Unbroken (21 page)

“Yeah. Forever. And . . .” Amber looked at Cade. “Ever.” She tried to look gooey too, but she was pretty sure she was failing.

“Do you have a dress?”

“Yeah,” Amber said. “It's . . . eggshell. And . . . buttercream.” Girly colors were always food.

“Sounds divine! Can I see your ring?”

“It's, uh . . . getting sized,” Cade said. “After it gets shipped. Here. From . . . New York. Tiffany's.”

She shot Cade a sideways glance. “Yeah. Tiffany's.”

Amanda's eyes got glossy. “Now that really is just too romantic.” Amber wanted to melt into a puddle and slither under the bed.

Amanda took a breath. “Anyway, we'll be discharging him soon. But I recommend putting him in a home for the transition.

“A home?” Amber asked.

“A nursing home. He needs physical therapy and speech therapy. It would be easier on you if he was in a facility.”

“But I won't want—”

“Amber,” Cade said. “If you want to take care of him, I'm sure Delia will cover for you at the diner. Hell, you don't even need the job.”

“What do you mean I don't need the job?”

“I have enough to take care of you for a while. With the bison ranch getting up and running eventually, I'll be pulling in a really good income and I can support. . . .” He was about to say “us.” But they weren't really getting married. They weren't really a couple. So that wasn't what he meant. Not really. “I can take care of you and Ray while you need it,” he said.

“No.” She shook her head. “I am not letting you take care of me. There are boundaries, and things, and no.”

“You're being stubborn.”

“I'm not,” she hissed.

The nurse and Ray were looking at them, though Ray's eyes were starting to look a little heavy.

“Outside, Mitchell,” she said.

They went out into the hall and Amber planted her hands on her hips, giving him her best stubborn face. “I'm not letting you support me.”

“You need help. And you're my fiancée. So letting me help you . . .”

“You are not my fiancé!” she hissed. “You are my friend. My friend with a superman complex. But that is all. Friends don't just let friends . . . pay their way. That's not how it works.”

“Friends don't usually offer to suck their friends' dicks either,” he said, his teeth locked together in frustration. “I didn't realize we were playing by traditional rules.”

She drew back as if he'd hit her. “How dare you use that against me?”

“Against you? Woman, I am trying to help you. And you're being damn stubborn. If you don't want him in a nursing home, let me try to fix it.”

“I'm still too pissed that you said that to even move on from that point in the conversation.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I just . . . you have to let me help.”

“No. I'm not going to be a responsibility to you. I'm not going to add any pressure to your venture succeeding, and I am not taking your money. I got that waitressing job as soon as I could, and I've kept it. I've helped keep my grandparents afloat with it, and I'm helping now.”

“I know you are. But . . . can't I help?”

“Not like that. And not if you're going to be insulting.”

“I was just pointing out that we're already doing things most friends don't do.”

“Crudely. So stop it.”

He bit the inside of his lip until it bled. “I am sorry,” he said finally. “Because I didn't mean to make what's happened between us sound . . . flippant or cheap. It's not.”

“I know, asshole. That's why you made me so mad.”

“I want to help.”

“Great. Then support me helping myself.”

“I do.”

“I can't be your project, Cade. I don't want to bear that burden.”

“Fair enough.”

She let out a breath. “The nurse is right though. It would be easier if his various therapies were right there for him.”

“He can come back home,” Cade said, “once he's feeling better.”

“He took care of me, Cade, and I was never the easiest person to care for. I feel like I owe him.”

Cade pulled her into his arms, even though he was sure it crossed all kinds of boundaries. Friendship ones, emotional ones . . . since she was probably still, rightly, pissed at him and his runaway mouth. “You are taking care of him,” Cade said. “This is taking care of him. He'll get the best care. He'll be close to the hospital.”

“But he won't be at his home,” she said, her voice choked.

“Just for now.”

“It doesn't feel right,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“What?”

