Freed Page 18

  She glances up from her book and grins at me. “I can’t thank you enough for all the paperbacks, Denver. We have the same taste in books.” OK … so that makes me blush. “I have to say I was a little concerned when Victoria showed up. Not because I think you have anything to worry about,” she rushes out. “It’s just these things can be awkward, and your relationship with my son is so new. Anyway, I was real proud with how you handled yourself. A couple of her comments were a little on the, um—” Bitchy, condescending, petty, transparent … “—disrespectful side, but you didn’t let her get you wound up.”

  I ease down on the couch across from her, but for some reason, I can’t sit back and get comfortable. “Well,” I murmur. “I’m glad it looked that way. I admit I wasn’t totally unaffected.”

  “I can’t imagine you weren’t,” she muses. “And for me to sit here and say you have nothing to worry about or that Johnny is a good boy—” We share a snicker over her reference. “—that wouldn’t be fair of me. Life is full of uncertainties. One true thing, however, is the way in which we handle life’s curveballs. Good or bad—it determines our character.”

  And if that isn’t a raw, touchy subject, I don’t know what is. “Yeah, I haven’t always been the best at controlling my reactions, but I think I’m making strides in the right direction. I’ve learned a lot about myself over the last few months.”

  She nods her head fervently. “Well, our youth is all about self-discovery and carving out our way in this world. We just have to remember that we’re never too old to make a change, and that we’re not bound by our past mistakes. Lord knows, I had to learn the hard way on a few things myself. It took me years to find the strength to walk away from my destructive relationship with Ransom’s father, and even then, I couldn’t turn him away completely.” Her eyes mist over a little, and I wonder if she’s still pining for a man who sounded downright awful to me. “For a long time, I was so blinded by my love for him that I saw nothing but the possibility of what we could be instead of what we actually were. When that vision started to fade, I held on, in hopes that at least my son would have a father figure, but as we know, that was just as empty.”

  After all this woman had overcome, she has no business beating herself up over past mistakes. “You did the best you could under the circumstances, Karen. From the first time Ransom spoke of you and what you’d been through together, his respect and love were glaringly obvious. And you’ve done a good job with him.”

  I know I’m not the best at heartfelt stuff—emotions and all that—but if her beaming smile is any indication, I think I got it right. “Thank you, honey. Johnny has his faults, I’m sure, but he is good man.”

  “The best,” I agree. “And as for faults, let’s see.” I exaggerate ticking them off with my fingers. “He can be pigheaded, cocky, and uncompromising.” We share in a laugh. “The thing is, and don’t you dare tell him I said this, he rarely uses those traits for evil, and let’s face it, all of those traits can be positives too—determined, confident, and persistent. I honestly don’t know how I would’ve gotten through the past few months without him.”

  “Well, I’m certainly glad you have each other. I think you’re good for him too. Ransom needs someone strong. Someone who will challenge him. And you, my dear, are no wallflower. Not that I think he would run over anyone like that. Just the opposite, in fact, I think if he were with someone like that, he’d try to dull who he is.”

  A silence falls over us, and I can tell Karen needs some quiet time to recharge, so I make the excuse of catching up on some phone calls while I’ve got the chance. I slip into Ransom’s room, marveling again at how the young Ransom had always known what he wanted to do. His room is a shrine to his rodeo wins—trophies, belt buckles, and the pictures. I didn’t think Ransom could hold any greater appeal to me … until I saw photos of a shaggy-headed Ransom. But, I would have mixed emotions if he decides to grow it out, since I’m pretty partial to the way he looks now. Posters paper the wall, a testament to the rodeos he’d attended, rode in, and won at. He’s even got a few quotes scattered about by famous bull riders and boxers. Like he’d read them, felt inspired, and taped them on his wall as reminders.

  Crawling up on the bed, I pull my legs in and prop my phone on my knees, considering who to call. I’d called my parents on Thanksgiving, so that obligation had been fulfilled. Maggie and I had even had a chance to catch up when I snatched Pete’s phone from him yesterday, and monopolized her for a good fifteen minutes. I can’t think of anyone else to call, so I unlock my phone and fiddle with some new apps for a few minutes before giving up on that too.

