Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

Easton smiled to himself as he helped Cassie clean up after their pancake breakfast. It had been delicious and Presley had made it a lot of fun. Cassie had finally relaxed as they ate and talked and teased with Presley.

She’d acted like he’d encouraged his flock of admirers to approach him at church. He couldn’t help the natural magnetism he had for women. Trudy was an annoyance, but he knew how to avoid her. It was a lift to his confidence that none of them were bothered by his scars.

Cassie didn’t seem bothered by his scars either. What was holding her back? What had she been through in the past six years? A patience Easton Coleville had never exhibited might be required to win her back. If Cassie would recommit to him, he’d be patient and find a way to be standoffish enough with other women that they all left him alone. She was the only woman he wanted, and he felt heaven had brought them together. Couldn’t she see that ?

Presley was watching a princess movie, lying on hers and Cassie’s bed. They were virtually alone in the living area.

“What did the pastor want?” Cassie asked him as she rinsed off a dish and loaded it into the dishwasher.

He put the milk away and closed the fridge. “Just wanted me to be Joseph in the Nativity on Christmas Eve. When I told Pastor Heath his boy needed to rush off to keep up with the most mesmerizing and beautiful woman in the world, he didn’t keep me long.” He gave her his patented irresistible smile.

“Who’s Mary?” she asked, turning off the water, wiping off her hands, and pivoting to face him.

Easton approached her slowly, maintaining eye contact. He placed his hands on either side of the counter, not touching her but framing her in. She arched back to hold eye contact. Her pulse point was racing.

He was doing a good job rizzing her. He always did, but the stakes of this rizzing were higher than ever. The most important of his life.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Would you like to do it? I could put in a good word for you.”

She took a steadying breath and shook her head. “I thought Pastor was going to reprimand you for saying you planned to mess with the mama.” She arched her eyebrows.

Easton smiled. “That line did come across a bit more risqué than I intended.”

“Oh really?” She jutted out her chin. “What did you intend?”

“I meant that I’m going to mess with your mind, in the best possible way, sing to you, and steal your heart again. ‘You’re the only girl in mine.’” He sang out the Parmalee song, then bent down low and softly brushed his lips across that pulse point. She smelled incredible, like fresh flowers and springtime .

Cassie gasped and wrapped her hands around his shoulders. He straightened, surprised and thrilled that she’d initiated contact.

“Forgive me.” She yanked her hands away as quickly as she’d touched him, spun in his arms, and grabbed at a mess of silverware in the sink.

Easton’s arms were still around her and he was pressed against her back. He softly kissed the side of her neck and sang out an old song. “‘I got strong arms, I can help’.”

“No.” She pushed past his arm and shoved the silverware into the open dishwasher. Then she held up her hand and blinked at the blood dripping from her fingertip. “Oh, no.” She swayed and fell back against him.

Easton held her up with one arm, turning on the water with the other. Cassie could not handle blood. “Let’s rinse it off, love, and see how bad it is.” She must’ve grabbed a knife without realizing it in her haste to turn away from him.

He rinsed the finger off, still supporting her with his body and one arm. She said nothing, and her color wasn’t good. Had she passed out? It had happened before.

The water ran pink and then clear. He turned off the faucet and could see the slice on the side of her forefinger. It wouldn’t need stitches, but the blood seeped out again. He tore off a paper towel and pressed it to the wound. Turning, he directed her over to a kitchen chair. She sat and stared at him, eyes wide, her face pale.

“I know, you hate blood.” He smiled to try to reassure her.

“I do,” she murmured.

“I’ve got you.” He squatted in front of her and held pressure on the wound. Some blood seeped through. He folded the paper towel over and kept the pressure on.

She took a shuddering breath, but her color looked better.

“Band-aids?” he asked.

She pointed toward a cupboard.

“Can you hold this for me?”

“What if it bleeds through?”

“I’ll be right back. I promise.” He was going five feet away, but he said the words seriously. He wanted to reassure her.

She grasped his shirt with her uninjured hand and begged, “You promise?” Her teal-blue eyes were intense. What had she gone through without him? He knew she could faint here, but he hadn’t expected the fear and vehemence at having him step away to grab a Band-aid.

“I promise. I’m going to be here for you, Cass.” He meant the words deeply. She may have cheated on him and yelled that she never wanted to see him again, but that had been six years ago. He was more than ready to talk all of that pain through, move past it, and be together again.

