Retreat
Page 93
Sutton’s injuries were far worse than anyone was ready to deal with. He wasn’t able to walk the entire first month he was out of the hospital and it was only after intensive physical therapy that he could maneuver around with a walker. The middle Warner brother was not taking the changes well, and as a result had lashed out at his family. Cy was worried about his brother and his worrying made him scarily overprotective, which only served to further infuriate Sutton. The grumpy cowboy had turned sullen and withdrawn. He hardly had anything to do with the day-to-day operations of the ranch and the tour company anymore, and Cy said he was barely making any effort to see Daye. Lane let it slip during one of my too short visits that the moody Warner was also hitting the bottle pretty hard, as well as popping pain pills when he didn’t seem to need them. All of it accumulated into a tense and hostile vibe at the house and prompted Cy to hire several employees from the surrounding area to pick up the slack.
I wasn’t about to insert myself into the middle of the Warner family drama even though late night phone calls, sexy sessions over Skype, and definitely X-rated FaceTime chats were getting old. I always loved to hear Cy’s gravelly voice and there was something undeniably erotic about watching my rough and rugged man get off to nothing more than the sound of my voice, but none of it matched the real thing. I needed to have my hands on him, my lips tasting him, and my heart near his. The distance wasn’t making it grow fonder but it was making it desperate and needy.
Plus, while Cy was dealing with Sutton, I still had to make sure Emrys was going to be okay. If I wasn’t flying to Wyoming for the weekend, then I was off to the sunny shores of Florida to check on my best friend. She wasn’t making much progress mentally, but apparently, my grandmother’s neighbor at the condo was a retired plastic surgeon, and also Gram’s sometimes boyfriend, I was stunned to find out. Somehow, he managed to talk Em into letting someone he recommended look at the scar on her face. She agreed to getting it treated, so the mark was less visible and her face was back to being beautiful, but she was still sullen, withdrawn, and lost inside herself. She refused to talk to a professional and only agreed to see her family when they showed up unannounced on my Gram’s doorstep, demanding some face to face time with her. It didn’t help anything when both her parents broke into uncontrollable tears when they caught sight of her. The scar on her face was barely there, but the one on her chest was still visible and glaring. There was no missing the fact that Em had been right on death’s doorstep and was lucky there was no answer when it knocked.
My grandma did a wonderful job giving her a shoulder to cry on and a safe place to hide away from the world. Em was really good at beating all the other retirees at bridge and bingo, but eventually her time seeking shelter was up. Gram wanted to go on a cruise with the plastic surgeon so there was no way Em could stay at her place while she was gone since it was strictly a community for older folks. I was getting ready to make my move to the ranch, so it was time for some tough love.
I sat Em down and told her I would be there for her no matter what it took. I told her that I understood she was healing at her own pace but that pace seemed to be stuck in neutral. I begged her to come with me to talk to a therapist and then I pulled out the big guns and told her that Sutton was having just as hard of a time getting back on his feet as she was. I didn’t want her to blame herself for the cowboy’s condition but she had to know she wasn’t the only one walking away from the confrontation in the woods with wounds that ran deeper than the bone. I was hoping the shock of hearing how hard a time such a strong man was having bouncing back would guide her to the realization she wasn’t alone.
My plan backfired.
The day I was supposed to leave, and was planning on taking Em back to California to her parents, I woke up to an empty apartment. Gram had left for her cruise and Em had packed up her meager belongings and disappeared once again. This time there was no place to run to. This time there was no welcoming sand for her to dunk her head underneath. I had no clue where she was running to, but wherever it was I doubted she was running fast enough to leave all the demons and doubt that were chasing her behind.
I called my new friends who worked for the government and asked Grady to keep an eye out for her. They still needed her in the case they were building against the cartel, so I knew they wouldn’t let her get too far before having to pull her back in. Grady gave his word that I would get a phone call if anything suspicious popped up in relation to Em’s name. I did the hardest thing I had ever done . . . I let her go.
There was no expiration date on my willingness to help her, but there was on my tolerance for letting her abuse herself and take the blame for something that was beyond her control. I couldn’t cram help down her throat, she would choke on it.
All in all, it took about four months to get myself back where I felt I belonged. At first, I told Cy I would stay in one of the bunkhouses on the property or look at living in Sheridan while we adjusted to each other. I didn’t want time we spent together filled with words and worries. I did want the time we spent together to be a whirlwind of hands, mouths, and naked bodies trying to get as much from the other as we could. We still didn’t know each other that well and I didn’t want to rush something that was so important.
