Lonesome Cowboy (Honky Tonk Hearts) (3 page)

Maybe Marshall hated her for what she’d done, maybe he would never forgive her and she would never have closure where he was concerned, but he was here now, and that thought was the only thing keeping her from totally freaking out as the need to push forced all other thoughts from her mind.

Chapter Three

Flashing lights disappeared like shooting stars down the darkened highway. Only when he pulled his gaze away did Marshall notice his hand still outstretched toward the vanishing ambulance. Amy’s haunting, desperate grip still burned his palm.

In the last forty minutes, the life that should have been his flashed before his eyes: Amy, children, a small inn on the edge of town…

His hand trembled and he let it drop, heavy, just like his heart. Numb, his legs felt like sludge as he stood there with too much in his head to formulate a coherent thought.

A firm hand clasped his shoulder. Slow as molasses, Marshall forced his chin to turn through the muddy numbness.

The Lonesome Steer’s neon lights flickered above as Gus’s understanding gaze nodded toward the double doors. “Come on, son. I bet you could use a drink ’bout now.”

Obediently following the slight tug, he trailed behind the old man back into the honky tonk.

Keira sent him a sympathetic smile from behind the bar as they passed. He tried to wave a hand in thanks, but it remained heavy at his side.

Though Gus aimed him at the first office in the back, his gaze couldn’t help roaming down the hall to the other door where the most miraculous thing had just happened. Funny how he’d been a part of it…but not a
part
of it…

Marshall shook his head and dropped into the tattered leather seat across from Gus’s desk. The longtime bartender set two glasses on the worn oak top and then bent to a drawer on the left side. A bottle of burnished liquid appeared beside the glasses, and the ancient office chair creaked when Gus bent forward.

“I save this for when it’s needed most…and if this isn’t one of those moments, then I don’t know what is.” His mustache twitched up as he poured two fingers in a glass and slid it across the tabletop. “You did good, son.”

Marshall reached for the whiskey, swigging it all back in one go, and choking on the heat for his stupidity.

Good?
He’d been terrified out of his mind. The second he heard Amy’s cry behind him, his heart seized and pure instinct took over. There’d been no thought of the past few minutes or the past few years—she needed him, and he
had
to be there.

Still, when he’d discovered she was pregnant, everything froze; he didn’t even think he breathed there for a few minutes.

Amy, pregnant. With another man’s child.
It was all just…wrong.

He dropped his head to the back of the leather chair, squeezing his eyes shut. “That should have been my kid, Gus.” Beneath his Stetson, he rubbed his lids with the heel of his hands.
Should have been
my
child.

“Wanna talk about it?”

A small snort escaped the tight line of his lips. “No.”

He dropped his hands, opened his eyes, and stared at the water stains on the ceiling from years past when a storm had nearly taken off the roof. A raging storm; that was something he could relate to right now. Raging, blowing, swirling storm of emotions that threatened to rip him apart just like the roof.

When he dropped his chin to his chest, he found Gus just sitting there, sipping his whiskey. A finger whittled away at the end of his salt-and-pepper mustache.

Marshall tilted the corner of his lip, knowing the old man would simply sit there, no more questions asked. He leaned forward, pushing his glass across the desk for another hit. “It was that season I finally won the circuit finals, the last time I competed.”

“I figured that.” Gus’s mustache twitched as he splashed another two fingers into Marshall’s glass. “You were happier than a pig in muck when you called to say you wouldn’t be back to the honky tonk for a bit. Then meaner than Chase’s prize bull for weeks after you did get home. Only a woman can do that to a man.”

This time Marshall simply stared into the liquid like a portal to the past.

“I thought she was it Gus.
The One
.” He swirled the whisky around, his memories spinning along with them. “Amy managed this inn on the outskirts of Fort Worth. Smart, funny…God, I could’ve just sat and listened to her talk all day about nothing.” The liquid hit his tongue and he welcomed the burn all the way down his throat, his voice coming out a bit scratchy with the effects. “But I was the outsider, and had a bit of competition with a local lawyer. Still, I thought she’d chosen me.” He fell back in the seat again. “Hell, we spent every moment together. I wanted her, Gus, no other word for it. But I wanted to do right by her too. So, I kissed her sweet lips and got back on the circuit with the goal to win big enough to get us started. I thought if I did, she’d know that I was serious, and worth something. That I could work just as hard as any lawyer and provide a good life for her…for us.”

He’d had it all worked out, the perfect woman, the perfect life…

“Five months I spent on the road thinking about Amy every night, every minute I wasn’t on the back of a bull, trying to call her when I could. And I accomplished everything I set out to do, broke some records and won the whole damn thing.” He raised his glass in salute, slugged back the whisky and set the glass on the desk a little harder than he meant to. “Found us a place, and got a pretty little ring…” His eyes clenched shut, the next images stabbing him like knife blades. “But when I got back…she already had one on, a
big
one…and the white dress and everything.” He forced his eyes open, his teeth biting into his lip set in a wry grin. “Yep, came back on her freakin’ wedding day, and she looked just as beautiful as I’d imagined…except it wasn’t
me
she was marrying.”

The distant murmur of the honky tonk patrons was like white noise closing in the walls of the small wood-paneled room.

“The lawyer I take it?”

Marshall could only scoff, disgusted at himself, at her and the horrible moments grinding his gut as strongly as they had that day. The image of Amy in the elegant white gown was burned into his memory like a tattoo on his brain. She’d been so beautiful, like an angel…

He shook the thought away. Beautiful or not, there’d been no excuse for what she had done to him. “Yep, guess she didn’t want me after all. Must’ve figured classy Hank could give her the good life more than I could.”

“That what she said?”

He glanced up at the serious silver gaze aimed his way.

