Impulsion: A Station 32 Fire Men Novel (13 page)

Easton knew Memphis had seen it when he heard him cuss under his breath and started to help Easton block Wyatt’s view.

“I didn’t drive all the way here to chicken out now. She’s here. We’re under the same roof.” Wyatt felt himself breathe as soon as he knew he was in the same ZIP code as her. He was a desperate man, haunted by the memories of her. She was in every single thought that passed his mind. He was sure he could smell her on wayward breezes when he was at home.

Each time he led out that mare, Stolen Heart, he’d remember how much Harley loved her, how it was the only horse beyond Danny Boy that he’d ever seen her really bond with. When he had to get hay from the loft, every time he’d laid her down in the hay flooded his mind; filling water for the horses made him remember each time he had pulled her into a stall and kissed her lips; at dinner, he saw the chair next to his that no one ever sat in. She was everywhere, a ghost that he had to bring back to life.

“Yeah, but crashing this shindig?” Memphis said. “What about in the morning? You know, when all the old people are sleeping this deal off? We could figure out how to call her, maybe see her at breakfast.”

That gave Wyatt an idea. He used the bar phone and tried to charm his way into figuring out what room she was in. Right now he was wondering if she was up there alone, sulking on her birthday. The closest he got to figuring it out was hearing the word ‘penthouse.’ The nice waitress told him that he would need a key for the elevator to even take him up there.

He had no choice but to wait, and he did.

Hours later, when guests started to leave he leaned in the doorway of the bar, watching the formal gowns pass him by. Then all at once he saw Claire Tatum, felt his blood boil when he heard her fake laugh. Just behind her, smiling, looking radiant in a black gown with a small tiara on her perfectly placed hair was Harley; on her arm, some stuffed suit asshole.

That didn’t stop Wyatt; not at all. He walked right across that lobby like he owned it, feeling and hearing Memphis and Easton right behind him. When he reached the elevator, Harley, her date, and mother were already inside. Harley’s eyes locked with his, and her smile fell, but he knew her well enough to know it was from shock; the way her chest was rising and falling told him that, told him he still had an effect on her. No time could dull the emotions between them.

“Something wrong?” the guy with her asked, even moving just before Harley.

“No, Collin, nothing at all,” Claire said with a glare as she pushed the doors to close. Wyatt dove for them, had his arm caught between them, but Easton and Memphis pulled him back, rushed him from the lobby, even drove down the street and waited, wondering if anyone was coming after them.

Wyatt got out of the truck and tore off toward the hotel.

“What did you expect to happen walking up to her with her mother right there?” Memphis said from the passenger seat as Easton drove the truck alongside Wyatt, who was power walking back to the hotel.

Who was that guy with her?
Wyatt kept asking himself. Did he read her wrong? Did she pull that guy in front of her, or did he step there? Wyatt couldn’t remember. It happened too fast. All he could remember were her eyes, that ripping pain in the center of his chest.

“I’m not afraid of that woman.”

“Harley is,” Memphis pointed out. “For all you know, you got her in trouble.”

“That’s why I’m going back. I’m going to tell that woman Harley’s eighteen, an adult, and if she doesn’t want to see me, then she needs to say so.”

“A birthday doesn’t change anything,” Memphis said. “She’s still in school. Still timid. I could even see that.”

“Get in the truck, Wyatt. You’re not even acting sane anymore,” Easton yelled as a car behind him honked its horn.

“I get in that truck, and you’re going to take me home. I know Harley. Even if she was in trouble, she’d find a way to give me some signal, some way to see me.”

“You get in this truck, act like you have some sense, and we’ll go back
—but not in. We’ll wait for her to show outside or see us from her room,” Easton swore.

Wyatt could agree with that. Just to be sure his boys were not bullshitting him, he took over the driver’s seat and parked the truck where he could see the penthouse, the lights that were on.

Wyatt swore the second Claire went to sleep, left Harley alone, that she would sneak out, at least see him. Maybe not run away, but she would see him.

Both Memphis and Easton were sound asleep in the ca
b of the truck at 6 A.M., alone, Wyatt watched Harley and the stuffed suit come out and get in a car and drive away once their bags were loaded. Harley didn’t even bother to glance in his direction.

Wyatt had driven a hundred miles home before Easton woke to see that Wyatt was going near ninety.

“What happened? Who we running from?”

“A fucked up idea.”

Easton let out a deep breath, knowing it was going to take him forever to get Wyatt back to his old self, but at least he had gotten this out of his head.

When they stopped for gas and Wyatt was paying, grabbing them snacks for the road, Memphis looked right at Easton. “When we get back, if you two asses are not at school, you better either be at the volunteer or my daddy’s garage. We have to keep him focused. He’s mad now, but that might be what he needs to get over this girl.”

Easton stared at Wyatt as he walked back to the truck, how fierce he looked with that anger in his sharp eyes. “It’s going to take something bigger than this to get him over her, more than the fire department to keep him distracted.”

“Like what?”

“Fuck if I know, but no doubt he’s going to drag me into whatever hell he digs up.”

“Easton, I’m trusting you to keep him in line. I’m not here enough to do that.”

Easton only nodded once as Wyatt climbed back in the cab of the truck.

***

Camille Doran was leaning against the column on her front porch, staring at the distant dark driveway, waiting for her son. She was furious, but at the same time she felt agony for him; her boy was hurt, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Beckett stepped out the front door, handed his wife a steaming cup of coffee. “Lucas said they just dropped Memphis off.”

Lucas Armstrong had been keeping them and Cindy Ballantine, Easton’s mother, updated. Memphis called his dad every few hours to let him know what was going down with this latest escape of Wyatt and Easton’s.

