Page 38 of The Wrong Ride Home (Wildflower Canyon #1)

duke

“ I don’t have time for this,” I told Kaz as he got in my face. “I have a flight to Dallas from Aspen in?—”

“You have time for this,” Kaz said adamantly.

He’d pulled me into one of the VIP tents. With its plush leather seating, crystal glasses that didn’t belong anywhere near a rodeo, and servers dressed too nice to be dodging boot-scuffed floors. The place reeked of money.

A woman I recognized from the photos in my father’s closet sat on the couch.

She carried herself with quiet authority, her dark bob framing a face that was both striking and weathered by a life well-lived.

Not the polished beauty of a Dallas socialite or a corporate wife—no, she was a ranch woman through and through.

Sun-kissed skin, hands calloused from years of hard work, jeans faded and worn from long days in the saddle, boots molded to her feet by miles, not months.

I thought Elena would look like this, weathered and stunning, when we were old and gray. The image of us sitting on the porch of the ranch house came as a shock and then morphed into a dream, one I desperately wanted to claim.

For all these years, I’d pretended, and now I was done.

I wanted to be with the woman I loved. I wanted to learn who she’d become and show her who I was. I wanted to learn from her and teach her what I knew. I wanted to share my life with her.

With Nash gone, one truth settled deep in my bones—holding on to hate was a losing game. It was only fear in disguise, a coward’s way of keeping love at arm’s length to avoid the pain of losing it.

“Duke Wilder, meet Tansy Hawthorne.”

The woman got up and held out her hand. She had a firm handshake.

“Please, Duke, take a seat.” She waved at the sitting area.

“After you,” I said politely.

She sat on the couch and I on a matching armchair across from her.

“You okay, Tansy?” Kaz asked, and when she nodded, he left us.

We were silent for a beat, getting settled in and then she spoke. “You don’t remember me. You were just seven when we met.”

I smiled. “I’m afraid not, Mrs. Hawthorne.”

“Oh, Lord, that’s my mother-in-law. May her black soul rest in peace. I’m Tansy. ”

I liked her. She was down to earth…like Elena.

“My husband and I had a small ranch here in Wildflower Canyon, just a few hundred acres and around a hundred head of cattle. Nothing big, just enough to keep us busy sunup to sundown.”

I stayed quiet because I knew she had something to say, something she believed I needed to know. And after seeing those photographs, I wanted to hear her story.

“Silas and Nash were friends, and so the four of us, your parents and Silas and I, started spending some time together. We didn’t have children and…Kaz came to us a year…after….”

She trailed away, looking mighty uncomfortable.

“Are you alright?”

She took a deep breath. “This is difficult for me. So…I’m going to meander a little, and I need you to bear with me.”

“I can do that.”

She swallowed. “Kaz’s father was a friend of my husband’s, and we adored Kaz. When he died, Kaz came to live with us in Aspen.”

“You sold your ranch to Maverick Kincaid.”

Large ranches were often consolidated. Nothin’ unusual there.

“Yes, we did.”

“Why?”

She swallowed and then, as if making a decision, shrugged. “There is no nice way of saying this, so I’m going to go ahead and just say it.” Her hands rolled into fists. “My husband and Gloria had an affair.”

I stayed still. A part of me had known this since I saw the photograph, but her words felt unreal. My mother? My sainted mother? Hell no.

“For a year. Silas confessed when Gloria began to pester him to leave me and marry her.”

My jaw tightened.

“He ended things with Gloria, but…she started to stalk him. Followed him around, and eventually, Nash learned of it. He overheard Gloria talking to Silas. He was heartbroken. The man loved his wife.”

“And he kicked her out?” That made sense.

Tansy shook her head. “No, Duke. He wanted her to stay and wanted to make it work with her. He tried damn hard with Gloria. But she didn’t want him—she wanted what was mine. The thing with Gloria was that she always wanted to be chosen over someone else."

I knew this. I thought it stemmed from having a husband who fucked around on you. Of all the things I’d expected, I hadn’t anticipated this .

Nash forgave my mother—and never told me about it.

“Gloria wanted to leave Nash, and she wanted him to set her up in Dallas. She wanted to take you with her. Nash wasn’t going to have that.”

I felt my stomach turn. I knew what was coming. I held my breath.

“He agreed to let you and her spend the summer in Dallas. This was when you were nine and….”

I let out a breath like a boxer before the first punch. “That was when she attempted suicide…fo r the first time.”

He’s down. Duke Wilder is down. That’s a knockout for the ages!

Tansy gave me a sad smile. “Nash lost it. He was so afraid of what that would do to you. He agreed to let her keep you. He did what he could to see you. He gave her whatever she wanted. But she didn’t want him. She wanted you, so he couldn’t have you.”

And she succeeded spectacularly, I thought, ashamed because I’d helped her do just that.

“Son, do you believe me?”

