Unbroken (2 page)

Amber Jameson had been there for every-damn-thing.

“Beer me,” he said once she had the bottles in hand.

“Try again. I don't speak frat bro.”

“Amber,” he said, giving her his very best plaintive look.

“Fine. I pity you. Drown your sorrows in the way society has dictated men ought. Much healthier than expressing genuine emotion.”

“Can I interest you in a friendly game of pool wherein I use your sad, pathetic skills at stick-handling to make me feel more like a man?”

She arched a brow. “Sure, honey, if you think hitting balls into a pocket will make you feel more like a man.”

“I do,” he said, getting up from the bar and heading to the table.

Amber picked up a cue and started chalking the end. “Your balls are mine, Mitchell,” she said, the light in her eyes utterly wicked.

“Whose balls haven't been yours?”

That taunt didn't come from Cade's mouth, and it had him on edge instantly.

Mike Steele. Standard Grade A douche who worked at the mill. They'd all gone to high school together, but he'd never been too big of an ass. He was drunk tonight though, and hanging out with two other guys from high school who fell on the wrong side of the jerk spectrum.

And for some reason, they were interested in letting their asswipe flags fly tonight.

Cade opened his mouth to tell them to back down, but Amber had already whirled around, the end of the pool cue smacking sharply on the floor, the tip held up by her face.

“Can I help you, Mike?” she asked.

“Just saying, is all,” he said, his words slurred.

“Maybe you should just say a little clearer,” she said, “because I didn't quite take your meaning.”

“He's just sayin',” douche number two said, “you're like the town mare. We've all had a ride.”

Cade saw red. Death and destruction flashed before his eyes, but Amber barely blinked.

“Come on now,” Amber said, her tone completely cool, “official rules say there's no score if the cowboy can't stay on for a full eight seconds. And if I recall right . . . you didn't.”

“You stupid slut—”

And then Cade did step in, his fist connecting with the side of the other man's jaw. And damn, it felt good. He hadn't punched anyone since . . . well, since he'd broken his brother-in-law's nose a year ago.

He was worried the other two goons might round on him, but they were too drunk to maintain a thought that went in a straight line, so they didn't seem to key in to the fact that Cade had just laid their buddy out flat.

“Hey!” Allen, the bartender, shouted. “Cade, could you not bust faces in my bar?”

“Tell these assholes not to run their misogynistic mouths in your bar.” He looked around at all the people who were staring at him, agape. “Yeah. Ten-dollar word, I just raised the IQ of the entire room,” Cade shouted.

“Oh, Cade, for heaven's sake,” Amber said. “Knock it off.”

“He said—”

“Like I haven't heard it before?”

“I'm not going to listen to it.”

“There's no point. And I don't need you to step in and save me. I just wanted to play pool. Now you punched him and we have to go so he doesn't call the cops on you.”

“I know the cops.”

“So what? Now I'm a spectacle, so thanks.”

“Are you . . . are you pissed at me for punching a guy who called you a—”

“Yes! I am pissed at you! Outside,” she said. “Now.”

They walked out the swinging front door of the bar and into the dirt and gravel parking lot. Dust hung in the air, clinging to the smell of hose water and hay, all mingling together to create their own unique scent of summer.

“What did I do? He was the one—”

She turned to face him, her cheeks red, her blue eyes glittering. “He's not worth it. He's got half a brain and a tiny peen. And all you needed to do was just let it go. I don't need attention called to shit like that, Cade.”

“What do you mean ‘shit like that'? As in, it happens frequently?”

“Yes.”

“I've never . . .”

“Because they're normally too sober to do it in front of you. Why do you think I have no friends other than you?”

“Because I'm all you need?” he asked, knowing full well that wasn't true.

“Because I came into town with a bang, no pun intended, sixteen years ago, and no one can forget it. Because a lot of the guys from high school and I . . . and now as far as the women are concerned, I'm that skank their husband screwed under the bleachers during free period.”

The blood was pounding in his ears, his heart racing. “I don't think of you that way.”

“I know. But I didn't have sex with your husband.”

A laugh rushed out of him, awkward and angry. “Obviously that will never be a problem I have with you. And it's not like you slept with their husbands after they were married.”

“Granted. But it doesn't seem to matter.”

