A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away (Wyoming Rebels Book 4) (18 page)

T
ravis ignored
the holier-than-thou voice in his head telling him what a piece of shit he was for following Lissa upstairs. He already knew he was a piece of shit. He'd learned that lesson many times over growing up. What he hadn't known, until now, was that he could feel pain in his heart that was a thousand times more painful than when his dad had taken his drunken anger out on him.

He'd learned to shut down as a kid. To not care. To not need anyone. To not breathe deeply enough for it to hurt.

Until now.

Until Lissa.

Which was why he was following her up the stairs, even though he knew it wasn't fair to her. He simply couldn't say no.

She opened the door to her apartment, and he hesitated only a brief second before crossing the threshold. She didn't hesitate, however. She walked directly across the room to the door that went to the outside. As she pulled it open, she grabbed a heavy sweatshirt from beside the door. She pulled it over her head as she darted out the door, disappearing from sight.

Curious now, Travis strode after her. He stepped out onto the landing, and saw a ladder attached to the side of the building, heading up to the roof. Lissa's foot was on the top rung, and then she was gone, apparently onto the roof.

A small grin played at the corners of his mouth as he grabbed the rungs and hauled himself up. He reached the top and swung over the edge, scanning the flat roof. There were four canvas lawn chairs arranged in a semi-circle around a square iron coffee table with peeling black paint. A rough outdoor carpet that looked like it was made of woven straw was spread out. Lissa was on the far side of the clearing, pulling open what looked like a massive cooler.

"Drinks?" He noted that a sturdy fence railing had been built around the circumference of the roof. It was the only new thing in the entire building, and he assumed she'd built it to keep her daughter safe while on the roof.

She hadn't banned her kid from the roof. She'd changed the roof to give Bridgette the freedom to be able to come up there. He liked that. Somehow, someway, it felt significant to him. Lissa gave freedom and empowerment to those she loved, instead of destroying them.

"No drinks. I use the cooler to keep the blankets and pillows dry so I don't have to climb the ladder with them each time." She reached inside the cooler and emerged with two thick blankets in her arms. "It's shooting star central up here. Come on."

"Shooting stars?" They'd come up here for shooting stars? He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but crashing on an old roof with blankets watching for shooting stars wasn't it. He could see Lissa doing it. He could see Bridgette giggling while they scanned the sky. But him? Not him. Not when he was a kid, and not now. It was just so…optimistic for him.

She glanced over at him, raising her eyebrows. "It's okay, Travis. I promise to grab you if you start to fall off the roof." Her voice was light, teasing, but he didn't smile.

He just stood there, like a statue. He didn't move from the edge of the roof, afraid to cross the threshold into this private world she'd created for herself and her daughter. It was intimate up here. He felt like he was invading a sanctuary designed to protect her and Bridgette.

But he didn't take his gaze off Lissa as she spread a thick, fleece blanket out on the straw carpet. She tossed two pillows on the fleece, then stretched out on her back. She entwined her fingers behind her head, crossed her ankles, and then settled, gazing up at the sky.

He shifted restlessly, uncertain how to respond. He wanted to go over there. But he also wanted to leave. No, that was wrong. He didn't want to leave. But he felt more comfortable retreating than he did walking out onto the roof and joining her.

"I don't bite," she said softly. "It's okay, Travis. Come on."

He sighed. What chance did he have against her? None. He'd take whatever he could get. He strode across the roof and sat down in the lounge chair nearest to Lissa. For a moment, neither of them said anything. He became aware of the stillness of the night. In his world, nothing was ever still or quiet. It was loud music, fans, the hum of air conditioning at hotels, the glare of neon lights outside his window, the hum of his tour bus's engine as they drove.

But up on her roof, there was silence. Stillness. Darkness. Not the lonely kind like when he'd hid under his bed as a kid, hiding from what might be coming for him. This was the stillness of peace. Connection. Of the soul slowing down and feeling the earth as it was meant to be felt.

