Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas, #2)(79)

“Y-you carried me…” My heart squeezed and my eyes filled with blinding tears. I turned away from him. “I never knew. By the next morning, word had gotten around about what had happened and a few of the other counselors had started calling me ‘Sparky.’ I didn’t want to be reminded of how I’d panicked and fainted in front of everyone when they’d lit the bonfire, so I packed my things and left.”

“I know. I went to see you the following night to make sure you were okay, but Bobbie Jo told me you were already gone.” He paused, then his tone laced with anger. “Guess that’s what you do, though. You leave without saying good-bye.”

I swallowed hard.

“Take care of yourself,” he said solemnly. His boots clomped on the floor, the sound growing softer with distance as he made his way to the door.

Tears leaked down my face. I knew if I spoke again my shaky voice would tell him everything he needed to know. But despite everything I’d said, I wanted him. Now more than ever. He’d given me his trust. Maybe it was about time I did the same.

“I’m not,” I whispered.

He must’ve stopped at the door because suddenly I couldn’t hear his footfalls anymore. “Not what?”

It was a pivotal moment, dependent entirely on what words came out of my mouth next. Because if things went wrong… But I couldn’t bear to let him think he hadn’t been good enough for me. Even a guy with Cowboy’s reputation deserved better than that. “I-I’m not okay.”

“Anna…?” His voice registered concern.

I walked over to the counter and picked up the letter, not sure if I was doing the right thing. But now that I’d set the ball in motion, I couldn’t seem to stop it. I turned and moved slowly toward him, clenching the letter tightly in my grip. Once he knew everything, there would be no going back.

His eyes flickered with confusion as I handed him the letter. “Who’s it from? The Barlows?”

“Read it.”

He did as I asked and then glanced up at me. “Is this who you’re running from?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re afraid he might come after you?”

“I know he’ll come after me. He always has. Even in my dreams he won’t rest until he finds me.”

Cowboy’s eyes darkened with fury. “You know I won’t let him hurt you, don’t you?”

“That’s the thing. You won’t be able to stop him. No one can.”

“Who is he?” he demanded. “Your ex-boyfriend or something?”

“No. H-he’s my father.”

Cowboy’s eyes widened. “Why would your own father try to kill you?”

“Because my testimony is what kept him in prison for the past twenty-two years. He murdered my mother.”

“I thought your mom died in a fire. You said she was cooking dinner and went to answer the door. She told you to stay in the kitchen, but you didn’t…”

I closed my eyes briefly. “That’s true,” I said, feeling the full weight of the guilt I’d held onto for years. “But what I didn’t tell you was what happened after she opened the door and found my father on the other side.” I rubbed my palms over my face and sniffled.

“Tell me.”

“I could hear them arguing, yelling at each other at the top of their lungs, from the kitchen. He told her he wasn’t going to let her keep his daughter away from him and that he was taking me home. Then, he must’ve pushed his way inside because my mom started screaming even louder for him to get out. The moment he hollered my name and demanded for me to come to him, I hid inside the pantry.”

“You were scared of him?”

I nodded. “My parents divorced when I was six. I don’t remember much of it, though. But Mom had warned me he wasn’t a good man. He only wanted to take me away from her in order to punish her for leaving him. He hunted us down everywhere we went. That’s why we moved around so much when I was younger. To keep him from finding us.”

“Is that why you don’t share the same last name?”

“Weber is my mother’s maiden name. She didn’t want me to have any connection to that man.”

“Did he find you…in the pantry, I mean?”

I shook my head. “They came into the kitchen. Mom was crying, begging for him not to take her little girl away, but he ignored her and continued calling out my name. It was like he didn’t even care about my mother. He just wanted to hurt her.” Pain and anger surged inside of me at the injustice of it all. “Had I just left with him, she would still be alive.”

Cowboy’s eyes softened. “Sweetheart, you don’t know that.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t know for certain. But I believe it’s true.” A lone tear ran down my cheek. “There was a scuffle. Glass shattered and my father cursed, then my mother released the most agonizing sound I’d ever heard. Moments later, everything went silent.”

I shivered as my mind pulled me back in time and stuffed me back into my six-year-old body. Alone and trembling, I’d sat on the floor of the dark pantry with my arms curled around my knees until smoke eventually seeped under the door. I recalled the terror and confusion, the choking and gasping for breath, the way my eyes and throat burned. I made the decision to open the pantry door and face the awful truth about what had happened.