Page 40 of The Wrong Ride Home (Wildflower Canyon #1)

elena

I looked through the keyhole of my motel room door and opened it, puzzled to find Duke outside.

“You’re not in Dallas,” I inanely said as I held the door only wide enough to stick my head out.

I’d just taken a shower and was getting ready to go to bed, so I was in a tank top and sleep shorts. I didn’t want him to see that I was practically naked.

“May I come in?”

“No.”

“Elena, I’d like to come in,” he said authoritatively.

I took a deep breath. “Give me a minute.” I slammed the door shut and put on a pair of jeans over my sleep shorts and a button-down over my tank top.

I opened the door again, wide this time, and waved him in.

It was a small, forgettable motel room. The walls were thin, the carpet was stained, and the air conditioner rattled like it struggled to breathe. A single lamp on the nightstand gave out a dull yellow light, making the faded floral bedspread look even more tired.

Even though it was a non-smoking room, the air smelled like cheap detergent and stale cigarette smoke. The old boxy TV sat crooked on a scratched-up dresser, and a Bible was shoved halfway into an open drawer like the last person who had stayed here had started to read it and thought better of it.

Duke was booked in the better hotel, while people like me (the hands) were relegated to the dreary and smelly.

The ranch was too far to go back and forth, and many of the rodeo attendees were spread across hotels, motels, and RVs.

I crossed my arms as Duke stepped inside, his presence too big, too substantial for such a cramped space.

He didn’t look around, didn’t take in the details the way most people might when stepping into someone else’s space. His gaze was on me, focused.

There was no place to sit except the bed, so I decided standing was best. The conversation wouldn’t take long, would it?

“Well?” I resisted tapping my feet on the worn carpet.

“I talked to Tansy Hawthorne today.”

It felt like a bomb went off.

I kept my face neutral. He knew. He finally knew what Nash had worked so hard to hide from him. I’d never understood his reasons until I finally figured it out. All of these men were cowards, unable to tell the truth, allowing manipulators like Gloria to ruin lives.

“ And ?” I asked, stretching the word out as if wanting to know how this was any of my business.

“ And ?” He looked bewildered.

Oh, he expected me to fall on my knees and suck his dick now he’d gotten his head out of his ass? Well, shit, that wasn’t going to happen!

“I…know, Elena,” he whispered.

“What do you think you know?” I demanded, my fingers tapping against my forearm as if I was keeping time.

I had to wake up early to take care of the horses. I didn’t have time to chit-chat with the bossman, who was going to head to Dallas to placate his lunatic mother and then sleep in the next morning.

He walked up to me. I took a step back. “Nuh-huh. Keep your hands to yourself. You’ve been takin’ some liberties, bossman, that you aren’t allowed with me.”

“Cut that bossman crap.”

“Why?”

Rage simmered inside me. The son of a bitch thought he could just walk in after ten years, after the last two weeks, and pretend we were more because now he’d seen the light? Talk about being an entitled asshole.

He took a slow breath, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to hold something back. “I didn’t know, Elena.” His voice was rough like the words hurt coming out. “About Nash. About Mama. About everything .”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “I’d like to get back to sleep. I’ve got to be up in five hours. I’m in the short round for breakaway.”

And no jokes, I needed my mind and body rested for the fast-paced roping event.

“Elena. I?—”

“Say what you have to say and do it fast, Duke.”

“I’m sorry,” he exploded. “ Okay . I’m fuckin’ sorry.”

“Good for you.” My hands dropped to my hips. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, wanted to give you fair warning that I’m not selling the ranch, and I’m not letting you go.”

I swallowed, the knot in my chest tightening. And suddenly, the room felt even smaller.

“Do what you want with your ranch, Duke, but I’m a free agent. I just got offered a job by Knox Lawson, and I can write my own check.”

“This ain’t about you working the horses, Elena.”

He came forward and stood so close with his head down, our breaths mingled.

I pushed him with both hands. “You motherfucking son of a bitch!”

