Somewhere Close to Chaos
Emrys
Chaos.
It didn’t make sense that this small town, a million miles away from an airport and a shopping mall, was brimming with so much bedlam. People moved here, vacationed here, ran away from life, and ended up here to escape the noise, confusion, and crush of regular life. They would stay far, far away if they knew that, at a moment’s notice, this peaceful place could erupt into violence and disorder just as easily as places that rarely saw the sun unless it peeked between skyscrapers.
I’d been fooled once by the promise of quiet nights and serene days in the sunshine. I believed the brochure when it said I could leave my worries at home and escape to a simpler, quieter kind of life. I let myself be lured in by the picturesque landscape and stunning mountains. I foolishly fell prey to the temptation of leaving my current set of troubles behind in San Francisco while I hid away in the middle-of-nowhere Wyoming.
I now knew firsthand the glossy brochure that brought me to Wyoming the first time was nothing more than a bunch of pretty, packaged lies. I knew the bar brawl erupting in front of me was hardly the worst thing that could happen here. In fact, the level of bloodshed and violence was child’s play compared to what I’d witnessed the last time I’d stepped foot in this small, quaint town. Well, I hadn’t really been in Sheridan last time I was here. I’d spent most of my time in the backwoods that surrounded the Warner brothers’ ranch, which was still a good forty-five minutes outside of this tiny town. The ranch was where I was currently trying to get to so I could see my best friend.
When I left Wyoming, I told myself I would never come back.
Ever.
I told myself there was nothing here for me but bad memories and heartache. I was a pro at lying to myself, at telling myself exactly what I needed to hear to justify my actions. I could convince myself of anything, like it was okay that my last boyfriend stole my grandmother’s silver when I kicked him out because he needed it more than I did. I had no problem believing that pulling Leo out of the city was the only way to heal her broken heart even though she didn’t want to go. It was easier to distract her than it was to watch her wallow. I persuaded myself into believing what I needed to heal was space and solitude. I held onto that until time passed and I was still a mess. I was sick of my own company and of hiding from everything I was feeling. I was the one who always went out of my way to fix everyone else around me, it wasn’t exactly a shock to learn I didn’t have the skills to repair myself. I spent my days helping others focus on their goals, on doing better and achieving more, so I didn’t have to think about the lack of any ambition of my own. I turned thirty at the end of the year and I was still trying to figure out what and who I wanted to be when I grew up. I’d been aimless for a long time; the only direction in my life come from the fact I knew all the way down to my bones that I had to go back to Wyoming and face off with Sutton Warner.
I told myself that Leo would understand and wouldn’t question my sudden change of heart. Leora Conner was more like a sister than a friend. It had always been me and her against the rest of the world, until I pushed her away. Lucky for me, she didn’t let me get very far. She gave me just enough rope to dangle on and quickly pulled me up when she realized how tired I was of holding on. When I called and told her I was coming to see her, she didn’t hesitate in opening her home up to me, even though her relationship with Cy was still fairly new. I didn’t want to be a burden and Leo was quick to remind me that I had done my fair share of holding onto the end of her rope when she felt like she was going to let go.
Neither one of us mentioned the real reason staying at the Warner Ranch might not be the easiest or most comfortable thing in the world for me. Unspoken was the reminder that Sutton had sent me away and made it clear if he never had to lay eyes on me again it would be too soon. The middle Warner brother and I had shared an experience that would change even the strongest of souls. It should have tied us together. It should have bonded us, united us, glued both our broken pieces together. He was the only person in the world who knew what I’d been through and I was the only person in the world who knew just how hard he fought to save my soul. I watched him die for me, and when he came back to life I thought I would be the first person he would want to see. I thought he would understand that his sacrifice meant everything to me. I’d never had anyone do anything like that for me before. I was always the one taking the figurative bullet, and he’d taken a real one . . . for me.
It hurt when he made it known that I was the last person he wanted anything to do with.