  Scrolling through my contacts reminds me how many friends I’d gained since coming to college. I laugh out loud when I get to Austin’s contact info—Massive Cock. After he’d updated his nickname in my phone, he’d sent me a selfie in the black t-shirt that prompted his self-appointed nickname. The word MASSIVE sits prominently above the silhouette of a huge rooster. Rolling my eyes at him, I resume my scrolling. When I reach Greer’s info, I pause. I hadn’t had the heart to change his nickname in my phone even though he’s not My Golden Boy anymore. I had also failed to update the photo I’d taken last summer by the creek. God, I’d thought things were a mess back then. Little did I know that it would go from bad to worse, and even though there are moments when I miss the cloud of oblivion I used to live under, I would be an idiot to ignore how much better my life is now.

  It’s on that thought, I hear the front door open and some light footsteps. Figuring Ransom had returned, I give him a few minutes to talk to his mom before I put my phone away and head down the hall to join him. I hope I’ve waited the appropriate amount of time so that I don’t look like the desperate girlfriend making sure she hasn’t lost her boyfriend. Thinking about that makes me realize I didn’t even torture myself with thoughts of Ransom and Victoria together. Wow! I’m becoming well-fucking-adjusted, if I do say so myself.

  I round the corner that separates the hallway from the living room and freeze in my tracks. My eyes go wide, and my mouth drops open. By sheer miracle alone, I manage not make a fuss over the scene before me. I mean, I don’t know if it’s a bad or a good thing, or how will Ransom will feel about it, but I’ll be damned if Karen isn’t being subjected to one helluva kiss from none other than Edwin, her former boss and Victoria’s father.

  As soon as I recover from my shock, I ease back into the hallway and turn to give them some privacy, but Karen’s gasp, and plea for Edwin to cease and desist, have me frozen again. Should I intervene? Is she not on board with this? Because the way she was wrapped around him told me she had no objections.

  “I’ve told you,” he says. “Every month until you come back to me, I’m coming to get my kiss on our anniversary.”

  “And I’ve told you, Edwin, we don’t have an anniversary,” Karen states without any signs of resentment. “More than that, we don’t have a relationship, and you can’t just keep coming here and kissing me whenever you feel like it.”

  “Have you noticed that on the twenty-eighth of every month, you let me in for a visit, and we make small talk until you’re leaning toward me and practically begging me to kiss you?” She gives a little snort of indignation, but that doesn’t slow him down. “And I will, my darling, visit you each month, until you come back to me. We’re up to exactly eighteen kisses, and lucky for you, I am a patient man, Karen. I can’t fathom what you are waiting for, or why you keep denying what we are to each other, but I’ll be here when you figure it out,” Edwin promises. “Ich liebe dich,” he adds, before I hear the telltale sounds of another kiss. And, since I’m a sucker for languages, I know just enough to understand he’s just told her, I love you, in German.

  I don’t catch Karen’s whispered reply. But when Edwin replies with, “In der Liebe und im Krieg ist alles erlaubt.” I can’t even imagine how Karen holds out on him, because that’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard. I mean, I’m clueless to what he’s just said. He could h
ave told her that he’d left his socks here on his last visit, but either way it just sounded romantic.

  A quiet click of the front door has me turning around and slumping against the wall, trying to understand why on earth she would refuse him. I’d had several short visits with him over the last week, and had gotten good vibes from him. So good, in fact, I thought maybe his daughter would actually be cool about the new girlfriend. Even Ransom speaks highly of him, and that’s high praise—

  “Denver?” Karen questions. I nearly come out of my skin because I hadn’t heard her approach, and I know my guilt is written all over my face.

  “I’m so sorry, Karen. I didn’t mean to spy on you. I was actually walking away until I heard you tell him to stop, and then I wanted to make sure you didn’t need me.” All of that comes out in one breath, so I’m practically panting by the time I finish. I will absolutely die if I make this wonderful person despise me.

