A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away (Wyoming Rebels Book 4) (20 page)

T
ravis had lost
the skills that he'd spent his life acquiring.

He knew how to toughen up, to deal with crap, to not care, or let it affect him.

But after driving away from Lissa's last night, he was a fucking wreck.

He'd barely made it through his interviews. His second children's concert had been a disaster. And he could barely manage eye contact with the fans standing in line for his autograph. He'd been there for two hours, signing autographs for strangers who, for reasons he still couldn't fathom, wanted his name scrawled on something they owned. His CD. A tee shirt. A hat. Shoes. Why did they want his signature? Why did it matter?

Shit. He didn't want to be here. He was tired and—

"Travis?"

He wearily held out his hand, barely noticing the woman standing in front of him. She was the last one in line, and then he was finished. "Who do you want it made out to?"

"Annie. Annie Stockton."

Travis's gaze snapped to the woman's face, and then he went cold. Absolutely fucking cold.

His mother was standing in front of him.

The mother who'd screamed insults and epithets at his father for saddling her with a loser kid that she had to support. The mother who'd left him with the abusive drunk who'd fathered him. She'd walked out when he was six, and he hadn't heard from her since.

But he knew her instantly. The voice. The green eyes. It was her. She was older now, obviously, with harsh lines etched in her skin, even though she probably wasn't much past fifty, though he wasn't sure how old she even was. She was wearing jeans and cowboy boots, and a gaudy fuchsia pink shirt. Her necklace was a garish, fake gold, and her eyelashes were long and thick enough practically to touch her eyebrows.

He dropped his hand, his fingers curling into fists. "What do you want?"

She smiled, her bright red lips stretching over garishly white teeth. "Do you remember me?"

"Yeah. What do you want?" He wanted to turn and walk away, to shove her back into the memories he worked so hard not to think about. But he couldn't. She was standing in front of him. Right there.

Her smile faded. "I'm sorry."

Her apology was completely unexpected. For his entire life, he'd thought of her as nothing more than a cold, selfish woman who wasn't worth the energy of remembering her name. She'd been callous, relentless, and cruel. Never acknowledging any fault of hers, let alone apologizing. He didn't even know how to respond.

"Travis? Did you hear me?" She peered at him.

"What, exactly, are you sorry for?" The list was long.

"All of it."

Too easy. Too vague. Too insincere. "Name a couple things." Even one. Even one fucking thing.

"I'm sorry for failing you."

He had to look away then, emotions coming hard and fast. For failing him? Yeah, she'd failed him.

"I've been watching you. Tracking your career. When I saw you were coming to town..." She smiled again, hopefully, tentatively. "I thought we could reconnect."

He looked at her then. "You've known where to find me all this time, since the day you walked out, and you
never
thought to reach out?" Tight fury was laced in his voice, edged with the steel of a thousand years of pain.

She sighed, her fingers tightening around a shiny, black handbag. "What could I say? I didn't deserve forgiveness. I didn't want to ruin your life any more than I already have."

His throat tightened, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. The words sounded right. His own mother. Asking forgiveness. Apologizing. Admitting she was wrong. Jesus. After all this time? "Why now?" So much to say, and at the same time, nothing to say.

"Because you are here. Because you came home." She smiled again, and there was something in her eyes that caught him. A feral glint that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

And he knew.

He fucking knew.

He looked at her, really looked at her. "How much money do you need?" The question came out tight and clipped, almost forced. It felt surreal, asking that. Was it really possible that his mother had shown up in his life because she wanted to cash in on his career? His own fucking
mother?
Was she really so mercenary that he was nothing more than a financial windfall to her? First, a burden, and now, a paycheck?

Her eyes widened. "Money? I don't want money. I just wanted to see my son."

He wanted to believe her. He realized he wanted to believe her more than he'd wanted to believe anything in his whole life. He
needed
her to be telling the truth. A baby had been dangled in front of him to get his money, burning him so badly that he hadn't even been able to cope with what he felt for Lissa.

Too afraid of being burned.

Too afraid of being eviscerated.

Too terrified of the pain that she could cause him, if he was wrong again.

But he had to know.

He had to fucking know.

He took out his phone, his hand actually shaking. "What's your email address? I'll PayPal you the money." He needed her to refuse. He needed her to get pissed. He needed her to walk away without taking it.

If she did, he'd follow her. He'd go after his own mother, the one who had abandoned him, and he'd give her one more chance.

She stared at him.

He waited.

"Maybe just a little," she finally said. "Money has been kind of tight."

He felt like he was falling, catapulting into a black pit. "A little," he echoed numbly. "How much?"

"Whatever you can spare. I'll pay you back. I promise." She smiled eagerly. "Maybe a hundred thousand? I want to start a charity for kids."

"A hundred thousand for a charity," he repeated. "What's the name of the charity? I'll send it there so you don't have to worry about taxes." It was a last chance, a chance she didn't deserve, but he needed to give it. He needed to know.

"Oh, no." She shook her head. "It would be better just to send it to me. Then I can allocate it." She rattled off her email address, and looked at him expectantly.

And that was it.

The truth.

His own fucking mother had walked back into his life after two decades for the sole purpose of capitalizing on his fortune.

Silently, he shoved his phone back in his pocket, turned away, and started walking numbly through his security guards toward the back of the tent, where he'd parked his truck.

"Travis?" His mom hurried after him. "Where are you going? What about the money?"

He spun back toward her. "What about the
money
? I'll tell you about the money. Every last cent of it is going to my brothers, the only people in this entire fucking world who have stood by me, who don't give a shit about my career or my money or anything. They've got my back no matter what, like you were supposed to, as my mother."

