“That’s harsh.”
“What an ass**le, right? And come to find out, that ass**le is my father.”
Her heart broke for him. Celia went to him without thinking. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, hating to hear happy-go-lucky Kyle so resentful, although he had a right to be. “What can I do?”
He stiffened. “Don’t take a shot at me right now, Cele. I couldn’t handle another f**kin’ thing today.”
It hurt that he assumed she’d kick him while he was down, so she stepped back.
He remained quiet for a few moments. Then he sighed. “It’s easier for us to snipe at each other, isn’t it? Here I’ve been telling you it doesn’t have to be that way between us and what’s the first thing I do? Snap at you.”
Slightly mollified, she said, “This news about your father is a big shock for you, Kyle, so I’ll let it slide…this time.”
“So noted,” he murmured.
It bothered her that he hadn’t turned around to talk to her face-to-face, almost like he expected her to get fed up and leave. So naturally, she dug her heels in. “So, what else do you know about him besides his assholish tendencies? Where does he live?”
“West of Rawlins. About thirty miles from your place. As far as what I know about him? Nothin’. Except my mom says he wants to see me because he’s dying.” He shook his head. “He’s acknowledging me as his sole heir on his deathbed? That’s TV-movie-of-the-week bullshit.”
“Kinda like us getting drunk and ending up hitched in Vegas, huh?”
Kyle snorted.
“So what will you do? Blow him off like he’s blown you off?”
“What can he possibly say to me that’ll make any difference now?”
Celia warned herself to be patient with him. He was confused and hurting, and she’d snapped at him plenty of times in the hospital yesterday when she’d been in the same scared and frustrated frame of mind. “Don’t you want to find out? Why slap his hand when he’s finally reached out to you?”
A full minute passed before he spoke. “Pains me to admit you’re right. They’ve only given him a couple of weeks to live at best. So I told my mom I’d go. But…” His sigh was long and loud—a sound of pure frustration. “Fuck. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” He shrugged tightly. “I’m sure I sound like a whiny prick. Forget I said anything.”
“Don’t slap my hand away either,” she said softly.
“I’m not. It’s just…Christ, Celia, I feel like a five-year-old kid. I’m afraid of facing him. What if I walk into the VA hospital in Cheyenne…” That fist clenched again. “Or worse, what if I can’t even walk into the room?”
Hearing the uncertainty in Kyle’s voice broke her heart. “What if I came with you? Would that help you take that first step?”
Kyle slowly turned around. “Why would you do that?”
Because I’ve never seen you like this, so damn vulnerable. Because I have the urge to be there for you the way you’ve been there for me the last year. Because there is something growing between us, something that gets stronger whenever we’re together, and it scares me half to death but I’m not strong enough to walk away from it.
When she didn’t respond, Kyle said, “After all your insistence on getting this marriage annulled immediately, why would you put that aside and come with me to Wyoming?”
She tossed off a breezy, “Because…hello. My ride left and I’m running low on options.”
His face shuttered at her flip response and she felt like an ass for skirting the truth.
Before Kyle retreated, Celia reached for him, running her fingers over the dark stubble coating his jaw and pressing her hand in the center of his chest. “Because I owe you.”
“Because we’re married? It’s not real, as you’ve pointed out. Repeatedly.”
“Will you stop being a dickhead and listen to me?”
Kyle’s eyes flashed remorse. “Sorry. Shit. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
Celia didn’t have to tell him he was lashing out because he was scared. Kyle already knew that, even if he wouldn’t give voice to it—to himself or to her. “I owe you because you were the only one who treated me normally after my parents died. Everyone else felt sorry for me. Felt sorry for my brothers getting stuck raising me.”
“Celia. That’s not true.”
“It is true.” She fussed with the buttons on his shirt. “Everyone treated me like a lost waif. Everyone but you. You riled me. Poked at me. When you found me crying in the shelterbelt, rather than coddling me, you scooped up an armful of wet leaves and kept covering me in a layer of nasty slime until I got mad and started fighting back. I chased you into the bull’s pasture. We ran around until my legs gave out and I fell to the ground.”
“Right into a pile of manure, if I remember correctly,” he murmured.
Celia met his gaze. “That was the first time I felt normal after they died. I’ve never forgotten that. I’ve never said thank you.”
“You said thank you every time you pulled some shitty prank on me. That was when I knew you’d be okay.”
“So it’s time for me to pay it forward. Will you let me?”
He seemed to consider it and abruptly changed the subject as he took a step back. “Who were you talkin’ to a little bit ago?”