Claire McEwen - Return To Marker Ranch

Nora stood up and reached for his hand, guiding him back down to his seat at the table. “Little bro, take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”

He raised his brows at her. “Really?”

“I think so. You’re just in survival mode right now. And it’s making you a little frantic.”

“What do you mean?” He’d been in survival mode before. With bullets hitting the dirt around him as he scrabbled for shelter. This wasn’t that.

“I mean how we grew up. Everyday survival. How to get food, how to get clothes, how to make it without a mom, how to stay out of Dad’s way. I think it’s easy to slip back into that way of thinking, where it’s all about trying to get the next meal.”

Wade traced an old water stain on the table. He hated talking about the past. Hated remembering the searing of his dad’s belt on his back and the ache of hunger in his stomach.

“Sometimes I wonder if all that surviving made us a little hard,” Nora said quietly. “Because we had to look out for ourselves, and focus all our energy on just getting by.”

“That’s a good thing,” Wade countered. “We’re not dependent. We take care of ourselves. It’s made us successful.” It had brought him through some scary battles.

“It can be a good thing,” Nora said gently. “But lately I’ve been thinking about how all the independence that saved us when we were kids may not be quite so helpful now that we’re adults. I mean, we can survive on our own, but don’t you want more than survival? Don’t you want friends and neighbors and... I don’t know...love?”

“Love?” He had to tease her. It was his brotherly duty. “I don’t know about that, seeing as you’ve gone all soft on me since you got together with Todd. Where’s the Nora who taught me to look out for myself and make sure I succeeded?”

“All that’s still important. But if that’s all we do, life’s not going to be very rich, is it? I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. But you asked for my opinion. And my opinion is to ignore the numbers and share the water.”

“It’s not what I expected you’d say.” He crumpled up the paper in disgust. And because he was still her little brother, he threw it at her.

Nora caught it in one hand and grinned. “Glad I can still surprise you, bro. Trust me on this one, okay?”

“Sure. But if that well runs out of water, you’ll help me figure out what to do next, right?”

“I’ll buy you your first water delivery.”

“Ah...so consoling.” He delivered the sarcasm with a smile. “You always were good to me.”

Nora laughed. “Back atcha. And one more piece of advice?”

“Do I have a choice?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Fine. Shoot.” He sat back, waiting for the lecture. He dreaded it mostly because she was probably right. She always had been. Five years older than him and many, many years wiser.

“Look, if you really want to get rid of the legacy of Dad and our brothers, and make the Hoffman name mean something more than larceny and drug deals, you need to get off this ranch. Don’t hide out here. You need to spend some time in town, meet some people. Let everyone see you’ve changed.”

He let out a bark of a laugh. “This from the world’s biggest introvert.”

“Yes, and even I’m trying.”

She was. He’d seen it and admired her for it. Todd was friends with most of the town, and Nora gamely stepped out by his side, quietly facing down anyone who despised her for her family history. “I hate it when you’re right all the time.’

“It’s my job as your older sister.”

“Ha!”

“But seriously, Wade, you need to get out more.”

It was clear she wasn’t going to let him off without a promise. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go out for a beer or something. As long as you let Todd off the leash for a night so he can go with me.”

“I don’t have him on a leash!” she protested, flushing.

Now he was in full-on little brother mode. It was far more comfortable than hearing about his mistakes. “Really? And when’s the last time you two spent more than a couple of hours apart?”

“We like each other!” Nora was beet red now. She’d always blushed easily.

“He’s leashed. Arf arf!”

“Okay, twelve-year-old. You can borrow my fiancé for a night out this weekend. Now, do you need anything else? Because I told Todd I’d meet him for dinner.”

“I rest my case.”

She grinned. “Glad you’re feeling better. Now go fix things with Lori, you big dork.”

* * *

WADE WATCHED NORA’S Jeep disappear down the driveway before he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. He had no idea how he was going to handle the night out he’d just gotten himself into.

And Lori. He’d have to find a way to face her as well. She’d looked like an angry angel on his ranch yesterday, with her hair swirling around her shoulders and her eyes dark with hurt. So different from the way she’d looked at him, full of longing and acceptance and desire, all those years ago, just before they’d made love. Her first time, and the first time it ever mattered for him.

And damn, it had mattered. He’d loved her from a distance through high school. She’d been smart and strong and good at everything she turned her hand to. He’d leaned on the fence down at the arena, watching her win junior rodeo ribbons right alongside the boys her age. He’d seen her name semester after semester on the school honor roll posted in the fancy glass case by the office. He’d listened to her up at the podium delivering student council speeches and stole glances after school when she headed off to cheerleading practice in her cute uniform.

He’d watched her and wanted her and never felt worthy of her. He was the kid from so far down the wrong side of the tracks he might as well have been living in another country. Most days he was lucky to figure out where his meals were coming from, let alone what his homework was. And he covered his misery in the couldn’t-care-less attitude and cigarette-smoking armor of the kids like him. The ones who couldn’t go home until their angry-drunk dads had passed out. The ones who had nowhere to study, or who didn’t have what it took to succeed in school. The almost-dropouts, the almost-failing, the lost kids.

Until that one day when he’d finally gotten himself kicked out of school for good, and she’d offered him comfort and so much more. And he’d taken everything she’d given. And then pushed her away for both their sakes.

And now, when he’d come home a combat veteran, and possibly, finally, worthy of all that she was, he’d blown it. Because of the anxiety that had him grabbing at the things he could touch and see, like gallons of water and spreadsheets of numbers. Anxiety that had him tongue-tied in front of her, unable to give her the water she wanted or the apology she deserved.

He had to do something different. Had to figure out a way around the throttlehold the PTSD had on him. Because it wasn’t just affecting him. It was hurting Lori, the girl he’d loved, who’d given him memories he’d held on to like a talisman during all the dark and fear-filled nights in Afghanistan, when he wasn’t sure he’d make it back alive.

* * *

DR. HERNANDEZ KNELT over the heifer lying in the dry grass. The young cow was breathing heavily in the soft evening air. Wade could feel his breathing catch right along with hers.

“Did you check the papers carefully when you bought these gals?” the vet asked.

Wade racked his stressed-out brain, trying to picture what the seller had given him. It had been a hectic day. He’d injured his shoulder and Nora had handled the delivery. “Well, I know I got papers. And the seller said they’d had all their shots.”