“Being in the house without him. It's his house.”

“It's your house too.”

“It's never felt that way. Not even knowing that I own part of it.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm . . . I'm just baggage. I'm not an asset. And I keep trying to . . . make up for that.”

“You aren't baggage.”

“That's nice of you to say. But it is how I feel.”

“You shouldn't.”

“Oh. Okay. I'll stop. Wow, a lifetime's worth of baggage is now totally gone because you just told me I shouldn't feel it! Okay, Cade, stop limping.”

“Amber . . .”

“Just stop. Don't you think you've walked with a limp long enough? Get back on the horse.”

Anger filled him, helplessness. And worst of all, understanding. Because he knew that there was no way she could stop feeling that way. Just like there was no way he could stop limping. Someone else had put them both here. Someone else had broken them both.

There wasn't enough Krazy Glue in the world to stick them back together. That was one reason they'd always held on to each other so tight. To keep the pieces snug—still cracked, but not piles of shattered edges.

Of course, that was hard to do when they were pissed at each other.

She didn't back down. Didn't apologize for what she'd said. But it was okay. She didn't need to. He had broad enough shoulders to take a little crap from her, especially when he deserved it.

And he'd talked his share of crap earlier.

“You know I can't,” he said, shrugging.

“Neither can I.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Great.”

He turned away from her, then back. Then he closed the distance between them, and the distance between her and the wall, until he had her pressed tightly against it, his mouth crashing down on hers.

She gripped his shirt, holding him tightly against her, kissing him back, hard and deep. He could taste her. He could taste the salt of her tears. He hated the tears as much as he relished her flavor. And he hated that he'd been a part of causing them.

Hated that there was all this turmoil and anger between them. Because he hadn't been able to keep it in his pants. Because, even hating himself for it, he still couldn't keep his hands off her.

Because he didn't know how to stop this now that it had started. Didn't know how to push back an avalanche of desire, sixteen years of lust, now that he'd set it loose.

She pulled away from him and put her head down, her face buried in his neck, sobs shaking her body. And he just held her, held her and felt like a helpless jackass. Held her and tried to ignore how much he ached to have her, in spite of the fact that she was weeping like a child in his arms.

All he could say was “Baby, I'm sorry,” over and over again, and it didn't seem to make anything better. But it wasn't making it worse either, so he figured it was better than doing nothing. Or, it at least made him feel a lot more active. And a lot less useless.

When it was over, he just held her and pushed her hair back from her face, her tears leaving his hands stained with her misery.

“I'm fine,” she said.

“You look real fine,” he said.

“Shut up.”

“I'm just saying.”

“Yeah, I know.” She pulled away from him and dragged her arm over her face, sniffing loudly as she did. “I'm good. And I look good.”

“Damn sexy.”

“Why is everything so screwed up?”

“I don't know. I'm not helping, am I?” he asked, his voice rough. “This isn't helping.”

And he knew she would know what he meant.
This
was the intense sexual tension that stretched between them. The intense, impossible-to-ignore pull. The starving beast unleashed, and completely unstoppable now.

She shrugged. “I don't know if that's true. Everything seems brighter with an . . .” She looked over his shoulder and paused, and he looked the same direction, his eyes fixing on a guy sitting in the waiting area who was looking back at them. “With an orgasm,” she finished on a whisper, her face turning pink.

Yeah, he supposed they were officially creating a little play for anyone who cared to sit, watch and eat some popcorn.

“I'm going to take you home now. You don't need to make any decisions tonight. About anything.”

She shook her head. “No. Sorry. I can't do that. I can't leave it unsettled. I'm going to go talk to the nurse, and then I'll meet you out here, okay?”

“I can't go with you?”

“Cade, I'm going to do this by myself, okay? Thanks for being here while I had a big freaking meltdown and stuff.” She took a deep breath. “But I'm going to settle this.”

“You won't take my help?”