“What do you mean?”

The chair creaked as Gus leaned back and kicked a boot up onto the desk. “What did she say when you showed up at the weddin’?”

Marshall didn’t want to think about that day anymore and shrugged a shoulder. “Her face said it all. You should have seen the guilt riding those pretty hazel eyes.” The flash of the chandelier lights glinting off the sheen of tears as she ran toward him. He couldn’t look at her anymore and had turned and walked out, thrusting her hand off his arm as he stormed back to his truck, and came home. And this was where he’d stayed, no longer even interested in going back on the circuit because it all reminded him of her and the future that would never be.

A long silence stretched as he stared at the empty glass. Had tonight even happened? Had Amy been real or just a figment of his imagination? He turned his hand over, staring at the red slice where she’d marked him when her nails dug into his hand just as the baby met the world.

A baby. Amy.

Thank God the paramedics showed up when they did. He didn’t think he’d ever been so scared for anyone in his whole life. And after, she’d looked at him with the most amazing, awestruck smile. Almost the same expression as…as the night he’d told her he loved her. The night before he returned to the circuit.

Had that been his mistake? He’d be lying if he didn’t admit the thought snuck into his mind a number of times over the last couple years, but what else could he have done? He had to leave, needed to prove to her that he could take care of her, that he was worthy of her trust in him…

A trust that obviously hadn’t been there to begin with.

“What are you going to do now?”

Gus’s quiet question made him drop his chin back to his chest and shake his head. “Nothing.”

With a slow, calculated movement, Gus set his glass on the desk and glanced to the board on the wall next to him. Marshall followed his gaze then turned away, not wanting to stare at the multitude of couples smiling back.

“Maybe you’re right. She’s got a new baby and a husband somewhere waiting for her.”

“No, Hank’s dead. Couldn’t have been too long ago though.” He’d been a little taken aback when she’d introduced herself to Keira as Amy
McGill
—had she not taken Hank’s name? Or had she gone back to her maiden name after he died?

“Poor thing. Won’t be easy for her then. Alone with a wee babe and all.”

He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “She’s got a cousin up in Redemption. She’ll be fine.” He didn’t want to know if he was convincing Gus…or himself.

“I’m sure you’re right.” His mentor’s head nodded then settled in a puzzled tilt. “Wonder why she came here tonight?”

Marshall wasn’t stupid; he’d seen Gus work his musings before and shook his head. “Don’t even think it, old man. She came to apologize, looking for her own redemption. Clear the past…and why now? Obviously because of the kid.”

“Well, she sure has enough on her plate. Good thing you forgave her then.”

His brows pulled together and he tugged the rim of his Stetson down.

“Marshall? You gave her the redemption she wanted, right? Let bygones be bygones? Closure and all that stuff?”

The tick in his jaw grew strained, and the only answer he could give was a small shake of his head.

Gus’s weathered fingers twirled the corner of his handlebar mustache again, the expression in his steel gaze saying it all—
You’re an idiot
.

Marshall folded his arms across his chest and hunkered down further in the chair. Why was
he
the idiot? He’d loved her with all his being, went out to prove himself for her, to raise money to start their life together, got the ring and even bought her a damn—

No
, Amy was the one who threw his love into the dirt and married another man.

How did that make
him
the idiot?

Chapter Four

“What an idiot!”

Amy shook her head at her cousin’s outburst, and leaned forward in the hospital bed to rake the damp tissue over her eyes as another bout of tears started. “No. It’s not his fault. I never knew. Oh God, Andee. I never knew.”

Her cousin was on her bedside in a flash, grabbing her into a hug. “I don’t understand, sweetie. Never knew what?”

Amy’s gaze held on the hospital bassinet near the other side of the bed. A pink knitted cap cradled her new daughter’s tiny head, below which little bow lips worked in small suckling motions. An overwhelming fullness of love and thankfulness expanded her chest and started a new well of tears of confusion and loss. Marshall’s words hadn’t clicked in until after the drama had ended, her baby was sleeping safe and sound, and she had time to replay the moments of the night.

“I never heard a word from him…weeks,
months
went by…a-and then Mom died and…I was all alone…and Hank had been good to me, at least back then.” She pulled away and swiped at her eyes yet again. Everyone had warned her of the baby blues, teary sessions that came not long after childbirth, but
come on
.

“He knew I didn’t love him, but he said he just wanted to take care of me.” Her hands flew up in exasperation. “God, Andee, I was so alone. Marshall never called, never came back, Mom died, you were hundreds of miles away. I felt like everyone had abandoned me so yeah, I said yes to someone who wanted me…” She covered her swollen eyes in despair. “But if I had known…if I had only known…”

Gentle fingers pulled her hands from her eyes. Her cousin’s short red hair bobbed as she tilted her head, her expression both amused and confused. “Known what?”

The pillow whooshed beneath her as Amy slammed against the upraised back of the utilitarian bed. “Last night,” she forced out. “Marshall said…he said he’d had a ring in his p-pocket.” The last word broke on a sob, just as quickly, another broke free on a surge of anger. “A
ring
, Andee! How could he not have told me, how could he not have contacted me in
five months
if he was in love…if he wanted to m-marry me…how was I to know?”

How could Marshall do that to her? She’d waited by the damn phone for weeks,
months
until her mother and everyone convinced her that she was just the leftovers of another rodeo cowboy. Her heart had been crushed, broken, and scattered on the dust. And it became harder and harder to convince them they were wrong when he never called; when he’d deserted her, just like they said.

Then her mother died suddenly, and her whole world fell into a void. And unlike Marshall, Hank had been there.

A new sadness swept over her. That was one ghost she had purged from her closet, accepted the blame for her faults in the marriage and made her peace with it all, but that didn’t make it right.