Trial by Fire (16 page)

Lachlan narrowed his eyes. This was going sideways on him, he could feel it.

“What kind of schedule?”

“We were thinking you and I could split time—six months with us, six months with you, at least until she starts formal schooling. Then we could decide whether to go the private school or tutor route.”

Margery sat back, her mouth tightening with shock, but it was Holden who looked at Lachlan as if to ask if he knew about this. He shook his head slightly, because this wasn’t exactly ironing out visits like his parents had said.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m not comfortable with my girl being away from me for six months at a time. She needs her family, absolutely, but she needs her daddy all the time.”

His mum looked at Holden, brows raised. “Her father is gone, dear. It’s important she knows both sides of her family.”

Holden stared Mum down, calm and cool as ice. “I’m aware her father is gone, her mom. Doesn’t change anything now. I’m gonna be her daddy. I don’t intend to give her away for raising.”

“Aw, now, lad. Don’t take on that way.” Lachlan’s dad leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It’ll be good for her to know both places.”

Lachlan felt as if he was watching a tennis match. Back and forth, and he had no bloody idea what to do.

“I ain’t suggesting that she cain’t come to visit y’all. That we won’t come to see y’all.” Holden glanced at Lachlan, then away. “But I’m the one doing the raisin’.”

“Holden is right.” Margery crossed her arms over her chest, her body language clear. “I can even see her coming for a few weeks when school is out, but she belongs here.”

“She belongs with me,” Holden said. “Y’all don’t seem to be listening to me very good.”

“Lachlan,” Mum appealed to him, hands spread. “You said you were going to come here and bring her back to us.”

Oh, Christ. “It’s not that easy, Mum.” Legally or personally. Holden had solid custody, but he was also a damned good dad. Hell, Chloe would be safer with Holden than she ever would be with them.

“He’s met Holden now.” That was Mr. Brandon, voice oddly quiet. “He knows that baby girl belongs with Holden. That was what Addie and Landon wanted.”

Lachlan’s mum blinked rapidly, a sure sign she was about to lose it. He felt for her, he did, but he knew it was wrong to take Chloe away for any length of time. He just knew it.

“How do we know that?” Dad burst out. “We don’t know what Ades wanted! Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” Dad reached out to jiggle Chloe’s foot when she started to snuffle and fuss. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“Well, because that’s what she said. Y’all surely know that girl wasn’t a bit shy about letting her wishes be known. Holden was the godfather. Hell, Holden was holding her hand when that baby was born, because Landon was holding Addie’s feet. I think y’all are damn good folks, and you’re welcome here anytime, but I can’t support something that the kids didn’t want.”

Lachlan didn’t think he’d ever heard Mr. Brandon say so many words in a row. Ever.

Holden, though, he was staring at Lachlan, those dark eyes burning. He felt the weight of that gaze, the meaning. He wasn’t sure he could look over. He wasn’t a fucking coward, but….

“What about all the work Holden does? What about the rodeo and the cattle? He’s going to have to hire a nanny, and eventually he’ll want to sow his oats as young men do. What about that?”

“Oh, now, Holden knows his responsibilities.” Margery sighed. “He’s been doing this job longer than you think.”

“But you and I both know how busy the boys are. These are huge operations, and we’re not getting any younger. You’re going to need him to do more and more.”

“I’m not a screwup,” Holden ground out, and Margery spoke up.

“No, Son. You’re the most stable man alive. You always have been.”

The wind began to blow, and Lachlan just wanted to get the hell out of this mess, clear his head, and figure out when his entire life went pear-shaped. He was fairly sure he could blame it on his goddamn sister.

“No one’s suggesting you’re a screwup, young man,” Dad said. “But she’s not going to be easy forever. She’ll be crawling in a matter of weeks, then she’ll be walking, and your parents will be running a rodeo company. What then?”

“Maybe I don’t have to do it alone.”

Lachlan looked at Holden now, meeting those dark eyes, where this terrible hope had sprung up. Lachlan’s heart began to beat so hard he thought he’d be the next one to the hospital.

“What does that mean?” Mum asked.

“We could do it, cowboy. Together. Raise her. Make a family. She’d never need for anything and neither would you.” Holden never even glanced toward either set of parents. Those near-black eyes were on him.

