“From me.” Travis’s brooding figure appeared beside her. “And I’m only going to tell you once to get your fucking hands off her, Harris.”
“Get lost, White. This has nothing to do with you.”
“I beg to differ,” he bit, jabbing his index finger into the center of Nash’s chest. “I told you…get your fucking hands off her.”
Ember held up her palms, clarifying, “I’ve got—”
Chaos exploded before her wide, stunned eyes.
Nash and Travis tore into each other exchanging a frenzied series of body blows and punches. The guttural rasp of curse words garbled with the sound of pummeled flesh turned her stomach. Each man delivering blow after blow, determined to beat the hell out of the other.
Travis grabbed Nash by the collar, but he wrestled free. The air around them detonated with years of loathing, each grappling to gain the upper hand. Nash threw his arms around Travis’s waist tackling him to the muddy ground.
“You can throw punches and sling all the dirt you want, motherfucker. She’s mine,” Nash roared, each jagged word backed up by his raging fury.
“Fuck you,” Travis grunted, taking aim at Nash’s head. “You had your chance and blew it. Just like you always do.”
Ember paced around them frantically, hands smashed to the top of her wet head, cringing at the sound of each fist connecting blow.
“Stop it! Stop it! You’re gonna kill each other!”
A fine edge of terror sharpened her perception, but sanity was nowhere to be found. Ember thrust a hand between the two men, clumsily attempting to break up the chaos. She tugged at one of their shirts, but caught an elbow to the cheek, knocking her to the rain-soaked ground.
A loud, screeching whistle tore through the air like a warning beacon right before Mr. Montgomery and another ranch hand threw a large catch of water on both men.
“That’s enough! Knock it off!”
Covered in mud and muck and blood, the three of them hauled themselves to their feet.
Tremors wracked her body, her spirit as broken as her heart. Ember slogged through the muck, marching straight up to Nash. She wanted to shove him. She wanted him out of her face. She wanted him gone. No matter how fucking painful. No matter how much it was going to break her heart.
Ember dropped her tearful gaze to the ground, looking down at her boots rooted in the mud-soaked earth beneath her feet. The same ground her father cherished and protected with his life, as well as his father before him, and his father before that.
The thudding of her heart pounded in her ears drowning out the rain. The fierce desire to safeguard the land beneath her boots that ran through her forefather’s veins now rushed through hers. Ember refused to let her indiscretions tarnish the Walker name.
Straightening her shoulders, she allowed her narrowed gaze to reach his eyes. The ocean of blue, now holding notes of the dark stormy clouds unloading above them.
Ember raked the back of her hand across her cheeks, flinging mud-soaked tears to the ground. Her chest heaved, each harsh syllable pushing from her lips one growl at a time. “Get. Off. My. Land.”
The words hit like daggers straight to his jugular. He stretched for her hand, but let it fall, grimacing when she twisted out of his reach. “Ember, please. Let me explain.”
“Don’t fucking bother. I’m done with you.”
Mr. Montgomery stepped forward. “Nash.”
Nash’s eyes volleyed between Ember and the growing number of ranch hands flanking Mr. Montgomery. Witnessing the devastation and determination in his eyes, she privately wondered if he could take them all at one time.
“This isn’t over.” Leaning in, the raw sentiments building in his lashes captured her full attention. “We aren’t over.”
Ember’s face crumpled. Part of her was dying inside. She’d never felt so much pain, anger, heartache, and loss at one time.
Blinking back the tears, she cleared the painful ache in her voice, ensuring, “I’m afraid it is, Nash.” She retrieved his hat from the muddy ground and crammed it against his chest, whispering in his ear, “You don’t get to fuck me over and still fuck me in your bed.”
Agony twisted his features, each tiny muscle fading into its place of torment. She’d never seen a man look so beaten. Regret, pain, apology, all on display. One foot following the other, he slowly backed away, demons trailing behind him in the shadow of his slumped shoulders.
Adrenaline and anger rode through her blood, forcing away the hurt as courage bolted forward. “And Walker Ranch isn’t for sale. Consider yourself informed.”
Turning her back, Ember plodded toward the barn. Shoulders back and chest out, her gate remained strong and steady, but her insides shattered, kaleidoscoping into a million tiny pieces of betrayal, pain, and heartache.
Chapter 23
Ember
Never give up on someone you can’t go a day without thinking about.
The sun set behind the horizon as Ember climbed into her king-sized bed. Daring to sift through the memories of endless conversations, sensual kisses, and mind-blowing sex brought her to her knees. Her heart felt as if it’d been casted in stone and smashed with a sledgehammer leaving nothing but crumbled pieces of granite and an infinite variety of anguish.
After tossing and turning all night, Ember rose to the daunting chore of patching her heart back together. Forcing herself out of bed, she trudged into the bathroom, avoiding her swollen, red-rimmed eyes in the reflection of the mirror.
She grabbed her mat and headed for the front porch as the sun pushed through the darkness of morning. Straightening her posture, she gathered up what was left of her pride and shifted her focus back to the gift of her practice and the ranch.
Refusing to look back, Ember disconnected from memories she made of Nash, pressing forward in her thoughts to a life without him. A mental detox of sorts. That strategy worked great…for about thirty minutes.
Mental numbness kicking in, she trudged to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Ember lurched hearing the creak of the back screen door, heart nearly beating out of her chest. Bee rounded the corner making her way into the kitchen. Her bright eyes softened immediately, seeing Ember standing at the sink.
“Good mornin’, hun.”
“Morning, Bee.”
“Can I make you breakfast this mornin’?” Silver strands in her pixie cut gleamed in the sunlight filtering in through the window as she zipped through the kitchen. “I can whip you up an egg white omelet loaded with veggies.”
“No thanks, Bee. I’m not hungry.” The upward pull of her lips an automatic response.
Silence swirled through the kitchen, gathering between them. After a few awkward minutes, Ember could sense Bee’s hesitation losing its hold.
“I’ve never seen him like this,” Bee murmured, tidying up the already pristine counters.
“Who?”
Lowering her gaze, Bee batted her lashes over the rim of her glasses. Their eyes locked. Optimism clawed at her dignity, striking fire to a vein of stubbornness.
“Yeah. Well…I’ve never felt this shitty either.” Ember’s shoulders slumped to the floor, taking her heart with them. “Wait. You saw Nash?”