Braving the Storm (Crimson Ridge #2)

Chapter 43

R unning the faucet, I carefully set the glass beneath the flow of water and hold the stems of the flowers to one side so the delicate petals don’t get bruised.

The kitchen still has a faint essence of new paint smell to it when you stand in this spot beside the basin. The countertops are no longer cracked, shitty surfaces. I replaced them with new polished wood that looks a million times better than it ever did before.

I even replaced the awful couch.

The bathroom has been on my list to work on next, but with the summer season approaching, and Beau arriving in town any day to look over things at his ranch, the amount of hours I’ve had to keep working on the cabin have been steadily diminishing.

Turning off the faucet, I cross back to the wooden table—which is now freshly sanded and oiled and looking equally as smartened up as the countertops—and set the flowers in the spot where she always used to put them.

Spring blooms have popped up and seem to form a cheerful carpet everywhere I look, yet, all it does is jab at my stomach each time I see their brightly colored faces, reminding me that it’s been weeks upon weeks since that day she left .

In all that time, I haven’t heard from her.

Reality is starting to settle in my gut, heavy and oppressive, that Briar may never come back.

We hadn’t made any promises to one another. For all I know, or can even hope, is that she’s ditched her shitty ex and maybe left the country. She deserves to live a life and have her freedom beyond living beneath my brother’s thumb, and sometimes when I lie in bed at night sending her messages, ones that she opens and reads straight away, but never replies to, is that maybe she’s wandering around art galleries in Paris, or driving herself on a scooter around Rome or some shit.

Then I tend to spiral off into dark thoughts about the array of pretty boys lined up to play tour guide with her, and that makes me seriously consider booking a ticket to LA just to try and find out where she might have gone.

I’ve never been tempted to go back to that fucking city, but for Briar, I’d jump on a direct flight in a heartbeat.

Dragging my hands through my hair, I wander aimlessly across the few feet to the kitchen and rest my ass against the counter. I’ve got a fuckload of work to do. I’ve got messages there from Beau to respond to. Then I need to drag my ass to go see Lucas Rhodes about the horses down on his ranch.

Except, instead of making a start on any of those things, my eyes catch on the couch. It’s a much more comfortable replacement for the piece of shit that used to sit in that spot, but all it does is remind me.

Seeing it brings back memories of her.

I’m stroking myself while she’s rubbing her sweet pussy against my thigh, grinding herself down while we’re slowly, leisurely making out.

The band of my cuff strapped to her wrist brushes against my collarbone as her fingers tug on my hair.

I tell her how beautiful she looks being the perfect little fucktoy for me to use, how she’s not allowed to come like that, but I want her right on edge.

The words sit right there on the edge of my consciousness, resting on the cusp just like her climax is, that I want to confess how much I love her.

Instead, I suck on her tongue and growl. “Ride me, darlin’.”

Briar rewards me with a smile and a delicious moan, and it’s the most precious thing in the entire world. Sinking forward against my mouth at the same time as she slides down over my cock, my girl straddles my lap, and this is exactly how I want every fucking day to be for the rest of my life.

It’s tortuous how every corner of this cabin reminds me of what it was like to have her in my arms. I swear to god her scent is still imprinted in the wooden beams and fixtures because I’ll catch a hit of her every now and then, and it stops me dead in my tracks.

On those bitter, foul-tasting, low days, when I’ve contemplated throwing all caution to the wind and going after her, the only thing that has stopped me is knowing that if I did, it would fuck things up even more.

If she didn’t say goodbye other than with a two-word note, doesn’t reply to anything I send her, and doesn’t want to come back… then the message is pretty damn transparent she doesn’t want me to.

I’m not going to force anything, that girl deserves the right to make her own decisions, and while it goddamn makes my heart bleed to think that she might move on—I’m also painfully aware that she can do better than a guy like me.

Yet, I’m a creature with a sickness, one that remains in some tiny part hopeful because at least Briar read my messages.

She opened them.

That has to mean something… right?

“Storm?” The sharp crackle and static of the radio slices right through my maze of thoughts I’ve been lost in.

“Storm, are you there?” Layla’s voice fills the room.

It only takes a few paces, and I’m swiping up the handset to respond in all of a couple of seconds.

“Go ahead, Layla.”

“Thank fuck. We need you up here at the ranch. ”

“Someone injured?” Shit, I run my hand over the back of my neck. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worried about Colt getting hurt or some fresh hell like that, and with how isolated they are, medical help is always going to be a long way away.

“No—but one of the horses. They’ve thrown a shoe.”

I blow out a breath. At least it’s not a call for help with Colton Wilder half bleeding to death on my hands.

