You're Still the One. Debbi Rawlins
caught sight of him walking into the bar he’d flown into a rage.
He hadn’t gotten physical, but he’d ranted and cussed at Matt the entire ride home. That day, for the first time in his life, Matt had been tempted to beat the crap out of him. For his mom’s sake he’d held his temper. She was the reason he hadn’t packed his bags the day he graduated from high school two years later. When he’d eventually ended up leaving, it was damn ironic his decision had also been because of her.
Nikki finally settled back in the leather seat and stared out her window. Except for the Rocky Mountains in the distance, there wasn’t much to see on the road to the Lone Wolf. Especially in February with the ground patchy with snow. Once they turned north there’d be more trees and hills to liven the landscape.
“You disappointed there isn’t more snow?” he asked after a while. She hadn’t been this quiet since they stopped in Oklahoma.
“A little.” She motioned with her chin. “Why is there so much more on the mountains?”
“Higher elevation.” When he was a kid he never counted on seeing the dirt until late March. At times they’d be buried up to their knees with snow. But it was warmer this year than most.
Or so people had claimed in the Food Mart after their questions got too personal and he’d froze them out. They were all curious about Nikki, of course, but he’d refused to oblige them. He’d introduced her as a friend. No need for anyone to know who she was until they saw how the meeting with Wallace played out.
“Pretty country,” she said. “Not flat like Houston.”
“Yeah, I do miss the mountains. Hey, you know it could still snow later tonight or tomorrow.” He knew she wanted to see it falling. “Don’t let the blue skies fool you.”
Her lips lifted in a faint smile. “You think we’ll be here that long?”
“Yep,” he said, but he’d hesitated a moment longer than he should’ve, and she sighed. The thing was, he truly didn’t see them turning around too fast. If only because it might take a few rounds to knock some sense into Wallace’s thick skull. “You want to play a word game?”
“No,” she said, laughing and groaning at the same time. “You really have to learn to lose gracefully.”
“Dammit, I didn’t lose. We’re tied.” They’d played every car game he knew, mostly to distract her. Though he had to admit she’d surprised him. She was clever, street-smart if not booksmart, but she also understood people. Once she took a man’s measure, she wasn’t far off the mark. “We’re about ten minutes out. Any more questions before we get there?”
She straightened her legs, putting her feet on the floorboard, then pulled her shoulders back as if ready to do battle. It wouldn’t come to that. Matt wouldn’t let it. “You still don’t think we should call first?”
“Nope.” He wasn’t as confident on taking that stand. Somewhere between the Food Mart and his truck, it struck him that he could’ve called Lucy to give her a heads-up and get one himself. The woman wasn’t just a housekeeper, she was a saint.
He knew she was still tending to Wallace three days a week, even though she was getting on in years. She’d been hired a month before Matt was born, had witnessed more than a few of Wallace’s tirades and had been a champ through his mother’s illness.
Yep, he probably should’ve called Lucy. Hell.
Too late now.
They were officially on Gunderson land, the place he’d sworn he’d never come back to.
3
WALLACE WAS DRUNK. Passed out on the old rawhide couch in his office, his jaw slack, his graying hair poking out every which way. Half a bottle of Jim Beam sat on the wood floor an inch from where his arm dangled off to the side.
Staring at him in disgust, Matt was glad he’d left Nikki in the truck. She didn’t need to see this; no one did. Matt breathed in deep, wondering how many times his mother had to walk in to find her worthless husband sprawled out, spittle dried at the corners of his mouth. Wallace hadn’t been this bad the first time Matt had put Blackfoot Falls in his rearview mirror.
Even so, a couple times he’d walked in when his mother had just shaken out a blanket over the old man. She’d tucked it around him and kissed his forehead, then went to bed by herself. It killed Matt that she was so patient and tolerant. He hadn’t understood then, and never would get why she’d stayed in the marriage. He’d begged her to leave Wallace. But she’d always just smiled, said she loved him and maybe someday he’d change.
Then Matt found out about Wallace’s affair with Rosa Flores. From his own mother. She’d known for over fifteen years, even that a child was involved. And still she’d stayed. Now she was gone, and Matt missed her, missed their secret phone calls. He missed the garbled texts she’d sent him from the smartphone he’d bought her so they could communicate without Wallace knowing.
He smiled, thinking about how she’d never gotten the hang of texting or sending emails. She’d sure liked getting his, though, and quickly figured out how to read them.
There were still days when Matt struggled against his anger. At her. Sometimes at himself. Always at Wallace. No one could convince Matt the stress of living with the bastard hadn’t shortened her life.
She’d claimed she loved Wallace. Love. What the hell did that word mean? It was supposed to be something good. Something that made you happy, stronger, passionate…even country songs touted its virtue. But obviously love could also make you stupid.
Matt ran his gaze over his father’s frail form. He seemed shorter, narrower, definitely not the same big man who’d doggedly bullied Matt over schoolwork, how he rode a horse or mucked the stables. Sometimes Wallace had scared the crap out of him.
Funny, he thought, watching the drool slip from a corner of Wallace’s open mouth, he’d been worried his hatred of the man would seep out like venom in front of Nikki. But Matt actually felt pity seeing him lie there, his life nothing but a wasteland. The letter Matt had received from his mother’s friend about Wallace being sick hadn’t mentioned the diagnosis. Matt assumed it was either cancer or cirrhosis, but he didn’t know.
Hell, maybe the booze helped dull the pain.
Cursing at himself, Matt scooped the fallen magazines off the floor and tossed them onto the oak coffee table. What the hell was he doing making excuses for the old drunk? That logic didn’t wash anyway. He’d been a drinker since Matt was a small kid.
He glanced around at the used glasses and opened mail that littered the desk and table. Obviously it was Lucy’s day off or the place would’ve been tidier. He was kind of glad since he would’ve hurt her feelings by not calling ahead. No sense in him cleaning up. He wouldn’t bring Nikki in here, not with Wallace passed out like this. Matt wanted the man sober, clearheaded enough that he might use the chance to do right by Nikki and give her some answers.
After closing the office door, Matt surveyed the family room, then stuck his head in the kitchen. The rest of the house seemed okay. He doubted anyone had recently used the guest room where he planned on putting Nikki. Knowing Lucy, she kept it dusted, and if not, the room would still be better than the dingy one-bedroom apartment Nikki called home.
He walked outside to where his truck waited in front of the house. The sky was getting dark and he couldn’t see Nikki through the tinted windows, but he knew she was there. She wouldn’t have gotten out of the cab.
To the left of the barn the long rectangular bunkhouse was lit up. It was suppertime for the men, which had been part of Matt’s arrival plan. Several hired hands had been with the Lone Wolf for over twenty years. They knew their jobs, and Wallace left them alone. Matt liked one of the old-timers in particular, but he hadn’t wanted to run into anyone before he’d seen Wallace.
Nikki cracked the door open when he got close. “What’s