Page 50 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
He gets up from the bed, walks to his closet, and puts on some clothes before leaving me alone in his bedroom.
My phone is on the nightstand, so I give myself some encouragement and call Lou. She picks up immediately.
After a ten-minute call that includes a lot of scolding, screaming, and then cajoling, I end it and get into the bathroom for a shower. I walk past the mirror like it doesn’t exist, knowing I look worse than I feel and not wanting to see it.
Back in the bedroom, I realize that my clothes are nowhere in sight, but Zane has laid out another one of his t-shirts for me on the bed. After drying off, I shrug it on and go in search of him. He’s in the kitchen, setting out dinner when I walk in.
“You made all this?!” I gape at the multiple dishes in front of me.
He chuckles and waves me off. “I am talented in many ways, but cooking is not one of them. These are from the main house. Everyone is super worried, by the way, but I’ve assured them that you’re okay.”
“I know I’ve worried you all. I’m s—“
I really need to learn another word.
“Yes, you have, but we can talk about that later. For now, sit—let’s eat,” he commands.
I take the empty stool across from him and watch as he serves me some rice, chicken, and a salad.
“Thank you,” I express, pulling the plate closer.
My hands fist by the plate as my stomach churns at the thought of eating. I’m hungry—that I know—but I don’t think I can stomach this.
“One spoon at a time,” Zane entices as he picks up my spoon, fills it with rice, and holds it up against my lips.
I take it from him and take a bite. It doesn’t go down easy and I nearly throw up, but the encouraging look on his face keeps me going.
I barely manage to eat a quarter of the plate before I push it away. Zane doesn’t force me to eat more, which I’m grateful for—he just replaces my plate with a glass of juice. I’d prefer coffee, but at least it’s not food, so it’s easier to consume.
“Thank you once again for today.”
“You can thank me by telling me what really happened.”
I knew he was going to ask—it’d be weird if he didn’t—but I don’t want to talk about it. I shake my head, looking away.
“Ava...”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I quickly decline.
He sighs, and I hear him get up from his stool. I expect him to be his usual pushy self, but when I hear him leaving the kitchen instead, I freak out. I get up and chase after him, catching up to him in the living room. I grab his arm to stop him.
“Zane...”
“What do you want, Ava? You’ve already made it clear you don’t want to talk to me,” he asks, refusing to turn around and face me.
“It’s not that easy—please understand,” I plead.
“Then how come everyone else knew but me?” he asks, pulling his hand away from my grip.
“They only know the basics. I can tell from your eyes that what you want are all the nasty details, and I don’t want to talk about them,” I explain.
“Then I guess we’re done here,” he grits out, turning to walk away once more.
I jump in his path, blocking his way. “No, please, don’t be angry.”
“How can I not be when you won’t tell me anything?” he seethes.
I don’t know what to tell him. What happened between my mother and me is hard for me to talk about. I don’t think I’m ready to be that vulnerable in front of him.