“Who cares about that high school BS, anyway?”

“Everyone,” she said. “Everyone but you. Which is why we're friends.”

“I did a lot of stupid things in high school. Nobody gives me crap.”

“That's because you were never naked with them. Guys are dumb about that stuff,” she said, the lines around her mouth curving downward. “Anyway, it doesn't matter, Cade.”

“It does.”

“No. It doesn't. And don't go punching people for me anymore.”

“Come on . . . you liked it a little.”

The previously noted grooves at the corners of her lips turned up a bit. “Fine. A little bit. But only because he
so
had it coming.”

“He really did.”

“I wonder if any of your former flames are going to come up and accuse you of being a man-whore.”

“Nah,” he said, “they won't. But only because they don't want anyone to know they slept with me. That guy's just pissed cuz he's not going there again.”

“I'm going to go ahead and take that as a compliment.”

“I would never mean it as anything else.”

“I know,” she said, looking down at her thumbnail. “I'm not the same person I was then.”

“Sure you are. You're just more emotionally well-adjusted.”

That earned him a smile. “Is that what you call this? Shooting pool, drinking beer, bar fights?”

“If it's not well-adjusted then we're both screwed.”

“I think we're screwed.”

“Good thing we're screwed together then.” He slung his arm over her shoulder and they started walking back to her truck, the gravel shifting underneath his boots with each step.

“I guess so.” She pulled away from him and rounded to the driver's side, climbing up inside the cab and turning the engine over.

He got in behind her, slowly. Pissed that just climbing into a truck made him conscious of his limitations. Made him see the bad kind of stars—not the orgasmic kind, but lightning bolts of pain shooting up his thigh and crawling up his back, stabbing right at the center of his spine.

He settled into the seat and let out a long breath. For a second there he'd felt ten foot tall and bulletproof, punching that jackass in the face.

He didn't want to know what that said about him. But maybe it didn't matter, since he was back to feeling roughly six foot three and vulnerable to being trampled on by a horse.

Which he was.

He held on to the handle just above the passenger window and leaned out, shutting the heavy truck door.

“Do you feel like a man now?” she asked, maneuvering the truck out of the lot and onto the cracked two-lane road that led back to Elk Haven Stables.

“I'm riding bitch in your Ford, how much of a man could I possibly feel like?”

“Would you like me to throw you a raw steak when we get back to your place?”

“No. Tuck me in and read me a bedtime story.”

“Aw, poor baby.” She leaned over and put her hand on his thigh. Second time that night. Weird, but he seemed to be keeping a ticker on “number of times her fingers come into contact with him” that evening.

“She's married and off on her honeymoon,” he said, resting his elbow out the truck window.

“Yeah. What do you think they're doing right now?”

He whipped his head around to face her. “Playing Scrabble.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

He had no frickin' idea what the kids were calling it these days. He hadn't had it for four years. Four.
Years.
He half expected the League of Men to come and confiscate his dick after so much time off.

He grimaced. His thoughts had taken an unsanctioned turn. He didn't like to think about his celibacy. His sister on her honeymoon was honestly preferable.

“Word games. In flannel pajamas,” he growled.

“Fine, Cade, whatever works for you.” She cleared her throat. “I bet Quinn got a triple word score.”

“No!” he said. “I punched a guy for you; don't torment me.”

“You deserve it. You've given her enough hell.”

“I have not,” he said. “I've been a steadying and wonderful influence. Godlike, in many ways.”

“In what ways?”

“I have to think of examples.”

“No, I believe you.”

“She turned out in spite of me,” he said, letting out a heavy breath. “I'm well aware of that. Kind of amazing that Cole and I were able to turn her into a functional human being. Or maybe she just did . . . anyway.”

“Either way, you should be proud.”

“Damn. I am an empty-nester.”

“As you pointed out, you still have Cole.”

“Oh, yes.” Never mind that living in his older brother's domain was suffocating as hell. Cole was a great guy, but when it came to the ranch, which they all owned equal stake in, he could be a control freak.

And Cade was usually happy to be in the backseat on decisions, because he liked to be a silent investor, so to speak. He'd put money into the ranch from his wins on the circuit, reaped profit in return, had a place to crash at when he was home, and mainly got to live on the road.