For one shining moment fierce joy welled up in his chest. God, what it had to take for Holden to say that here and now. Brave little bastard.

Then, like it had his whole bloody life, reality crashed in hard. This time in the form of his dad.

“Right. Because the two of you have known each other a grand total of what? A week? Lachlan can’t just shut down his life and play house with you, don’t you get that? You have no idea how important he is.”

This. This was why Ades had run. Lachlan knew it as sure as he knew his own name, and he didn’t want to be Lachlan McCoughey another second.

He surged to his feet. “Bugger off. All of you just rack off. I’m not doing this.” He wasn’t going to be ambushed any more. He needed time to think. So Lachlan turned on his heel and left the room, then stormed through the kitchen where a dozen people milled about like they belonged there.

He grabbed his keys, headed out to the rental, and peeled out of the driveway, gravel flying under the tires.

He was out of here.

HOLDEN
stood in the sunroom, forcing himself not to show even a hint of the hurt he felt. All wounded critters were animals, and the McCougheys were bleeding and looking to bite. The last thing he needed was to lose more blood.

“Let me be real clear, y’all. There won’t be any sharing of custody. There won’t be no six months away from me. Addie and Landon trusted me to raise this baby girl should something happen, and something did. I intend to do my duty toward her and be her daddy.”

And that was that.

He may not get any other fucking thing right in the history of being him, but he’d do this, by God. He would give Chloe a daddy who loved her.

“How? You can’t even keep her safe here on your own ranch.” Gladys’s eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too damned late for that. The words were out.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his mouth shut. Cussing an old woman wasn’t his way, and he got it. They loved their grandgirl and missed their daughter. That wasn’t his to carry, though.

He didn’t get to bear every load someone wanted him to.

He bent down and scooped up his baby girl. “I’m heading home, y’all. I’ll be here at nine tomorrow to get ready for the funeral. I’ll have my piece wrote up to say.”

His momma nodded, looking pale but surprisingly calm. “See you then, Son.”

“I’ll see the McCougheys back to Addie’s,” his dad murmured.

He didn’t answer; he had nothing to say. He would have just stormed off in a huff, but he had to get the car seat and the carrier, diapers and clothes and Chloe’s favorite toys and blankets and some bottles and formula and applesauce and wipes.

He guessed his storming days were over. Now he sort of… sprinkled.

By the time he’d calmed down some, Chloe was down for the night in her brand-new crib that was in the room that was still fucking mushroom. God, he needed to paint it. He’d written his eulogy as best he could. Hell, he’d cleaned his kitchen and his front room and ironed about fifteen shirts to choose for the next day.

Ryan let himself in about the time Holden began creasing his jeans.

“Whoa. Buddy. Put down the spray starch and back away slowly.”

“Shut up, Lefty.” He brandished his iron like a club. “What do you want?”

He wasn’t in the mood for bullshit.

Ryan held up a fifth of tequila and a bag of limes. “You got salt?”

He put the iron down, unplugged it. “Fuck yes, I do.”

“Good man. Meet me with two glasses at the kitchen table, salt and a knife. We’re fixin’ to celebrate a bullfighter.”

That sounded like the best idea he’d heard since Landon and Addie had gone down in that tiny plane and he’d drunk himself sober. “As long as we can drink to my brother and his girl, I’m in.”

“We can drink to the entire fucking world, buddy. You’re wound so tight that you’re fixin’ to crack down the center like a dropped pie plate.”

“You have no idea.” He knew himself well enough to know he was flying on autopilot.

“You know better, bud. I know all.” Ryan disappeared, and he heard the crinkle of a chip bag.

He got them set up and dug the salsa from the fridge and grabbed a big bowl.

Ryan cut up limes, then popped the paper label at the top of the bottle. He held out his glass, and Ryan poured him a shot, then poured another. “To Crazy.”

“To Crazy.” He clinked glasses with Ryan and took the shot, the lime and salt finishing it off. Whew. That almost sucked his face inside out.

Ryan slammed his glass down. “Damn.”

“Uh-huh.” Shit, that burned. His eyes watered, and it was the tequila that did it. For sure.

Ryan poured out again. “To Landon.”

