Page 22 of Reckless and Rooted
“Brings back memories, huh?” I finally alert her to my presence, and she spins, surprise on her face before it morphs into a sweet, soft smile. I have to take a deep breath just at the fucking sight of it. The girl still makes it hard for me to breathe, even all these years later.
“Only good ones,” she replies, walking up to one of the mares in the barn and rubbing her hand over her head. “I thought about getting a horse in LA.”
“Yeah?” I ask, tucking my thumbs into the front pocket of my jeans and leaning against a stall a few feet from her.
She smiles at me and nods. “Yeah. I finally had the money, you know?” A little shrug lifts her shoulders. “But I was limited on time, and I didn’t want to buy a horse only for it to not even know who I was. To have other people watch after it to the point where there was no bond.”
I frown in thought. “How come you had no time?”
A sigh that weighs a million pounds escapes her lips, and I feel the strongest urge to walk over to her and wrap my arms around her, to let her put whatever burden she has on me so I can help shoulder it. “Every minute of my life for the last, oh, I don’t know, nine years or so, has been scheduled. Down to bedtime and rise time. Down to how long I have in the morning to get a cup of coffee, to shower, to get ready, to eat all of my meals, to use the bathroom. It was all scheduled.”
“Sounds horrible,” I admit, not realizing that’s how it’s been for her.
“It is.” Her voice is soft and her gaze, which now looks glossy, stares back at the horse. Her sadness is palpable, and I have to get out of here.
I have to leave her before I do something that I’ll regret.
Something that will break my heart all over again.
Before I can, she turns to me and takes a step in my direction, clearing away the expression she was wearing to ask me, “So, what about you?”
I tighten my muscles and tell myself not to be an asshole. Because turning away from her right now, even though my eyes keep tracing back down to her lips with a need to kiss her has melosing my damn mind, would be rude as hell. “It’s not quite as rigorous of a life as yours.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “No? You look like you travel a lot. All over the country. You’re so good at what you do.”
I frown and tilt my head at her. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”
Something flutters across her face, worry, concern, embarrassment. Something. And she says, “Of course. I always have. I follow you, you know.”
I nearly blanch at the thought of her following me. I had no idea she did. The account I made for my rodeo business was a brand-new one, and after a viral video, I gained a huge influx of followers.
I never once thought to see who they were.
“You do?” I ask, a hoarseness to my voice.
“I know. It’s taboo to follow your ex online,” she says, her cheeks burning. “But I couldn’t help it. I saw the video of you nearly getting impaled like everyone else and avoiding it.” She chuckles softly. “You’re amazing.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Shaking my head, I look back at her and sigh. “I’ve got to get home.”
Fuck.
The look in her eyes, the disappointment, nearly guts me.
But if I stay here for another minute longer, if I let her in, I will never get her back out.
She was still in, asshole. She never left.
Ignoring my inner thoughts, I give her a smile, also avoiding looking at the extreme look of sadness that crosses her face before she wipes it away with a fake smile and nods.
“Okay.” Her soft, almost husky voice that she sings with pulls me toward her like a fucking siren, and I take a step toward her.
What the fuck was I doing?
I have no idea. But I keep stepping toward her until I can wrap my arms around her, until I feel her small but strong arms wrap back around me.
For a minute, neither of us moves, but our hearts pound in a rhythm, as if they’ve finally found each other again, and both of us tighten our hold on one another.
I feel like fucking breaking down, like begging her for another shot at us, like taking her back to my place and showing her just how great we were together.