“For every reason previously stated, no. But I will take a ride home. So wait for me, okay?”

“Yeah,” he said.

She was so damned stubborn. He would fix this for her if she would just let him take care of her. He had no problem doing it. She needed him, so naturally he'd be there for her. He was used to caring for people, and tying his money up in that had never been a problem.

Hell, he'd done it starting at the age of eighteen. He rode hard, worked hard and sent the money to his family. It was all fine with him. It had gotten him away and made sure debts were covered and the ranch was kept running. Win-win.

Supporting Amber wouldn't feel half as sucky as supporting his dad's lie of an existence, that was for sure.

But of course, the woman was too damn stubborn. Too damn hardheaded. Too damn sexy. He spent the next ten minutes thinking about all the things Amber was too damn.

Then she emerged from her grandpa's room, looking pale but determined. “They'll move him to the home in forty-eight hours, unless something changes dramatically either way. We have a plan.”

“Great,” he said.

“Oh, yeah, freaking peachy.”

“Everything always is.”

Seventeen

Amber was asleep by nine, and Cade had a feeling a large
part of that had to do with avoiding him. After the fight in the hospital, he hadn't been expecting her to jump on his body, but then, there had been the kiss . . .

Still, he'd basically been expecting her to go Orgasm Nazi on him.
No sex for you.

And, yeah, fair enough.

But to not even talk about it all . . . that sucked. It made him wonder if things were going to go back to normal. If things were going to go back to how they'd been before they'd gotten naked together. And he really didn't want that.

Because going back to a clothing-mandatory relationship seemed like . . . a step backward. Even though it probably shouldn't, all things considered.

It should feel like . . . well, it should be okay. Because there was nowhere else for their relationship to go. There was friendship, and there was naked friendship. And if it went back to friendship, that would be fine, because . . . because.

He let out a sigh and jerked open the fridge, rummaging for a beer. He came out victorious and popped the top, tapping his jeans pocket, feeling the hard plastic lump of his cell phone there.

Amber was right. About a lot of things. And that was nothing new. But he really did need closure on the accident that hadn't been an accident. It was affecting him. Affecting his ability to move on. Affecting his relationship with his brother-in-law.

And that was as freaking Dr. Phil as he was going to get, thank you very much.

He let out a long breath and pulled the phone out of his pocket, tapping lightly on the screen before committing to dialing Lark's number.

“'Sup?”

“Hey, Lark,” he said, smiling at her familiar voice, at her completely quirky, totally
her
greeting.

“What's up, Cade? You never call.”

“I know,” he said, lifting his shoulder and holding the phone against his face, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Does this mean you're actually calling to tell me what I already know because of the rampant rumor weed that grows under this town?”

“Uh, no,” he said, not particularly happy the rumors had made it back to Lark. He hated lying to her most of all, given the recent history of lying to her about their father, and the fallout of that.

“I thought you weren't into love and marriage?” she asked, sounding smug.

“Things change.”

“Uh-huh. And quickly too!”

“Shut up, Lark, I do not need to stare down the barrel of the commitment gun and deal with your smugness too, I just don't.”

“So you want to start something with me now too?” she asked.

“I see you talked to Cole.”

“To Kelsey. And I'm on your side.”

“What?”

“I love Cole, but he's a dick sometimes. And you . . . you are too. But I've always felt like . . . you get me, Cade, and you always have. And I know that you're more than just the rodeo. And more than just fun and games. I appreciate what you've done for me. I don't know if Cole realizes how much you've done for him. But I do.”

“That's, uh . . .” His chest felt tight all of a sudden. “That's nice, Lark.”

“And I support you. In everything. In your bison and your marriage and . . . I'm so proud of you.”

“I think that's my line.”

“Nope,” she said. “Too bad. I'm proud of you.”

He cleared his throat. “I called to talk to Quinn, actually,” he said.

“What?”

“I want to talk to your husband, and I don't have his phone number. So I had to call you.”

