Page 14 of Love Me Again

Nearly two years. How could he cut open everything she’d convinced herself she’d healed from, so she felt like yet another aching wound on top of grief?

She went into the cozy little bedroom. She made the bed with the sheets and comforter Molly had told her were in the closet. Then she crawled in.

She was exhausted, wrung out in so many different ways. Of course, that had been true the past six months, and still sleep had been an elusive thing.

Not tonight. She cried herself to sleep.

But once she was asleep, she stayed that way.

CHAPTER 6

Boone had come home to Gracely and the Tyler Ranch nearly two years ago. He’d still been recovering from the bull trampling. He’d been broken physically, sure, but he’d also been heartbroken and wouldn’t admit it, even to himself.

He’d leaned hard into his vices at first. He’d leaned hard into being an ass because it was always how he got through great disappointment.

But a lot had happened over the course of that summer. Cora and Micah had entered their lives. A surprising addition to the Tyler ranch.

Boone liked to give Micah being underfoot a lot of credit, because it was easier to admit wanting to be a role model for the kid had changed him, than accept that watching his brothers and baby sister figure out their lives had been eye opening.

The fact Molly and him were the losers even more so. Because his older sister was not a loser. But he knew she felt like one. Just like him.

So, for all those reasons and probably a few more, he’d mostly stopped drinking this year. He’d recognized alcohol was a crutch, and a self-pitying one at that, and not a good example for the teenager now living on this ranch.

Besides, he was trying to get out of the habit of doing things because he wanted to piss Shane or anyone else off. He was trying to learn a lesson that he should be his own motivation. Not his family’s reactions.

Tonight’s drinking was certainly because he wanted to, not because he wanted to make anyone mad. He wanted oblivion and thought he might even deserve it tonight.

He went to the barn, to the little room in the back that had once been his dad’s office. Boone had never been able to picture his father out here. Whatever fuzzy memories he had of Owen Tyler existed at the house or in the yard. And while Boone knew from pictures Shane didn’t look exactly like their dad had, in Boone’s memories Dad tended to take the shape of Shane.

Which did not help the mood he was in any.

Over the years, his siblings had often commandeered furniture mom was getting rid of to put out in this room. When they’d been younger, they’d had sibling meetings out here. He’d snuck his first beer in here with Molly. He’d fought with Shane more times than he could count. In high school, he’d talked the occasional girl onto a couch that had once been in the corner.

Shane had gotten rid of it once he’d known what his younger siblings were up to on it.

That almost made Boone laugh. Poor Shane, always trying to keep them on the straight and narrow. Boone shook his head, moving for a cabinet that now had a lock on it. With Micah living on the property, and one smart, sneaky son of a gun—God bless him—Shane had insisted any alcohol out here be hidden and locked up.

So Boone unlocked cabinet, moved all the cleaning supplies out of the way, and then dug out a bottle of whiskey he’d had hidden out here for nearly a year now. He settled himself into the armchair that had once been in his dad’s inside office and was usually Gavin’s chair, twisted the top off, and took a good, long swig.

Maybe he wasn’t surprised someone would come searching for him. Maybe he wasn’t even surprised it was Shane.

“Don’t you have a pregnant wife to be slobbering over?” Boone wasn’t even tipsy yet, so he took another big gulp.

“I do. And said wife is worried about your sorry ass.”

Shane crossed to where Boone sat. Boone expected Shane to take the bottle out of his hands and dump it out in the utility sink.

Probably for the best.

Instead, when he took the bottle from Boone’s grasp, he lifted it to his own mouth. And drank.

Boone’s jaw dropped open. “You okay?”

“There’s practically a blizzard outside and my wife is due to have our first baby in less than three weeks. No, I am not okay.” Shane handed the bottle back to Boone, settled himself on his chair that had once been part of their family kitchen table set. “But I’m better off than you.”

“No shit.” Boone frowned as he heard voices, the stomping of feet, then Gavin and Molly appearing.

“What the hell are you all doing here? Isn’t anybody aware there’s a blizzard happening?”