Page 26 of And Forever
Aside from Adam, there isn’t anyone who knows what I’m about to confess. “Travis left me in his will.”
“What?” Charlotte’s surprise sends her eyebrows rocketing to her hairline. I chuckle softly at the sight.
“Yeah.” I soothe my fingers over the ridges on her forehead, smiling with the barest hint of sadness. “About six months later, I got a letter from his attorney that provisions had been made for me by Travis Frost. I was a mess,” I shake my head, thinking back to that spring. “I was in therapy two to three times a week and had just started to feel like I was coming back to myself. Not better, but I could feel again. In all the years we knew each other, I had no idea the guy planned for things like that, and it sent me reeling for a couple of days. After I got it together—or so I thought—I learned that he set aside fifty thousand dollars for me.”
“Wow.”
“Wow,” I repeat. I rearrange us, encouraging Charlotte to lie beside me, her head on my chest. “It’s the reason I was able to keep this place. It made the mortgage payments until I was working again and helped with the beginning of the build.”
“Wild, that’s…” Her voice trails off for a moment, her hand tracing idle patterns along my sternum. “I can’t believe it.”
“Neither could I,” I say, bringing my own hand up to press hers against me. I like the feel of it against my heartbeat, and I smile. “Sure, it made things harder at first. The constant reminder of him, but ultimately, it made appreciating him easier. I surrounded myself with both of you, and grew determined to figure out a way to get you back one day.”
We hold each other, letting our minds drift, and the emotions of the day finally bleed away. Drained by the comfort of each other’s arms. The monitor crackles, and then there is thepounding of little feet on the hardwood floor of the hallway. Charlotte and I prop ourselves up when Winona enters our room, Meehaw wrapped tightly in her arms and a heartbreaking expression on her face.
“Mama, I had a bad dream.”
Charlotte crosses to her in a flash, bundling up our girl into her arms and pressing reassuring kisses to her brow. I watch her whisper quiet words, Winona tucking herself against her mother as she’s soothed and comforted. My heart swells with love, so full it feels impossible to have anymore.
My girls.
“Can I sleep with you and Daddy?”
17
CHARLOTTE
EVERS RIDGE, MONTANA — LATE AUGUST
Ipull on Rooney’s reins, urging my horse to stop at the side of the arena. We’re both breathing hard, but he’s quicker to settle as I ease him around to walk out the remaining energy. I tip my head back, taking off my hat and giving my hair a shake, regretting the decision to leave it down instead of braiding it. But I couldn’t risk taking the time to do it before I slipped out of the cottage in the steel gray of early morning.
The sun still hasn’t come above the horizon line, but the riding ring is drenched in the peach-pink light of sunrise, and the heat of the day is slowly crawling across the meadow. I’ve had Rooney out here for at least an hour. I fan my face as I try to calculate how many more runs I can do before trying to sneak back. I left Wilder sleeping and Winona at my parents’ place, where she spent the night. It’s the fourth time since we got back from Idaho that I’ve managed to bring Rooney out to race while the rest of the ranch sleeps.
“You’re only point seven off your time from last week.”
I startle in the saddle, the hat tumbling from my fingers when Wilder walks out from a shadowy spot next to an ancient bur oak tree. He tucks his phone into his back pocket, long legseating up the space until he rests his arms over the top rail and hooks a boot on the bottom one. I swing out of my perch, letting Rooney’s leads drop. He shuffles over to the trough for a drink of water, and I pick up my hat. I brush the dust off as I cross to the cowboy who’s giving me a soft smile from under a chocolate-brown Resistol hat. I freeze in my tracks, forgetting that Wilder was timing me.
Wilder’s eyes flicker from my face to the brim of the familiar hat and back. He’s wearingTravis’hat, and my heart squeezes painfully from the significance. Before I can blink away the tears that pool in my eyes, Wilder dips between the railings and wraps his arms around me. With my cheeks held between his hands, he uses his thumbs to brush away the few tears that escaped. He drops his forehead to mine and we hold each other, the silence saying everything we need it to.
“You want to tell me why you’ve been sneaking off to ride, Charlie?” He draws back to give me a quizzical look, and his hands come back around my waist. There isn’t an ounce of accusation in his question, just a yearning to understand, and I can’t blame him for it.
Talking about how much I’ve missed my time in competition is one thing. Actively practicing is another. But after the rodeo in Idaho, the need I’ve fought against for so long became painful. The longing turned into a denial of the part of myself I tried to ignore. It scares me to want it, especially with Wilder’s reaction to the environment. So I’ve told myself that this will be enough—just challenging myself and Rooney is all I need.
“It’s nothing.” I shrug. Wilder’s eyes narrow. “The rodeo made me nostalgic. Besides, Rooney could use the work. I think he gets bored.”
“Baby, we don’t lie to each other.”
It’s a gentle admonishment, but a pointed reminder. I lean against his chest, too afraid to look at him when I speak. “I miss it, Wild. I miss it so much, it’s like a part of me doesn’t exist anymore. And I thought I was okay without it. I thought I didn’tneed it anymore, but I think I do. And that scares the shit out of me because I don’t want to hurt you; I saw what being at the rodeo did to you.”
My shoulders slump with relief after my confession, but I sag a little in his strong arms. Wilder hugs me tighter, kissing the top of my head and inhaling a deep breath.
“I know you do.” He keeps me close, working the tangles loose in my hair. It’s falling past my shoulders again for the first time since Winona was a month old. “Being on the back of a horse, turning and burning, is as much a part of you as this jet-black hair or those gem-like eyes that kill me when they’re full of tears. It’s the other side of who you are when you’re not kissing boo-boos on our baby girl’s knees.” He angles my head, so I have no choice but to look at him. “And I fucking love it.I love you.”
“But—”
“No, Charlie.” Wilder’s eyes bore into mine, strikingly blue and resolute. I gulp a little at their ferocity, but his voice is soft when he says, “You want to ride? I’ll learn how to be by your side. You want to rodeo? I’ll pack your rig and call you every day.”
I can’t help the choked sob that gurgles out of my throat. I’m so overwhelmed by the confidence Wilder has in me and the selfless way he wants to see me do this. “Winona?—?”