“Yeah. Yeah. He was….” He swallowed, but couldn’t finish, so he just took the shot.

“He was.” Ryan sighed. “I’m so sorry, Pancho. I miss him so bad I can’t even imagine how it is for you.”

“It’s like… I keep wanting to tell him things. I keep needing to see him, and he’s… he’s still not here. He’s never gonna be here for me again and….” He slammed his hand down on the table, the sound like a shot. “You know, Crazy saw him right before he died, talked to him.”

“Did he?” Ryan never questioned it, he could tell. “That makes me happy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” He poured another shot, then drank to Miss Addie. This one didn’t burn near as bad. “I did something stupid today, Lefty. Real stupid.”

“Tell me about it.” Ryan munched his way through half the bowl of chips and salsa.

“I—Lachlan’s parents want me to give them custody of Chloe for six months a year, and I asked him to… I don’t know, man. I asked Lachlan to throw in with me. Stupid. I know better than to do that.” He wasn’t hurting money wise. In fact, he was doing damn well for himself, but…. He wasn’t one of them. The oh so important McCougheys.

“So, I guess he said no, right?” Ryan watched him, green eyes dark and serious.

“He just said to bugger off, which is apparently Australian for go fuck yourself, and left.”

“Well, that’s probably good, huh? I mean, he’s obviously a dickhead. You don’t need that shit in your life.”

Holden didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t need it in his life, but he wanted it. He wanted Lachlan. He might be a stupid shit, but… maybe it was in the family, falling in love with McCougheys.

“Hey, don’t look so sad. You’re just a broke-dick cowboy, and queer at that. Certainly not good enough for those people.”

“Right. I know real broke-dick cowboys, and so do you, and I happen to know when you went down on a guy for the first time, so don’t make me beat your ass about the gay shit.”

“So what is it, then? You afraid of his money? Is he just messing with you? I can kick his ass.” Ryan grinned, clearly liking the concept.

“What is what? What do you want to hear, man? I just asked a dude to live with me in front of his folks!”

“And yours. I want to know if you’re just going to be a pussy and give up this easy.”

“Give what up? I’m… I’m supposed to….” Holden stood up, started pacing. He didn’t even know what to say.

“Supposed to what? Not take a chance on being happy because of what everyone else expects. How do you know who he was telling to bugger off?” Ryan stood up and got in his path, chest bumping him.

He looked into his best friend’s eyes, grateful as fuck that Ryan understood him, and he knocked the son of a bitch right in the gut. “Fuck you, you asshole! You don’t fucking get it!”

“So make me!” Ryan popped him on the shoulder, avoiding his chest and nose, which might set off an asthma attack.

“I fucking love him! He asked me to go see Australia, and I said yes!” Holden had said that he’d leave the ranch. Go with Lachlan. And it hadn’t mattered. It hadn’t been enough. He hit Ryan again, fighting tears with all he was worth.

“So tell him, you dipshit. Get him alone and tell him why you asked.” Ryan ducked his next swing, blocked the one after that.

“Dear Lachlan, I don’t know dick about you, and I don’t know how I’m gonna make this work or raise this baby or nothing, but I love you. Hell of a deal.”

“It is a hell of a deal.” Ryan grabbed him and held him, letting him struggle until he couldn’t hardly move anymore. “There was a time I would have given my eyeteeth for that kind of offer from you. Unless he’s the stupidest fuck on earth, he’ll answer that with a yes.”

“I miss them, Ryan.” He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t do this. “Crazy, Addie. God, how do I live the rest of my fucking life without Landon? How does that work?”

Landon was his twin…. They were supposed to be brothers forever.

“You put your head down and work, and you put yourself out there and find people to help you remember them and to give all that love to.” Ryan kissed his cheek. “I love you, Pancho. You’ll figure this.”

“I love you, man, but I think maybe this time you’re wrong. I’m not sure I got it in me to figure anything else out.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll let someone else worry for a few more shots.”

He laughed, and if the sound was raw as hell, so be it. “That sounds like the best plan ever.”

Ryan flexed his impressive muscles. “I’m a brilliant motherfucker.”

LACHLAN
got back to the house Ades had built around ten. He figured no one had died while he’d driven about, and that was a damned good thing, considering how many times he’d turned into the wrong lane.