gotten through cleaning all but one of the stalls when the clink of spurs and the scuff of boots pulled my gaze.
Well, I’ll be damned…
It wasn’t Ryder striding down the breezeway at a quarter past five, but Cash, looking bleary eyed and drinking a Monster. His light gaze met mine, his lips drawing into a scowl.
“What the hell are you doin’ up?” His voice held none of the lightheartedness he usually possessed. He sounded pissed.
Made sense.
He’d seen this before. Saw the toll it took on me and everyone in the Mooney family. Hell, he’d been the one who’d dealt with the brunt of it. Barely seven years old, bunking with a cousin who wouldn’t talk. He’d never admit it, but I’d caused him hell. I’d caused all of them hell…
And here I was, doing it again.
I blew out a breath and paused in my raking long enough to offer him a shrug.
“Go back to bed.” Not a request; a demand. “I got the rest of this.”
I shook my head, shrugging with upturned hands.
“Maverick, why you gotta be so stubborn?” His voice sounded about as weary as he looked. It wasn’t a look he wore well.
Guilt ate at me, but I still couldn’t find the words to ease his worries. When I was a kid, even before the fire, I could go days without talking. It was easier than saying something that could set Dad off. Not talking wasn’t that hard to do. It was pretty easy actually—almost like auto-pilot. I could do the motions, interact if I needed to. But I found that it was the easiest way to deal with the torrent of anxiety that lived within me.
I shrugged at Cash once more before finishing up raking the stall. Latching the door, I slipped into the breezeway. He bit his lip, running his tongue over his teeth like he always did when he wasannoyed. Ryder appeared then, saving me from whatever tirade Cash had been preparing.
“Sorry. Charlie was sick again,” Ryder said, adjusting his ball-cap as he came to a stop at Cash’s side.
“Ain’t she sick every mornin?” Cash asked.
“Yeah, that’s why they call it mornin’ sickness, dumbass.” Ryder’s tone was light though, the smirk on his face a welcome sight. At least someone was acting normal. Cash’s lips pulled up into an answering grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Ryder nodded at me, his smile falling. “I wasn’t expectin’ you up.”
I shrugged.
He seemed to get it, or maybe he didn’t, but he went on to ask, “You get the buckin’ horses fed yet?”
I shook my head.
“Alright, I’ll go throw ‘em a bale.” He nudged Cash. “You comin’?”
“Nah, I’ll stay back. Finish the rest of the stalls.”
I waved him off. I just had one more to do anyway.
Cash scowled at me. “Well, fine. You’re always bitchin’ about how I don’t do shit, but then when I offer to do it, you gotta be all valiant, so I may as well go fuck off.” He stormed out of the barn, murmuring curses to himself under his breath.
I pulled off my hat and blew out a sigh as I wiped the sweat off my brow. Pain blossomed and I winced. Fuck. I’d forgotten aboutthe eyebrow cut. It pulsed, but the pain was nothing compared to the regret I felt.
Ryder offered me an apologetic smile. “Hey, he’ll be alright. Last night just scared him. Scared us all.”
I nodded.
I wanted to say something, but again words failed me. Thank you just didn’t seem like an adequate response. It seemed hollow. Weak. Better to just say nothing at all. Ryder knew how much I appreciated him. He didn’t need words to know that.
He clapped me on the shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before strolling out of the barn. I made my way toward Betty’s stall, the last on the left—what can I say, I liked routine—when I heard the sound of rope hitting plastic.
