Page 19 of The Runaway and the Rugged (Dusty Meadows #1)

EMELIA

“ Q uick ride,” I commented, needing a reason to break through the stillness around us.

Silence and Garth were proving to be a deadly combo. It made my mind wander to places it shouldn’t, imagining things that were so unapproachable and inappropriate that the only thing to put out that wildfire was to spout out whatever nonsense that came to mind.

“Figured you feel more safe being close to the house.”

He figured right.

Then bringing Ella to a stop just beside the tiny little cabin, he started to dismount from the saddle.

“How many cabins are there on the ranch?” I questioned as Ella shifted on her hooves from Garth stepping down.

“Five.” He reached for my waist and slowly lifted me from the saddle. Then repositioning his hold, I found myself once again in the bridal style carry that he previously had me in.

Damn near an expert at it now.

“This one hasn’t been stayed in for a while now.

Been doin’ some minor renovations to the inside before we have anyone rent it out,” he explained while climbing the steps to the front door, all the while my eyes inspected the structure of the tiny little cabin.

Constructed of what appeared to be dark, weathered wood and a metal, gable roof, it was the perfect combination of rugged comfort and beauty.

Then with a quick movement of his hand, he skillfully balanced me in his hold and unlocked the door, revealing a darkened space with dust particles floating in the air.

It was more than apparent it hadn’t been stayed in for a while now.

Even the blanket of darkness wasn’t enough to hide the quiet, forgotten atmosphere it clearly emanated.

But what did he mean by “a while”? Was it days, weeks, months?

Hesitant to go inside, Garth crossed the threshold of the door without a second thought and used his hand again to find the light switch on the wall.

Moments later, we were engulfed in bright light that took time for my eyes to adjust to.

“It ain’t much to look at, but it’ll do for the night.”

Still blinking into focus, I was vaguely aware of the fact I was being carried farther into the space until finally my eyes snapped into clarity.

Oh.

It’s not… It wasn't as bad as I imagined. Not even close.

A large, stone fireplace dominated one wooden wall, while rustic, vintage tools complemented the dark furnishings. Even with a layer of dust coating everything, it was nothing a cloth couldn’t handle.

“Wow,” the words fell out on a breath, “this is… beautiful.” I tried to wiggle free from his hold, hoping he’d catch on that I wanted down on my feet.

With a strong reluctance and a razor-sharp glance, he ultimately listened to my silent demand and lowered me carefully until my bare feet connected with cold, wood flooring.

The bottom of my feet burned, but I didn’t dare show just how uncomfortable I was from merely standing.

“Glad to hear you like it.” He watched me with careful intensity, like at any moment if he noticed any discomfort from me, he’d sweep me up into his arms again. “If you happen to come across any mice, let me know so I can set out traps.”

Busy taking in my surroundings, my gaze shot over to Garth.

“Mice?” I gasped audibly, picturing a small rodent scrambling over my legs in the middle of the night.

Any other animal I could handle, a barking dog, a mischievous cat, but a mouse? Absolutely not.

“Somethin’ ’bout the look on your face tells me you don’t like that.” The corner of his mouth lifted, along with his perfectly bushy mustache.

Of course I didn’t like that, but I was in no position to complain.

Blowing out a breath, I forced a smile. “I’m just not… well acquainted with mice.”

His brow went high as he shook his head with a laugh.

“Oh really? I wouldn't have guessed.”

He was teasing me. I couldn’t remember the last time a man did that, and not in a condescending fashion either.

It felt… nice.

“Think you’ll be all right here for the night?” He leaned his side against the wall, crossing those sculpted arms over his chest.

My throat? Instantly dry.

“Yeah.” I nodded, my tone off-key and uneven. “Yes—yes, I’ll be more than okay, thank you.” My cheeks went aflame as I twirled myself in the opposite direction to conceal my embarrassment.

This man had seen me at my lowest, bore witness to my anguish, and watched as I made a complete fool of myself, and even then, it was as if none of that mattered to him.

He’d been more patient, more understanding, than Nathaniel had been in the entirety of our relationship. And that made all the difference.

He reassured me that I was making the right choice after all.

“Of course, if you need anything, let me know,” he said, as I made my way over the full-size bed in the corner of the room. “I’ll swing by in a little while with some clothes. I’ll knock and let you know that it’s me before you open the door.”

