Page 87 of Ride the Sky

“Dakota called.” He’s pacing now. His eyes so full of worry it only makes me want to fight him more. Because I don’t deserve it. “No one could get ahold of you. Where the hell were you?”

“I was with Tripp,” I say, and Wyatt stiffens.

His annoyance vanishes. Turns to something else—jealousy.

It robs me of breath. Trips my pulse.

I wait for him to say he’s jealous, but he doesn’t. A strange intensity crackles in his eyes. Our trademark push-pull. Weseethe inside, say nothing on the surface. Even married, we can’t call it like it is. Would it matter if he claimed me? Would it change everything between us? Would I forgive him for what he said, forget my petty grudge?

“Relax,” I say. “We just drove around town. Talked.”

I thought the drive would clear my head, but it only made it worse. Tripp didn’t fix a thing. Too bright, too happy, too much trying to fix it instead of just listening.

“Talked,” Wyatt grits out.

I dare a glance at his handsome face. “What do you care?”

His eyes meet mine then fall to my lips. “You should have called me,” he growls, taking a step toward me. “If you need something, someone, you callme.”

My breath hitches. His tone is jagged, raw. Like he’s fighting with himself over what to say, but I squash the urge to delve deeper, to probe that emotion. I’m scared of what I’ll unlock. In him. In myself.

I throw him a mocking smile. “I’ll call whoever I damn well please.”

A muscle jerks in his jaw. “Well, while you were talkin’ with Tripp, you missed your meds.” He tosses me my pills from the counter.

I hold his gaze, burning inside. “I don’t want them.”

“Fallon.” He glares at me. “Take your fuckin’ pills.”

It all wells up. Every little cut from today. Rage explodes inside of me.

I hurl the bottle at him. It hits the wall and explodes. Little white pills fly everywhere.

“Fuck this place!” I shout, and Wyatt’s eyes widen. My heart’s racing—a thunderous gallop. “Fuck these fucking pills. Fuck my body that doesn’t work. I hate this house, and I hate that I can’t ride. I hate myself for being so stupid. With everything. With bulls, with Aiden, and with—” I blink and shake my head.

Wyatt’s still staring.

My chest heaves. “I hate it all. I want to burn everything to the ground.”

His nostrils flare. But he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he crouches and begins to pick the pills up one by one.

It makes tears spring to my eyes. It’s what always softens me, slices at me. The utter kindness of Wyatt Montgomery. That he’s a cowboy who’s true. Who helps. Who always has been there when I’ve needed him.

And what do I do? I treat him like shit. I’m a coward, an asshole, and so undeserving of him I hate myself.

Unable to bear it, I cover my face in my hands and breathe out. “Fuck.” Lowering my hands, I take a step toward him.

“Don’t,” Wyatt orders at my lame attempt to crouch. “I got ’em.”

“I’m sorry.” I collapse into a chair. “I had a shitty day.”

“What happened?” Still in a crouch, he presses a hand onto my knee, turns into me.

A long beat of silence stretches between us.

Tears sting my eyes. “My dad’s still upset. Not quite the silent treatment, but that’s the gist. He’s disappointed in me. I fucked up.”

Wyatt’s face grows dark. “I can talk to him.”

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