Page 60 of The Promises We Broke
Bullet lowered his head until his muzzle was inches from my face. His breath was warm against my cheek, sweet with the scent of hay and apples.
"The worst part is," I whispered, "I think I'm falling in love with the woman she's become, too. She's even more incredible now than she was as a kid. Stronger, more confident, more beautiful. She puts broken things back together for a living, and she's so damn good at it that watching her work is like watching art."
The horse didn't move, didn't step away from my whispered confessions. He just stood there, solid and patient and accepting in a way that made my chest tight.
"I know what you're thinking," I said. "If you love her so much, why don't you tell her? Fight for her? But here's the thing, Bullet, I already had my chance with her. I had everything I could have wanted, and I threw it away because I was too much of a coward to fight for it when it mattered."
I closed my eyes, remembering that night eleven years ago. The taste of her lips during our first and only kiss. The way she'dfelt in my arms, like she belonged there. The letter I'd written instead of the conversation I should have had.
"Maybe Laura's right," I said quietly. "Maybe she transferred my case because she cares too much. But caring too much about me has never ended well for anyone. Just ask my family how that worked out."
"Actually," a familiar voice said from behind me, "your family turned out just fine."
I spun around so fast that Bullet startled, taking several steps back. Booker was standing by the gate, two cups of coffee in his hands and an expression that was part amused, part exasperated.
"How long have you been there?" I asked, scrambling to my feet as fast as my cast would allow.
"Long enough to hear you wallowing," he said, holding out one of the coffee cups. "Which needs to stop."
I accepted the coffee, heat flooding my cheeks. "I wasn't wallowing."
"You were whining to a horse about a woman who already told you she wants to be friends again." Booker's voice was matter-of-fact. "She cares about you, Gage. She said so herself when she transferred your care. Stop overthinking it and ask her out."
"It's not that simple..."
"It is exactly that simple." Booker cut me off with the no-nonsense tone that had kept the ranch running smoothly for years. "You like her. She likes you. You're both adults. Ask her to dinner."
"She said friends," I protested.
"So start with friends and see where it goes." He shrugged. "But sitting out here every morning talking to Bullet about your feelings isn't going to get you anywhere except more conversations with a horse."
Bullet snorted, as if in agreement.
"Pull your head out of your ass, little brother. Life's too short to waste time on maybes."
With that characteristically blunt advice, Booker headed back toward the house, leaving me standing in the pasture with my coffee and the uncomfortable realization that he was absolutely right.
Maybe it was time to stop talking and start doing.
It was time to ask Billie Schulster out on a date.
Twenty minutes later, I was walking through the doors of the rehabilitation center before I could lose my nerve. My hands were sweating, my heart was racing, and I felt like a teenager working up the courage to ask his crush to prom.
Which, given the history, wasn't entirely inaccurate.
The receptionist looked up in surprise. "Gage? You don't have an appointment today, do you?"
"No, I..." I cleared my throat. "Is Billie available? I just wanted to talk to her for a minute."
"She's between patients. Let me check." She picked up the phone, and I used the thirty seconds of her conversation to question every life choice that had led me to this moment.
"She'll be right out," the receptionist said, hanging up with a smile.
Right out. No time to escape. No time to change my mind. No time to...
"Gage?"
I turned to find Billie standing in the doorway to the therapy rooms, looking professional and beautiful and slightly confused. She was wearing scrubs that should have been clinical but somehow made her look softer, more approachable.
