Page 20 of Cowboy Crush
I follow her. “I could use a drink.”
She opens the fridge and takes out two bottles of water. I watch as she uncaps it and takes a long drink. “Sorry, I’ve been out in the sun all day.” She rolls her eyes. “So have you. How was work?”
“It was good,” I reply, feeling awkward.
She nods once, noticing the awkwardness. “You want to go have a seat in the living room? I can light a fire.”
“Yeah, okay.”
She leads the way, and I follow her in. She picks up a remote and gets the fire going. “Make yourself at home. I’m just going to go get out of this wet suit.” She rushes out of the room, leaving me alone.
I take the room in, knowing that it isn’t hers. Since it’s a rental, the place is decorated sparsely and generically. All the photos on the walls are of art, no families. Even the tones in the room are more neutral and earthy rather than anything that has personality. I wish I could see her real place, see her style.
I have a seat on the brown leather couch, and I take a long drink of water as I wait for her to join me. A few minutes later, she walks out in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I much rather prefer the bikini, but she still takes my breath away as her long, blond hair that’s sopping wet hangs around her.
She takes a seat on the couch next to me and turns her attention to me. “This is weird, isn’t it?”
I laugh. “A little, I guess. I just…” I shake my head. “I usually keep to myself most of the time, so trying to remember how to have a normal conversation is a little overwhelming.”
She presses her lips together. “Why are you alone so much?”
I shrug. “I just prefer it that way.”
“So you don’t date much?”
“I don’t date at all.”
“That has to be lonely.”
I nod. “Sometimes,” I agree. “I wasn’t always this way.”
Her brow lifts. “What caused the change?”
I run my sweaty palms over my jeans. “My accident.”
Her lips part like she’s going to speak, but I cut her off, wanting to just put everything out in the open so she knows as much about me as everyone else in town. I want it out of the way so we don’t have to talk about this ever again.
“My dad was a professional bull rider. He retired young as many do, and then he and my mom bought and ran a ranch. I grew up on the farm, and my dad, he trained me on bull riding. I loved it. We went to all the local rodeos. From the moment I saw it, I knew that’s what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. So growing up, I practiced, and the second I was old enough, despite my mother’s hatred for it, my dad signed me up. And from there on out, all of my time was spent practicing and riding. We traveled from state to state in the summertime. I was on my way up. Scouts were coming out to the shows, looking for new talent. I was amped and was convinced this one show was my only shot. So I climbed up on that bull, the gate opened, and he took off. At first, everything was great. The crowd was cheering. I was being a little cocky, not focusing the way I should. All I could think about was that scout out there in that audience. And then, bam. Just like that, lights out. It was so fast, I couldn’t even process it.
“All I know is that I woke up later in the hospital. It could’ve been days, weeks, hell, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I blew it. At that time, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t move. All I could think about was how I’d lost everything, and if I lost the one thing I worked my entire life for, what was the point in living anyway?” I don’t dare look over at her. I know I’ll only see sympathy, the same thing I’ve seen from everyone else in town since it happened.
“I was told I’d probably never walk again, that I should give up on bull riding. My time was done. My mother was sick with worry. My dad…I don’t know exactly. When he looked at me, something was off. It felt like he was disappointed, like I let him down, and that thought only made me want to die that much more. The doctors started talking to me about disability. It went in one ear and out the other. I was depressed. I wouldn’t try to live or get better. I didn’t want to live. Then I heard my parents fighting outside of my room one day. My mother hated my father for ever introducing me to the sport. She blamed him for my accident, and I knew I had to do everything I could to get my life back. I let him down by not making it pro, but I could make up for it by making my mom forgive him, and the only way she’d do that is if I got better. So I started to fight. I did all these surgeries, I did years' worth of physical therapy. I still have some lasting effects that will never go away, but I have a normal life back for the most part.
“Then my mom was diagnosed with stage five breast cancer. She got sick fast. I pushed myself harder, and before she passed, she was able to see me walk again. I’ll never forget her smile when she saw me get out of that chair and walk again. But she asked one thing from me, that I never return to bull riding. It was her dying wish, so I have to honor it. She passed away soon after, and my father and I, we’ve never been the same. Sometimes, I wonder if my mother ever forgave my dad. It wasn’t his fault. It was just an accident. But I’ll never know, and between that and letting him down, he just looks at me differently now.”
With my story now done, I turn to look at her, finding tears in her eyes. For once, the pity on her face doesn’t piss me off like it usually would. Somehow, I find myself wanting to comfort her?
13
HANNAH
His story makes my heart break for him. No wonder he keeps himself so secluded. He’s angry with himself, feeling like he’s let his whole family down, and he doesn’t have a chance to fix any of it. He’s been miserable all these years, and being the good man he is, he doesn’t want to get involved with someone and inflict all his pain onto them. He’s been completely alone. Suddenly, I realize why I was drawn to him so much, even though I can’t figure out the how of it all. Did something in me sense something in him?
I wipe the tears from my eyes before they can fall, but it’s too late. He’s noticed them. He reaches over and caresses my cheek before softly pressing his lips to mine. He kisses me soft and slow. When he pulls away, he looks into my eyes. “I’m not good at this dating thing. I’ve never been the type of guy to say all the right things at all the right times. Just know that I was taken by you the moment I saw you; I just couldn’t allow myself to feel it. I don’t know if what I’m doing, if how I’m going about this is right. Even now, I don’t know how to comfort you.”
“Then let me comfort you,” I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck and moving my mouth to his. He kisses me back, soft, slow, full of emotion that I’m sure he’s not used to feeling. It makes me worry because he’s gone all this time, keeping to himself and not opening up to anyone, but now, he’s opening up to me and I’m not going to be here past this summer. I can only hope that my role in his life is to teach him how to open up again, how to love, how to be happy. I can’t be his forever, but I can show him what all is out in the world if he opens his eyes and gives it a chance.
He pulls me onto his lap as our kiss grows deeper, more urgent. I completely forget that we’re in the living room and not alone. I’m quickly reminded, though, when the girls walk into the house.
