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In the silence, my thoughts and anxiety become louder, like pots and pans clanging around in my brain.
We’re born and bred to believe our lives should consist of hard work and only hours of happiness.
And did I mention the man is tortured? If the way he stormed into the bar earlier, angry at his brother—plus the flask—isn’t a dead giveaway that he’s going through something, his sad, angsty eyes are. I know because I’ve looked in the mirror every day for the last six years and seen the same sadness.
“I dare you to spank me, Kade.” A smile overtakes my lips, causing the dimples on my cheeks to form. I tuck a stray strand of frizzy blonde-and-violet hair behind her ear. “Then get over my knees, Lemon. Let me teach you how to be a good girl.”
“Lemon,” he says gently. “Look at me.” I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that what I’m feeling doesn’t show before I turn my head to him. He shifts his arm under my chest so I’m more supported, the small movement doing nothing to help keep my emotions at bay. “Feel whatever you need to feel. Let me take care of you.”
They’ve been so blinded by my brother and my dad before him, by their “honest country boy act,” that they don’t see I’ve always been the one telling the truth. I’ve never tried to hide who or what I am. They just don’t like what they see all the time.
“Kade, I’m not a good dancer. You have other options.” He stops and turns to face me. “I don’t want other options.”
He smiles down at me. “Are you thinking anything now?” I peer into his hazel irises and find myself smiling so that my eyes crinkle around the corners. “You,” I breathe out. “I’m thinking about you.”
I also saw the way she was looking at the women who’d been throwing themselves at me. It was part of the reason I asked her to dance. When I made eye contact with her from across the room, I felt giddy at seeing the jealousy in her eyes. I had the overwhelming urge to run across the room and kiss her, to tell her that I’m not interested in any other women.
That thought had shocked me, punched me in the gut so hard I just about fell over. Before I met her, I would have never pictured myself in this situation, but here I am. I’ve been hit by Hurricane Presley, and my life is never going to be the same.
My throat burns, and my fists clench. How can a sweet nickname sound so disgusting coming from this man’s mouth? I understand even more now why Presley wasn’t into nicknames at first. But I will admit it makes my heart swell knowing she likes my nicknames, that she asked me to call her by them.
“I don’t know where you were raised, but out here, we don’t touch a woman without asking.”
I’ve started to see that I’ve always been broken. I’ve always had an endless dark pit inside me that could only be managed and numbed with vices on the outside or with anger.
I’m starting to see that, for so many years now, I’ve played the part of the carefree younger son, and I fooled everyone into believing that was the real me when really, I care too much. I feel too much.
Having depression doesn’t make you weak.
While I don’t know what the future will bring, I do know one thing: The Montgomery Family Ranch isn’t what makes me feel at home—it’s Kade.
