Page 86 of His Eighth Ride

And why? So she could confront Tag earlier? What would she even say?

She thought about the little notebook he wrote in, and she wondered if he’d ever said something about her. And if so, what? Bad things? Good? The inner-most workings of his mind?

She’d asked him about the notebook in the past, and he’d said he put all kinds of things in it. “Things I’m thinking about, lists of groceries, reminders to myself.”

“Notes from church,” she’d said, because that was when she’d seen him writing in it.

“Yes,” he’d said, and she could still see the sly look on his face. “You spied on me.”

She’d laughed and fallen into his arms. “You pulled it out right in front of me. That can’t be considered spying.”

Now, she wanted to see what he wrote in that little notebook, and she wanted to see anything he may have written about her. “What could he be working through?” she whispered to Spencer, and the precious three-week-old didn’t so much as stir.

Opal leaned over and touched her lips to the baby’s forehead and whispered, “I think I’m going to go home earlier, Spencer. I’ll miss you so much.”

Gerty had been taking West out on the farm with her, and Mike had taken a few days off work to help with his son. Gerty’s mom had come one day, Opal knew that, and she suddenly wanted to get back to Ivory Peaks.

She wanted to do that spying Tag had accused her of, and she wanted to do it now. She wanted to stand in his cabin and look around, just to absorb his space and see what she could feel coming from him.

“Is he going to break up with me?” she whispered, her chest suddenly collapsing in on itself. “Why would he?” She let the silence into her mind and heart then, trying to hear something, anything, from God.

“I need to know what I’m walking into,” she whispered. “Please, Jesus, prepare me fully to return to Colorado.” She closed her eyes and continued to rock. Other days, she’d have fallen asleep by now, pure bliss and happiness filling her.

Tag’s one text had changed so much, and Opal’s chin wobbled a little bit as she fought against her emotions. “He’s not going to break up with you,” she told herself. Her memories of their relationship were all so good, with star-filled nights, and lying together on that purple couch, and the kisses they’d shared.

He’d said he had something serious to talk to her about, but she hadn’t dwelt on it too much. She trusted Tag to talk to her, tell her what bothered him and what didn’t, and?—

“It’s your money,” she whispered, the pure magic of Valentine’s Day running through her mind. So much made sense then, and Opal knew her thought about her money was right. Tag had mentioned it then, and Opal could see the price tag of her dress. Anyone with eyes could’ve seen it, even without knowing the numbers, and Tag wasn’t a stupid man.

Oh, and she wanted a few acres of her brother’s land? No problem. Let me write you a check. Oh, and hire a general contractor and start building within the week.

Yes, money could open doors and do things for people, and Opal hadn’t held back from using its power. Tag had seen all of that, and she’d bet everything she had that he’d written something about her money—and his…lack of money?—in his notebook.

“He’s not poor,” Opal whispered to herself, and it didn’t matter to her if he was. But her money probably scared him. “Maybe,” she said. She wasn’t exactly sure what he felt about it, because he hadn’t said so.

What had he said on Valentine’s Day? I’m worried I’m not enough to hold your attention.

As if she needed him to be more than who he was. “Maybe that’s it,” she mused. No matter what, it was something, or he wouldn’t have said he’d worked through everything on his own.

A fact and a statement she hated. She didn’t want him suffering on his own, trying to find exits he maybe didn’t need to find. “I wish I’d pressed the issue with him,” she muttered.

Or maybe she didn’t. Tag hadn’t been super keen to let her lecture him or back him into a corner today. Frustration and loneliness filled her, and Opal honestly didn’t know what to do. She wanted to call Tag again, but she didn’t want to interrupt his time with his brothers.

“Time you didn’t even know he needed.” She heard the bitterness in her own voice, and she felt the way her throat closed in around her windpipe.

Then, as if God had flipped on a light switch, her thoughts changed. She shifted baby Spencer a little bit so she could reach her phone, and then she started texting with one hand. She had people she could ask about this. Her momma. Molly, who’d married a billionaire, and Cord who had too.

“Jane,” she whispered. Surely a man marrying a female billionaire would be harder than a woman doing it, and the revelations coming to Opal made her heartbeat quake with every pulse. She quickly sent Jane quite a blunt text, hoping her cousin was on her phone right this moment.

“Please don’t let my money be the reason Tag and I can’t be together,” she prayed. “Dear God, I will give up every penny to be with him. Help me to know what to say, or not say, and to let him have the voice he wants to have.”

Jane responded to her question about whether Cord had had an issue with her money with the worst answer possible: It was a thing, yes. Why? Is Tag upset?

Opal wasn’t sure if Tag was upset, and that was worse than knowing the answer to her cousin’s question. But in an attempt for her to be more prepared for the conversation, she texted Jane back. I don’t know if he’s upset or not. But it’s a conversation we need to have. How did you handle it with Cord?

And then she kept praying that when she finally got to Tag, she’d know what to say and what not to say, what to do and what not to do. Because she’d put off meeting and dating a man like him for far too long, and she didn’t want to lose him. She couldn’t add him—and the family she wanted—to her list of things she’d lost or delayed because of her previous life choices.

She simply couldn’t.

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