Mariah.
His heart twisted at the thought of her, tears burned his eyes. In the past weeks shed given him everything hed ever wanted and never thought hed find again. He felt safe with her, cared-for. He couldnt walk away from her, couldnt 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 wasnt just his father. It was a home, a family, a sense of belonging/* All the things hed found with Mariah.
"I . . . I cant do that. Shell be alone. "
Mad Dog squeezed his eyes shut, as if in pain. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes and looked down at Jake. "Im 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 hed 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 couldnt 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 cant. "
The last kernel of hope shattered, lay broken at his feet. Jake nodded, feeling hopelessly alone and lonely. He sagged forward, too depressed to even cry. His father was leaving him. After all the years, all the dreams, it was going to end like this. On a little farm in the middle of nowhere, with a quiet pair of good-byes. And there was nothing he could say to change it.
They stood there for a long time, staring at each other, saying nothing. Then, miraculously, Mad Dog opened his arms.
Jake hurled himself into his fathers embrace and hugged him tightly, wishing he didnt ever have to let go. He wanted his dad to stay, wanted it so badly, he felt sick to his stomach.
Mad Dog pulled back and stared down at Jake through eyes that were glassy and overbright. "Ill miss you, kid. But Ill be thinkin of you. And maybe someday Ill be back. "
Jake sniffled and wiped his tears on his sleeve. "Dont say that unless you mean it. "
Mad Dog winced. "Good-bye, Jake. "
It took everything inside Jake to say the next word. "Good-bye. "
Chapter Twenty-five
Mariah felt numb. She walked around her room, seeing nothing, feeling less.
She glanced dully out the window, and saw Mad Dog talking to Jake. Her heart twisted painfully at the sight of him, standing on her land, looking for all the world like he belonged there.
Like he belonged there.
A small, helpless sob escaped her. God, shed gotten so used to seeing him every morning, eating with him, laughing and smiling with him. In the past weeks hed become twined around her soul, and it felt now as if vital strands were being yanked from her body, leaving her hollow and empty inside. How could she go back to her old life? Without him, the farm would be so damned, depressingly quiet. . . .
He gave Jake a smile that looked almost sad, and then, slowly, his shoulders sagging, he backed up and went into the bunkhouse, closing the door behind him.
Jake stared after Mad Dog for a long time. A deep breath pulled the starch from his spine and left him, too, looking broken. He plunged his hands in his pockets and gave the closed door a longing glance before he turned and walked to the barn.
She stared at the bunkhouse, wondering what Matt was doing in there, what he was thinking. If she closed her eyes, she could see him still. Leaning against the wall, smiling, so handsome he took her breath away.
Tears burned her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. With a sigh, she leaned forward, rested her forehead on the cool windowpane. Her breath clouded the glass.
For a moment the world was hazy and dreamlike. And she was a little girl again, pretending her Prince Charming was down there, waiting for her. . . .
Maybe hes waiting for you.
She knew immediately that it was a mistake to think that. But once planted, the seed of hope found fertile soil. Maybe he was down there, waiting for her to stop him. . . .
Maybe . . .
She didnt give herself time to think about it. She raced to the armoire and yanked out a baggy brown dress. Throwing it on, she hurried down the steps and ran to the bunkhouse, skidding to a breathless stop at the closed door.
She wiped her sweaty palms on the rough linsey-woolsey of her dress and stared at it.
/ dont know what I was thinkin, Mariah. I cant leave you. . . .