He took a deep breath, inhaling air that seemed fresher and cleaner than he could remember breathing. The air had probably been like this when he was a kid, but he'd been so scared back then that he hadn't thought about it. But now, it seemed to pour into his cells, chasing away the tension, the noise, and the clutter.

"Oh, look! A shooting star!" Lissa pointed to the sky, and he looked up.

He caught his breath in shock when he saw the sky. The dark night was vast and endless, exploding with millions of glittering stars. He'd forgotten what a sky like that looked like. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be a part of something so magnificent.

He'd forgotten so much.

"Did you see that one?" Lissa pointed at another place in the sky, but he was too late by the time he turned his head.

He wanted to see a shooting star. He wanted to feel the magic of endless skies, see the flash of shooting stars, and be a part of genuine laughter under the moon.

He hesitated, then silently stood and walked over to Lissa. Without a word, because he wasn't sure what he'd say, he stretched out beside her, mimicking her pose by locking his fingers behind his head. He bent one knee, vividly aware that she was only a couple inches away, a gap that could be closed with one, small move.

But he didn't move. He just focused on the sky, searching the endless twinkling lights. After several moments, a white streak sped suddenly across the sky. Excitement leapt through him, and he pointed at the spot. "There!"

"I saw it!"

He grinned. "Aren't we too old to be enthralled by shooting stars?" Even as he asked the question, he kept searching the sky for more of them. He was way too old and jaded to care about shooting stars, but he had to admit that seeing one had been galvanizing. It had made him feel like the kid he'd never been, and he wanted to see a dozen more.

"Too old for shooting stars? Seriously?" She grabbed a pillow and whacked him lightly in the face. "Such blasphemy. I'm horrified."

He laughed, catching the pillow as she pulled back to hit him again. "Blasphemy? Sweetheart, if you think that's blasphemy, you've never lived."

She grabbed the second pillow and got him square in the face. "If you don't understand that defaming shooting stars is a sacrilege, then you shall be banned from this roof forever."

He laughed again, blocking her blow. "Hell, no. Don't ban me. I promise to be good."

She pointed a threatening finger at him. "You better not break that promise. We have rules on this roof, and worshipping shooting stars is one of them.
Capisce
?"

"
Capisce
?" Laughter rumbled through him, a genuine laughter that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside. "What are you, from the Italian mafia?"

She settled back on the blanket. "For your information, I am quite certain that I am part Italian. Or maybe French. Or possibly Australian. I've always loved their accents."

His grin widened. "You might be Italian, French, or Australian? Did you just make that up?"

"Yep. My mother said we were just born from dirt and we'd die from dirt, and I find that horribly unromantic. Bridgette and I have invented many fantastic bloodlines for us, none of which involve dirt."

His smile faded, and he propped himself up on his elbow, so he could watch her. The hood of her sweatshirt obscured her hair, but he could see her profile. The way her lips curved when she smiled, the way she wrinkled her nose when she pretended to be annoyed with him, the way her eyelashes brushed her cheeks when she blinked. "How did you become the way you are?"

She glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're funny. You're warm. You embrace life so completely. You don't hold back at all." He shrugged. "How did you hold onto that after everything you've been through?" He wanted to know. He
needed
to know. Because if she had somehow found a way to be whole after what she'd endured, maybe there was hope for him.

Lissa rolled onto her side to face him, tucking her pillow under her cheek. "I think I just wanted to prove to everyone that they were wrong about me. Sheer stubbornness. I wanted to win, and the only way to win was to be happy and to love myself." She laughed softly, and poked him in the chest. "I do, however, still harbor an untreatable resistance to getting involved with men, though."

He grinned, drawn into the funny mood she was in. "Untreatable? Have you tried antibiotics?"

"Too many side effects." She rolled onto her back and faced the sky. "Oh, there's one!"

He followed suit and stretched out on his back again, this time, somehow, close enough that his shoulder was against hers. The moment he looked up at the sky, he saw another shooting star, a white streak of light so quick it was as if it had never existed, though he knew it had. "Saw that one!"

"Did you make a wish?"

"A wish?" He laughed. "No. Should I?"

