Page 86 of Knox
“‘You stay alive, no matter what occurs! I will find you! No matter how long it takes, no matter how far. I will find you!’” She had lifted her head, turned to meet his eyes. “One of my favorite movie lines.”
He made a sound, searched her eyes. “I would, you know.”
“What?”
“Find you.”
“And then what?” Her own gaze had landed on his lips.
He said nothing, but a small smile tweaked his face. “I guess I would bring you home.”
Home.
The world filtered through her, and she gave a sad smile. “I don’t have—”
“Yeah, you do. If you want it.”
She turned in his arms and looked up at him. She must have worn surprise in her eyes because he nodded. “I know it’s soon, and fast, but…” He looked away from her, back to the waterfall. “My mother told you that I dreamed of being a professional bull rider. She left out the fact that I was good at it. I’d won a junior national championship and had big dreams of winning the PBR. I saw myself being a champion, a star…someone who could outshine my bigger-than-life big brother.” He’d given a small, humorless chuckle. “Then Dad died, and it all crashed down. I’d made a promise to my dad to take care of the place after Reuben left—and when Dad died, I had to step up to that promise.”
She’d touched a hand to his chest, under his flannel shirt, felt the heartbeat there. Steady. Dependable.
“I turned the ranch finances around, started our bucking bull line, and yes, we are very successful, but…I felt suffocated.” He turned his gaze on her. “Until you showed up. Until I started to see the ranch through your eyes. This is a safe place. A place to dig in roots and stop running. A place to grow a future.”
“Have a happily ever after,” she said quietly, almost trying the words out, and they tugged a smile from his mouth.
“Sort of like a country song.” Then he’d touched her chin and kissed her, such an achingly sweet touch she couldn’t help but wonder…What if?
She could stay. Be happy.
If she were honest, she was tired. And not just from the gigs and endless travel, but…from waking every day afraid. Fear did that—made a person exhausted. And edgy and demanding and even controlling. Fear kept her from freedom. From life.
She wanted to be free. Truly free, even from the ghosts. And maybe she could do that here.
With Knox.
Now, she turned over in her bed, staring out the window.What if I stayed?
After all, she had no bus, no more gigs, her band was scattered.
And she’d begun to truly sleep, the nightmares receding.
So then, what was her problem that a knot still coiled, deep inside?
She would have attributed it to the unknown bomber of their bus—except for the call from Deputy Sam Brooks, who told her that the arson investigators ruled the fire an accident. The old propane tank had been jarred loose from under the stove, probably for some time, and a smoldering cigarette thrown nearby had ignited it.
An accident.
So, really. Breathe, Kelsey.
She threw off the covers, grabbed her clothes, took a shower, and came down for breakfast.
Knox was gone, as usual, up early for chores. Tate, too, who’d taken to helping him ride fence or haul feed out to the far pastures, just until the grass turned green and rich for foraging.
Gerri stood at the counter in the kitchen, wearing a checkered blue apron, her hair back in a headband, rolling out bread dough. And beside her, tossing flour onto the dough, stood a woman with dark hair tied back into a messy bun. She wore a gold-and-maroon UM Griz shirt and a pair of yoga pants and possessed blue eyes and the same intense, probing gaze of a Marshall.
“Hey,” she said, looking up and wiping flour from her hands. “You must be one of the famous singers Ma keeps bragging about.”
Kelsey gave a laugh. “I don’t think so. We’re more like the homeless waifs she’s taken in. But we can sing for our supper.”