Page 2 of Revelry (Cowgirls Do It Better #2)

My temper flared and my hands flexed to pull Gertrude away. I tried to lock it down, but I couldn’t get it under control. It was always simmering at the surface lately after everything that happened with my father, and my mother constantly smothering me.

I couldn’t hold it back. “Get your—”

“Tate!” Tony yelled from the kitchen, distracting me. “Your mother’s on the phone, she needs you to come home!”

My cheeks heated when the table started laughing and baiting me. “Tatey-Cakes, your mother needs you!”

“Better run home to your mommy!”

My fists clenched tight, my embarrassment wanting me to lash out. But it wasn’t until I met Gertrude’s concerned stare that my humiliation tripled.

“Mommy’s on the phone, Tatey-Cakes!” Billy teased again and instead of punching him in his smug face, I spun away and stormed towards the kitchen.

I snatched the phone from Tony’s outstretched hand. He shook his head before turning back to the ovens.

I lifted the red receiver to my ear. Everything at Tony’s was red.

“Ma?”

“Come home, Tate,” she sobbed down the line. “I think someone’s here!”

I sighed. “No one’s there, Ma. I only just left.”

“Exactly! You left me, just like he did!” she accused.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m coming back though, in three more hours.”

“Three? No, that’s too long. I need you to come home, Tate. Now.”

I tugged the phone cord in frustration. “I can’t.” I lowered my voice. “We need the money.”

“Now Tate. I need you to come home now. I, uh, I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t.”

There it was. The threat she always used.

Pushing out a breath, I resigned myself to my fate. “Okay, Ma. Let me talk to Tony.”

“See you soon, Tate,” she said, relief in her voice, then she hung up the phone.

I replaced the receiver gently and slowly turned to Tony, standing there with his arms folded across his barrel chest, a pizza cutter in his hand and a toothpick poking out the corner of his mouth. He just shook his head at me, his features lined with sympathy.

“Go on, kid.” He nodded towards the door. He didn’t shout at me for letting him down, didn’t scold me. He knew what I was dealing with and somehow that made it worse. Tears burned the backs of my eyes at my helplessness and I nodded as I slowly removed my apron.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, my lower lip wobbling, and I sank my teeth into it to try and stop the tears.

It didn’t work.

Tony cursed and reached out, pulling me into him. He squeezed me tight and although we were almost the same height, I felt like a kid again. For that moment he turned into a father figure, the one I was desperately missing. Someone was comforting me and I couldn’t cope with it.

Pulling away before I became more overwhelmed with emotion, I cleared my throat.

“Uh, thanks Tony. I’ll make it up to you, I’ll do a double shift next Saturday.”

Tony frowned but then nodded and turned back to the ovens. I grabbed my jacket and went back out to the dining room to leave, Carter and Billy jeering and calling after me that I was a mama’s boy. They weren’t wrong but they had no idea what my life was like.

When I rode my bike past the window they were sitting at, I didn’t look in, couldn’t look at Gertrude but I felt her curious eyes on me all the way until I was out of their sight.

I pedaled furiously, desperate to get home and make sure Ma was okay.

I didn’t spot a big stone on the ground and the next thing I knew, I was flying over the handlebars, skidding my knees on the road and landing in a heap.

I laid there for a moment in shock before I pulled myself together, cursing as I took in my ruined knees and then my bike.

Picking the bike up, I examined it. The front tire was fucked.

It was beyond riding now but I needed to hurry back.

I left it at the edge of the road and started running, my knees screaming, my anxiety churning away inside me at the need to be home.

It took longer than it should have because of my busted knee but I finally made it back and unlocked the door.

I checked the whole downstairs and there was no one in the house. I don’t know why Ma had thought there was.

Hurrying upstairs to her room, I knocked and opened the door. I expected her to be waiting for me, panicked with terror and tear-stained cheeks, or worse, dead. But she was lying in bed sound asleep, a serene expression on her face.

Anger flooded me. She’d demanded I come home, threatened me even. I’d left work, humiliated, lost money, hurt myself and I finally got home and she wasn’t even awake. I shut her door quietly, resisting the urge to slam it, and paced outside the room, emotions rushing me.

I hated being a teenager, so much angst and anger I couldn’t control or release.

I needed to get out of the house. I went outside into the yard, the moon bright in the sky, illuminating the grass and trees.

I tried to take deep breaths to get myself under control, but I couldn’t.

I kicked one of the pot plants and the momentary relief from expressing my anger flooded me.

I wanted more. I kicked it again, and again, kicked another and it smashed.

I picked up the dirt and flung it around violently.

