Page 48 of We Redeemed the Rain

Now, without the horses to keep me occupied, my brain was under assault. The uninvited ideas escalated my blood pressure and sent my anxiety into a tailspin. I sucked in a tight breath.

Whydid I leave her all day?

Frantic to find her, I hurried to the bleachers. They were clearing out, but groups of bodies still hindered a clear view. Squinting, my gaze followed every bench to its end and dropped to the next one.

I walked the bleachers twice. I circled the arena. The vendorswere packing up, so she couldn’t be browsing or shopping. I checked around the bathhouse twice. Asked a woman to check the ladies’ room for her. Even ran through the corral again—maybe she was looking for me and we missed each other. I was on the verge of calling the cops when I decided to check the bleachers one more time.

Finally, I saw something three-quarters of the way up a stand. Some skin—I could only assume it was a knee—stuck out over the top of a bench. I had to hold myself back from running.

I slipped into the row beneath, making my way to the center.

It was Bea.

Relief washed over me. The twenty-five terrible scenarios I imagined were just that—imagined. I allowed myself a deep inhale and exhale.

I sat down and gently poked her knee, careful not to startle her. I whispered, “Bea.”

Her big brown eyes popped open as she sat up. The hat she wore slipped to the side and she caught it, losing her balance in the process. I grabbed her elbow to steady her and she winced. Which was when I saw them.

Burns.

Blistered red covered her skin. From shoulder to elbow she had an angry sunburn.

The way my stomach plunged in agony made me remember the days I would jump from the hayloft as a kid. Except this was pure dread, no thrill.

She swiped drool off her cheek with the back of her hand. “Oh, hey.”

My eyes followed along the edge of her profile. Burns covered her neck, cheeks, ears. Even her soft thighs were pink and splotchy. I felt sick. Of all the things I’d considered, lack of shade wasn’t one of them. I’d spent most of my day going in and out of the stables. Where did she have to go? The bathhouse? A few random vendor tents, overcrowded with people?

I gave a lame, “Hey.”

She twisted, letting her feet hang in the air below her. Shepropped her arms across the bench I was sitting on, took a deep breath, and answered, “I guess the festivities are over.”

“Yeah. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

The hate I harbored for that word ran as hot as the blood in my veins.

I pulled a steadying breath into tight lungs. “Concessions close in about ten minutes. Let’s get you some food.”

She nodded, bracing against the bench to pull herself out. I should’ve offered a hand, but I didn’t. Wasn’t too keen on touching her. Grabbing her elbow a second ago was more than enough for me. Luckily, she managed to get upright just fine on her own.

Standing, she adjusted the hat on her head, smoothed her white tank top, and gave her skirt a light tug. The hat was new, navy blue withCoors Rodeoprinted across the front. It looked terrible on her, and I didn’t like the way it hid her face.

Silently, we headed to concessions and took our place at the back of the line. I knew what they served at places like this—honestly hated every bit of it—but I scanned the menu like I’d never seen one before, the words and prices bouncing off my distracted mind. Hearing a loud exhale, I glanced down at her. Her mouth clasped over her hand as she yawned.

My insides spiraled.

Ilefther. Roasting, starving, probably thirsty, exhausted. The most basic of needs unmet.

Damn you, Taggart. Damn you.

The shaggy-haired teenager behind the counter was agitated by the never-ending line at closing. By the time we got to him, he was fully rolling his eyes as Bea rattled off her order. He lolled his head toward me. “And for you sir?”

“Uh.”

The kid sighed as he waited. I couldn’t form a coherent thought.

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