02-Let It Ride (22 page)

His so-called brothers were fucking traitors.

Another single set of footsteps faded away. He knew it was just him and Eric then, and he’d be damned if he’d turn around.

Bootheels sounded quietly on the hard dirt, and then Eric’s resonant voice danced near his ear, closer than he’d thought. “Bridge, can we talk?”

“Talk?” Bridge snorted and shot a glare over his shoulder. “Made it pretty clear you didn’t want to talk for the last six weeks. Can’t imagine why you’d want to now.”

“I made a mistake.”

“Don’t we all.” Cinch and flank straps undone, Bridge slid the saddle off Breeze’s back, leaned it pommel-down against the trailer, and turned the saddle blanket sweat-side up on the ground to dry out.

“Bridge. I’m so sorry.” The raw pain in Eric’s voice, too familiar to the agony Bridge had been living with, dug into him and pulled at wounds that wouldn’t close. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you, but I was so scared.”

The steady ache Bridge had come to live with spiked, pinched tight in his chest like it had that fateful day in April, and he turned to face Eric. Up close, he didn’t look much better than Bridge felt. His cheeks were sunken, he’d lost weight, his skin was an ashen color, and his normally vibrant violet eyes were dull. “Scared of what? Me?” Fuck, that hurt.

“No!” Eric said quickly, and then he looked down and Bridge saw more than heard the deep breath Eric swallowed. “Yes. Scared of you loving me. Scared of loving you back. Scared of you leaving me because everyone who ever said they loved me left me. How could I ever believe it could be true after it being a lie my whole life? But I was wrong. So very wrong, and I see that now, and I’m trying not to be scared anymore. Because a wise cowboy once told me that my past isn’t my future, and I’m trying to be stronger for him.” Eric took off the hat Bridge had given him the day after his birthday, right before he’d bolted, and ran a hand over hair that was much longer than it had been the last time Bridge had seen him.

“Can we . . . Do you think?” He looked up to meet Bridge’s gaze head-on. “Do you think there’s a chance for us? That we can try again?”

God, he wanted to, but he didn’t think he could. Not yet. “You broke my heart, Eric.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Eric fidgeted with the brim of the hat in his hands. “If I could go back and change things, I would.”

“I don’t know that I can ever risk that again.”

“I understand. I do.” Eric’s eyes began to shine, and Bridge couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. The always-present ache in his chest increased, squeezed tight around his heart. He didn’t think he could hurt any more than he had been, but seeing how much Eric hurt too, feeling waves of remorse and anguish radiate from the man made Bridge want to throw all his caution to the wind and pull him into his arms, hold him close, tell him everything would work out, that they’d see to it. But he couldn’t. The pain of his own heartbreak was still too fresh and raw.

Bridge cleared his throat and looked away, grabbing a halter from the tack box that sat on the trailer tire well. “I gotta get to work.”

Eric jumped back. “Sure. Yeah.”

Bridge exchanged Breeze’s bridle for the halter and turned to walk her until she cooled down.

“Bridge.” He stopped at the sound of Eric’s voice tight with an undertone of panic. “I’m staying at the Super 8 just down the highway. I’ll be there through the weekend, ’til Monday. If—” His voice hitched. “—if you change your mind.”

Bridge didn’t turn around, didn’t nod, didn’t do anything to let Eric know he’d heard him. Then he took a deep breath and, with eyes forward, moved on.

Eric looked at his watch for the seventeenth time in as many minutes, and then glared at the door again for good measure. He willed a knock to sound from the other side, but it remained as frustratingly silent as it had all weekend.

The Santa Maria rodeo had officially ended yesterday afternoon. Motel check-out time was officially seventeen minutes ago. The knock he longed for was never coming.

Not a surprise really. He had no one to blame but himself.

He’d been so afraid of the past repeating itself that he’d been the one to ensure it did. He could see that clearly now.

He’d turned away the one man who’d become everything to him, who’d deserved the trust he’d asked for. Who he’d fallen in love with when he’d been fighting to keep himself from getting in too deep.

He glanced at his watch again. As if eighteen would be the magic number of minutes that would bring that coveted knock. If the knock came, it would probably only be the motel staff coming to kick him out so they could clean the room—or charge him for another night. But Bridge wasn’t coming. Eric had seen to that.

With a heavy heart and heavier body, he stood and grabbed his duffel bag, crossed the small motel room he’d been pacing in for the last two days, and opened the door. He peered out, scanning the walkway and parking lot beyond, half-hoping Bridge would be there, standing outside the door waiting, or be in the parking lot leaning against his massive Dodge Ram, with his hat tipped down and a sultry grin on his handsome face.

But there was nothing.

The walkway, the parking lot, and the street in both directions as far as he could see from his motel room door were empty and deserted. Like the rock in his chest that would have to pass for a heart from this point on. Like he’d always figured was his lot in life.

Only it wasn’t.

If he’d just gotten out of his own way.

If he’d just trusted in Bridge, trusted in them.

If he hadn’t manifested his own worst fears into reality.

And in the end he’d lost everything. More than Bridge. He’d lost brotherhood and family and love. A place where, for a time, he’d belonged.

But that final tendril of hope was lost forever, and his whole body caved in on itself. He sucked in a painful breath of air, adjusted the cowboy hat on his head—that and the boots were the only things he still had to tie him to Bridge—and walked to his truck, the echo of his heavy, lonely footfalls following him. He climbed into the cab and stuck the key in the ignition but didn’t turn the engine over. He was stalling. He knew it was pointless, but couldn’t help himself.

