Emily's Cowboy (14 page)

Mac was recovering quickly, the hospital now talking of sending him back to Tamworth hospital or some rehabilitation centre a little closer to home. Gareth hoped that didn’t happen too soon, because he knew Emily would worry with her father so far away.

The rugby league season was well underway, but still had a few months to go before the end of the regular season. Then there were the additional weeks of the final series, which the Jets looked in a good position to be a part of. So Gareth was stuck in Sydney for the near future. He tried not to think about that, to put it from his mind. He didn’t really want to deal with any unsettling thoughts about his and Emily’s future. In his mind, she belonged with him.

So it was a double blow, after having spent so much time with Emily, when everything came to a head at once. Gareth was already trying to come to terms with being separated from Emily for the three days the Jets would be away for the North Queensland game, the next in the round. Hearing that Mac was being moved back home and Emily was going with him—all scheduled to happen while he was in North Queensland—had felt like being on the end of a head-high hit.

 The reality of the situation was that his parents could not be responsible for both properties forever, and Mac was nowhere near well enough to take back the reins of his farm, likely not even out of rehab for weeks. Deep down, Gareth understood that Emily had to go back, at least for the time being, but he didn’t have to like it.

“Bloody Dylan should be here. This shouldn’t fall on your shoulders alone, Em. Goddamn it, your brother could only manage one phone call to Mac in all this time,” he shouted. His anger was misplaced, but more out of frustration and his own selfishness at not wanting to let Emily go.

“That’s not fair, Gareth. If Dyl could be here, he would. How do you think it is for him, so far away and not a thing he can do about it? It’s not going to be forever. Maybe I can come back to Sydney for a weekend or something, and when the season is finished you can come home. This isn’t the end. I love you, Gareth. I don’t want to go, but what choice do I have? Dad needs me. I can’t just abandon him. You have to understand, but if you can’t, there isn’t anything I can do about it.”

“That’s just fucking great. It’s just like three years ago—you putting everything before me, before us, and now I have to deal with not having you in my life again. Being alone again. It near killed me leaving you last time. Now, after having you back, I don’t think I can do it again!” Gareth’s anger exploded. With the force of an erupting volcano, it burst from him, unstoppable. He spun his shuddering body away from Emily and slammed his fist through the nearest wall. Plaster and dust flew into the air around him as a ragged hole appeared where his fist had connected. The pain in his flesh and bone was nothing in comparison to the pain in his heart, his mind. He wanted to howl at the sorrow that overwhelmed him—the memory of the last three years, the unrelenting loneliness and emptiness, consumed Gareth, so that rational thought disappeared.

As he gingerly pulled his hand from the punctured wall, Gareth began to feel remorse. He had never lost control of himself that way before, and in all honesty it had shocked him. The ferociousness of his fury had made him react so uncharacteristically and brutally. But what was by far worse—worse than destroying his wall and potentially damaging his hand, which would rule him out of the up-coming game—was the fear he saw in Emily’s eyes. It all but brought him to his knees.

“Emily, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into me. Please don’t look at me like that. My God, Em, I’d never hurt you. Never raise a finger to you. You must know that?”

Tears filled Emily’s eyes, and it broke Gareth’s heart. He had caused this. He had been a selfish prick. Gareth had to make it up to her, and he had to get some ice for his hand—he could feel his fingers swelling. But he was too scared to move, didn’t want to frighten Emily any more. He ached to go to her, hold her, ease her fears and her tears, but now the terrifying thought that he had gone too far—had pushed her away for good—was a distinct threat.

“Please, baby, say something. Please, Em,” he begged. Time froze as Gareth waited for a reaction from Emily.

Chapter Eighteen

Even though she understood Gareth’s frustrations, his anger at the situation that had been forced on her, Emily was still shocked by his reaction. She tried not to be hurt by his accusation that she was pushing him away again—nothing could have been farther from the truth. She was sick over the thought of being away from him again. She had faced so many of her fears to prove her love for Gareth—and she loved him, that fact was beyond doubt in her mind. She had always loved Gareth, no matter what her actions had been in the past. Emily now understood that her reasons for pushing him away were foolish and cowardly, but this time she had no choice. How could she not go home? Her father needed her.