She studied him deeply. Did she believe him?

“Here’s what we’re going to do. Wrap your hand around your finger.”

She released his shirt and obeyed, her gaze never leaving his.

“Good. Now loop your elbow over the chair back.”

Again, she complied.

“Perfect. As I walk over here, you’re going to focus on how good these jeans fit me.”

She gave a shuddering chuckle.

He grinned, straightened, and strutted to the cupboard. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that she was staring. “Keep focusing on the perplexing question of how I’m not working on the runway modeling western wear.”

“It’s a very good question,” she said .

Opening the cabinet, he found some ointment and a band-aid. He gave her a smoldering look as he returned. “Just like that, I’m back.”

“Thank you.” Her words were sincere.

He squatted down again, smeared some ointment on the Band-aid, and then took the paper towel off. He applied the bandage and then waved his hands. “All finished.” He grinned, then grew serious. “You did great.”

“Thank you.” She looked down as if embarrassed. “Nobody else gets how bad I hate blood.”

That seemed significant. “Anything for you, my sweet but sassy Cass.”

She gave him half of a smile.

He lifted her bandaged hand and asked, “Do your fingers hurt?”

“They did,” she admitted.

“Can I kiss them?”

Her breath came quicker. “Can you still heal any pain?”

Easton nodded very seriously. They had a lot of pain between them, but he was here now and willing to heal it all.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He lifted her fingers to his lips and slowly kissed the tip of each one. Cassie’s eyes were warm and filled with … him.

His thigh muscles were burning from the awkward squatting position, but no way was he going to complain or move. He held her hand in his and took the line to the next level. “How are your lips feeling?”

Cassie’s eyes widened and she let out a sweet sigh. Easton leaned in, certain all of his dreams were about to come true. Just a few more inches ...

She suddenly pulled her hand free. “Fine. My lips are fine.” She stood quickly, edging around him. “I’m going to check on Presley.”

He nodded and straightened. What was going on now? Hadn’t they been having a moment? Was she impervious to the charm she used to love? He didn’t care how hard he had to work to bring Cassie back into his life. He’d never stopped loving her, even through six years of anger, jealousy, and pain. Now she and Presley were here. Right as he’d been injured and questioning how the Lord could knock him down like that. Now he knew it was the merciful Savior telling him they were meant to be together. He could feel it.

Thank you , he prayed in his mind. You know Cassie is all I’ve ever wanted and now Presley is even more amazing. Help me break through to my Cass.

Easton Coleville was ready to settle down, be domesticated, beg, whatever he needed to do to be with his sassy Cassie. He was admittedly scared that she could wreck him again. But he was brave and confident, and he would open his injured heart to the woman who had caused him so much pain. He wanted to tell her he was vulnerable for her and her alone.

She walked back out a few minutes later, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “She’s asleep.”

“Oh.” Easton was at a loss. Did that mean he needed to go?

“Thank you for remembering that I’m a baby about blood and bandaging me.” She held up her hand, and the ‘thank you’ felt like a ‘you should leave’ prompt.

“Not a problem. I’ve always been calm in the face of danger.” He pushed out his chest and she actually smiled. “I’m also a wildland firefighter now, so I’m trained to serve.”

“You are?” Her eyes widened and she unfolded her arms. “Since when? ”

“I passed the training four years ago and have deployed when needed every summer since.” Could he brag that he’d had to deploy his shelter last summer and come as close to dying as when the bomb exploded and hurled him off his horse?

Her eyes trailed over him, warm and mesmerizing. He felt ten feet tall. He was always confident, borderline cocky his brothers would say, but he hadn’t felt this great since Cassie had thrust him away that awful night.

“That’s impressive. So you aren’t just a bull-riding womanizer?”

Easton felt his hopes rising again. His persistence and love for her would overcome all the years and agony in the end. He lifted his eyebrows and crossed the distance separating them. “I’m a lot of impressive things, Cassie. Not to flex or anything, but my admirers say I have mad drip and rizz.”

She shook her head. Her teal-blue eyes grew cool, and she jabbed a finger at the door. “I’m not one of your admirers. You should go.”

Easton felt like she’d slugged him. “Since when?”

“Since you ruined my life six years ago,” she said in a tightly controlled voice. He imagined if Presley hadn’t fallen asleep, she might be yelling.