  She just gives me a sad smile, which is no help whatsoever, and I just want to beg her to say something. Tears well in her soft, brown eyes, so I do what I know I’m supposed to, even though it’s not an easy thing for me. I lean in to offer a hug, and she envelopes me quickly. And … it’s really, really awkward. I guess that’s kind of a good thing, because she knows it and starts laughing uncontrollably. Well, I’ve cheered her up at least.

  “Denver,” she wheezes. “You poor baby, it’s just a hug.” She pats me on the back and pushes me away, gently squeezing my arms before letting her hands fall.

  “Uh, yes. Yeah, I know,” I stammer. I can’t even meet her eyes. So pathetic. “I’m just not used to them.” And then I manage to make things about a billion times more awkward by adding, “I mean, I hug my friends these days, so there’s that, but I guess I’m still not used to hugging adults. Yeah, there was Ms. Louise, our housekeeper, but we didn’t hug. She would let me kiss her on the cheek sometimes. That was probably only like a dozen times, though, and it was usually a result of me trying to get out of some kind of trouble. Anyway, that’s all. I’ll just wait for Ransom in his room.” And on that spectacular display of verbal diarrhea, and Karen’s resulting what-in-the-world face, I spin around and resign myself to Ransom’s room.

  Even though I’ve buried my nose in my e-reader, I can’t help but be grateful Karen didn’t follow me in here and make me talk about my lack of adult affection. She probably thinks I was raised by wolves or something. Well, if the shoe fits. I really didn’t even realize it was something I needed to work on until I felt her arms go around me and I almost had a panic attack. Had no other adult in my life ever tried to hug me? I mean, wouldn’t I have missed the lack of oxygen going to my brain and other extremities if that had happened in the past? Had my mother and father really never hugged me? I close my eyes tightly and try to picture the last time either of them had even touched me.

  My mom’s pat on the head after I won Nationals two years ago.

  My dad jostling my shoulder with his when he met me at the airport last summer.

  A pinch on the arm the last time I got suspended from school.

  Wow, I blow out a breath. After searching my memory for a few seconds, a memory from when I was ten, surfaces as evidence of the last hug my mother gave me. My father’s goes back even farther than that. That’s not good, right? God as my witness, I’d seen Ransom and Karen exchange no less than three or four hugs a day. A day! Shit. No wonder I’m so fucked-up.

  I vow right here, right now, that when I have my babies I’m going to tell them and show them how much I love them. When they cry, I will hold them, no matter how old they are. When they accomplish something, even if it’s pouring a glass of milk without spilling it, I will praise them. When they make their dreams come true, or see their dreams turn into dust, I will hug them. My children will know they are loved, that way when other people show them love, they’ll be able to trust it. They will not have panic attacks just because someone shows them a little kindness.

  Maybe someone like me shouldn’t even have children. I mean, what do I know about raising a human being with a healthy psyche? But I’ve always wanted kids, and I hadn’t altered that vision, even after all the bad crap. I determine I won’t screw ‘em up too bad, since I’m sitting here promising myself that I will hug them even though they’re not even a blip on the radar yet.

  Ransom’s door creaks open, and there he stands. Grinning at me, he crosses the room swiftly, laying another one of those soul-brightening kisses on me.

  When he shifts and sits down to kick off his boots, it suddenly occurs to me that since Edwin had been here laying one on Karen, then Victoria had definitely used her father as an excuse to get Ransom away.

  “What did she want?” I ask, just wanting to get this out of way.

  He spins back to me, and the look of confusion nearly makes me laugh. It could have been so much worse—regret, pain, or longing. I don’t know that I could’ve taken it. “What is it about people who only want something when they see someone else with it? I’ll never get that. Here I was, thinking she was as over me as I am her. I may have been the one to break things off, but hell, she’s the one who cheated.” Puzzled, is not an emotion I’m used to seeing on Ransom, so it definitely distracts me from overreacting.

  “Did she ever say why she cheated?”