Emily had never seen Gareth lose his temper, not like this. Yes, they had fought, back when she’d told him she didn’t want him anymore, back when she’d been an idiot, but he had never reacted so violently. All his life, Gareth had approached any tension calmly, trying to reason out any differences. To Emily’s knowledge, he had never thrown the first punch in any physical altercation, on or off the field. Seeing him slam his fist into the wall had shocked her, damn near frightened the life out of her—not that she for one moment thought Gareth would ever turn his anger against her physically. Emily knew that would never happen, but the sheer force of his anger had shaken her.

Her hesitation to go to him was due more to shock than anything else. Emily worried that Gareth had caused himself an injury—the hole in the wall was proof enough that he had used force in his punch. He was hurting in more ways than one, she could see that in his stance and hear it in his desperate-sounding apology, the sorrow clear in his eyes. Emily wanted to go to him, to soothe him, but still her feet would not move.

“Please, Em, I’m sorry…”

Her body finally caught up to her brain and Emily slowly moved towards Gareth. She lifted his still-clenched fist to her cheek, resting his knuckles against her skin gently. The swelling had already distorted the shape of his plaster dust-coated hand.

“Gareth…” was all she could mumble as the tears rolled freely down her cheeks. She was causing him so much pain. It killed her to know that it was all her fault.

“I don’t know what came over me, baby. It’s…it’s just I’m going to miss you so much. My life over these last few weeks has been the happiest in years. Having you here, by my side…the thought of being alone again…I don’t think I can do it again.”

Emily felt the moisture of Gareth’s tears as they slid down his face, dripped off his jaw onto her cheek, mixing with her own. Her heart was breaking, but this wasn’t going to be a permanent problem, she had to convince him of that. She would be returning to him as soon as it was practical, then she would be staying forever.

“Shhh… Cowboy, it won’t be like before, I promise. I’m coming back to you—if you still want me to,” she added hesitantly. “We can call each other, Skype every night if you want…I do. I’ll watch every Jets game on the TV—hey, I have for the last three years anyway. At least this time the sadness I feel will be due to our temporary separation, not the thought of never having you in my life again. We can do this. Please, Gareth, tell me you understand.”

Emily lifted her face to his, tried to discern by his facial features what her future held—
their
future held. She prayed that he would not give up on her, but he looked so defeated, so sad. She had never seen him cry before. Even when she had sent him away, he had remained stoic. Angry and argumentative, but he had never displayed such distraught emotion as he did now.

The sadness surrounding them both was palpable, threatening to drown them. Gareth’s comment about being alone was another barb through her heart, threatening to split the battered organ in two.

She had caused his suffering, his loneliness. Gareth could have been taking advantage of the women she knew had thrown themselves at him. He could have moved on with his life, but he hadn’t. Would he finally give up on her now, the thought of being alone again too hard to live with? Would he turn to another woman? If he did, could she blame him?

The longer it took Gareth to answer her, the more certain she became that he would not wait for her return. Emily let go of Gareth. She needed to get some ice for his battered hand—the last thing she wanted was to be the reason he was too injured to play this weekend. Turning her back to him, to his silence, she headed for the kitchen, her thoughts on the icepack in the freezer and getting it on his swelling knuckles quickly. She pushed all other sorrows from her mind. She would deal with them later, on her own. She had survived being without Gareth once before, and hoped she could do it again.

“Em, please don’t go…”

His whispered plea—so soft, so faint—had her spinning around fast. He had thought she was leaving, and she was, after she had seen to his injuries. Gareth didn’t want her to go.
What does that mean, though?
she wondered, unable to stop the flicker of hope from sparking in her heart that maybe there was still a chance for them.

“I’m getting some ice for your hand, to stop the swelling.”

“Oh, yeah. It hurts like a son of a bitch. Thanks.”