When Camille didn’t say a word, Beckett stood behind her and moved his hands over her shoulders.

“I’m gonna fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” Camille said. If there were a way, she would have found it by now. Harley needed time, and Wyatt refused to give it to her
. That was the long and short of it and there wasn’t a thing any of them could do about it.

“To get our boy back, we’re going to have to set him free,” Beckett said.

Camille turned to face him, to stare up into his ice blue eyes, a trait their son had inherited from him.

“I confirmed it today, our bulls were selected again for the PRCA. Duke’s going to manage it, but he’s taking Brant with him. We’re gonna send Wyatt. Cindy said it was good for Easton as well.”

Duke was Beckett’s brother. Brant, his son, was a year older than Wyatt. It was an honor for the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association not only to select the Doran bulls again, but also to have these boys ride in other events while the bulls were utilized.

Brant was a saddle bronc rider. Wyatt preferred the bareback, but lately he’d managed to take any ride that was wild enough to distract him from the reality of anything beyond the ride he was on. Easton wasn’t a rider, at least not in the professional
sense, but he knew how to manage the bulls, how to manage Wyatt.

“How’s that going to solve anything?” Camille protested. For Wyatt’s entire life, they had instilled both sides of the business into him
. He needed to understand it to carry on the family legacy one day, but unlike Truman, Wyatt had a passion for the jumper world, too. Camille thought this deal would kill that passion more so than what this tragic division had done.

“You gotta let ‘em run, Momma. We’re holding him back, which is making him think there is something out there he’s missing. If he goes on this circuit, he’ll have freedom, he’ll ride, he’ll get it all out of his system.”

“We’re teaching him to run.”

“No, we’re teaching him that he can’t outrun it. We’re teaching him to fight harder and think clearer next go ‘round.”

“Fight harder? He’s done nothing but rebel.”

“And he’s rebelled without thought. He’ll learn to think. He needs space. That boy is not going to manage this empire of ours if we don’t do this. He has to leave. He has to get some life under his belt. Right now, he sees this farm as a prison. Give him a good year or so on the road, and it will be home again.”

When she didn’t say anything, he went on. “Look, Lucas raised Memphis on the track, took that boy from city to city, showed him the wild side of life—and look how that worked out. Memphis is the only one of the three of ‘em that doesn’t have a wandering spirit. He’s grounded because he knows what’s out there. He knows where home is. This is gonna help Easton. You know I told his daddy I would watch after him. It’s gonna help Wyatt. Everyone gets what they need out of this.”

“He needs an education, Beckett.”

“Does he?” Beckett said with a raised brow. He and his wife came from far different backgrounds. Beckett’s education came from the land he was raised on, the family that raised him, the life he was born into. It wasn’t the same for Camille—not even close.

When Camille looked down, when the ghost of the barriers they had broken down decades before made itself known, he lifted her chin, smiled slightly. “He’s going to get one. Duke has set Brant up on some kind of online education. He has it outlined where the boys will make it to UT for the classes they can’t get online. The deal I’m putting before Wyatt and Easton, with Cindy backing me, is they get this freedom, they get paid good money, but all of it leaves the second their grades fall. They are going to have to figure out how to manage it all.”

Camille hated to admit it, simply because she didn’t want Wyatt to leave Willowhaven for any extended period, but he had a point. Wyatt was brilliant. The boy had yet to make it to a full day of school his senior year but still managed to carry a 3.8 GPA. The only classes he never skipped were the ones that were already giving him college credit.

This circuit had discipline and responsibility, no doubt, but he could be hurt
. One bad ride and it could be over for him. If that weren’t bad enough, she knew in every field there was a wild side. There was no telling what kind of hell he and Easton could raise or what trouble they could get into.

There was no doubt, though, that if they didn’t do something, Wyatt was going to throw his legacy away, simply because the heaven of Willowhaven had turned into a hell for him.

Right then, truck lights came down the drive.

“They are heading out the day they graduate. I’m sending him with my rig. We just got to get him through the next week and a half.”

Camille wanted to go to Wyatt right then, pull him in her arms, do something to take away the pain she could feel from where she stood, but instead she nodded for Beckett to go, for him to take care of their son, make a man out of him.

Wyatt had never been away from her for more than a few days’ time. This was going to kill her, but she trusted Beckett, knew without a doubt that though her husband seemed carefree to most, he had a deep reverence, never came to a decision lightly, and whatever his solution was, it was meant to solve more than one issue.

***

Wyatt and Easton had graduated that morning; the rig with their living quarters was packed. The bulls were loaded on another trailer that Wyatt’s uncle Duke would pull. Wyatt’s cousin Brant was pulling another trailer with his camper. It was an entourage, an escape that Wyatt could not believe was offered to him. He was given the freedom and means to escape to places that there was no chance Harley’s memory could touch. His best friend was at his side, and he had a chance to make real money, a chance to get his degree in business, his mother’s only demand
regarding this adventure.

It was one that he would grant. He’d already picked up summer classes just to prove to her that at the very least, he would bring that degree home to her.

“I’m going to have to bleach this entire apartment when I get back,” Wyatt said under his breath as he watched Dorcas move her things into his apartment.

His kid sister, who was looking less like a kid every day, smiled up at him. “Just make sure you come back in one piece.”

She was the one that had asked her mom if Dorcas could stay in the apartment. Apparently, Dorcas’ parents were going through a divorce, and it was hard at home. Camille’s agreement was that Dorcas worked off her board. She was also told that no matter when it happened, if Wyatt chose to come home she had to leave the apartment so he and Easton could move in again.

Wyatt pulled Ava to him, gave her a deep hug. “Stay out of trouble. Away from assholes. Anyone gives you hell, you tell Truman
. He’ll have your back.”