  “Oh, yeah. She told me years ago. Said I was too single-minded, and she wanted to experience things before we settled down. Back then, she was adamant that, even though we were breaking up, it wouldn’t be forever.”

  “Shit,” I breathe. “She wanted you on reserve.”

  “Yep. I told her then she was out of her mind—that we’d never get back together. You know, if she’d talked to me before she messed around and told me she wanted a break, might have been a different story. But, even at seventeen, I knew I could never be with someone who had so little respect for me.”

  “But if it weren’t for that, I guess there would be nothing to keep you apart.”

  He chuckles, grabs me around the waist, hoisting me up to straddle his lap. “You’ve met her. You know me. Does she seem like she’s woman enough for me?”

  “Oh my God! You are so damn cocky.” But in a sense, he’s implying that I am woman enough. Hmm … that’s nice.

  “Baby, I’ve told you that’s confidence, not cockiness. I know what I want, and I know who I want.”

  “And you want me.” A small measure of pride runs through me as I realize I phrased that like a statement and not a question.

  “Better believe it.” His intense gaze locks on me, and I’m spellbound. Those powerful arms tighten around me—arms that make him strong enough to conquer bulls and boxing opponents and … me. Arms that are strong enough to become gentle and hold me and love me. “You’re it for me.” And in that gravelly voice that makes it seem like his words are scraped from the bottom of his very soul, he whispers, “God, woman. You’re the bulls, the horn, the whole fucking ride—everything.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Denver

  I QUICKLY DISCOVER that, for a college student, the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is the oddest combination of working your ass off and partying your ass off. You work so hard that when you do finally get a break, you make the most of it. Ransom and I stole little moments as much as possible, but there comes a time when you need a crazy night to work all that stress out because you know the next week is going to be more intense than the one before it. That calls for a girls’ night out.

  Or so we’d planned.

  “Denver!” Maggie shouts from behind me. “They’re here. Can you believe it? Of all the bars in Bozeman, they just happen to show up here? Yeah, right! They’re spying on us.”

  “What are you yelling about?” I ask, spinning around to take her in. Her hands are splayed on her hips, jaw set, but amusement dances in her eyes.

  “The boys. They just walked in. Look at them. Sitting at the bar, pretending they don’t know we’re here. Do they not trust us?” God, she’s all over the
place.

  I glance over her shoulder, and sure enough, Ransom graces the barstool with an air of casual indifference, flanked by Pete, Austin, Gage, Stone, and a couple of the other bull riders. Rolling my eyes at them, I focus on Maggie again. “Nah, it’s not that. If I know them, they’re watching out for us, and more importantly, staking their claim.”

  She gives an exasperated huff. “Oh, two can play that game. I say we ignore them and go about our business.”

  Stephanie has joined the meeting of the minds by this point and adds, “Yeah, and at the end of the night, we’ll pick them up and take them home with us like a one-night stand or something.”

  I’m nodding before she even finishes. “Oh, I like the way you think, Stephanie. It’s so on. Let’s drive ‘em crazy, girls.”

  Lauren pipes up, adding, “We should dance with other guys too. Make ‘em jealous.”

  “Um, I’m not sure about that,” a quiet voice interjects. “They look a little menacing.” Stephanie and Maggie shoot her baffled looks—her being Austin’s love interest, Meredith. I’d finally wheedled her identity from him. It had only taken half a bottle of Jack after we’d spent the entire day working on our group project. He made me promise not to do anything embarrassing, and I hadn’t. I just wanted to know her. See if she was good enough for him. So, taking a page out of Stone’s book, we’d had a couple of study sessions together, which gave me the perfect opportunity to invite her out and really get to know her. So far, I like what I know.

  “They’re harmless,” Maggie assures her. “Underneath all that caveman posturing they usually project, lies actual gentlemen, if you can believe it.”

  We huddle together off to the side of the dance floor and make plans to torture our well-meaning cowboys. Meredith surprises me by adding some intriguing plays for us to implement. “OK,” she says, “so, let me get this straight, it’s Denver and Ransom.” We nod. “Pete and Maggie. Then Stephanie and Gage.”