“Don’t fucking scare me like that, Layla.”

“Well, in my world, this is an emergency. Winnie looks to be in pain, and I’m asking, politely, for you to get your ass up here right now.”

The radio crackles.

“Please, Storm? For Winnie?”

“I’m on my way. Just keep her in the barn, stop her from moving around too much, and wrap the hoof if you need to until I get there.”

“Thank you. I know you’ll take excellent care of her for me.”

“Be there soon.”

Hanging the radio up, I don’t have time to keep thinking about the girl I’m missing, like my fucking heart has vacated my chest and crawled after her. There is too much shit I gotta do, and this visit to Devil’s Peak Ranch is likely to take me the rest of the day.

Grabbing my jacket and hat and shoving into my boots, I pause with one hand on the door handle.

Before leaving, I tug my phone out of my pocket and snap a quick photo of the vase of flowers. There’s no opportunity to linger or agonize over typing a caption, so I just post it to my Instagram and add it to the collection of daily photos, trying to at least show Briar that even if she’s not here to see it, this place is always going to be her home.

I shift the truck into park and hop out onto the gravel of the deserted yard. Just as I’ve slammed the door shut behind me, ready to make my way straight toward the barn where I know Layla will be waiting with Winnie, I hear a throat clear roughly.

“St?rmand.”

Leaning on the rail to the porch of his fancy fucking mountain property, looking out over the ranch and Devil’s Peak, Colton Wilder gives me a look I can’t interpret. Or, more to the point, I can’t be bothered to.

“Get your ass up here.” He beckons me with a wave to join him, and as he stands straight, I see he’s got two beers dangling from one hand.

“Bit unlike you to be taking an afternoon off, old man.”

He hits me with a grunt and a shake of his head. “Just come sit with me for a minute, would ya.”

“Take it your horses are all fucking fine, then,” I grumble as I climb the short flight of steps flanked by stonework and cedarwood, joining him in one of the ridiculous oversized outdoor chairs he’s got on this porch.

“How else was I supposed to get you up here, hmm ?” He hands me one of the drinks and then settles back with a sigh and readjusts his cap, tugging it back down over his dark hair.

“Preying on my weakness. You know I’d run up here on two legs through snow if those damn horses were injured. Thought only your asshole son was the one to stoop low enough for bullshit pranks around here.”

“Quit your bitching and drink your damn beer.”

I stretch my boots out in front of me and drop my hat onto the seat beside mine, so I can sink right back into the plush cushions.

We both sit there in silence, listening to the creak of the pine trees in the wind, as a long sip of my beer goes down on a smooth glide.

Colt eventually clears his throat, again.

Turning to face him, I narrow my eyes. “If this isn’t about a problem with your horses, and you seem to have something wedged in your windpipe over there, wanna spit it out?”

“Look, I’m no expert… but speaking as someone who almost fucked everything up because I didn’t go after the girl…”

Heat races up the back of my neck.

“You don’t know shit, sweetheart.” I tip my beer back and nearly fucking drain the entire contents. My throat works as my mind scrambles to figure out what Colt thinks he knows.

“Well, I can sure as hell tell you how fucking miserable it feels when you wake up one morning and realize you let someone special slip through your fingers.”

I let the air rush out of my lungs, scrubbing one hand over my face. “That obvious, huh?”

His eyes drift to my knuckles for a second.

“Storm, you and I have known each other a long ass time. In all those years, aside from these bloody horses, I’ve never seen you take care of anything, or anyone, including yourself.”

An elephant sits itself on my chest, and I struggle down another swallow of my beer.

“It hurts like a bitch, and I don’t know much, but I can tell you love is a motherfucker.” He leans forward with elbows resting on his knees.

“Yeah, well, that motherfucker certainly knows how to play dirty.”

“She coming back?”

I shove my hand into my hair. “Dunno.”

“You heard from her?”

“What is this? Fifty fucking questions?” I grunt.

Colt scratches his beard and studies me quietly. “I’m not gonna let you waste away by yourself on this mountain and nearly make the same mistake I did.”

“Yeah, well, shit was simple for you.”

That makes him bark out a laugh. “Yeah. Real goddamn simple.”

Considering that I watched him mope around this ranch for nearly half a year before he finally went and found his girl, I know he understands this feeling, this sensation of being hollowed out and having your heart squeezed so damn tight it might implode.

Even if I don’t want to admit to him that I’ve been struggling to know how to even fucking breathe without her.

“As someone who nearly screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me, I’m telling you now, if you even have the faintest idea of where she is, go get her.” Colt turns his bottle around and around in his hands as he speaks softly.

