Page 61 of Claimed By the Cowboys

And I don’t think I can go another day without them in my life.

Chapter 33

Bo

I’ve been worrying all day about Naomi and Brandy. The message Jensen sent last night still sits unanswered. I’ve checked my phone more times than I care to admit. Every hour that passes without a reply leaves me more frustrated.

I thought about driving past the hospital this morning, but I already knew they wouldn’t tell me anything. I’m not family.

I considered driving past Brandy’s house to see if her car was outside so that I’d know if she made it home. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. If she really doesn’t want us, we need to accept it. We’ve done all we can. Pushing further when she’s already shoved me away once would only make things worse.

Claire left this morning with the boys. The house is empty and lifeless without them. The sound of small feet running across the floorboards and laughter echoing off the walls brought so much joy to the place. The warmth of family packed up and drove away, and what’s left is the quiet and the low ache of wanting more.

Jensen and I are working to repair a stretch of fence along the north pasture, but neither of us can muster up conversation beyond the minimum needed to pass tools back and forth. There’s not much left to say that we haven’t already turned over a hundred times.

The sun is high and hot, and sweat runs down my back.

When the rumble of an engine cuts through the quiet, we both turn. Even from a distance, I recognize the shape of it.

I’m in the saddle before I’ve fully decided to move. Jensen is already swinging onto his own horse with a tight expression that reflects his own hope and fear. We ride hard toward the approaching vehicle, leaving dust rising behind us.

Brandy’s car slows and stops near the house. The door opens, and she steps out.

She’s crying.

We’re off the horses before the engine has fully settled. I reach her first. Jensen is half a second behind me. We pull her into us without words, with my arms around her back, his around her shoulders, both of us holding on like she might disappear if we let go.

She’s saying sorry over and over, and the words sound broken and wet against my shirt.

“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—I saw your sister at the washing line, and I assumed—God, I assumed the worst—I thought you’d found someone else—I feel terrible for not asking—for not saying anything—for disappearing—I’m sorry—”

I cup the back of her head and press my mouth to her hair, breathing her in. So that’s what the absence was all about. A misunderstanding. Relief is a river of cool calm that runs through me so fast, I struggle to catch my breath.

“Hey. Hey. It’s all right.” Jensen’s hand strokes down her spine. “We’ve got you, darlin’. You’re here. That’s what matters.”

Brandy keeps crying and apologizing, and we hold her between us in the middle of the dusty yard while the horses shift and the afternoon sun beats down. She’s back in our arms, and for the first time in a week, the hollow place in my chest starts to fill again.

It takes her a couple of minutes to calm down, and then she pulls away, swiping her wet cheeks and adjusting her braids so they rest over her shoulders, putting herself back together. I brace for her to say ‘this has to end’ or something similar. I brace for the worst, so when she says, “I can’t do this anymore,” I’m not surprised.

Jensen looks like he might argue, but I fix him with a look that says, ‘leave it,’ and he does. We have to give her the space to say what she truly feels.

She stares at the house and then closes her eyes. “You know my life isn’t simple.” The sigh that follows that sentence is weighted and long. “You know my family has expectations.”

We do know, as hard as it is for us to accept.

“And for a long time, I thought that I would never find a man who could make me happy and accept everything that comes with loving me.”

She opens her eyes and looks between Jensen and me, as fresh tears spill. “But then I found two men who did just that, and all I’ve done is take you for granted.”

“No,” Jensen says. “That isn’t what you’ve done. You found a way to let us in; despite the pressure and the war you were fighting with yourself.”

“All I think about is you,” she says. “My dreams are filled with you both. My body aches for yours. My smiles are all tied to caring for you… to loving you.”

My heart skips a beat. Love. She really said that?

“And I can’t fight it anymore. I’m too tired to hold back.”

“Then stop,” I say, cupping her face and brushing away her tears. “It’s that simple.”