Page 22 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

JW

W hen I walked in several days later, the Goat felt different than it had on the Fourth of July—quieter, with the lunch rush long past and only a few scattered patrons nursing drinks at the bar.

Victor was behind the register, counting receipts.

When he looked up and saw me enter, his weathered face creased into a smile.

“JW. What brings you by this afternoon?”

I glanced around the nearly empty restaurant, noting that Keltie was nowhere to be seen. “I was hoping we could talk. About Maya—I mean Echo.”

Victor set down his pen and studied my face. He gestured toward a corner booth, the same one where Echo had sat that night after the parade. “Want some coffee?”

“Please.”

Before he returned with two steaming mugs, I noticed Keltie had come out from the kitchen to take his place.

“Is this a bad time?” I asked when he settled across from me.

“Not at all. I was getting ready to take a break anyway. So, you and Echo?”

I nodded.

“The two of you have been dancing around each other since the parade. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know how to approach her,” I admitted. “Every time we talk, she shuts down. Every casual encounter in town leaves her looking like she wants to run.”

Victor studied my face with the same intensity he had when I was a young buck he was attempting to teach about life. “You know, I remember you together. You reminded me of me and my wife when we first met.”

My hands stilled around the coffee mug. “Victor?—”

“No, let me say this.” He leaned forward, lowering his tone. “I saw what you had. The way she’d look for you when she came to work, how her whole face would light up when you walked into a room. And you—hell, son, you looked at that girl like she hung the moon.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. The memories his words evoked cut too deep. “I know what we had. That’s what makes this so hard.”

“What you don’t know is what happened after you left.”

My blood chilled, thinking back on her saying I’d destroyed her. “What do you mean?”

Victor’s expression darkened. “Echo didn’t just lose her boyfriend, JW. That girl was completely broken.”

I forced myself to ask the question I dreaded. “How bad was it?”

He shook his head slowly. “Terrible. At first, she continued coming to work, but was only going through the motions. She’d stare out the window during her shifts. Customers would have to call her name three times before she’d notice them.”

The coffee turned bitter in my mouth. I set the mug down with unsteady hands. “How long did this go on?”

“For a while. Then one day, she called and said she was sorry, but she couldn’t work here anymore.”

“No notice?”

“Even if she’d given it, I would’ve paid her severance and told her she didn’t need to return. I knew how hard being here was for her.”

“What else, Victor?”

“She disappeared for months. When she finally came back to Crested Butte, she was different.” He leaned back in the booth. “Stronger, somehow. Like she’d found her backbone while she was away. But there was a sadness in her that wasn’t there before. A guardedness.”

“Did she return to work?”

“No. Right after, I sold the Goat to the Rice family and moved to Albuquerque.”

“God, I?—”

He held up a hand. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty, JW. Well, maybe a little.” His manner grew firmer. “You said she shuts down when you see her. This is why.”

“She won’t even give me a chance to explain.”

“Can you blame her?” His question was gentle but pointed. “From her perspective, you left without a trace. No goodbye, no explanation, no contact. I know you had no choice, but that had no bearing on how she was affected.”

I rubbed my temples, feeling the familiar burden of decades-old regret. “I want her to know why?—”

“Then, tell her.”

“How can I when she won’t listen?”

Victor leaned forward again. “JW, I’ve known you since you were born. I watched you build a life from nothing, seen you carry burdens that would break most men. You are strong enough to get through to her.”

“But—”

He cocked his head and raised a brow. “You know, when I first saw her at Children’s Hospital—when Luna was so sick—I didn’t recognize her. Didn’t put two and two together.”

“You had a lot on your mind.”

“That, and I knew her as Maya Zaneta, not Echo West.”

“West?” I thought back to when Flynn introduced us, but couldn’t recall if she’d said a last name. She was married? No. She couldn’t be. I would’ve noticed a ring, and even if she didn’t wear one, I was sure she would’ve told me.

“From what I’ve heard, she was married a long time ago, but it didn’t last long.”

The thought of Echo married to someone else sent a spike of jealousy through me that I had no right to feel. “Victor, what should I do?”

“Be honest with her. Tell her everything. And then be patient.” He reached across the table and gripped my shoulder. “Don’t give up on her, JW. What you had is worth fighting for. She’s worth fighting for.” He looked up at the clock. “Break time’s over.”

We embraced, and I thanked him, then spent the rest of the afternoon walking the streets of Crested Butte, his words echoing in my mind.

By evening, I’d made my decision. I had to tell her what had happened all those years ago, even if I had to beg her to listen.

I found her at the farmer’s market a few days later, purchasing vegetables at a produce stand.

“Echo,” I said, reminding myself that was who she was now. Not Maya. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“JW—”

“Please. There are things you need to know. Things that might help you understand why I left.”

She studied me for a long moment, then glanced around at the bustling market. “Not here.”

“Wherever you’re comfortable.”

“There’s a park near the school. It’s usually quiet this time of day.”

Since it was only a few blocks away, we walked but didn’t speak.

“What did you want to tell me?” she asked fifteen minutes later when we sat at a picnic table.

I took a deep breath, knowing that what I said next would either begin to heal the rift between us or destroy any chance we might have had.

“My name is John William Rooker,” I began. “You knew me as John Williams. When I had to disappear, I changed it to Javier Wyatt.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Why? I mean, why so many different names?”

“For protection.” I looked out over the valley, gathering the courage for what came next. “The woman you know as Patricia Wheaton—Flynn’s mother—was my aunt. My father’s sister.”

I explained about Patricia and why I really had to leave all those years ago.

About my father’s attempt to force her to end her pregnancy, about Cena Covert and her arranging for a place for Patricia to live in Colorado.

I told her about the years I’d spent protecting her family from the shadows, watching over children who hadn’t known who I was until recently or the secret role I’d played in their lives.

When the story ended, Echo didn’t say anything for several minutes.

“So you didn’t even tell me your real name,” she finally said.

“JW was close. It’s what everyone called me, then and now.” I shook my head. “Sorry. You’re right. I didn’t. I lied to you.”

She turned to face me fully. “Why? When we were together, when we were making plans—why couldn’t you trust me?”

My voice caught, and I had to clear my throat before I could answer.

“Because I was eighteen when we came here, and I’d been taught that our safety—Patricia’s safety—depended on never telling anyone who we really were.

By the time I understood that you could be trusted, that you were someone I wanted to share everything with, it was too late. ”

“Too late, how?”

“My brother was getting close to finding us, and that meant staying would put you in danger. And if I’d told you what was happening, you might have insisted on coming with us, and I couldn’t ask you to give up your whole life for someone who was essentially living a lie.”

She stood and walked a few feet away, her back to me. “You made that choice for both of us.”

“Yes. And it was wrong.” The admission reopened old wounds. “I should have told you everything. Given you the option to decide for yourself.”

“Do you have any idea what it was like?” She turned to face me. “One day, we’re talking about our future, and the next, you were just gone.”

I stood abruptly, took a step toward her, then stopped myself. My hands hung uselessly at my sides. “I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“But you still did it.”

“I told myself I was protecting you. From my father, from the complications of my life, from having to live in hiding.” I moved closer, though I didn’t try to touch her. “I was wrong.”

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Why are you telling me this now? Why are you even here?”

“Because the obligations that kept me away are finished. Because I never stopped thinking about you. And when I saw you at the parade, I felt like fate was giving us another chance.”

“I need time to think. Even after I have, I can’t say for sure that I’ll want to see you.”

“I understand.”

My heart sank as I watched her walk away.