Goodbye equanimity. Hello, angry bitch.

I shoved him, and he barely stumbled back a step, his boots planted firm. Damn him for being solid, for being here , for looking at me like that —like he regretted everything. He had no right!

"You don’t get to do this, Duke." My voice was shaking with rage, bitter and righteous. "You don’t get to come in here, tell me you’re sorry, and think it fixes a damn thing!"

“I know it doesn’t.” His jaw clenched. "But I love you, Elena, so it’s not like I gotta choice."

I laughed, harsh and humorless. "You have no fucking idea what it means to love.”

His eyes darkened, and he stepped closer again, slow and deliberate, like he was testing his luck. "I was a stupid kid, Elena. And yeah, maybe I’m still a stupid adult, but I swear to God, I?—"

"Glad you admit that you’re still a prized asshole," I cut in, venom in my voice. "That makes two men in my life who were too fucking stupid to do right by me. Nash, who used me, and you, who…broke me.”

His nostrils flared, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides. "You think I didn’t look back? You think I didn’t hate myself for it?"

I glared at him, furious that he dared to look wounded, to act like he was the victim here. "Your regret is not my problem, cowboy.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his silence speaking louder than words ever could. And then, like it physically pained him, he admitted, "I brought Fiona with me because I was afraid, Elena. Afraid I’d take one look at you, and it’d be game over." He exhaled roughly. "And it was."

I stared at him, the truth slicing through me like a hot blade. "Coward," I spat.

He didn’t deny it.

"Just like Nash," I went on, my voice rising, my vehemence burning through me like wildfire. "Just like my mother. Running from the truth, letting other people clean up the messes you’re too fucking weak to face."

Hurt and shame flickered on his face. But I wasn’t done.

"You came here to do what, exactly? To claim me like some fucking prize? You really think after everything, you can just waltz in here, say ‘ I love you ,’ and I’ll fall into your arms?"

"No," he quipped. "I don’t expect that. But I’m not walking away from you, baby. We’re going to talk. We’re going to mend this."

“This”—I jabbed a finger against my chest, right over my heart—“is broken beyond repair, asshole, thanks to you. You have no idea the devastation you left in your wake. There ain’t enough forgiveness in the world to make up for what you did.”

“I’ll make it up to you even if it takes me a lifetime.”

“God! What? Did you hear that in a Lifetime movie? Well, here’s a movie-like response: a hundred lifetimes wouldn’t be enough .”

He wouldn’t understand—couldn’t—what it was like to sit by that river with everything inside me unraveling. Nash, furious. My mother, disappointed. Duke, gone. And me? Pregnant. Alone. Too damn tired to keep fighting.

The river had been dark, rushing fast over jagged rocks, swallowing the moonlight in its depths.

I’d sat there for hours, my body heavy, my mind hollow.

I didn’t plan it, not exactly, but when I stood and stepped forward, it was like the decision had already been made for me.

To just…disappear. To let the current take me, strip me down to nothing, and make the silence permanent.

I barely remembered the fall—just the shock of the cold, the way it ripped the breath from my lungs, the way my body tumbled like it wasn’t even mine.

But I remembered Hunt. His hands, rough and strong, dragging me out.

The way he yelled my name like he could pull me back from the hell I was in with just his voice.

I remembered the pain, the bleeding, the cramping, and the realization that I hadn’t just lost myself—I’d lost the baby, too.

And now Duke wanted to talk about love and regret—about us? He didn’t have a damn clue.

I pointed at the door, my entire body trembling with fury. "Get. The fuck. Out."

Duke’s eyes locked onto mine. “I’ll go.”

He turned, his boots heavy on the worn carpet, his hand gripping the doorknob.

"But you better be ready," he drawled over his shoulder, "because I’m coming back for you, and baby—I plan on layin’ the kind of claim that don’t shake loose in the wind."

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let his words get to me.

"Go fuck yourself, Duke Wilder."

He smirked, the cocky bastard, and then he was gone, leaving the scent of his cologne and heartbreak in his wake.