Page 51 of Catch Me When I Fall

He went on to tell me about each of the cowboys and the shit they were getting into. Beau was going to Denver every weekend now to let off some steam, Jigs was still “old as dirt but a hard worker”, and the twins were thinking about going into bull riding.

I talked to my buddy for about an hour, and during those sixty minutes, he didn’t ask me about Carrie Hale.

Then, that came to screeching halt when he said, “Tell me about her.”

I looked to the ceiling. “I wanted to break your jaw when Jeremy Jones called me,” I grumbled.

Mags chuckled. “I fucking bet,” he muttered, knowing full well he wouldn’t let me.

“I didn’t bring her back,” I admitted after a few seconds of silence. “Did the gossipers tell you that?”

“Nah, they didn’t have to. I knew you didn’t.”

Fuck. He read me like a fucking book. I hated it.

When I didn’t respond, he said, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” I replied as I cleared my throat, trying to stop the lump from swelling. “Yeah, she’s perfect.”

“Perfect,” he parroted.

I nodded slightly, even though he couldn’t see it. “Perfect,” I murmured.

He grunted again. “She’s stunning, isn’t she?”

“You have no fucking idea,” I told him, staring at the picture of her on my desk. I hated that photo—her wedding day. She was drowning in a pile of white fluff and lace, her eyes sunken in, her cheekbones too sharp, her shoulders pointy. She looked like a fucking zombie.

“But it isn’t about her looks, is it?” he pressed. My jaw tightened, and he hummed at my silence. “That’s what I thought.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I clipped.

“It fucking means you felt something,” he shot back. “There’s no shame in that, Grayson. There’s no shame in feeling something for someone.”

Frustration burned in my chest. “You don’t get to say that shit to me,” I warned.

“Bullshit, I don’t,” he clipped, his voice hard. “You have the right to be happy just as much as everyone else.”

I barked out a harsh laugh. “That’s rich coming from you,” I snarled, thunder booming outside. “You haven’t left Hallow Ranch in over a decade. Don’t talk to me about happiness.”

“When did I ever say I wasn’t happy?”

His question rocked me.

“I’m the happiest I’ve ever fucking been, Grayson. Hallow Ranch is my home.”

I bent my head again, sighing softly. “I know that.”

“My happiness looks different from yours, but the difference between you and me is, I didn’t run from it the second I got a taste.”

Leave it to Mags to gut punch me.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“You and Denver…cut from the same damn cloth,” he mumbled.

“You’re talking like I should go back up there and—”

“—would you?”

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