CHAPTER 26

jackson

W e have a … situation down here, ” Peter said when I answered the phone, his voice hesitant as he spoke. And for damn good reason. It wasn’t even five yet. I didn’t like being woken up.

“What kind of situation?” I growled as I sat up.

“ I’m not real sure how to describe it, Sir, ” he told me. “ But uh… West… well, he’s all worked up—muttering to himself and his hand is bleeding. Kind of looks like he got into a fight with someone, you know? The horses aren’t ready, but I’m pretty sure he scrubbed every saddle until the leather was spotless. ”

“Does it affect you getting the hell out of there and into the fields?” I asked. With a quiet groan, I dragged myself out of bed. My fucking bones ached. Side effects of being thrown around by bulls for over a decade. Shit, I sure as hell wasn’t young anymore and I felt it more and more with every passing year.

“ Not at all, ” he replied. “ It’s just… ”

“It’s just what, Peter?” I demanded. I hated the hemming and hawing .

“ Hold on. I’m going to step away. ” The pause on the other end lingered, and I waited impatiently. “ Sorry, boss, I just… I don’t want them to overhear. ”

“It’s just what, Peter?” I didn’t have time for fucking games. I just wanted to know what he had to say.

“ I had a brother, Patrick. ” Jesus fuck, it was story time . I sank down on the edge of the bed and reached out to scratch Tess behind the ears as I listened. “ He served in the Army, two tours overseas. And when he finally came home to stay, he just wasn’t the same. I had a hard time with it, but I was young. My mom called it PTSD. She said you couldn’t go through the horrible things he’d gone through and not be affected. ”

I drew in a deep breath, unsure of what to say, but it wasn’t hard to figure out the correlation to West. It made sense when you stopped to think about it. Even before prison, he’d been living in a silent hell for years. For his whole damn childhood.

“ I’m not pretending to know what he’s been through—West, that is—but it’s obvious, ” he continued. “ The bar fight, the anger, the jumpiness. Not wanting to be touched and all that. You have to know it to see it. ”

“Yeah,” I agreed quietly. The thing was I did see it. I just didn’t know how to help.

“ PTSD is a bitch of a thing. It shreds apart all the things you knew about yourself and then keeps on taking from things you never thought it could touch. ”

What a horrible fucking way to live. I laid back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling as I let his words settle inside me. How the hell did I help someone with PTSD? Or hell, how the fuck did I help West?

“ I just think he could use your help right now, Mr. Myles . I’d feel guilty not saying anything, ” Peter said.

“All right. Just get out of there and get the day started. I’ll handle it. If you need to take a UTV out there to avoid him, go ahead. Just watch out for—”

“ The ladies, ” he interrupted with a small chuckle. “ I know. I’ll make sure to protect the ladies. ”

Damn right. I wouldn’t have anyone running over my girls.

“And Peter?” I stopped him before he could hang up. “How’s your brother doing?”

Some part of me just needed to know that his brother was okay—that he’d been saved from it.

“ He died five years ago, ” Peter replied, his voice quiet. “ He kept saying he was fine, so we thought he was. Like I said, PTSD keeps on taking if you let it until you have nothing left. He killed himself before any of us saw the signs… acknowledged the signs. They were there. We just… we wanted him to be fine like he said he was, you know? ”

Fuck. What did I say to that?

“I’m sorry, Peter.” It was about the only thing I could think of.

“ It’s not your fault, Sir, ” he told me. “ I’ve dealt with my grief. I just… to be frank, it’s obvious he means something to you—don’t worry. I haven’t said a word in case the others don’t see it. But maybe you can do what me and my family didn’t. ”

And help West, even when he said he was fine.

“Thank you, Peter,” I said and sat up. “Get the day going. I’ll be out there shortly.”

“ Sounds good, Sir. ”

“Call me Jackson,” I told him. I rarely crossed that bridge with any of my employees. But most of my employees just did their jobs, went home, and repeated the next day. Peter was going out of his way to do more—to be more—for West. That meant something.

“ Of course, Jackson. ”

If looks could kill, I’d be fucking dead. West’s expression was downright volatile when he saw me get out of my truck. I ignored him while I waited for Tess to follow me out. Just because I intended to stay around the stables for the day didn’t mean she needed to. She knew her way around the ranch better than anyone else here and spending the day in the fields with the cows was her favorite thing in the world.

“You find Mickey, got it?” I said as I crouched down to scratch her scruff. Fuck, I sounded like a dad sending his kid off to school. Her excited howls made me laugh. I snapped my fingers once and pointed down her usual side path. Instantly, she bolted. Mickey was waiting for her, and I knew he’d tell me when she got there.

“Go away,” West growled as soon as I walked closer. I said nothing and just took inventory. He looked like shit—bags under his eyes and hair a mess of dust and dirt. Mud splattered his clothes and stained his hands. And just as Peter had said, West’s knuckles were split open like he’d lost a fight with a fucking wall.

Despite his clear exhaustion, he was sober. At least he wasn’t drunk. However, I had a feeling the lack of alcohol was killing him slowly. Granted, I had no idea how long he’d been drinking either. I could guarantee it wasn’t a recent thing.

“You got something to say?” he demanded, facing me. The gruffness in his tone wasn’t lost on me. I recognized the behavior. He was looking for someone to fight—somewhere to put whatever crappiness he was going through. Well, I wouldn’t take the bait.

“You were right. I haven’t been taking care of the horses, and I need to learn how. You’re going to teach me,” I told him.

“The hell I am,” he snapped. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, there’s no way in hell I’m fucking teaching you.”

“This is still my ranch and you’re still my employee,” I replied. I was chancing a hit by going down this road and pulling authority. “So, yeah, you’re going to teach me how to take care of them the right way.”

I knew how to take care of the damn horses. My mom had made it her job day and night to make sure I could take care of her horses before she moved off the ranch. Too much on my plate had been the cause for me letting their care slip—not a great reason but an honest one.

“Oh, fuck you!” West let out a sound of frustration. “You don’t give a fuck about the horses. You’re just over here because you think I need you to babysit me. I don’t, so you can go fuck off with that bullshit.”

“I ain’t going to fight you, West,” I said softly. I watched the way his temper flared across his expression, doing something severe to his handsome face. Just how much anger did he bottle up? Not that he hadn’t earned the right to be angry, but just how deep did it run?

“Afraid you can’t take me?” he snarled.

“I know I can’t take you,” I scoffed. The problem was that I wouldn’t hit him. When he took a step toward me, I squared off my shoulders and readied for whatever the fuck came next. “We ain’t doing this shit, West. If you want to beat the crap out of someone, find someone else. I ain’t playing this game with you. And I ain’t asking you to show me how. I’m telling you to.”

If keeping him close meant pissing him off in the process, I’d fucking do it.