Rough, Raw, and Ready (Rough Riders #5)(42)

Edgard didn’t offer him any false words of comfort.

“It scares the hell out of me. Chassie don’t know what a bastard my dad was. Still is.

I didn’t tell her about some of the shit he’d pulled because I…goddammit, I worried she wouldn’t marry me because she’d be afraid I’d turn out like him.

“Now I can’t tell her because I’m afraid with all the other stuff that’s happened, she’ll kick me to the fence. Seems I can’t tell her nothin’ without fear of losin’ her.” His short bark of laughter rivaled the cold for bitterness. “I suck at this spillin’ my guts stuff.

I always have. You know that probably better’n anyone.”


“Yeah, well, it’s a lousy excuse. It always has been.”


Trevor slowly lifted his head and gave Edgard an incredulous look. “How is that smartass answer supposed to help me?”


“Oh, so now you want my help?”


“Well yeah, since it’s obvious I f*cked up and it’s obvious you think you know how to fix it.”


“Fine.” Edgard pointed to the cell phone clipped on the dash. “Call her. Say, ‘Baby, I’m sorry I was an *. I love you’, but for Christsake don’t qualify it.”


“Qualify it, meanin’ what?”


“Don’t tack on, ‘I was an * because I’m under stress’, just apologize. Period.”


They stared at each other.

“That’s it?”


“Sometimes the smallest gestures have the biggest impact.”


“Can’t be that easy,” Trevor muttered, snatching the phone. He faced out the driver’s side window but didn’t lower his voice.

“Hey, Chass. No. Nothin’s wrong. I just wanted to say…I’m sorry. You know, for earlier today. In the barn. I was a jerk.” When Trevor started to tack on, “Because…”


Edgard reached over and smacked him on the arm. Trevor whirled back around. “Jesus, Mancuso. What the f*ck?”


Edgard shook his head and mouthed, “No excuses.”


Still glaring at Edgard, Trevor said, “No, nothin’ happened. Ed spilled his coffee all over himself. Yeah. He’s fine, even when he’s graceful as a bear.” Trevor mouthed,

“Asshole,” at Edgard. Pause. “Sure. Sounds good. We’ll be home for lunch in a bit. Love you too, baby.”


After he snapped the phone shut, he stabbed the antennae at Edgard and warned,

“You ain’t allowed to gloat, amigo.”


“I promise not to start humming the Mexican hat dance and clacking my castanets in victory,” he said wryly.

“You’re hilarious.” Trevor put the truck in drive and they were bumping across the uneven terrain.

Edgard squinted at the unfamiliar stark scenery outside his window. Dirt-covered snow stretched across miles of flat prairie; dead clumps of brownish grass poked through the thin layer of white. Wind stripped the moisture away from the ground in places, leaving patches of red dirt. Skeletal trees, rocks, tumbleweeds scattered along the fenceline added to the vastness and the loneliness of the scene.

Isolation. Desperation. It fit Edgard’s mood, not only today, but for the last year.

Gruffly, Trevor said, “Thanks.”


“You’re welcome.”


Silence filled the truck cab. So many things had been left unsaid. Again. Maybe they were doomed to be stuck at that impasse. Unable to go back; unwilling to move forward.

The events of last night seemed so far away, in that surreal state where Edgard questioned whether it’d really happened.

A few minutes later, out of the blue, Trevor spoke again. “You’ve changed, Ed. You always were quiet, that strong silent type of guy, especially in public, but you’re even more so these days. What gives?”


“So glad you noticed,” Edgard muttered.

“I’ve noticed lots of things.”


Edgard’s head whipped around at the silky resonance in Trevor’s tone. “Yeah?”


“Yeah. But mostly I notice how you get a little prissy when I bring up something you don’t wanna discuss.”


His mouth dropped open. “Prissy? For Christsake, I’ve never been prissy a day in my life.”


Trevor grinned. “See? That right there was prissy.”


“Fuck off.”


“Just sayin’…”


Trevor’s you-know-you-love-me grin had always been Edgard’s downfall. He smiled back. “Asshole.”


“So, you gonna tell me why you don’t wanna talk about what happened to you in the last few years?”


Edgard didn’t respond. Didn’t know where or how to start, actually. He focused his attention out the window, absentmindedly pinching the tips of his wet leather glove between his fingers and thumb. “It doesn’t matter.”


A warm, dry hand covered his, stopping his restless fingers, and damn near stopping his heart. Edgard didn’t move. He was frozen in that place between hope and fear.

“It matters to me,” Trevor said.