She was afraid again. Afraid that now, in the bright sunlight of this morning, he'd get up, get dressed, and leave her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the sting of tears. Please don't go, Matt. ...
She wanted to say the words, ached to say them, but somehow they lodged in her throat. So she said something else instead. "I ... I read your articles, Matt."
The hand on her hair stilled. His body stiffened. "You did?"
She twisted around until she could look up at him. Their eyes met, his narrowed suddenly and guarded. "Yes," she said quietly. "I thought they were brilliant."
A look of incredulity crossed his face. "You did?"
She nodded, unable to say anything past the lump in / her throat. She couldn't believe that no one had ever told him that before. He needs me, she realized. Almost as much as I need him.
"No one's ever read my work. .. ."
"I hope you don't mind—"
"No." He touched her face gently and gazed down at her. "No." A small smile tugged at his mouth, but there was no humor in it, only a bittersweet sadness. "I always thought that one day I'd work at a newspaper, but somehow I never stuck in one place long enough to try it out."
He's leaving, The two words ripped her heart out, left her weak and bleeding and afraid. She tried to rationalize them away, but she couldn't do that, couldn't look at life through blinders anymore. He was leaving her. She:,] knew it was a certainty that left her feeling sick inside;* "Matt . . ."
"What?"
She gazed up at him, pouring her heart and soul into a single, steady look. She'd never been more afraid in her life than she was at this moment. "I love you."
He paled. She thought for one terrifying moment, he was going to laugh it off. But he didn't. He just lay there, staring down at her through those sad, honest eyes.
His silence pinched her heart. She tried to smile, but couldn't.
"Mariah . .."
She pressed a finger to his lips. "I didn't tell you because I expect an answer. But I can't go back to the way I was before, hiding everything I feel. It hurts too much. I love you, Matt Stone. I'm proud of that. Whether .. ." Her voice cracked. She blinked through a hot blur of tears. "Whether you love me back doesn't matter."
He looked away, stared hard at the glittering golden square of the window. "It matters."
She touched his chin, forced him to look at her. In his eyes was a bleakness that closed around her. She stared up at him, feeling the heaviness of the moment like a stone against her heart. She knew she shouldn't say anything more, should simply snuggle up to him and accept whatever scraps of affection he had, for as long as they were offered. A week ago she might have been able to do that, might have been able to accept less than she was worth. But no more. Matt had changed the way she saw herself, the way she saw the world, and there was no going back.
She swallowed hard and blinked up at him through her stinging tears. "Stay." She said the word quietly, almost on a whisper, but it resonated through the bedroom like a scream.
He winced. "Ah, Mariah ., ."
She heard the sorrow in his voice, and something that hurt even worse. Regret.
Tears slipped over her cheeks, burrowed into the corners of her mouth.
He wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and stared down at her. "Would you come with me if I asked?"
Her heart skipped a beat. A tiny thread of hope slid into her thoughts. "Are you asking?"
He broke eye contact and stared at the wall behind her. It was a long, breathless moment before he answered softly. "No, I guess not."
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to smile. "I can't leave the farm anyway. Rass proved that."
"I never meant to hurt you, Mariah."
She slid away from him and sat up, dangling her bare feet over the edge of the bed.
"I guess I'm not the best match for a drifter."
Behind her, the bed squeaked. His feet hit the floor. "I wish I knew what to say to you, Mariah."
She straightened her back but didn't turn to him. "You do know what to say, Matt.
You just don't want to say it."
He stood there a long time. She felt his gaze on her back, moving across her bare skin like a touch of fire. Then, slowly, he turned and walked away. When the door closed with a quiet click, Mariah sagged forward and started to cry.
Jake sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Mad Dog to come into the house. Upstairs, the floorboards creaked, a door clicked open.
Mariah was getting up.
Uncertainty snipped at Jake's self-confidence. It would be hard enough to do this.
He couldn't say what he needed to say in front of Mariah.
Maybe he'd just wait for Mad Dog outside, by the bunkhouse.
Yeah, that made more sense.
He pushed his chair out and stood up.
Mad Dog came thundering down the steps and barreled into the kitchen. He ran into Jake and almost knocked him over.
He grabbed Jake by the shoulders and steadied him. "Sorry, Jake."
Jake stared at his father. He looked . . . sad. There was no other word for it. Jake frowned up at him. "Is everything okay?"
Mad Dog laughed bitterly. "Great." Then he pushed past Jake and headed to the door. "I gotta go."
Jake reached for him, missed. "Wait!"
"Can't." Mad Dog pushed through the kitchen door and disappeared.
Indecision rooted Jake to the spot for a heartbeat, then he made up his mind. He'd made a promise to Rass, and to himself. Today Mad Dog was going to learn he had a son.
Jake shoved his chair back into its spot at the table and ran from the house, bounding down the stairs after his father. "Wait!"
