Braving The Storm: An Age Gap, Cowboy Romance (Crimson Ridge Book 2)
Braving The Storm: Chapter 30

The man across the room from me is even more striking than normal. Heavy shadows and firelight lick over his rugged jaw and tattoos, and I want to scream until my lungs explode.

My fucking sister found me.

As she says the words that clatter to the floor like a smashed vase, I can’t tear my eyes away from his face. Those features I’ve traced over and over in his sleep, the slight furrow of his brow, the tiny scar hidden by his left eyebrow, remain impassive. He’s entirely unreadable, and that lack of emotion terrifies me.

We can’t say or do anything at this moment, and if this is it for us, I’m forever going to be haunted by knowing I’m in love with this man, but there’s every chance he will never look at me again now he knows the truth.

An ugly misfortune that I foolishly, like a stupid little naive piece of shit, thought I could outrun.

Yet, my flesh-and-blood, my older sister, has arrived like a foul wind, and while she might not know the extent of whatever this is between me and Storm, she’s determined to ruin my life.

Of that, I can be absolutely certain.

Cris believes with every cell in her rotten core that I stole her life, so it has become her mission to ensure I remain in misery for however many years I might continue to wander around this earth.

Husband.

The word hangs in the air, like the resounding toll of a bell long after the hammer has struck metal.

My chest aches, and I want to drop to my knees and beg him to ignore what my sister just said. That any piece of paper between Antoine and me, a formal contract binding me to him out of duty and obligation and families hungry for power, that it’s all bullshit. I’ve never cared or felt a single thing for that piece of scum.

I want Stôrmand Lane to know that I belong to him, that I’ll willingly be his as long as he’ll have me.

“Briar here tells me that you’ve been gracious enough to sleep on the couch.” My sister’s voice pierces the tension of the room. “This place really is far too small for the two of you to both be staying here.” Her nose wrinkles as she looks around, picking at some invisible piece of dirt on the couch with a fingernail.

“I was just getting your bedding for you,” I mumble, gesturing with the items I’m still clinging onto like some sort of life raft in amongst the insanity of all of this.

“You eaten, Crispin?” Storm doesn’t make a move to come any further inside, remaining stoically in place by the door.

“I found something on the drive here from the airport. God, there really is next to nothing out here, though.” She makes a face. “I’ve got a room booked in town tomorrow, so Briar and I will be heading down there in the morning.”

My head whips in her direction. “No.” I blurt out.

Eyes narrow on me from the direction of the couch.

“No, I won’t be going anywhere,” I say, shifting my weight.

“Don’t be difficult, Briar.”

“Crispin.” The man by the door says her name with a venom I haven’t heard from him, not since that first night when I arrived, and he was a terrifying prospect looming over me. “I’m gonna extend you the courtesy of a bed for the night, but you will watch your tone with Briar. I don’t care how you think it is acceptable to speak to your minions back in LA, but your own sister is not someone you can order around in my presence and get away with it.”

Her eyes bounce between the two of us. The woman isn’t used to having anyone speak to her that way, but even someone who is as much of a raging cunt face as she knows not to provoke our uncle.

“You can share with me tonight, then we’ll get you back to Crimson Ridge tomorrow.” Crossing to the couch, I drop the bedding and pillow onto one end, avoiding looking Storm’s way.

The unfairness of our circumstances idles in my blood.

Why should we have to pretend and hide away, it’s not like we’re actually related… but either way, the very first person to reveal anything to, if we ever were able, is certainly not going to be my sister.

In fact, I’d gladly never have to lay eyes on the woman, let alone speak to her or give her any glimpse of insight into my life ever again.

“I’ll be chopping wood if you need anything.” Storm grunts, slamming back out the door into the darkness surrounding the cabin.

My heart feels like it has gone into overdrive. I’d barely recovered from the pure, sickening shock of Cris turning up at the front door. Now I have to face the prospect of spending the night sharing a bed with her, and it turns my stomach.

“Bedroom and bathroom are just down here.” My tongue feels numb as I wrap my arms around myself and gesture with my chin.

My sister huffs and gets up off the couch, surveying the room and looking down her nose. I can see the judgment and the disdain spinning away like a hamster on a wheel inside her mind. She takes everything in with a look on her face that amounts to stepping in dog shit with her stilettos.