The final nail in his coffin would be having no choice but to drive past the empty rodeo grounds on his way back to Colorado. The longer he didn’t leave, the longer he could put off the indisputable evidence that Bridge was gone from his life forever.

“Fuck!”

He smacked the steering wheel with the heel of his hand and cranked the ignition. The truck responded with an angry snarl and jumped forward when he slammed it into gear and accelerated too fast out of the parking lot and onto the deserted street.

The closer he got to the rodeo grounds, the tighter he gripped the wheel, the harder he pressed his lips together, and the faster his pulse pounded. Some little holdout of hope started peeking its head out of the darkness only to be hacked away by a dull, rusted blade.

The grounds were empty.

He yanked his eyes away and stared hard at the stretch of pavement ahead as his vision blurred, threatening to force him to the side of the road. He swiped away the tears with his sleeve and forced the rest back. He would not let them fall. He’d carry them with him for the rest of his life. Penance. A permanent reminder of what his fears had cost him.

Another half hour down the highway, blessedly numb, he noticed an approaching truck. It was black. Bridge’s Dodge was black. The vehicle grew larger on the horizon and Eric was able to discern the make as a Dodge Ram 3500—a big-ass truck like Bridge’s. Heading the opposite direction for Hesperia, which was the next stop on the circuit.

Eric rolled his hands on the steering wheel. Fuck. Every time he saw a big black Dodge from now on, he was going to immediately hope, for just a second, that it would be Bridge.

Closer now, he could make out the shape of the driver—a big man like Bridge wearing a black cowboy hat . . . like Bridge.

One hundred feet. Hope began to rise. Fifty feet. His pulse quickened. Twenty-five feet. His heart launched into his throat.

It
was
Bridge.

They passed each other on a highway traveling at sixty miles per hour, yet time somehow slowed down. Stuttered until the frame froze. His gaze locked on Bridge’s, the split-second stare spanning out for what felt like an hour, but Eric couldn’t get a read on Bridge’s expression.

And like releasing a stretched elastic band, time snapped back to regular speed and the big Dodge was in his rearview mirror, getting smaller by the second. Red taillights remained dark, and the truck continued to shrink in his mirror.

“No!” His voice rang in his own ears. “You came back! You can’t change your mind now!”

Eric slammed on the brakes and cranked the wheel hard. The vehicle teetered on its axles while deciding whether to grant the sudden U-turn or give up the rubber and flip over. Bridge had come back for him. That was all that mattered. Even if his truck rolled and he had to run on his own two feet to catch that man, he would. No way, no how was anything going to stop him now. His future was his own to create.

With a final heart-pounding skid, he straightened the vehicle and floored it, just in time to see two red eyes flash before they blinked out and became two bright-white lights. Bridge had turned around. Bridge was coming for him.

At a hundred feet away, Eric pulled off the road and slid to a sideways stop on the shoulder, tires kicking up a tornado of dust. Bridge copied his move and came to a dust-swirling stop on the opposite shoulder, almost directly across the highway.

Eric couldn’t get the door open quickly enough, but adrenaline pumped too fast through his veins and the frantic need to get out
right now
messed with his coordination. Finally, the handle released, and he spilled out of the cab. He hit the ground running, not stopping until he slammed into Bridge in the middle of the deserted road.

And there, straddling the centerline on a two-lane highway, locked in a bone-crushing hug, Eric’s life began. The tears came hot and heavy, flushing away his every fear, his every doubt, his every pain, and clearing the way for a new journey.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobbed into Bridge’s shoulder. “I was such an idiot.”

“Yes, you were, but that’s behind us now. Right?” Bridge’s voice sounded tight, like maybe he was on the verge of crying too.

“Right.” Eric nodded, swallowing hard through a constricted throat. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

Bridge pulled back but didn’t let go. Eric wouldn’t have let him anyway. “My first reaction when I saw you the other day was joy. I hadn’t felt anything but cold and empty since you left, so that had to mean something. One look and you gave me back the sunshine. You hurt me more than anything, but underneath that, I still love you. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Eric Palmer. How could I let you go a second time?”

“Bridge, I—” Before he could finish, Bridge swooped in and claimed his mouth in a desperate, all-consuming kiss that he submitted to instantly and completely. Anything Bridge wanted. He would spend the rest of his life doing everything in his power to make Bridge happy. To be the man Bridge deserved. The need for oxygen forced him to break the kiss when his head started feeling dizzy. That or he was just so overwhelmingly happy to be back in Bridge’s arms. Where he belonged.

“Plus, we had to work right up until they closed the grounds, so we had to book it out of there. I left Kent with the horses at the first rest area we came upon, and then hightailed it back,” Bridge said. “I’d have driven all the way to Colorado to catch you.”

He looked up into those rich chocolate-colored eyes and took the first easy breath since he’d foolishly left Bridge. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that Bridge was here, had come back for him. “I love you, cowboy.”

Bridge tapped the brim of Eric’s hat and grinned. The playful one that never failed to cast a ray of sunshine in his mind. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Eric smiled. “Guess I had to learn how to let it ride.”

“Don’t be sad, Uncle Eric.”

Eric looked down to find wide, blue eyes staring up at him. His vision blurred, but he blinked quickly until it cleared. “I’m not sad, honey.”