Mad Dog didn't even slow down.
"Damn it." Jake fisted his hands and sprinted toward the bunkhouse. He grabbed Mad Dog's arm and spun him around. "I said wait."
Mad Dog stared down at him through a haze, as if he hadn't even heard Jake calling to him. "Huh? Look, kid—"
"Jake," he shouted. "My name is Jake."
Mad Dog rolled his eyes. "Sorry."
Jake steeled himself for rejection and stared up at his father. "Do you know why that's important?"
Mad Dog frowned. "No, why?"
He drew a deep breath, then said, "My legal name is Jacob William Vanderstay."
Jake knew the moment his words registered. Mad Dog's eyes narrowed, his mouth tensed into a thin white line. "What are you saying?"
Jake nodded. "Laralee was my mother."
Mad Dog winced. He took a stumbling step backward, as if to put distance between himself and the words that were coming. "Yeah. So?"
Jake followed him. "You're my father."
"That's impossible." The words shot from his mouth like deadly arrows.
Jake felt their sharp tips in his heart. He faltered for a moment, afraid. He'd never once thought that Mad Dog might not believe him. He fished through his pocket and pulled out a bent tin locket with a painted violet on its face. He held it out to Mad Dog. "She gave me this and said it came from my father."
Mad Dog stared at the locket for a long time. Then he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His broad shoulders caved downward, his head bowed. "Oh, Jesus."
Jake stared at him. Everything inside him, every emotion and hope and fear, twisted into a ball in his stomach. He'd waited so long for this moment, all his life. He'd dreamed of it a thousand times, ached for it.
"Say something," he pleaded.
Mad Dog's hand fell from his face. He looked at Jake through moist eyes. "I don't know what to say. I didn't know she was pregnant."
"I know that."
He seemed to search for something to say. "How is Lara?"
Jake swallowed hard. "She died."
Mad Dog squeezed his eyes shut. When he spoke, his voice was raspy and tired.
"Why did you track me down? What do you want from me?"
Jake heard the words, the question, but he didn't answer. There was no point. He saw the truth in his father's sad, tired eyes. It was the beginning of good-bye.
Jake had tried to prepare himself for this moment, had told himself a thousand times that it would end this way. But still it hurt, hurt more than he could possibly have imagined. "I wanted to get to know you."
Mad Dog shook his head. "I can't be a goddamn father."
"You're already a father," Jake answered without looking at him. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded old and dull. "What you mean is, you won't be a parent."
"I don't know how."
Jake wanted to say, ached to say, we could learn together. But he didn't. The words stuck in his throat, held in place by a hot lump of tears. Resignation pulled his shoulders downward. "Yeah, right."
Mad Dog sighed. "Look, Jake, this is all coming at me pretty fast."
"Yeah, I know."
"But I know how much it hurts to be abandoned. ... I guess ... maybe we should spend some time together, get to know each other. What do you say?"
Jake's head snapped up. "Are you kidding?"
Mad Dog almost smiled. "I was just leaving the place. Maybe .. . maybe you wanna come with me?"
Jake felt a moment's disbelief, then a crushing disappointment. "Leaving? Why?"
He shrugged, trying to look casual, but Jake saw the pain in his father's eyes. "I don't want to hurt Mariah any more than I already have. And it's time to move on."
Jake tried desperately to understand. It felt as if his world were slowly unraveling, as if Mad Dog had pulled a loose thread and ripped everything apart. "But you'll hurt her if you leave."
"She'll get over it." His voice dropped to a whisper. "So will I." "But ... but—"
"But nothin', Jake. There's no future for me here. I'm a man that has to move. If I don't keep moving, I'll die. It's as simple as that. So are you gonna come with me or not?"
Jake glanced back at the house. In the second-floor window, a shadow moved.
Mariah.
His heart twisted at the thought of her, tears burned his eyes. In the past weeks she'd given him everything he'd ever wanted and never thought he'd find again. He felt safe with her, cared-for. He couldn't walk away from her, couldn't leave her here alone, sad and pressed. He loved her.
He turned to his father, blinking up at him throug scalding tears. And realized in that moment what he'< been searching for all these months. It wasn't just his father. It was a home, a family, a sense of belonging/* All the things he'd found with Mariah.
"I ... I can't do that. She'll be alone."
Mad Dog squeezed his eyes shut, as if in pain. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes and looked down at Jake. "I'm proud of you, Jake."
Jake felt the impact of those simple words like a blow to the stomach. The words should have lifted his spirits, made him feel, finally, that he'd gained some measure of respect from his father. But they had the opposite effect; they sounded like good-bye. Years worth of hopes and dreams and prayers tangled around him until he couldn't breathe. A sharp pain wrenched his heart, twisted his insides. He realized in that moment how desperately he wanted to love his dad. "Stay .. . please. We could be a family."
Mad Dog blinked and shook his head. "I can't."