“I'm kind of offended by that. I thought you wanted to talk to me.”

“I'm glad I talked to you. But I wanted to talk to Quinn.”

“Weird,” she said. “And I don't trust you.”

“I thought you were on my side?”

“That doesn't mean I trust you.”

“Fine,” he said, “but I have a question to ask him.”

“Are you going to verbally abuse him? Because, forgive me, since you broke his nose that one time, I'm never really sure what you might do.”

“Fair enough. But can I talk to him anyway?”

“Sure. He's sitting here trying to shoot zombies. He sucks at it anyway. I think . . . yeah, he just got bitten.” She sighed heavily. “Quinn, I love you enough that I will have to shoot you now. Okay, here he is.”

“She has you zombie hunting now?”

Quinn grunted on the other end of the phone. “Not willingly. I won't tell you what she was holding hostage to get me to agree to this.”

“Better you don't.”

“So why is it you want to talk to me? I know it's not to talk about the weather, so you might as well cut to the chase.”

“I need to get in touch with Sam.”

“My employee Sam? Sam, my right-hand man?”

“That one.”

“Why?”

“Because. Because his son, Jake,” Cade said, referring to the teenager Sam had adopted a year ago, “had contact with the guy who effed me up, and now I want to . . . find out what he knows.”

Cade had spent three years believing Quinn was responsible for sabotaging his ride. And he wasn't the only one. The board had barred Quinn from competing, and in Cade's mind it had been a done deal. But then Jake had confessed that he was the one who'd put the spike beneath the saddle, and that he'd been paid to do it. By someone who definitely wasn't Quinn.

“So you don't think I did it anymore.”

“I know you didn't. Old habits die hard. I made a habit of hating your guts and fantasizing about tying a rope to your ankle and lashing you to the back of an angry bull. That doesn't fade overnight. Plus, you took my little sister from me, and any guy who did that was going to end up in my bad books.”

“Fair enough,” Quinn said.

“Not really. But who said life was fair? Plus, I have it on good authority that I'm an asshole, so there is that.”

“It's okay, I share the title. And people are not wrong. Though Lark makes me behave a little better.”

“As long as you don't act like an asshole with her, feel free to carry on being a jerk.”

“I do a lot of the time,” Quinn said.

Cade was starting to like him a little bit more.

“It was easier to blame you,” Cade said. “Because . . . look, I really believed you did it. I swear to God I would never have put you through that hell if I hadn't believed it down in my gut.”

“I know.”

“And I also know you couldn't stand by and take it. For guys like us . . . that's life. It's our whole life.”

“It's less of mine now,” Quinn said. “Lark and the ranch fill up a lot of space in my life. In the best way.”

“I'm glad to hear that, but even so, I should never have . . . I should have been a lot more certain before I pushed with the board.”

“It's over, Cade. And it's because of it that I met Lark, so . . . I'm not angry about it anymore. I'm honestly not.”

“I would be. I mean, obviously. The thing is, it's not over for me. I still don't know who did this to me. I need to know. Or it's just another unhealed wound. I have too damn many of those.”

“Don't we all?”

“We're a bundle of screwed-up around here.”

“That's why I fit in so well.”

“Put me in touch with Sam?” Cade asked.

“Yeah. Better let me tell him to call you. Since you want to question Jake, Jill will want advance warning, and I do not need that woman up my ass. I love her, but . . . sometimes the feeling isn't mutual.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“I'll have him give you a call.”

“Thanks, Quinn. And also, if you hide the modem, Lark will probably have a conniption fit. I learned that trick a few years back. It's the funniest damn thing I've ever seen.”

“Which thing is that?” he asked.

“The box by the computer with the blinking lights. Do it when she's not looking.”

“You're really not so bad.”

“If I'm any one thing, it's a truly devious older brother,” Cade said.

“And I appreciate that.”

“Thanks.”