Cy gave me that look, the one that told me I was being overly cautious and careful. The one that said he knew I was still running. I was used to keeping everyone at arm’s length and he refused to let me do that with him. He told me if I was moving into a bunkhouse, then so was he. If I rented a place in Sheridan, then he was moving there with me until I was ready to call the ranch home, which he pointed out was a ridiculous plan. He relented some when I balked at his pushy and demanding attitude and agreed that I could have my own room in the main house, as there were plenty of empty ones for me to claim. I figured that was a fair tradeoff and agreed. It had been months, and I’d yet to spend a night in the room where my stuff was. The room pretty much acted as nothing more than a closet, because just like I told Cy at the hospital, where he was, I was. I didn’t want to go to bed without him.
I wasn’t about to insert myself into the middle of the Warner family drama even though late night phone calls, sexy sessions over Skype, and definitely X-rated FaceTime chats were getting old. I always loved to hear Cy’s gravelly voice and there was something undeniably erotic about watching my rough and rugged man get off to nothing more than the sound of my voice, but none of it matched the real thing. I needed to have my hands on him, my lips tasting him, and my heart near his. The distance wasn’t making it grow fonder but it was making it desperate and needy.
Plus, while Cy was dealing with Sutton, I still had to make sure Emrys was going to be okay. If I wasn’t flying to Wyoming for the weekend, then I was off to the sunny shores of Florida to check on my best friend. She wasn’t making much progress mentally, but apparently, my grandmother’s neighbor at the condo was a retired plastic surgeon, and also Gram’s sometimes boyfriend, I was stunned to find out. Somehow, he managed to talk Em into letting someone he recommended look at the scar on her face. She agreed to getting it treated, so the mark was less visible and her face was back to being beautiful, but she was still sullen, withdrawn, and lost inside herself. She refused to talk to a professional and only agreed to see her family when they showed up unannounced on my Gram’s doorstep, demanding some face to face time with her. It didn’t help anything when both her parents broke into uncontrollable tears when they caught sight of her. The scar on her face was barely there, but the one on her chest was still visible and glaring. There was no missing the fact that Em had been right on death’s doorstep and was lucky there was no answer when it knocked.
My grandma did a wonderful job giving her a shoulder to cry on and a safe place to hide away from the world. Em was really good at beating all the other retirees at bridge and bingo, but eventually her time seeking shelter was up. Gram wanted to go on a cruise with the plastic surgeon so there was no way Em could stay at her place while she was gone since it was strictly a community for older folks. I was getting ready to make my move to the ranch, so it was time for some tough love.
I sat Em down and told her I would be there for her no matter what it took. I told her that I understood she was healing at her own pace but that pace seemed to be stuck in neutral. I begged her to come with me to talk to a therapist and then I pulled out the big guns and told her that Sutton was having just as hard of a time getting back on his feet as she was. I didn’t want her to blame herself for the cowboy’s condition but she had to know she wasn’t the only one walking away from the confrontation in the woods with wounds that ran deeper than the bone. I was hoping the shock of hearing how hard a time such a strong man was having bouncing back would guide her to the realization she wasn’t alone.
My plan backfired.
The day I was supposed to leave, and was planning on taking Em back to California to her parents, I woke up to an empty apartment. Gram had left for her cruise and Em had packed up her meager belongings and disappeared once again. This time there was no place to run to. This time there was no welcoming sand for her to dunk her head underneath. I had no clue where she was running to, but wherever it was I doubted she was running fast enough to leave all the demons and doubt that were chasing her behind.
I called my new friends who worked for the government and asked Grady to keep an eye out for her. They still needed her in the case they were building against the cartel, so I knew they wouldn’t let her get too far before having to pull her back in. Grady gave his word that I would get a phone call if anything suspicious popped up in relation to Em’s name. I did the hardest thing I had ever done . . . I let her go.
There was no expiration date on my willingness to help her, but there was on my tolerance for letting her abuse herself and take the blame for something that was beyond her control. I couldn’t cram help down her throat, she would choke on it.
All in all, it took about four months to get myself back where I felt I belonged. At first, I told Cy I would stay in one of the bunkhouses on the property or look at living in Sheridan while we adjusted to each other. I didn’t want time we spent together filled with words and worries. I did want the time we spent together to be a whirlwind of hands, mouths, and naked bodies trying to get as much from the other as we could. We still didn’t know each other that well and I didn’t want to rush something that was so important.
Cy gave me that look, the one that told me I was being overly cautious and careful. The one that said he knew I was still running. I was used to keeping everyone at arm’s length and he refused to let me do that with him. He told me if I was moving into a bunkhouse, then so was he. If I rented a place in Sheridan, then he was moving there with me until I was ready to call the ranch home, which he pointed out was a ridiculous plan. He relented some when I balked at his pushy and demanding attitude and agreed that I could have my own room in the main house, as there were plenty of empty ones for me to claim. I figured that was a fair tradeoff and agreed. It had been months, and I’d yet to spend a night in the room where my stuff was. The room pretty much acted as nothing more than a closet, because just like I told Cy at the hospital, where he was, I was. I didn’t want to go to bed without him.
