Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,73

and gold. “Since you’re here, I think I’ll just slip out now,” she said. “Before everyone’s awake. I’m terrible with goodbyes.”

Ellen looked confused. “You’re leaving?”

Erika nodded. “I need to get back to Riverside. It’s going to be a long drive.” And then she went to her room, left the goodbye letter on her bed, and collected her suitcases, carrying them outside to the trunk of her car.

Erika was glad Beck still slept. She didn’t know how she’d say goodbye to him without falling apart, and Beck didn’t need drama swirling around him. Conversely, there was no point saying goodbye to Billy. What would she say to him anyway? And what would he say to her? She might as well save them an uncomfortable farewell where meaningless words would be exchanged.

In her car she buckled up, and reversed, before pulling out of the driveway. She drove down the road at a moderate speed until she hit the highway, and then once there, drove fast, the speed a relief.

Her heart burned, and her chest burned, and her eyes burned. She was on fire, head to toe, and she drove as if she could escape the pain within her. She hurt and hurt and hurt, her entire past with all the abandonment and hollow goodbyes rising up to swamp her, reminding her just how easy it was for people to leave, to walk away. Her dad hadn’t just left Mom, but he’d left her. Mom had disappeared into anger and her new church, where she could pretend she was loving and kind, as long as she didn’t have to interact with her own daughter.

Even though she wanted to cry, she held the tears back. It was hard to breathe, hard to see, and it took her a moment to react when the car in front of her suddenly slammed on its brakes.

She slammed on her brakes, too, so hard that the back of the car fishtailed and she did a partial doughnut on the highway before coming to stop on the road’s shoulder. Thank God the shoulder of the road was flat, and there had been room to skid to a stop. With the sound of screeching tires still ringing in her ears, she turned off the engine and rested her head on the steering wheel. She had to pull herself together. She couldn’t tune out while driving. She’d get herself killed, or worse, hurt someone else.

Sitting in the car, the pain bubbled up again. She couldn’t believe she was actually leaving Beck, for good this time.

She didn’t want to walk away from him. Beck felt like hers… her baby, her son. She didn’t feel like the cousin once removed anymore, she felt like Mom. Maybe because he had no other mom, or maybe because she’d given him all of her, but to leave a child she loved felt like a sin.

Love was awful. Love hurt. Love—

She lifted her head at the sound of a sharp rap on her window. Looking up she saw Billy standing there, handsome as ever, hair disheveled, jaw covered in stubble, a furious glint in his blue eyes.

It was the real him, a very raw him, not the charming polished cowboy that did appearances and signed cards at autograph sessions.

Her insides did a crazy flip and she rolled her window down, but then couldn’t think of anything to say, and so she just stared up at him, shocked. Confused.

“You’re just leaving without saying goodbye?” he demanded curtly, voice hard.

She blinked, eyes so gritty and dry. “I didn’t think there was much for either of us to say.”

“After all this time together, you don’t think goodbye would have been nice? You don’t think we needed some kind of closure?”

Closure made her throat swell, and her chest ache. “I got the closure last night,” she whispered. “You made it clear I was no longer needed and so I’m moving on. I’m saving you from giving that speech you have to give to all your other girls—”

“You’re not the others. You’re not one of anyone else. You weren’t ever my buckle bunny. You were not a hookup. How could you even say that?”

“Because there’s nothing for me here. There’s nothing I can be—”

“No? Nothing for Beck? Did he matter so little to you?”

“He matters so much,” she answered, her voice cracked with emotion. “He’s like… mine. I’ve been with him for months. I have cared for him for months. I’ve woken up in the night to make sure he was okay