He told me, in no uncertain terms, that he wanted me out of his sight, out of his life, and out of his state. He became so agitated that his doctors ordered me out of his hospital room. They had to sedate him. I could still see his brothers struggling between wanting to make sure I was okay and doing what was best for their brother. Those Warners were good men, but family came first. I couldn’t bear to be that close to Sutton if it was doing him more harm than good. He was a whole different kind of difficult to deal with, and I didn’t do difficult. I did excuses and explanations. I cut and run whenever anything required work and effort. I was used to coasting, and everything with Sutton and what happened to me in the woods was like navigating class-five rapids with no paddle and no life vest.
I went in search of easy. I searched out serene and calm. I rented a beach house on one of the Balkan islands that was almost as far away from my typical life as this speck on the map in Wyoming. I spent my days soaking in the sun, drinking on the beach, and letting my body heal. My mind was a little slower to get with the program and my heart was a total lost cause. Parts of me still hurt so bad I was sure the ache would never go away, but I realized that no matter how fast or how far I ran, the complicated emotional web I was tangled in kept tightening around me. The silken strands were so taut it was hard to move. There was no shaking them loose no matter where I was, so I decided there was only one thing to do . . . stop running and stop making excuses—for myself and for Sutton.
I called Leo and told her I was on my way back to Sheridan. She knew without words that I was coming to face my fears and the hardest heart I had ever encountered in my entire life. The one miraculously still beating inside of Sutton Warner.
After what we’d been through together, he owed me an explanation, and he was going to take my gratitude whether he wanted it or not. Leo warned me that he hadn’t been the same since we were airlifted off the mountain, both of us clinging to life. She told me that the man who sent me away in the hospital was Prince Charming compared to the surly, drunk, unpredictable mess Sutton had become. That was fine with me. I wasn’t the same woman who shied away from things that required work. I wasn’t looking for the easy way out this time around.
When Leo warned me that Sutton had changed, I told her I could handle it. Maybe that was another lie I told myself, one I wanted desperately to believe. I told myself I didn’t need him to talk to me, or look at me, or pretend like he wanted anything to do with me. All I needed him to do was forgive me, so I could possibly, hopefully, forgive myself. She told me it was bad and I replied that nothing could be worse than the callous and cruel way he had sent me packing at the hospital.
I should have listened closer.
Nothing could have prepared me for the wild, feral man who was sitting at the bar looking at me like he’d seen a ghost. He didn’t want me standing in the doorway to that bar any more than I wanted to be there. I was supposed to be safe at the ranch, my best friend and his family there to act as a buffer between us. They were supposed to soften the blow of my sudden appearance back in his life.
Unfortunately, the rental car I’d picked up when I flew into Denver was starting to have problems. It was a six-hour drive and the first five had gone great. The last hour, however, the car had started to stall whenever I went up a hill and there was a heavy knocking noise coming from the engine that hadn’t been there at the start of my journey. If I was anywhere else, I would have pulled over and called for help, but cell reception was spotty, at best, and I refused to be stuck alone on the side of the road waiting for rescue. I pushed the rental to its limits, which thankfully got me into Sheridan’s city limits. The Big Horn was the first place I saw that had lights on and cars in the parking lot. I pulled in thinking someone here could call the ranch and Leo would send Cy or Lane to come get me. I never expected a brawl to break out—or Sutton to be the one initiating it. The middle Warner brother was by far the most even-keeled of the three, even if he came across as abrupt and rude. He didn’t run hot the way Cyrus did, and he didn’t joke around the way Lane did. He was quiet, contemplative, and broody. So, so broody. Complicated and complex. He was everything I typically avoided, because there was no fixing whatever was broken inside of him. But for some reason I couldn’t seem to stay away from him.