"Of course. Don't you always wish on a shooting star?"

"I don't generally see shooting stars, so I hadn't developed a game plan on how to handle them." He saw another one, and pointed. "There!"

"Make a wish this time. Shooting stars are magic."

"Magic?" What a concept.
Magic.
But even as he thought it, he realized this moment fit the bill. He was relaxed. He was happy. He was immersed in the awesomeness of the endless sky and billions of stars. And he was with Lissa. What would he wish for? He thought for a moment, his amusement fading as he considered the question. "I wish for this."

She glanced over at him. "You wish for 'this?' What does that mean?"

"This moment. This feeling." He gestured at the sky, and then to her. "This moment with you. Laughing. Seeing stars. Having nowhere else to be, and nothing else to accomplish. Being completely present."

A genuine smile lit up her face. "You already have it," she said. "You're supposed to wish for something you don't have."

"But that's the thing." He rolled onto his side, shifting his weight so he was closer to her, his face only a scant inch from hers. "I don't have it. This moment will be gone shortly, dissolving as if it had never been, and I'll be back in my life." He reached out and lightly touched a lock of her hair that had escaped from the hood. "I want this moment to be my forever."

Her face softened, and her breath caught. "What does that mean?"

He paused. "I don't know exactly. I just...I've spent my life trapped in darkness. I've tried everything to get out of it, and nothing worked, until you. Until stars. Until songs about apple pies." He brought the lock of her hair to his lips and pressed a kiss to the silken strands. "I don't want to go back to my life." The moment he said it, he realized it was true.

He didn't want to go back on tour. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay right there, in Lissa's life, and become a part of it.

The moment he thought it, fear gripped him, a deep terror of wanting something so badly, of opening his heart so completely.

Lissa stared at him. "If you don't want to go back, why do you need to?" Her breath was a whispered hush, barely audible in the still night. "If you want to stay, why don't you?"

It was his turn to go still, his entire body tensing at her words. "Do you...want me to? Our deal was temporary. Neither of us wanted anything more. Has that...changed for you?" He could barely breathe. He felt as if his entire soul was suspended on the edge of a cliff, hanging on by a sliver, a breath from either plunging into the abyss or being swept back up to solid ground. He was terrified of what she might say. Afraid she'd say yes. Afraid she'd say no. He didn't even know what he wanted her to say. He couldn't stay. This was fantasy. But...what if he was wrong? What if this could be real life? Something this simple, this easy, this peaceful?

Lissa swallowed hard, her brown eyes turbulent with emotion as his question hung suspended between them. For a long time, for too long, she said nothing, and his heart hardened again, his shields rebuilding faster than they'd come down.

He'd put her on the spot by asking her. She didn't want him to stay. She hadn't changed her mind. And he'd just changed the rules by bringing it up. "Never mind." He turned away and rolled onto his back, staring blankly at the sky that had awed him only moments ago. He didn't see the stars anymore. He didn't see the vast expanse. He just saw...nothing.

"Hey." Lissa grabbed his arm, but he didn't move. He didn't turn his head to look at her. He was fighting too hard to breathe to be able to look at her face again.

Lissa, however, ignored his obvious silent messages to let it go. She scrambled to her knees, then straddled him, parking herself on his stomach, her knees by his hips, her feet tucked back. "Don't do that to me," she snapped.

He jerked his gaze to her. "Don't do
what
to you? I was giving you space."

"You weren't giving me space. You were shutting me out."

"Because you weren't answering me!"

"Did it ever occur to you
why
I wasn't answering?"

He grimaced. "Yeah, it did. Because I broke our rules, and you were pissed."

"Pissed? First of all, that's kind of crass." She glared at him. "Second, I was
thinking.
You know, sometimes, women like to do that. Think. It doesn't mean I'm blowing you off," she snapped, her irritation obvious. "It doesn't mean I'm betraying you. It doesn't mean I'm trying to decide how best to break your heart. It means that your question mattered to me, and I was
thinking
about it."

He stared at her. "You're yelling at me?"

She blinked. "Yelling? You call that yelling?"