Page 42 of Live for Me

I’d been out here for hours.

I’d hoped that my fucking head would be cleared by now, but it was even more of a mess.

Everywhere I looked on this land now, I saw Abbie and me.

Our memories painted Hallow Ranch, haunting me.

It was never like this, not even before when the pain was still fresh and my bleeding, crushed heart was still on the ground like a damn carcass.

It was because she washere.

It was because, after six damn years, my fingers still burned after I touched her skin, I saw the longing in her eyes and the blush in her fucking cheeks.

She still wanted me.

None of it made sense.

I figured that when I saw her again, there would be nothing between us. At least, not from her side. I expected her to be cold, distant. She wasn’t.

She was still my stubborn, gorgeous wildflower, standing tall in a field hounded by harsh winters, scorching summers, and powerful storms. She stood tall and never fucking wavered. She never backed down. She fought me tooth and nail. She was strong as hell, overcoming her horrible childhood and standing on her own two feet, finding success in not only her career but also in her painting.

When I pulled out her shorts, the ones I made for her, earlier today and spotted the new paint stains on them, I was overjoyed. I was glad that over all these years, she didn’t lose that side of herself.

I was happy for her.

And it was slowly killing me.

I didn’t want to be happy for her.

I wanted to be happy with her. I wanted her to be happy with me.

I wanted the fairytale ending I promised her that night she left her mom’s house.

You’re free now, Abbie. It’s just you and me, riding off into the sunset now, baby.

I love you, Beau.

A sharp pain shot through my chest as those words rung in my years, and I closed my eyes, grinding my teeth together. I would never hear those words again, and I needed to destroy—no burn—the hope trying to manifest inside me.

Abbie was here for protection—myprotection. Nothing more. Nothing less.

This time, my heart wouldn’t be on the chopping block.

This time, my heart didn’t get a say.

After a few more minutes under the stars, I killed the fire and rose to my feet.

That night, I left my heart by the stream, knowing damn well I wasn’t going to need it.

When I got back to the barn, the familiar light of the end of a cigarette glowed in the far corner. I shook my head, muttering something under my breath as I got off of Spirit and guided him inside, his hooves clicking under the wood floor.

“Mags,” I greeted the cigarette as I got close to him, veering to the right to open Spirit’s stall. The cowboy said nothing as I got my horse ready for sleep, refilling his water bin, giving him fresh hay and a quick brush down.

When I was done, I turned and faced the dark corner. “How long have you been waiting?” I asked, leaning against the wall.

The cigarette end glowed brighter for a moment as Mags took a drag. I heard him blow out the smoke and then the familiar footfalls of his boots came closer. When he stepped into the faint light, his expression was unreadable.

“Few hours,” he answered.

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