Only when I accidentally got some in my scraped knee did I stop, the sting burning and pulling me out of my turmoil.

I collapsed onto the wooden bench at the bottom of the garden that was shielded by a row of trees.

I put my head in my hands, wondering how life had worked out this way.

How I’d had to grow up so fast when all I wanted to do was sit with my friends in a pizzeria with a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl on my arm.

But I didn’t have friends. I didn’t have a girlfriend. I didn’t have any freedom.

The overwhelming sadness crashed into me like a wave and I let it pull me under, drowning me.

I buried my head in my hands and cried. Cried so hard I didn’t hear the commotion next door until the back door slammed and I heard someone rushing past the fence, sobbing.

Then the ancient Douglas fir tree that spanned both our yards started rustling.

“What the—” I trailed off, glancing up into the dark and I saw a flash of yellow, the same yellow of Gertrude’s dress. Was she climbing the tree? I heard a squeal and some more rustling and my heart leapt into my throat, did she almost fall?

The next thing I knew I was hopping the fence and scaling the tree after her.

“Gertrude?” I hissed in the dark when I lost sight of her.

“Tate?” Her tear-soaked voice echoed on the breeze.

I craned my neck but still couldn’t see. “Where are you?”

“Go away, Tate. I w—wanna be alone,” she hiccupped.

I ignored her and kept climbing. Eventually I spotted her sitting on a thick branch. My hands shook from fear and adrenaline as I maneuvered over to her. Her cheeks shone in the moonlight.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She scoffed. “Everything.”

“Why are you crying? You and Carter have a fight?” Did you break up? I wanted to ask.

She turned to face me and I saw it, her puffed out cheek and split lip and my stomach rolled.

“Did Carter do that?”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“Then—”

“It’s fine, Tate. Just leave it.”

She turned away and I bit my lip, glancing straight ahead. The commotion I heard a moment ago became obvious. Shouting. There was always a lot of shouting from next door. Always followed by an eerie silence.

“Was it your dad?”

Gertrude pinched her lips together and didn’t answer. So we sat in silence.

“What happened to your knee?” she asked after a while, her raspy voice soothing me. I looked at my torn jeans, sticky with drying blood. The sting had faded while I was with Gertrude and came roaring back when I registered the wound.

“Crashed my bike,” I replied, still stunned that I was sitting in a tree with Gertrude.

She leaned into me as she rustled around in one of the pockets of her dress and produced a small packet of tissues. She took one out, dabbed it against the tip of her pink tongue before she patted it over my sore knee. I just stared at her, dumbfounded that she was tending my injury.

I flinched when she hit a particularly deep cut. She placed a hand on my thigh, quieting my thoughts and leaned forward, blowing gently on the skin. I was mesmerized by her, the way her lips pouted, the cool breeze across my skin, the goosebumps that ravaged my body.

“See, all better,” she said. Her scent drifted over to me on the evening breeze, berries and cream. Mouthwatering.

“Th-thanks,” I stuttered. She laughed, her lips pulling up and my eyes drifted to them and lingered. So pink, so plump like two soft pillows.

She tilted her head. “Do you want to kiss me, Tate?”

“No,” I replied, too quickly.

Hell yes, I wanted to kiss her. To maul her like I’d seen Carter doing and I was ashamed. I wouldn’t take advantage of her when she was vulnerable.

“Oh,” she replied, disappointment in her tone.

“Gertie, where are you?” Her mom shouted in the distance and we both started.

“ TATE !” I heard my mom screaming from inside and we both quickly scaled the tree, my feet slipping a few times but not Gertrude. She knew exactly where to go and it made me wonder how many times she’d run out here for safety.

She didn’t say goodbye, just ran into the house. I hopped the fence again and ran back to mine.

It was a hard night with Mom, she needed lots of attention and I’d finally gotten her back to sleep with more pills and playing the piano for her.

I tried to sleep but couldn’t, thoughts of Gertrude filled my mind until I realized it didn’t matter how much I liked her, or the havoc she wreaked on my hormones, I couldn’t be with her.

I couldn’t be with anyone. I didn’t want someone relying on me, it twisted relationships and I just wanted freedom.

And I especially couldn’t have someone while Ma was like this.

I tossed and turned, my mind on the girl next door.

I wanted to make sure Gertrude was okay, I didn’t like that we’d been interrupted and rushed.

Sighing, I sat up in bed, glancing at the wall that separated our rooms. Then I knocked, holding my breath and waiting to see if she knocked back but no sound came.

The next morning when I left for school, my bike was leaning up against the front of the house, tire all fixed and I had a feeling I knew exactly who was responsible for that…