Gareth’s voice sounded hollow, masking any pain he felt. Emily could tell he was trying not to show his emotions any further—he was probably feeling disgusted with himself that she had seen him cry in the first place. “Stupid bloody alpha males,” she muttered as she hurried to the freezer.

Ice-pack at the ready, she took Gareth by the arm, the feel of his muscled limb awakening the usual response in her, igniting heat in her core. One touch of his body had her melting—the heat of his skin in one hand and the cold of the ice in the other were such a contrast. How could they possibly not make it when this was the reaction that always took place when they came together? Just a brush of skin was enough to spark such passion. Her thoughts became more resolute—she had to make him believe in them.

She herded him to the couch and coaxed him to sit by her. She placed the ice pack against the back of his hand, her smaller hands now positioned below and above his larger one, comforting him.

Emily looked at Gareth’s hand, so much larger than her own. She had always loved them, the feel of them on her skin. They were so masculine—his long, thick fingers; blunt-trimmed, squared fingernails; strong, hard-working hands that had delivered so much pleasure to her. It was unthinkable that they might never bring her pleasure again.

Neither spoke for what seemed an eternity. Just when Emily thought she could stand it no longer, and was ready to make one last plea for Gareth’s understanding, he beat her to it.

“I do understand, Em. I’m acting like a selfish prick. Of course you need to go home with Mac—fuck, if it was Dad I’d be doing the same thing, footy or no footy. I’m sorry I lost it like that… God, don’t know what came over me. It’ll never happen again. I never want to have to see a repeat of that look of fear in your eyes.”

“It’s okay, Gareth. I know you would never hurt me. It wasn’t fear of you. It was more shock…and the worry that you might have hurt yourself. I love you. That will never change, no matter what you decide.”

“Just promise me you’ll come back to me, Em. As long as I know you will…I’ll wait for you forever.”

Chapter Nineteen

Five months later…

Mac was finally up and around, albeit slowly and with the use of a cane. For Emily, it was a godsend. Finally she could take a step back from the day-to-day running of the farm.

It had been tough at first—the jackeroos had not been comfortable with taking orders from her, but with the help of Malcolm Andrews, Gareth’s father, she had finally won over their support. It was tiring work, though, not helped by the contrary Australian weather—one minute the countryside was in the grip of a drought, the next the rain had arrived and was so heavy that half the farm was underwater. It was the always the way when you lived off the land—one disaster leading into another, just when you thought maybe things were getting under control.

Even though Emily loved every bit of being a country farmer, she had missed Gareth with an intensity that hovered close to addiction. If it had not been for their regular phone calls and nightly Skype sessions—when the internet connection had not dropped out due to her isolation or the weather—she wouldn’t have made it, would have ended up huddled in a corner someplace, rocking to and fro under the pressure.

There had been some hot conversations between them over the months. Emily blushed just thinking about what they had managed to achieve in the sex department, in spite of their separation. More than once Gareth had sprawled naked on his bed, his cock in hand, in front of the computer screen. She in return had spread her legs wide and masturbated for him, while he pumped his cock up and down until they both came.

There had been raunchy phone calls as well. The sound of Gareth’s deep, gravelly, sensual voice—describing in detail just what he would do to her when they were reunited—had brought her to climax even without much physical stimulation on her part.

There had also been the naughty packages delivered by an unsuspecting postman. The helpful postie had taken the time to deliver to her door, rather than just leave the mail in the roadside mail box. Emily felt guilty—if the postie had known what was in the packages, he might not have been so eager to go out of his way for her. She had been shocked enough when she’d opened them, thanking the gods that she had done so alone, as various-sized vibrators and dildos had fallen from the packaging. Gareth had taken to visiting adult sex shops, had said he’d enjoyed shopping for her with the thought that he could watch her using the sexy purchases on Skype…

Emily hated to think what would happen if Gareth was recognised during any of his outrageous shopping expeditions. The Sydney press would have a field day—she had spent half a day thinking up shock headlines, her favourite being ‘
Secret Perverted Life of Sydney Sport Superstar’.