Page 89 of Second Rodeo

Declan jumps at the topic change, instantly launching into stories about his job at Whitewood Creek Plumbing—how much he enjoys it, the opportunities he’s had to expand, the long hours he’s been working and the potential for Rhett to open a new location thirty minutes away, something he said he’d move to take.

I nod along, but something tugs at the edges of my memory.

Flashes of winter.

The holidays spent together.

Him, slipping out of family dinners early, missing events, always answering calls.Alwaystaking extra shifts.

That hollow feeling I used to get.

How I always felt like a second priority.

Wondering if it’d be that way if we had kids someday.

My stomach lurches, a wave of dizziness sweeping over me, and suddenly, the mac and cheese doesn’t taste so good anymore and that meltdown I thought I’d stopped before, yeah, it’s back.

By the time the conversation winds down, Declan asks if I want dessert. I shake my head, offering a small smile.

“I’m good. Thank you.” And I mean it. Despite things starting off rocky, the conversation wasn’t bad, and I got answers I needed desperately to hear from him.

“Thanks for tonight,” I say as we drive back to my house, my fingers absently tracing the hem of my dress.

He glances over, smiling, his hand resting on my thigh again casual, like it belongs there. Protective. A silent claim. But I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore. My mind is spinning, my heart racing, everything inside me a tangled mess of nostalgia and unease. That meltdown Rae hinted at?Yeah. It’s coming. Fast. And I need to get out of this car now. I also need to be fair to Declan and not give him the wrong impression.

When Declan parks, I grip the door handle, every muscle in my body tight. But he beats me to it, slipping out first and rounding the truck to open my door. And then—hepauses. Caging me in with his arms and hips. His hand comes up, fingers brushing my neck, sweeping back a loose strand of hair. I’m stuck and feel like I can’t move. He stares down at me, his brown eyes soft, searching.

“I had a good time tonight,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” I whisper, tongue darting out to wet my lips.

His gaze flickers down, and my breath catches.

I know this look.

Irememberthis look.

All the times he used to hold me like this, like I was his and I loved it. Only this time, something feels...off. Wrong. Because I’m not his anymore. Not at all.

Then—he leans in. My body locks up a moment too late. I turn my head at the last second, and his lips land just beside mine, skimming my cheek and resting in my hair instead. His forehead falls to my temples with a heavy sigh.

“Fuck, Regan.”

“I know,” I whisper, my pulse hammering. “I’m so sorry. I just… I can’t do this. It isn’t fair to give you false hope.”

He nods but doesn’t move away, his body still caging me in, his grip firm on my hip.

I can’t breathe.

The weight of everything—the confusion, the missing pieces, the why of it all—presses down until I feel like I might break.

“I’ll call you, okay?” My voice barely makes it out.

Declan pulls back just enough to study me, his brows drawing together like he knows I’m not going to call or if I do, it’s going to be as friends.

“Yeah, okay. Hey, I hope you know I understand. I wasn’t expecting this to be more, I guess I just wanted to see if you mind changed.”

I bite down on my lip and nod softly.

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