Tugging on my hair, I shift my weight around. “This is shit I don’t know, Colt. Put me on the back of a bull; I can hang on and try not to get myself killed. Give me horses; I can hammer nails and fit shoes all day. Want me to herd cattle? I can fucking do it with one arm tied behind my back and a lame horse.”

I set my nearly empty bottle down, and crack my knuckles, leaning forward now. Feeling like my gut is churning as I admit out loud what I’ve kept swallowing down for weeks on end.

“What if she doesn’t fucking want what I have to offer? What if the reason she left is because I screwed it up.”

He continues to study his beer, as if reliving his own version of this fresh hell I’ve found myself incapable of climbing out of.

“Do you think you did something?” Colt finally speaks.

I hate that I can’t answer that question. My time with Briar was so intense and intertwined with her learning things about herself and exploring her own identity… I’ve wondered the same thing too many times while tossing and turning through sleepless nights. I’ve woken up with drenched sheets after nightmares that she was hurt by my hand in some way. That I was too rough with her, too demanding, too desperate.

Coughing into my fist, I finally dredge up a response. “I don’t know, but shit, maybe I’m just cursed to be alone… either way, how am I supposed to know what to do?”

Colt just shrugs like an unhelpful bastard. “You don't know until you at least try. ”

“You boys hungry?” A gentle voice interrupts us. Layla appears, looking every inch the dirty little liar she is.

Scowling in her direction, I shake my head. “Don’t expect me to pick up the radio next time if there’s a real emergency.”

“Sorry?” She hits me with green eyes that are anything but apologetic. Her gaze, filled with curiosity, bounces quick-fire between me and Colt, trying to work out how much we’ve discussed so far. If Colt knows about Briar, then of course she does, too.

“Winnie-girl deserves better than to be dragged into your web of lies, Layla.” I scowl and receive an unrepentant, beaming smile in return.

She settles herself on the armrest of Colt’s chair and immediately swipes his beer to steal a sip.

“Let me feed you dinner and make it up to you?”

I try to think of an excuse to leave, the last thing I feel like doing is sitting around watching these two be a pair of lovebirds all night.

“Don’t pretend you’re not hungry. I know how you eat. Stick around for a bit, there’s even a bed if you want to crash here for the night.” Colt says.

“Bit cozy, isn’t it? How does that work anyway, you and Kayce all under one roof? Isn’t that too weird for him?” I raise an eyebrow.

Layla immediately flushes.

I’ll take that as a yes.

Knowing how these two can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves for five seconds, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.

“We’re actually living up in the cabin on the ridge, but when it’s nights like tonight, we’ll stay down here at the main house.” Colt gets to his feet. “Kayce is overnighting in Crimson Ridge for a couple of days and training over at Rhodes’ ranch.”

“Good. He needs a few bronc rides that’ll try to chew him up and spit him out before the season starts. ”

“Come on, let’s figure out what we’re gonna feed you.” Layla pats my shoulder as she stops beside my chair. “Wanna make yourself useful and chop some potatoes for me?”

“As long as you promise not to ask me shit about fuck, I’m happy.”

“Ok.” Layla twists her lips, and her expression softens slightly. “Although, just saying, if you need help booking the next available flight out of here, I’m your gal. Hell, just give me the signal, and I’ll drive you to the airport like our tails are on fire.”

My default scowl is met with a smile that says she knows all my secrets.

As Colt and Layla head inside, I pause before following them. Their Wi-Fi might be patchy, but it sometimes works out here, and today it would seem that I’m in luck for being able to check my messages.

I scroll straight past all the notifications from Beau, other business inquiries, and stupid, brainless comments left on my social media posts.

There’s only one name I’m looking for.

There’s only one message thread I open, confirming for myself what I already knew would be the case.

No reply.

I’ve already fucked up so much in this life. I’m not going to dare ruin Briar’s by being selfish. Except, she’s read my latest message, and if she’s seen that, then surely she’s been seeing my daily photos showing her the cabin, the flowers, all the things I’d do for her, if only she’d let me take care of her forever.

Jesus. Maybe Colt was right, and I do need to go find out the facts for myself. How much longer am I gonna be content to sit here alone, not knowing?

As I lock my phone screen, tucking it away in my back pocket, and kick my boots off at the door I’m already hollering.

“ Layla .”

She pops her head around the corner from the kitchen, a grin taking over her face as she recognizes my furrowed brow and determined expression.

“We’re getting your city girl back?” Excitement lights her green eyes.

“Let that man of yours take over the cooking…” I grab her by the shoulders and steer us in the direction of where I know Colt’s office and computer live. “I’m gonna need you to help me book a flight.”