Page 102 of Burn the Wild

I gasp. “Ford. Why?”

“She made it clear I wasn’t the one. Too country, too white trash, you pick one.”

My heart aches for him. The nerve of her to break his heart in front of everyone, then tell him he didn’t matter.

“Heartbreak makes you do fucked-up shit. I could sit here and tell you I wasn’t sad, but at the time, she ruined my fuckinglife.” Ford flinches. “It made me an angry person. I wrote the book on being as asshole. I made mistakes. Big ones. Fucked up in the worst way a man can.”

I wait for more, but he stops there.

His throat bobs. “That’s why I’m here. Because it hurt so goddamn bad, I had to run halfway across the world to escape it.”

Hand threading through his lionlike hair, he says, “I haven’t talked about her in a long time. I learned my heart was a whole lot happier when she stayed the hell away from it.”

He sighs. “But sometimes that’s just the way life plays. There’s no use in looking back.”

“I hate her for doing that to you.” I lean forward, wanting to take away his pain. “You’re not trash. You’re the best person I have ever known. And I haven’t known you for very long, but I already know this, so that’s saying a lot.”

He smiles, his eyes unreadable.

“Do you get sad, Reese?” Ford asks, voice pitched low. “Is that why you don’t talk about your past?”

Tears fill my eyes. “Yes,” I whisper.

My mind freezes on what to say. Here, in the protective quiet of the dark, I could tell him everything about my past. About Muirwood. But if he knew…he wouldn’t want me. Even if we are temporary, the rejection would still hurt.

Before I can say anything, the acrid smell of blood floods the stall. The mare lies on the hay, staring at her already-standing baby. But there’s one more on the ground. Unmoving.

I gasp, cover my mouth.

“Fuck,” Ford grits. He hovers over the horse and blasts an order into the two-way radio before whipping to me and holding out a hand to keep me back. “I don’t want you to see this, Birdie.”

But I can’t turn away. My chest swells. Heavy tears roll down my cheeks.

I hold my breath as Ford inspects the foal.

“Fuck. She ain’t gonna make it.” His shoulders drop.

“No,” I say. “We can’t give up.” Eyes flooding, I crawl across the floor to the foal and rest a palm on its slowly rising belly. I just sit there and stare at her, trying real hard not to cry. “You’ll know,” I whisper. “You’ll know when it’s time to go or stay, okay? So you just be brave and make your choice and we’ll still love you anyway.”

Ford makes a kind of strangled noise in his throat. “Reese…”

I don’t respond to Ford. All I do is remember—everything.

Putting on a paper dress and walking the halls of Muirwood. Saying everything but no. Gavin handing me a contract and telling me no one would ever find out.

Be brave, be brave, be brave.

My daddy singing me his songs, the Labrador that ran off, the food we didn’t have. My mama picking mold off bread so we could still eat it. That’s why I listened to Gavin. So I could be a star. So my past didn’t matter. So I could be someone inside of me I never knew existed.

We stay where we are until the foal’s chest stops rising. Until Ford takes my hand and helps me stand.

Ford touches my chin. But he doesn’t kiss me. A cloud of worry darkens his face as he stares down at me.

He wipes a tear from my cheek with a calloused thumb. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m okay.”

When we leave the barn, he doesn’t let me look back.

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