But now he was home. All the time. And having a brother who thought of himself as his boss didn't really do a lot to help with their sibling rivalry.

Cade had been fine for a while, playing the dumbass and in general drifting along with whatever Cole said.

But now that this was starting to look like it was going to be his life . . . like he was never getting back in the saddle in a serious way . . . well, now he was starting to realize he was going to have to make a new success for himself.

Otherwise his glory days would be perpetually behind him. And never in front of him. Ever again.

What a nice thought that was.

“I only drank half a beer and I'm starting to get philosophical and shit,” he said.

“Uh-oh, better get you home then. I wouldn't want to embarrass either of us by being present for this.”

“You really are a good friend,” he said.

She looked at him and smiled. “The best.”

“Pretty much the only one I have.”

“Because you're surly.”

“Am I?” he asked.

“You just punched a guy in the face for offending you, so yeah, I'd say so.”

“I think it was noble of me,” he said.

“Noble and godlike in one conversation. If this is your version of being a sad drunk then I'd hate to be exposed to your ego when you're feeling sober and upbeat.”

“You'll be around me in that state tomorrow. Because now I owe you a game of pool.”

“I don't know. I think I owe you for defending my honor. I didn't need it defended, but nonetheless, I appreciate you risking bruised knuckles for me.”

“Anything for you,” he said. “You know that.”

“Oooh, dangerous promise, Cade Mitchell. You never know what I might ask of you.”

“I've known you for sixteen years and you haven't shocked me yet.”

“That smacks of a challenge,” she said, giving him an impish smile. “You know I can't resist a challenge.”

Two

When Cade got home, Cole was sitting in the swing on the
front porch his wife, Kelsey, leaning against him, half-asleep.

Maddy was undoubtedly upstairs in bed. Most of the guests were probably back in their cabins. A wedding at the ranch during busy season had everyone amped-up and exhausted. Lark had invited everyone staying at Elk Haven to the big day, and nearly all of them had taken her up on the invite.

Which probably accounted for the quiet now. Too much dancing. Too much drinking. And now, lights out by ten.

“Where have you been?” Cole asked.

“I went out with Amber.”

“You went out instead of seeing Lark off?” he asked, shifting Kelsey's head to his shoulder.

“I figured she was in good hands. She didn't notice, did she?”

“She didn't say. I'm sure she didn't really.”

“Yeah, so I figured I'd go have a beer.”

“We had beer,” Kelsey said, her voice sleepy. “And I couldn't drink any, cuz, bump”—she put her hand on her stomach—“so there was plenty for you.”

“I just wanted to get some space,” he said. “I didn't really want to watch her leave.”

“With Quinn,” Cole said. “Aren't you over that?”

“I'm as over it as I can be. But I spent three years blaming him for what's happened to me. And while I mainly think of him as a decent guy, I would sort of hate anyone who ended up with Lark on principle. For a while, at least.”

“Well, it's too late to hate him. They're married now.”

“Well, get off my back, asshole,” Cade said, walking up the steps and toward the front door.

“What's your deal, Cade?” Cole asked.

“My deal is that I feel like I just came home after curfew and Mom and Dad caught me. I'm a little old to be dealing with judgment from you on how I chose to spend my evening.”

“I don't normally care what you do. Go snort some bath salts and have an orgy with the entire staff of Delia's Kitchen for all I care, as long as you get your work done the next day. But half-assing Lark's wedding? I'll call you out on that.”

“I was there,” he said, gritting his teeth.

And he hadn't been able to dance with his sister, or his best friend, and he'd run out on it because it had hurt. Because it had made him feel, again, like he was half a human being.

He would rather have his balls dipped in honey and stuffed in an anthill than admit that, but it was the truth.

He wasn't telling Cole because . . . Scrotum. Honey. Ant-hill.

He didn't owe Cole an explanation anyway.

“Whatever, Cade, I shouldn't be that surprised at this point.”

“Boys, do I have to turn on a hose and spray you down?” Kelsey asked.

“Maybe just remind your husband of his place,” Cade said, pushing the front door open and walking into the main area of the cabin.