“Chopping wood? At this time of night? God, that man is a basket case.” Her eyes roll dramatically. “He always has been nuts. Guess that’s what you get when you’ve been insane enough to ride bulls willingly for a living.”

“It’s an important job out here.” My hackles rise. “I’ll bet you’re going to be grateful for that wood supply and fire when the morning comes and you’re not frozen half to death.”

Spinning on my heel, I make my way to the bedroom. Fuck this. I’m done and just want to go crawl under the covers and do my best to pretend this is all a nightmare.

“What the hell are you playing at Briar?” She snaps from behind me, following after my footsteps. “You cannot stay here… not with someone like that.” Her voice drops into a blunt whisper.

My jaw sets. I really, really don’t want to get into this with her, but I also have no intention of allowing her to get away with behaving like this. “Like what, exactly? Please enlighten me as to what your problem is now.”

“He’s a manwhore, slept with half the women in every state, I’m sure, and don’t tell me you don’t know about the rumors that he pretty much caused the death of his wife.”

I steady myself against the bed, pretending to fuss with the extra blanket. While I don’t have any grounds to be feeling a certain way about the crap coming out of my sister’s mouth, considering my own secrets about being married, it’s a shock to hear such an accusation all the same.

How did I not know?

“She was pregnant, too.” My sister clicks her tongue and shoves her suitcase open. “What kind of man does that to a woman? Abandons her with a child on the way, to the extent that she’s driven beyond the point of no return. It might not have been his hand that poured those pills down her throat, but it had his fingerprints all over the mess.”

Sliding into the far side of the bed, I don’t even look her way. I don’t reply. There is nothing I want to say to my sister right now except to scream at her to get out and leave.

She keeps spewing her vitriol.

“How can you even consider being here? That man is unhinged, and he’s completely unsafe to be around.”

My silence only gives her a platform to keep spouting her bullshit from, but I’m reeling and can’t seem to figure out a way to make her stop.

“My god. You don’t know anything, do you? Happily staying in a vermin-infested dump with a psychopath. I always knew dad sheltered you too much, he always damn well pampered you, and look at what good has come of it—”

“Cris, I’m tired. Leave it alone, and let me go to sleep.”

“He’s unstable.” She snaps. “He might be our uncle, but his own wife was driven to the point of no return, and the note she left behind only proves how much responsibility he had. It’s foul.”

The only foul thing is my sister.

“How can you even consider being here for two seconds with him? Look at this place, it’s filthy. He’s living in squalor, and you’re probably going to end up with some sort of disease just being around him.”

I don’t believe her. I don’t for one second think the toxic cloud she’s spewing has any truth. She’s manipulative and poisonous, and while I have no doubt the man I’ve fallen in love with has a past, he’s not the person she’s painting him to be.

That much is the truth I know in the marrow of my bones.

Rolling on my side, I face the wall, turning my back on the woman who insists on continuing her character assassination beneath her breath while poking around on the other side of the room.

At least this cabin is tiny, there’s no obvious way to tell we’ve been sharing a bed, that we’re inseparable on so many levels. Storm doesn’t exactly own things and the assortment of clothes I have are still strewn half inside my own suitcase tucked beside the closet.

The other side of the mattress dips as my sister gets in, assuming the location where my tattooed giant should rightly be. Who I should be able to openly kiss and wrap myself around, or be encircled in his strong arms as he snores softly against my hair.

“Lord knows why Dad left you this shit hole in his will.” Crisp mutters, fussing with her pillow and moving around so much that my teeth have nearly fused themselves together with how hard my jaw is clamped shut. “Why haven’t you kicked him out? He’s been freeloading, living here for years.”

“Crispin. Jesus.” I have to restrain myself from shouting. “You’ve been here two seconds, and you’re already trying to throw our own uncle out?”

As I say it, I cringe, but it’s the best I can manage, all things considered.

“Just go to sleep. We’ll deal with getting you back to Crimson Ridge in the morning.”

When I tuck myself into a ball and stare at the wall, watching the light flick off when my sister finally shuts off the lamp, I’m a mess of emotions.

I can’t go back with her. I refuse to… no matter what she tries to do to persuade me otherwise.

However, I can’t risk hurting Storm.

Maybe girls like me don’t get a happily ever after, at all.