Page 81 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
“Bull was called Diesel Rage. Rode him before. Thought I knew his patterns, but I lost focus, my own fucking fault. Just for a second. Doesn’t matter now.” I shrug and stare into the shadows around us.
Her hand brushes against mine on the stump. Barely a touch. But it grounds me enough to keep going.
“He felt me lose my focus and balance for that splitsecond. Next thing, I went airborne. Landed headfirst into the rail. Hip’s been off ever since. Docs said I was lucky I didn’t break my damn spine.”
Her breath catches. “Jesus, Ridge.”
“I used to measure my worth by what I could do on a bull,” I say, voice gravel-thick. “Eight seconds. Crowd screaming. All eyes on me. That was my whole world.”
She doesn’t interrupt, just listens, her body quiet beside mine.
“After the fall,” I continue, slower now, “I had to learn how to be a man off one. Off the adrenaline. Off the dream. Without the noise and the spotlight. And I also lost my damn sense of smell in the accident.”
That last part hits harder than I want it to. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. But there it is, raw and unvarnished, hanging in the dark like a bruise.
Sophia shifts closer, and this time the contact is full, her thigh brushing mine, the press of her shoulder warm and grounding. Then, without hesitation, her hand finds mine. Fingers lace like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“You don’t smell me,” she says softly. Not a question. Just the truth.
I nod once. “Inner ear got wrecked. Skull fracture did the rest. Docs said it was a miracle I didn’t lose more.”
She hesitates. “Do you… feel anything now? Around Omegas? Around… me?”
Her voice dips on the last word like she’s not sure she should ask. Like she’s already half regretting it.
I don’t look at her right away, just keep my gaze on the horizon. Stars flicker across the sky, quiet and distant. I wish I could smell her. Wish I could say yes with certainty. But I can’t lie about what I’ve lost.
“Not scent,” I admit. “But… that’s not the whole story.”
She turns, her body angled toward me now. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I may not pick up on instinct,” I say slowly, “but I’m not exactly unaffected either.”
She blinks. “So you do feel… something?”
“Plenty of things,” I say, finally looking at her. “Just not in the way an Omega like you deserves.”
Her brow pinches slightly. “You don’t think I get to decide that for myself?”
“I think you should have the full picture,” I state. “That’s all. No scent, no bond. Not in the way you’d get with Cash or Walker. And maybe that’s fine right now. But down the line?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Just watches me, lips pressed tight like she’s weighing every possible reply.
“I’m not even sure what I want tomorrow,” she says eventually. “Let alone down the line.”
“Fair enough.”
Silence stretches between us.
“You said you still feel things. What kind?” she murmurs.
I huff a quiet breath. “Things that make it real damn hard to sit this close to you and pretend I’m unaffected.”
She gives a small smile at that, then glances down at our hands.
“Guess that makes two of us,” she whispers.
My jaw tightens, but I don’t pull away. “Probably not the smartest idea.”