“I … ruined … your life?” His neck tightened. His weakness for her might burn him worse than the shelter deployment had a possibility of doing, or the burns on his forehead from the bomb. He shook his head and backed away, holding up his hands. “You know what? You’re right. I should go. I can’t believe I even try with you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“I have loved you my entire life, Cassie Johnston, and what do you do? You blame me for everything, act all cold and standoffish. Why would heaven let me almost die just to reunite with you, then you keep racing out of arm’s reach? I’m tough and I’m persistent, but you … you’ve wrecked me too many times.” He kept his voice down, but there was fire in his voice and he hoped in his eyes too.

“Oh, don’t you spout about persistence, Easton Coleville,” she spit back. “You can lie to yourself and claim to love me, but I know the truth. You don’t love anyone but yourself.”

His chest was tight and his stomach churning. “That’s not true. You’re cappin’.”

“Oh really?” Her teal-blue eyes were stormy. “You can somehow claim to love me? While you flirt with and kiss every other woman in the world? That’s rich.”

“I would never look at another woman if we were together again.” How could he get through to her, get her to understand he’d dated a lot but only because she had broken him? He never had and never would want anyone except her.

“Oh, sell it to somebody else.” She shook her head again, suddenly looking exhausted. “Please leave. I’ve got a huge week in front of me planning the weddings and I want to take a nap, not fight with you.”

Easton’s jaw worked. His entire body was coiled tight. He wanted to fight through this and somehow kiss and make up.

But that was a long way away. Maybe not even possible.

“Fine.” He picked up his hat and opened the front door. Glancing back at her, he said, “You know, someday you’ll be ready to apologize, and I’ll prove how chill I am and accept it.”

“I’ll be the one who apologizes?” She put a hand to her chest. “I’m definitely the one that needs to apologize.”

He nodded. At least she was agreeing to that, even if she was being snippy about it .

She stormed up to him and went on tiptoes. “It’ll be a cold day in heck when I apologize to the likes of you. Ugh!” She threw her hands in the air and then shoved at his chest. “Get out of my house.”

Easton backed up onto the porch. He wanted to fight with her, wanted to kiss her, wanted to somehow get past fighting and kiss her a lot more. But she was unreasonable and mean. Maybe six years could change a person too much. Maybe she wasn’t the Cassie he’d always longed for. He’d loved her sass, but there was a limit. Not being willing to apologize when she’d cheated on him and yelled at him to never come near her again? That was pushing it.

He’d humbled himself because he loved her and her daughter, but a man had to have some pride. Especially a man with as much drip as himself.

“Fine. Don’t ask me to sing to you, hold you up when you see blood, kiss away your every pain, or love you again,” he said.

“Fabulous! That’s all I’ve been hoping for this entire two weeks.” She slammed the door in his face.

Easton plunked his hat on his head. He stomped down the porch and to his truck. Angry wasn’t enough to describe his feelings. He wasn’t supposed to ride bulls, but he had to right now. He would beg one of the ranch hands to help him out. There was no other way he could think of to get rid of the angst stirring within him.

Cassie didn’t love him. She didn’t even seem to like him. She was the one who’d cheated. What grievous sin had he committed to make her so angry and unreasonable?

He ripped open his truck door, leaped inside, and slammed it. Then he stared at Lily’s house and pictured Cassie and Presley in there, cuddled up and napping. Peaceful, beautiful, everything he wanted and nothing he would ever have.

Anger threatened to choke him. He forced himself to bow his head and plead for some help.

Help me to see this clearly. Help me to know how to forgive Cassie and get past her walls. I know I ask for a lot of miracles with bull riding, and You always come through. You saved me in that fire and in the explosion. If it’s possible for one more miracle, make her love me again, even half as much as I love her.

Easton hung his head even after the prayer. He believed in, trusted in, and relied on his Savior, but he didn’t know if a miracle like Cassie loving him could ever happen. Maybe she hadn’t been brought back to Coleville, just when he couldn’t bull ride and win the finals, by his Father above. Maybe someone in heaven knew what was good for him more than he himself did. Maybe he had to truly let Cassie go.

Why did that feel like a worse pronouncement than him missing the NFR finals this year?

Because it was worse—much worse. One rodeo wouldn’t make or break him. Cassie Johnston could break him with one word. And she had.