The added precaution to make me feel safe made my heart flutter.

“Okay.” I plopped down onto the bed, my eyes suddenly heavy to the point if I even closed them for a millisecond, I’d collapse. “Thank you again. For everything. For saving me.”

“You already thanked me, Outlaw,” he responded, eliciting my gaze to find his.

“Still, I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. You and Greta both.”

His stare was unwavering, watching me closely with purposeful intent, as if all his spoken words were being exchanged through his eyes. What was being said, that was yet to be determined.

Then with a firm dip of his head, he uncrossed his arms and made his way to the door. “Try to get comfortable, I’ll be back as soon as I can with some clothes.”

And with that, he disappeared out the door, and with the sound of a lock going into place, I was finally alone.

Alone.

It sounded wonderful, and for once, I let myself close my eyes, embracing the peace without the fear of waking up with regret.

“Millie?” A whispered voice pulled me from my slumber, causing my neck to crane to the side on a groan. My body was still immersed in fatigue, making it nearly impossible to rouse from sleep. I was too comfortable. Too tired to wake.

“Millie, hey, it’s me.” This time, a palm connected with my shoulder and with a gentle shake, my eyes had sprung open. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay, it’s just me.”

“Clarke?” I blinked past the blurriness until I was able to focus clearly on my best friend.

Perched on the bed beside me, a sympathetic smile greeted me. She looked a mess, her makeup smudged, her eyes red-rimmed and exhausted, but nonetheless, heart-stoppingly beautiful as always.

“What are you…? How did you get in here?” I scanned all corners of the cabin before dragging them over to the single-pane window. Through the distorted glass, twinkling stars danced against the inky black sky, leaving me to wonder just how long I’d been asleep for.

“Greta gave me a ride. There was no way I was leaving you here all by yourself.”

Did that mean Nathaniel was gone? Did he actually listen or was that just wishful thinking?

“What happened, Millie? Why’d you run off like that?” she asked, an obvious trace of hurt lingering in her tone.

It was like a punch to the gut watching her expression morph into one of pain, and to know that I was the cause of her suffering made me physically ill.

Deep down, I knew it wasn’t at that fact that I had run, or that I called off the wedding, but that I had lied to her face.

Every “Are you sure this is what you want?” was foolishly denied, and despite every push, every probe, my heartfelt convictions were strongly concealed from her.

And at that moment, I felt like the world's crappiest best friend.

“I-I couldn’t go through with it,” I confessed, my voice wobbly and on the verge of crumbling. Before I could continue, my eyes eagerly sought for her reaction.

Blank. Expressionless.

Reading her was like trying to read a book written in a different language.

“I know what you're thinking. I know you’re pissed and ready to throw ‘I told you so’ at me and I deserve it. I deserve every angry word. I deserve your wrath. I know I deserve them all, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“You deserve more than just angry words,” she rumbled beneath her breath. “But I don’t have the strength, let alone the damn energy, to tell you everything I’m thinking right now.”

My lip wobbled in response. I probably looked as good as I felt right now.

“Why’d it take you so long to get your head out of your ass? And of all days, you choose the day of your wedding? Kind of cliché, don’t you think?”

Using scared as a response was too weak of an answer, even for me. But that was the reason, wasn’t it? Fear of judgment, fear of self-worth, it was a combination of insecurities that held me captive for seven tortuous years until I realized enough was enough.

But of course at the worst possible time I finally decided to do something.

“Because I’m an idiot?” I shrugged. “Because it took me until now to realize that I deserve more than settling for a man who’d rather buy my love than actually earn it.”

She watched me with intensity but remained silent as if waiting for more.

“Because—” I paused as a surge of pain battered my throat. “Because I’m not you. I’m not strong, independent, or have the confidence in handling life on my own. I’ve relied on Nathaniel for everything and…”

“You are strong, Millie. I mean, look at you.” She gestured to the dress I was still wearing and my face that most likely resembled a smudged painting.

Thankfully, she graciously chose not to comment on the current state of my hair.

“Would you call finally standing up to an asshole who treated you like a goddamn prize weak?

How about the fact you're willing to risk your own life and well-being rather than settling for the stability of a man? Would you call that weak too?” She emphasized her words by grabbing my palms and holding them in a tight grip.