The Texan's Christmas

“Of course.” She was lying. She didn’t even know what a private life was anymore.

“Lucky.”

By the soft tone of his voice she knew the conversation was headed in a personal direction—one she wasn’t ready for and she didn’t know if she would ever be. Once burned, a lifetime shy was her motto.

“I better check on my dad. He won’t go to bed until I’m home.”

“I’ll see if Hardin is hurt.” He moved toward his truck. “Talk to you in the morning.”

She slipped into her pickup and wondered what was wrong with her. Travis was a good man and with just some encouragement from her they could have a relationship. But something held her back. Maybe the past had crippled her emotionally and she wasn’t ever going to love like that again.

When she went through the back door of the house, she heard the TV. Her dad was asleep in his chair, snoring. Picking up the remote control, she turned it off. He immediately woke up.

“Lucky, girl, you’re late.”

“Busy night.” She sank down by his chair and laid her head on the arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up.

“I told Kid about our son tonight.”

“Holy cow, girl, why did you go and do that? You said you never would.”

“I don’t know. He kept asking why I was so angry and the words just came spewing out like all this venom I had inside me.” She took a breath. “I saw the hurt on his face and the pain in his eyes and I wanted to feel some kind of victory. But I didn’t. Where’s my victory, Dad? I wanted to shatter his big ego, but all I felt was his agony.”

“Oh, Lucky. Sometimes we think we want something and we really don’t. It’s just human nature.”

Unable to stop them, tears flowed from her eyes. “I hurt him, Dad, and I feel more empty now than ever.”

“Shh.” He stroked her hair. “It will be different tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so.” She was always going to see that tortured look in Kid’s eyes. Ollie whined and she wrapped her arms around the dog. “I’ve asked myself a million times why I didn’t come home when I found out I was pregnant. Why did the town’s opinion matter so much to me? If I’d been stronger, I’d have my son today.”

“That’s my fault. When you kept making excuses not to come home, I should have gone to Austin to see you. But I thought you were building a new life, getting over that Hardin boy. I never dreamed you weren’t in school and going through such turmoil on your own. It’s my fault for not keeping tabs on you.”

“No, Dad, what happened is all because of me and my insecurities and my self-doubts.”

“I should have choked the life out of old lady Farley and Mrs. Axelwood a long time ago. Nothing but vicious gossipers with narrow minds.”

It wasn’t their fault, either. All of it lay squarely on her shoulders. She’d stood up to three drunken cowboys tonight. Why hadn’t she had that strength years ago? She’d been weak, but now she was strong and no one was going to take her pride again. Not even Kid.

Her father continued to stroke her hair. “You know Kid will be back.”

“Why?”

“Remember when he was about fourteen, Chuck told him he couldn’t come over here on your birthday ’cause it was a school night? After Chuck and Carol went to bed, he cranked up the tractor and came anyway.”

“Yeah. He brought me flowers from his mother’s garden.”

“Damn fool woke us up.”

“Only Kid does things like that,” she murmured.

“Chuck grounded him for a month.”

“I never liked Chuck Hardin.” When she was a teenager, she’d seen the man with more than one woman at The Beer Joint, about a mile from where he lived with his wife. She never understood how Chuck could do that.

“Did you ever tell Kid what you knew?”

“No. I couldn’t. He looked up to his father, held him on a pedestal.”

“It was mighty hard for ol’ Chuck to maintain his balance up there.”

She rubbed Ollie’s head. “I’m glad Carol never had to know.”

“Mmm.”

The year Kid’s parents had died had been sad. He’d cried in her arms several times and they’d bonded closer. From then on it was Lucky and the Kid. She’d thought nothing would ever come between them. He was more like his father than she’d ever imagined.

KID LIFTED HIS HEAD FROM the steering wheel and saw he was parked in front of the Shilah offices in downtown Houston and it was morning. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here. All he remembered were Lucky’s words: Our son died while you were trying to lay every woman in Lubbock County.

They’d had a son. He’d died because of Kid’s selfish, womanizing ways. How could he? He moaned and slipped out of the truck. Unlocking the back door, he took the elevator up to the top floor. For some reason he went to Cadde’s office. Sitting in the dark, he let the pain eat away at him. He deserved it.

Suddenly the light came on. He blinked and tried to focus on his brothers. They glanced at each other and then back to him.

“What happened to you?” Chance asked. “Your face is blue on one side.”

“And you look like hell,” Cadde said, sitting in his chair at the big desk.

He could tell them. They’d understand and support him. Yet his actions were so horrible he couldn’t say the words. There were a lot of ways to excuse his behavior. Then again, none came to mind—none that would ease his conscience.

“I gotta go.” He rose to his feet, but before he could reach the door Chance kicked it shut.

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell us what’s wrong with you. Are you drunk?”

“No, but I wish I were stoned out of my mind. I think I’ll go down the hall to the apartment and accomplish that feat.”

“Sit down, Kid,” Cadde ordered. “Have you been fighting in a bar again?”

“Outside a bar, actually.”

“When the hell are you going to grow up?”

Kid sank into a leather chair and buried his face in his hands. “I grew up last night.”

“What do you mean?” Chance asked.

“I talked to Lucky.”