I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Some part of me wished I could resist believing it, wished I could doubt this stranger’s words.

But I knew my mother. And deep down, I’d always known she was capable of this.

I had just been too blinded—too consumed by my anger at Nash for choosing Maria, too disgusted by how that choice had tainted what I had with Elena.

I’d walked right into my mother’s trap and played the role she needed me to play without ever questioning why.

“Silas and I moved away, but we kept in touch with Nash. Well, I did. He didn’t forgive Silas…

couldn’t. I understood. Silas understood.

” She licked her lips and pushed her hair behind her ear.

It was a nervous gesture. “Then he met Maria. I’ve never seen a happier man.

He loved her, and she loved him. It was so good to see Nash get the love he deserved. He asked Gloria for a divorce and?—”

“That was when she attempted again,” I finished for her. Mama had been using her frailty as a weapon.

“Yes. Nash agreed to stay married to Gloria. Broke Maria’s heart, but she loved him as blindly as a person could.

They called her a mistress and a whore—but she ignored all that to be with the man she loved.

” She sniffled, and I saw she had tears in her eyes.

“I knew Maria. We talked on the phone even if we weren’t able to meet much. ”

I stood up, suddenly feeling suffocated, like the walls were pressing in, the air too thick to breathe.

“Why didn’t someone tell me?” My voice came out rough, cracking under the agony of knowledge. If I’d known, I would’ve done better—by Elena, by Nash, by myself, for the love of everything holy.

Tansy’s voice shook. “Nash tried, but you were so protective of Gloria that he decided you wouldn’t believe him anyway. And you loved your mother. He didn’t want to see you hurt.”

I let out a ragged breath, my pulse thudding in my ears.

"Who else knew about all of this?"

"Just Silas, me, and Maria."

"Elena?"

Tansy hesitated. “Yes. I believe Maria told her…later on. But that was after you and her…after all that.”

The words landed hard like the kick of a horse hoof. The sharp, gut-deep punch sent me stumbling. My knees buckled, and before I could catch myself, I was sinking.

“You’re a whore just like your mother.”

The memories slammed into me, cold and brutal, my voice ringing in my head like a gunshot. I’d said that. To my Elena. Broken her when she had no one. Nash had Maria. Maria had Nash. And Elena had me until I’d turned on her.

My body felt hollow like something inside me had cracked wide open, bleeding out onto the floor. I left her alone in the dark, and now I had to live with that guilt and remorse.

A hand settled on my shoulder, but I couldn’t lift my head. Shame pressed down on me like a hundred pounds of wet earth.

Tansy’s voice was quieter now. “Son, I’m sorry for telling you, but I had to. When Kaz told me you wanted to sell the ranch, I knew I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. You can’t sell Wilder Ranch, Duke. Nash wanted it for you. Gloria wanted it sold, but Nash—he knew that was where you belonged.”

I finally found my legs and sat back down on the chair, feeling limp. All my energy was drained. Mama had been adamant that I sell the ranch as soon as Nash died. She’d said that to me all the time.

“Once he’s gone, I hope you’ll get rid of that horrible place.”

Now, I wasn’t sure if that was what I truly wanted or just what I’d been conditioned to believe.

I’d heard it so much, absorbed it so deeply, that it had become my own truth.

Because blaming Nash was easier than facing the fact that Mama had shaped my thoughts, twisted them, and made me see things her way until I couldn’t tell if they were mine at all.

My phone rang, and I sighed. “Excuse me, Tansy.” I took the call and told my assistant I would not be making the flight after all, and she needed to book me on something for the following morning.

Tansy sat back down on the couch. “You need something to drink?”

I shook my head. “I’m okay.”

“You were on your way to Dallas?”

I scoffed. “Yeah, I broke up with my girlfriend, who’s good friends with Mama. She threatened to kill herself because she’s worried about me being with Elena.” I rested my elbows on my knees. “She doesn’t know what happened ten years ago.”

Tansy made a sound. I looked at her.

“Of course, she knows. Nash told her.”

Her words were a noose tightening around my ribs. I didn’t think I had much more to be shocked about after finding out my mother was not the injured party but the assaulter—but I was.

“She knew?” My words were low, a whisper.

“Yes. He freaked out when you came back, ending things with Elena and him. So, he called her, begged her to talk to you and make you see sense so he wouldn’t lose you.”

“She did the opposite and pretended that she was the injured…fuck, Tansy, is my whole relationship with my mother a lie?”

Tansy gave me a long look. “Your mother needs help, son—the professional kind. I’m sure a shrink would have a whole damn list of diagnoses to write next to her name.”

I didn’t argue. I’d always suspected it, but now I was sure—Mama was a textbook narcissist—never the real victim, but always making damn sure the world believed she was.

And the people she actually hurt? We carried the damage, walking around with wounds so deep they became part of us, throbbing like an ache that never quite faded.