She stopped, her face shocked. "Travis—"

"No." He spun around and strode toward her. "I waited for you. I waited for you to come back and rescue me from that hellhole." He jerked his shirt up and pointed to the scar on his side. "My fucking father beat me so badly that he broke my rib and punctured my lung. I would have died if Chase hadn't come back to rescue me. Where the fuck were you? You hated me from the day I was born, but for a split second just now, I was stupid enough to think maybe you really cared. You don't. You never did, and you never will. Admit it. Just fucking, for once in your life, admit the truth."

She stared at his scar, her mouth open in shock.

He didn't think she'd answer.

But then slowly, silently, she raised her gaze to his and nodded.

Travis went still. "You admit you hated me?"

She sighed. "I didn't want a child. I didn't want to be married. I didn't want any of that life. I'm sorry I can't love you like a mother should. It's just not me. It's not you."

The first truth she'd ever given him. He didn't even know how to respond. "You came back for the money."

"I came back for the money." Her eyes were shiny. With tears? He doubted it. "I'm sorry he hurt you, Travis. I didn't know how bad it was."

"Would you have come back if you had known?"

For a long time, she stared at him, then she silently shook her head.

No. She wouldn't have come back for him even if she'd realized what his life was like. His own fucking mother. "I think we're done here."

This time, when he turned away, she didn't stop him.

She just let him go.

* * *

L
issa leaned back
against the booth, watching as the three Stockton men dug into the after-hours pie. It was almost two in the morning, and they were as energized as they'd been at the start of the night. She was exhausted, but also exhilarated. Only one more night of fair week, and then she'd have her life back. Tonight had been the busiest night she'd ever had, and the three Stocktons had enabled her to handle more guests than she'd ever had before. She could even close the café for the last night, and still have earned more money than she needed for the rest of the year. "You guys were amazing tonight."

Ryder shrugged. "It's automatic."

It was the same answer they'd given her every time she'd thanked them tonight. "I still don't understand why you guys are here."

Maddox raised his brows. "You don't know about the Stockton code?"

She shook her head slowly.

"It's like this." He leaned forward. "You don't survive hell by yourself. We back each other up, no matter what, no questions asked. Travis put the call in for you, so that's what it is."

Chills ran down her arms at the intensity of his response. She couldn't imagine having that kind of loyalty supporting her. She'd been going solo for so long, the thought of having someone to call no matter what was surreal. "The bond you guys have is incredible." She managed a small smile. "I'm a little jealous," she admitted.

Chase grinned at his brothers, his blue eyes surveying them with evident satisfaction. "Now, if we can just get them to move back to town. There's space on the ranch for you guys."

"Fuck that." Ryder leaned back in his chair. "This town is tainted by the devil. No way am I ever coming back."

Chase frowned, but Maddox didn't seem to notice the conversation. He was watching Lissa carefully. "The real question is why Travis asked us to help you out. Any thoughts on that one, Lissa?"

She felt her cheeks turn red. "I don't know. He left last night and made it pretty clear he wasn't ever coming back." To her shock, the tears she'd fought off all day suddenly sprang into her eyes, and she looked away, trying to regain her composure. "He helped me out here a couple nights. Maybe he just felt bad he had to work tonight."

Maddox laughed softly, the kind of bitter laugh that had no joy. "That's not how we operate. Travis would never call on us to cook burgers without a damn good reason, which, as far as we're concerned, usually involves life, death, or serious physical harm." He glanced around. "Don't see any problem with that here, so why were we here?"

Lissa tensed at his low undertone. "I don't know. He didn't tell me he called you."

Chase grinned. "You guys are really that stupid? Didn't you learn anything from when I called you to help with Mira?"

Maddox looked over at him. "Mira was in serious danger. Lissa isn't."

"Danger is subjective." Chase looked over at Lissa, his gaze speculative. "I called you guys for help with Mira because my heart would have shattered into a thousand pieces if anything had happened to her. Because she had become my entire world."

Lissa's heart began to hammer at Chase's words. "I'm not his world—"

"Do you understand what hell Travis went through as a kid?" Chase leaned forward, his gaze intent on her face. "We had a deal as kids to never let a woman come between us. No women. Ever."

"Until you broke that oath," Maddox pointed out.

"Yeah, and it took a hell of a lot for me to take that chance with her." Chase focused on Lissa. "I would never, in a million years, have given Mira a chance if I hadn't been forced into the situation. It was just as difficult for Zane and Steen. We're broken, Lissa. Every last one of us. The fact Travis called us means that you got through his armor. He loves you, or he wouldn't have done it."

Lissa bit her lips, tears suddenly threatening again. "He doesn't—"

"He does, but I'll tell you right now, if you wait for him, he might not be capable of coming back to you. You have to fight for him. Go after him."

"No." Lissa stood up, suddenly angry. "If I forced myself on him, I'd spend the rest of my life waiting for him to leave, aware that he tried to walk away, and I didn't let him." Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, tears of loss, tears of frustration, and the tears of heartache.

All three men were watching her closely now. "Do you love him?" Chase asked.

"Of course I do! How could I not? I didn't even want to fall in love with
anyone
, and he broke through
my
walls. But I have a daughter and a café, and I can't afford to be wrecked so badly by a man that I can't take care of us." She wiped a hand over her cheeks. "You didn't hear him, Chase. You didn't see his face. He shut me out completely. He's moved on, and he won't come back, so stop trying to torment me by giving me hope that will break me!"