The front room was huge, with an L-shaped staircase that led to a mezzanine floor, vaulted ceilings and a wall of windows that overlooked the back pasture and the mountains that encircled the ranch. There was also a counter where they kept rolls, muffins, donuts, a single-serving coffee brewer and hot chocolate packets.

They were a motherfuckin' hotel.

He stomped over to the bar and started running hot water through the coffeemaker before adding hot chocolate to it. He didn't need more booze.

The front door opened and Cole and Kelsey walked inside. Kelsey scurried up the stairs and Cole stood there in the entryway, his arms crossed over his chest. Cade leaned against the counter, partly to affect an “I don't give a shit” posture. And partly because his leg felt like it was being chewed on by rabid badgers.

He needed a hot bath with Epsom salt. And a horse tranquilizer.

Not a lecture. But it seemed he was about to get a lecture.

“Look, man, I'm sorry,” Cole said.

“You're sorry? What the hell?” he said, letting his body form to the back of the granite countertop, taking as much of the weight off of his back and spine as possible.

“You're right. Not my business. You make your choices about what you want to do with your life. Or not do with it. It's not my business.”

“That is the worst damn apology I've ever heard. It was wrapped in an insult.”

“I'm not trying to insult you. I'm just saying, I have to stop expecting you to make the choices I would.”

“Back up. Explain.”

“You don't have motivation.”

Cade slammed his mug down on the counter. “That's bullshit.”

“Is it? Because I'm pretty sure that you've been living in the big house and working as a ranch hand for the past four years.”

He bent and grabbed ahold of his leg. “Oh, I'm sorry, did you want me to go and start running marathons in the name of Elk Haven Stables?”

“That's not it.”

“You know what, Cole? This is pretty surprising considering I did have some ideas for you and you shot them down.”

“Cade, I don't have room for bison. We're focusing on the cabins, the lodge and the rodeo contracts, and you know that. We don't have the funds for a venture like that.”

“We do.”

“No, we have Dad's debt, Cade, or did you forget?”

“I didn't forget. In fact, if you recall, I found out just how screwed we were a couple of years ago because I was going over our fucking finances, so don't give me this ‘you don't do anything' shit.”

The worst thing about Cole's accusations was the ring of truth to them. It was the fact that it was how Cade felt about his life.

Because he'd had his dream—success that he'd fantasized about from the time he was a little kid. Traveling, riding a horse for money. Doing the kind of dangerous stuff his mother had always said was giving her gray hair.

That had been his job. And it was gone now. Then he'd had to learn to walk like a baby, all over again, and now he was starting over.

The worst version ever of being born again.

To top it off, there was no resolution to it. Anger at Quinn had been concrete. He'd had someone to blame, and as small as it had been . . . there had been comfort in it. Now he had nothing. No clue who'd messed him up. No clue who'd ruined his life and stolen his career. And no lead on it either.

It made him feel aimless. It made his anger directionless.

Though right now, it was a little directed at Cole.

“That's not it . . .” Cole put his hands in his pockets. “Okay, fine, I am sorry. I'm just a little messed up about Lark getting married.”

“You'd think that given we had a year to adjust to it we'd be fine. She hasn't even been living here.” He was echoing the conversation with Amber, as if that might make it all true and fine.

“Yeah, but now it's permanent. Now it's just us,” he said.

“She still owns a third of the ranch.”

“Yeah, but she won't do as much here.”

Cade cleared his throat. “I liked it better when you were being a jackass.”

“Feelings aren't really my favorite thing either.”

“You're more well-adjusted with them these days.”

“Eh. Wife. She makes me talk about them . . . You know, acknowledge that I have them, so . . .”

“Thank God I don't have a wife.”

“They aren't so bad,” Cole said, one side of his mouth turning up.

“I'll let you have that joy all to yourself. I will be the favorite uncle to all your children and Lark's children and maintain the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed.”

“Eating Doritos, alone in bed, in your childhood home?”

“That nacho cheese flavor is worth sharing the sheets with crumbs.”

“As opposed to . . . a woman?”

Cade took a sip of his hot chocolate. “You're not allowed to comment on my sex life.”

“You're standing in the living room drinking a cocoa before bed. I think we can safely assume you currently don't have one.”

Cade shifted so that his middle finger was resting on the handle of the mug. A not-so-subtle suggestion for his brother. Who was right. Asshole.