His sullen demeanor worked for him . . . or it used to. When I first met him, he’d had all the western swagger with none of the clichéd feel. He was all kinds of long, lean cowboy poured into tight jeans and worn boots. His messy, blond hair was too long then, but now it was ridiculous. Well, it looked ridiculous because it was filthy and tangled. It would probably be prettier than mine if he bothered to do something with it. He was still long and lean, but now he bordered on being skinny. His handsome face was covered in a shaggy beard that was several shades darker than the golden hair on his head. There were hollows under his cheekbones and his eyes were both ringed with dark circles sunken too far into his face. Those green eyes of his were gorgeous, the color of the pine needles on every tree that surrounded this place. Even bloodshot and wide with horror, they were still stunning. They were the only thing about him that hadn’t changed since I had been here last. His ragged appearance made him look more like a homeless person than a successful businessman and rancher; that pensive introspection made him seem like a bomb that was waiting to go off.
I wish I had known I was the fuse.
I opened my mouth to tell him I was sorry, to explain why I was here, to beg him to forgive me. I didn’t get a chance to say any of it because he lost it. He looked like he could barely stand up straight, but he had no problem hitting his target when he tossed the glass at the big cowboy’s back.
I couldn’t hear what he said to the man, but it must have been bad because the cowboy charged at Sutton like a bull. The rest of the occupants of the room lost interest in me and got caught up in either cheering on the two men or trying to pull them apart. I watched the bartender vault over the top of the bar like it was nothing and push himself between the two men. I didn’t realize I’d said anything until Sutton started to go down. Those moss-colored eyes of his rolled back in his head and his big body turned into dead weight as the bartender struggled to hold him up.
A couple of men held onto the struggling cowboy who was calling Sutton a pussy and screaming at him to get up and fight like a man. Sutton was deathly still, his pallor a sickly shade of white, and there was blood leaking out of his nose.
I hated violence. I was never a fan of confrontation even before Wyoming had changed my life forever. But after my last trip here, I swore I never wanted anything to do with blood and bullets again. My mind was screaming at me to turn around and walk back to the stupid car and get as far away from here as the broken rental would take me. My body was telling me to move, to get out, to flee before I was the one who ended up hurt. But my heart, the stupid, shattered thing, pulled me through the room of confused, gawking strangers until I was on the other side of Sutton from where the bartender was saying his name.
I thought my biggest fear was being hurt again, that it was being surrounded by angry men who were so much bigger and stronger than me. I thought the terror that chased me from one place to another had to do with having my control stripped away and being forced to submit to someone else’s will. I honestly believed my nightmares couldn’t get any worse than a stranger’s hands touching me and the feel of that knife digging into my skin over and over again.
I was wrong.
Watching Sutton die again trumped all of that.
I dropped to my knees next to his still form and gently reached out shaking fingers to see if I could feel for a pulse on the side of his neck. The bartender looked at me sharply, fear and concern clear on his face. He was a startlingly attractive man up close, with clear blue eyes and a head full of wavy brown hair. He looked a little rough, and a lot rugged like most of the men in these parts did. Before he could ask who I was, or what I was doing, I told him softly, “He still has pieces of that bullet inside his chest. It was so close to his heart and his spine, they couldn’t get it all out without putting him in more danger.” I remember the doctors at the hospital in Billings filling me in on his condition when I was practically inconsolable over putting him in that position in the first place. That other cowboy had shoved Sutton hard, right in the place where he was the most vulnerable.
The bartender grunted. “Idiot. I already called the sheriff to deal with Joel. I called the ranch, too, so someone is on their way. It’s a toss-up if they’ll be here before the medics show.”
“He needs to get to a hospital.” I was shocked how calm and matter of fact my voice sounded. I’d been hysterical the last time I watched this man bleed because of me.
The bartender nodded. “Only one here in town. We’ll get him there.” He looked up as the crowd around us parted and another large man made his way into the room. I remembered Rodie Collins from my last trip here. The sheriff had been in and out of the hospital while I was still waiting for Sutton to pull through surgery and wake up. He had been working with the DEA and other local officials to clean out the secret marijuana grow fields we had accidentally stumbled on. Everything had gone to hell so quickly, and all of us were lucky to make it off that mountain alive, but as I looked at Sutton’s unmoving form I realized some of us had been luckier than others.
