Page 89 of For Cowgirls and Kings
“I miss margarita’s,” I state, settling into the saddle, brushinga hand over my horse's neck before kissing to him to move forward and out of the barn.
Mateo follows behind, silent for several minutes. I close my eyes, listening to the sounds of life around me, hooves against the gravel, my own steady breathing. Tears threaten to fill my eyes once more and I shake my head.
“I want to be happy,” I confess, opening my eyes as we round a corner, a field unfolding before us. The grass is still brown, but small sprigs of green are beginning to peek through and I can’t help but feel a metaphor for my life in there somewhere.
“I’ve never wanted anything more,” Mateo finally states, and I turn to look at him, confused. “I mean, I want you to be happy. There’s nothing I want more, I just don’t know how to help.”
I suck in a deep breath, turning away before I snap.None of this is his fault.“I don’t need you to fix me,” I whisper, eyes trained on the fence running for miles into the distance.
I hear his horse trot up beside me a second before the heat of his hand settles on my thigh. I flick my eyes down, and then up at him. “There’s nothing to fix. Doesn’t mean I want you to suffer. I want you happy, not different.”
Biting my lip, I continue to stare at his face, noticing for the first time how he’s let the scruff on his chin grow darker. “I don’t know if I know how to be genuinely happy. I’ve always just pretended.”
His hand squeezes my thigh once more, “what kinds of things do you enjoy doing? Besides reading that is.”
What kinds of things do I enjoy?
I raise the reins toward him. “I love riding. I miss Chuck.” He nods, a soft smile brightening his face. “I guess I enjoy shopping, but a teacher’s salary doesn’t make much room for that. I love traveling, but again, being a teacher doesn’t give memuch time. I, of course, love spending time with Stetson and Faith.”
“Why don’t you do something with them soon?”
I nod. “I’ve been wanting to. I just—” I scramble to find the right words. “I don’t want to be disappointing. I can’t pretend to be happy like before. No one likes the sad friend.”
His hand releases my thigh, before wrapping around my fingers gripped around the reins. “Dale, they don’t like you. They love you. And they want to love you, any way you’ll let them.”
A tear steals from the corner of my eye before I can blink it away, and I suck in a ragged breath, shaking my head. I know what he’s saying is true—my friends deserve a chance to be let in.
Biting my lip, I say the first thing I can think of in an effort to change the subject. “Do you fix your own fence, or do you have people who do that for you?”
Mateo’s hand drops, a laugh tumbling from his lips before he kicks the sides of his horse and they jolt forward in a gallop. I let him have a small head start, his grey horse’s strides growing larger and larger.
As I watch him go, I can’t help but feel like a small ray of light is streaking through my bleak existence—like a single ray of sunshine warming a frigid, dark basement—a promise of tomorrow, and a better life, if I’m just brave enough to crawl out of it.
I lean forward, whispering to the horse “let’s go get them,” and then we race after him, and the light he seems to be bleeding into my life.
“Dale, do you want more margaritas?” I look up at Faith’s smiling face, noting the concern lining her eyes.
“Yes please,” I mumble, extending my glass toward her. Stetson suggested maybe a girls day would make me feel better, and after my ride earlier with Mateo I couldn’t think of a reason not to. Stetson and Faith were more than eager to race over, tequila in tow—and I’m grateful for the distraction. Plus this is the first time I’ve drank since,everything, and the numbness spreading beneath my skin is a welcome hum.
I want to open up to them—more like need to. They’re my best friends, my chosen family, so why is it so fucking hard to share my feelings with them? My traumas?
And why is it so easy to share them with Mateo?
Isn’t that fucked up?
“Soooo, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Stetson asks, her voice dry, face devoid of emotion. Well fuck, I guess she’s done taking my shit—I don’t blame her. I would be too.
Doesn’t make it easier.
“Stetson,” Faith chides, and I have to fight off a smile as her face scrunches into a scowl.It’s adorable.
“What? You’re thinking it, you’re just too much of a little bitch to ask.” Stetson shrugs, and I watch their faces contort from irritation to restrained laughter. It nearly knocks the breath from me—seeing my formerly reserved friend banter with another girl, another friend. If that doesn’t give me hope, I don’t know what would.
It also feels like a punch to the gut. I’m on the outside looking in, and I envy them with a passion that should be reserved for psycho wives and cheating husbands. It burns through me, and I take a giant gulp of the icy margarita in an attempt to cool the fire bubbling in my chest.
“Aren’t you guys cute.”Fuck, that sounded way toosassy to be a joke.Stetson faces me, her golden brows raised behind her black ball cap.
“You can always join us.”