“I'll tell Sam to call you,” Quinn said. “Can't promise anything, but I will.”

“I appreciate it.”

When Cade hung up he felt like he might have actually buried one of the hatchets that littered his metaphorical yard.

So that was a start. Now all that was left was to deal with Cole and Nicole, deal with Davis, find out who'd screwed up his body and his life and figure out where the hell he stood with Amber.

But he could save that for tomorrow. Yeah . . . tomorrow could take care of that other crap. For now, he would just drink a beer.

*   *   *

“Morning, sleepy bear,” Cade said, poking at Amber's inert
figure with his toe, balancing a tray of food in his hands.

“Bah snerf.” She rolled over onto her stomach and stuck a hand up, waving him away.

“That's really cute, honey,” he said, “but I brought you food to send you off for the day. So get your pretty ass up and eat it.”

She snorted and rubbed her face into the pillow.

“Amber,” he said.

“No.”

“I have food.”

She rolled back over and flung her arm up over her face.

“You seem like maybe you didn't sleep so good,” he said. “But you went to bed so early.”

She lowered her arm just enough for him to see one narrow eye telegraphing evil in his direction. “No, I did not sleep well, Mitchell,” she said, her voice croaky.

“Why is that?”

“Not because of your penis.”

He snorted a shocked laugh and set the tray down on the nightstand. “Obviously not. My penis was with me, in the world's most uncomfortable bed.”

“It's too early in the morning for your weirdness, Mitchell.”

“It's not that early, Jameson. You have to eat so you don't wilt like the delicate flower you are.”

“Argh!” She sat up, her hair a mess, her expression best described as cranky. “I don't want to.”

“You have tables to wait, baby. And you wouldn't, I hasten to add, if you would let me take care of you.”

“You may take care of me in the form of . . . oh, pancakes! And coffee. Yes, you may do this for me.”

“I know how to make pancakes. I'm at least that useful.”

“Does your usefulness extend to maple syrup?”

“Yes. Yes, it does. Warmed up. Look in the other mug.”

She did, and her eyes brightened. “Oooh.” She poured a generous helping on the pancakes, then transferred the tray to her lap.

“Since I'm here,” he said as she took a big bite of pancake and started chewing enthusiastically while he looked on, “and since you're eating my food, you've absolved me of any wrongdoing, boneheadedness and general douchebaggery, according to the fine print on the pancakes.”

Her chewing slowed. “It does not,” she said, talking around the pancake.

“It does. It's not my fault you didn't read the fine print.”

“Asshole.”

“I know. Anyway, since you're my friend again, I thought maybe we could discuss some things.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the fact that I am now pursuing finding the person who caused my accident with a purpose. I even called Quinn. And I apologized to him.”

“What?”

“I know. I'm having growth. And . . . things.”

“Okay.” She took a sip of her coffee.

“Also, I want to talk about us.”

“Us?” She spit across the top of her coffee, sending a dark drop over the edge of the white mug.

“Yes. You. Me. Our friendship. And also the bit where we have sex.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are we going to stop now because I made you mad?”

She lifted a shoulder. “It depends. Does us having sex mean you're going to treat me like every other guy treated me? I spent a long time not sleeping with anyone because I know I didn't have myself together enough to manage it. And because . . . because I was tired of being treated like I was less than nothing because I consented to take my clothes off with some guys. It was like . . . it was fine for them to sleep with me. Fine for them to sleep with anyone. But I had ‘a reputation' and that somehow made me lower. It still makes me lower. I'm defined by it, at least as far as other people are concerned. I don't define me by it. What I've done in bed with a few people isn't the sum total of my life, but the minute I sleep with a guy . . . it is to him. And when other people find out? It is to them. You never treated me that way. But now that I've slept with you . . . you made a comment about me . . . doing things to you, and I just can't . . . I can't have you disrespecting me over the fact that I did things with you. Because you did things with me too. And it's the hypocrisy I can't stand.”