The sheriff tipped the brim of his black cowboy hat up and looked down at Sutton. A muscle ticked in his jaw as his gaze shifted over to me. I saw a flare of surprise in his eyes when he saw me kneeling on the floor next to his friend.
“Em. I didn’t know you were coming back to town.” He put his hands on his hips and glared at the bartender. “Cy is gonna rip you a new asshole when he hears you let this shit get out of hand, Burke. He told you to quit letting Sutton have a free ride.”
The man across from me gritted his teeth and climbed to his feet. I refused to pull my fingers off the faint pulse that I could feel in Sutton’s neck. If I kept touching him, kept that heartbeat in my hands and nurtured it, I knew he was still alive.
“I’ll tell you what I told Cy last time he was in here trying to get me to eighty-six his brother. It’s better Sutton sits his dumb ass somewhere where a friend can keep an eye on him. I don’t let him drive out of here. I don’t let him leave with anyone. I don’t let him drink any more than he can handle. This entire fucking town has been babysitting him for the last six months. If I cut him off, he’s going to go someplace where no one gives a shit and things will end up way worse than they did tonight.” The man named Burke was angry the sheriff questioned his judgment and his ability to do his job. He seemed angry that he was getting the finger of blame pointed at him for Sutton’s current condition when it was obviously the blond cowboy’s own fault he was out cold on the floor.
There was the wail of sirens outside, but the only reason it was heard was because an eerie hush fell over the room as the door swung open and Cy walked in. There was simply something about the man that demanded attention and respect. Everyone watched him as he made his way through the crowd to get to his brother. His sharp, silvery blue eyes nodded to Rodie who was snapping handcuffs on the struggling cowboy who had attacked Sutton.
He paused in front of the struggling man and told him softly, “Be by later to have a talk with you, son.” It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise.
The sheriff didn’t bother to tell Cy anything different as he started to haul his prisoner out of the bar. “I’ll be by the ER as soon as I get this one handled.”
I felt Cy’s frosty gaze land on me as he made his way over to my side. I looked up at him, still touching that faint thump under my fingers. I didn’t realize I was crying until Cy reached out and ran one of his knuckles over the edge of my cheek. “You wasted enough tears on his sorry ass, gorgeous.”
I gave my head a little shake. “He’s hurt.”
Cy sighed and reached out a hand. He placed it on the center of his brother’s chest and closed his eyes in relief when he felt the same thing I did. That barely beating heart. “He is. But the only person who can make Sutton stop hurting is Sutton.” I nodded slowly as Cy lifted his head to look at the man standing on the other side of his fallen brother. “You and I are gonna have some words, Burke.”
The bartender snorted. “Expected as much. Let me clear this place so the paramedics can get in and out.” The man turned on booted heel and started barking orders at the remaining customers. It seemed like if you stayed for the drama, the last drinks were on the house because Burke wasn’t wasting any time cashing out open tabs.
I felt the heavy weight of Cy’s arm settle around my shoulders and I let myself lean on the man who had become everything to my best friend. His strength was welcoming, his patience and calm were infectious. I closed my eyes and counted Sutton’s heartbeats. Each one was more precious than the one before.
Quietly I told Cy, “If he tries to throw me out of the hospital again, I’m not going.”
There was a low chuckle and I felt him give me a slight squeeze. “Good to have you back, Em. We missed you.”
He wasn’t talking about me coming back to Wyoming.
I’d been lost, running and scared. But as soon as I saw Sutton, I knew it wasn’t the forgotten piece of me that I’d left here that I needed to find. It was a new piece, a different piece that would fit in the hole that had been hollowed inside of me. I wasn’t foolish or naïve enough to think that piece was going to be an easy and effortless fit. For the first time in my life, I was willing to work for it. I wasn’t running ever again.