Page 71 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
“Happy now,” she grumbles before blowing her nose.
“Very,” I giggle. “I hope Zane loves it as well.”
“You wrote it for him?”
“Kind of. I saw how much Lilly’s death affected him, so I wanted to do something to honor her so he can always remember her,” I explain.
It’s also my gift to him for his success at the recent PBR competition. He didn’t win first place, but he qualified for the next round, and I’m really proud of him. Watching him in the arena, on that bull, is one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to encounter. I’d seen him ride a bull before, lots of times, but this is the first time after his accident, and knowing the extent of his injuries, there was much more at stake.
But he did everyone proud, and we’re all going to celebrate as a family tomorrow, but this is my personal gift to him.
“He is going to love it—it’s a beautiful song,” Ella insists.
“Thank you. I’m glad you approve.”
I set my guitar down—the very one Zane gifted me for my birthday—and pick up a glass of water.
Ella and I have been hanging out all morning. She surprised me with breakfast in bed since I spent the night in my room instead of Zane’s cabin. A horse was foaling last night, so he was occupied, and I didn’t want to spend the night alone in his bed.
It’s also refreshing spending time with Ella—she is and always will be my person. We fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before she breaks it with a very unexpected question.
“Do you remember the first time I called you after the accident?”
I nod, wondering where she’s going with this. “Yeah, it was six months after. I never asked how you got my new number, by the way—I’d changed it by then.”
“Lou gave it to me. I think she saw how much you were suffering and needed someone to talk to.”
That woman—she never said anything, but I’m so glad she went behind my back and contacted Ella. God knows I was drowning then, and my best friend reaching out was my saving grace.
“When she did, I held onto it for a week, wondering if I should call when you were the one who cut me off. Then one morning, I woke up and I heard your song on the radio, the one you wrote for me, r—“
“Royal?”
“Yes,” she beams, recalling the song I wrote for her sweet sixteen. It was meant for just her, but I’d ended up getting it produced later, and it became an anthem for close friends.
“I saw it as the sign I needed to call you. I was so scared you were going to hang up on me,” she admits with a sad laugh.
“Instead, I broke down crying,” I chuckle, recalling the vivid memory.
“And I cried with you. I think we cried for half an hour before either of us could make out a word.”
“I’d missed you,” I confess, taking her hand in mine.
She smiles and intertwines our fingers. “And I missed you too, so much. It hurt to hear you sound so broken, and I knew why—you carried the same guilt I did. So I made a decision not to bring up the accident unless you did.”
“I was never going to, for fear of what you’d say. I thought you would blame me too, and that would have broken me more than I already was.”
She shakes her head, gently squeezing my hand. “Never. I felt guilty enough already. And so began our unspoken rule—the accident was a forbidden topic between us.”
I bow my head in shame. “I wish we had talked about it. It would have saved everyone so much hurt, especially Zane and me.”
“How could you think that we’d sue you?!” Ella scolds.
I look up to find her glaring at me. “How could I not? I wanted to sue me, plus, have you met my mother? She can be very manipulative.”
Ella scowls as if she has tasted something bad. “That devil! I’m so glad you were able to get away from her.”
“Me too, but the effect her words and treatment had on me still lingers.”
