“I won’t apologize for wanting you,” her mother said evenly. “I hope you don’t hate us, and I may never forgive myself for putting your father in a position where he did something he wasn’t proud of. But I’m not sorry it happened. Any of it. Because I have you. And I love you. And I want to be as much a part of your life as you’ll let me.”
“I don’t hate you. Either of you,” she managed to get out.
“There’s more,” her father broke in.
“Dear God.” Stella sent up a silent prayer for strength. If they piled anything else onto her, her bones would likely break. Any more painful truths would crush her to dust.
Her mother gave her a sympathetic smile. “We’re selling the ranch, Stella. We know you don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to shove it off on you like it was onto me. We’re moving to Florida, retiring from this demanding lifestyle.”
Relief, Stella thought. I should feel relief.
She did a quick evaluation of her emotions. All she felt was lost. Confusion. Maybe some betrayal mixed in there somewhere.
“Will you visit?” Candace’s hands clasped Stella’s. “We can talk more about Grace one day when you’re ready. Or we can just lie on the beach and talk about boys. Whatever you want. Whenever you want.”
“Right now I just need to go, Mama. But yes, I’ll visit. I think the beach sounds nice.”
Her mother’s tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Have a safe trip, baby.”
Stella made her way to the door on unsteady legs. The truths were shoving at her, propelling her as far from this place as she could get. There would be no more pushing her about riding or about taking over the ranch. She didn’t know why that didn’t feel as good as she’d expected it to. Maybe having her someone expect so much from her was better than having them expect nothing at all.
“I’ll see you out,” her father said.
Shock numbed her, emotional morphine she supposed. Now that she understood why he hated looking at her, hated the living, breathing reminder of a mistake he’d made, she expected even less from him.
A million possible outcomes raced through her mind as they walked to her car. Would he tell her never to come back? Not to show her face again? That she could only visit them in Florida over his dead body?
She swallowed the pain, a familiar habit where he was involved, and turned to him. “If you don’t want me to visit, I won’t. I just said that to make her happy.”
He blinked, something akin to pain flashing in his eyes. “You look like her. Like Grace. But you are so very much like me, Stella Jo.”
Her brows rose practically to her hairline. “I am?”
“Strong. Prone to putting the needs of others before your own. I can’t say it’s an easy life to lead.”
“I’m sorry that I…” she trailed off. Was she sorry she’d been born? Maybe before Van. Before knowing what it felt like to be truly alive. But having experienced that level of pain and pleasure and need, she couldn’t force herself to regret it.
“Don’t.” Her father shook his head as he opened her car door. “I failed you. Don’t be sorry for one second. For anything.”
She breathed him in, the man who smelled of work and worry and regret. “I’m not sorry I’m alive. And I’m not sorry that you’re my daddy. You might have ignored me most of my life, but you love her.” She nodded towards where her mother stood in the doorway. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she kissed him gingerly on the cheek. The first contact with him she could remember. “Thank you.”
“For what?” His flabbergasted expression would’ve made her laugh in any other situation.
“For giving me life. And for showing me what real love looks like.”
Leaving him staggered in the driveway, Stella Jo got into her vehicle and pointed it towards Dallas. Towards her future.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was the middle of the night, but pulling up at the Second Chance Ranch felt a lot more like going home than actually going home had.
Stella’s feelings had run the gamut on her drive home. Angry, betrayed, hurt, pissed, sad, shocked. Her music preferences had provided the soundtrack to her emotional journey. Heavy metal, alternative rock, country. She wasn’t a genre-specific girl. She liked all kinds of music, the movement of it, the various beat and the passion behind it, but it was always the words that got to her. The lyrics. If a song had even one line that touched her in a place she’d thought was hidden, a place she’d once believed only she possessed, it stayed on.
She finally plugged her phone into the auxiliary outlet and just listened to the Hostage for Ransom album she’d downloaded. His voice comforted her, sang her the rest of the way home.
When the tear-filled drive from her parents’ house to Dallas ended, her heart landed in limbo. Wrecked and ravaged, it remained listlessly between a state of perpetual sadness for the mother she never knew—the one who’d ultimately lost her life because she’d felt she had nowhere to go—and hopefulness. Because she’d decided to ask her parents not to sell the ranch. She had plans for it.
As much as the unveiled truths had stung in sensitive spots she’d never known existed, they had also shown her something she would’ve struggled to believe otherwise.
Van loved her. And she loved him. What they had was more than lust and more than sexual gratification. It was deeper and sturdier than she’d realized, and at the moment, he was all she could think about.
She practically flew on two legs to his door, unable to wait for him to do the wonderfully exhilarating things he did to her. She had pain and anguish and heartbreak to work out, and she wanted to work it out with him inside her, giving her immeasurable pleasure. Giving her him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Van glared at the alarm clock on his nightstand. It was a few minutes shy of four o’clock in the morning. So why in the actual fuck was someone knocking on his door?
Judging from what Jesse Ramirez had said, it was likely they were there to toss his ass out.
He stumbled to the door, pulling it open and preparing to bitch out whoever had woken him.
Stella stood on his doorstep, looking both beautiful and exhausted.
“What’d the doctor say?” The question burst from his lips instead of a greeting. Wasn’t really all that surprising since it had been beating his brain to death since the moment he’d heard she’d gone to see one.
She smirked. “He said lay off the rough sex for a while before we break me.”
It was obvious from her demeanor that she’d meant it in jest. She was joking. But the truth was that he’d already figured out the same thing. He would inevitably hurt her, like Jesse had so helpfully pointed out. He only had a few weeks left here. Then he’d return to his life. Meanwhile she wouldn’t have much of one to return to if they kept this up.
“She’s risking a hell of a lot being with you.”
The veterinarian’s words rang in his ears. No shit. And he already knew he wasn’t worth the risk. What was he going to do? Pop back into rehab every time he needed a rough fuck? Drag her off into the world of groupies and drugs and his insanity?
“I’m kidding,” she said, eyeing him warily. “Well, mostly. But I missed you. And I was hoping we could—”
“Hoping we could what, cowgirl? Fuck really quick on my floor a few more times before I check out?”
She recoiled, flinching back with a mask of wounded shock on her beautiful face. The hurt in her eyes shot him like daggers to the chest.
“Yeah, Van. I’m big on risking everything for quick fucks on floors. Congratulations. It was your turn to take a shot. Guess I’ll move on to the next contestant.”
He nodded, forcing himself to pretend to agree. “Good idea. I’ll do the same. I’m pretty sure there’s a blonde around here somewhere who’s been waiting in the wings behind you.”