“We're not talking about that,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Reconsider the bison, Cole. I think we'll make money doing it. A lot of restaurants are offering it as an alternative to beef, and I think we could really start something here.”

Bison had never been his dream. Riding saddle broncs, with the dirt kicking up around him, the crowd cheering and the cameras and lights on him? That was his dream. But it was gone, and he felt desperate to put his mark on something.

To have something that was his idea. Success he created.

“It's too risky,” Cole said. “And it requires changes to fencing, a lot of space . . . I don't think we're in the position to do it. We don't want to diversify too much too early.”

“Maybe you don't but I do. And last time I checked, you weren't the be-all and end-all here.”

“Maybe not. But I'm the one who spent his whole life here. This is my dream, Cade. This is what I've spent every moment working on. Since before dad died, and especially after. You went off and did the circuit, and that was fine. You've supported things financially, and yeah, technically you and I have equal ownership here. But the thing is? I'm the one who's put in the physical work. I'm the one who knows how to run it. I'm not trying to be a dick, but I am the one who understands the way this place works, inside and out, better than anyone else.”

Cade tightened his grip on his mug. Sure, Cole knew the ranch. But Cade had known, always, about the truth of their life. About his dad's debts. About what really needed to be earned to keep the place running.

Cole knew the ranch. But he'd only known half the story about what was happening beyond that.

“Fair enough, I get that, and yeah, I can concede that you know the place better than me,” Cade said. “But not if the end result is just going to be you acting like you're the boss and I'm the laborer, and not part owner.”

“The problem is, I don't think we're ever going to want to do things the same. Two mules pulling the wagon in a different direction. It doesn't work.”

“Nice analogy,” Cade said. “So that's it? We can't have two leaders so by default you call the shots?”

“Not by default. My sweat is in this place.”

“Mine too.”

“Not as much.”

“Are we going to measure? Try and see who has the most sweat? Maybe we should hurl logs and see who can throw them the farthest.”

“It's late,” Cole said. “And I have more than Dorito crumbs waiting for me in bed, so I'm going to go.”

“And then we don't have to solve the problem. Brilliant. Perfectly like us.”

“We'll solve it. I'm sorry I was an insulting prick, okay?”

“It's okay. You can't help it.”

He shrugged. “The older brother thing dies hard.”

Cade thought about Lark, all grown up and married. “Yeah, trust me, I know. But that doesn't make it any more fun for the person on the receiving end of it.”

“Let's just put the bison on hold,” Cole said. “We'll discuss it again in a year maybe? After we get through the busy seasons. After we have being a guest ranch down to a more well-oiled system. After we get the horse breeding program a little bit more solidified. That doesn't seem too authoritarian of me.”

“No,” Cade said, setting his mug on the countertop. “Fine.”

Cole nodded and turned, heading up the stairs toward his room. Toward his crumb-free bed.

It was easy for Cole to put it on hold, because he had a life. Because he had a wife and a kid, and a ranch that he called the shots on.

Cade wasn't sure he wanted any of that, ever, but he sure as hell needed something.

A year before they even broached the subject of the bison. A year before his only idea on contributing would be considered.

Another year in holding-pattern hell.

He wasn't sure he could deal with it. But he wasn't sure what to do about it either.

He was a take-charge kind of a guy. A doer, not a thinker, much to his mother's chagrin all through his teenage years.

But his injury had taken his control. It had taken the charge right from him. He couldn't do what he chose to anymore, and he had no idea what the hell he actually wanted to do.

Except sleep. Hell yeah, he was pathetic.

He would go to sleep. And tomorrow would be the same as every day that had come before it for the past two years.

Just. Fucking. Perfect.

*   *   *

Amber groaned and shuffled the stack of bills from the table
to the counter. She sighed. Then she pondered putting them in the shredder.

But she couldn't do that. Damned adulthood.

She wasn't sure when she'd be able to pay them either. Maybe if she picked up another shift at the restaurant she could do it. But the medical bills from her grandma's illness, the funeral fees, and the taxes her grandfather had forgotten to pay—they weren't much on the fixed income, but two years of that was from when the farm had been producing decent income, and getting slapped with a back-tax bill at a self-employed rate was killer.