Page 73 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
So I lift my chin, force my voice steady, and whisper the most brutal lie I’ve ever told. “I do.”
That single sentence rips something vital from both of us. I feel it in my bones.
Beck’s face hardens, the light in his eyes dimming, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he doesn’t fight back. He just nods, slow and hollow, then turns and walks out the door.
Each heavy step fades until all I hear is the hammering of my own pulse.
Behind me, my father exhales, smug and sharp. “I told you that boy was going to ruin you.”
The words slice through me worse than any blade. I fold into myself, my arms wrapping around my stomach as though I can shield the life inside from the mess outside.
And though the house is full of people, I’ve never felt more alone.
The silence after Beck leaves is unbearable, thick enough to choke on. My father lowers the shotgun with a grunt, muttering under his breath as if he’s accomplished something. My brothers linger in the doorway, their expressions unreadable, shadows against the light spilling in from the hall.
Then Landon speaks, his tone quiet but sharp enough to cut through the heaviness. “Real proud moment, huh? Running him off with a gun like some villain in a bad western.”
“Watch your mouth, boy,” my father snaps, his eyes narrowing. “That piece of trash was trespassing where he didn’t belong.”
But Landon doesn’t flinch. His gaze flicks to me, steady and unyielding. “You’re really gonna sit there and pretend like this is all on Beck? Come on, Quinn. You know better.”
The words hit me like cold water. My chest tightens, shame creeping in around the edges, but I force myself to hold my ground. “Don’t, Landon.” My voice wavers, betraying me. “Don’t put this on me.”
“I’m not.” He takes a step closer, lowering his voice so it’s just between us, though the sting of it still burns in the silence. “I’m saying it takes two to tango. Unless he forced you, and I know damn well he didn’t, you were right there with him. You both made this baby. You both lit this fire. Don’t stand here and act like you didn’t strike the match too.”
Tears blur my vision, hot and unrelenting. I hate him for saying it out loud, for forcing me to face the truth I’ve been clawing to bury. My father huffs, clearly annoyed, but doesn’t argue.
Landon sighs, dragging a hand down his face, softer now. “You can scream at him all you want, Quinny. You can even believe he ruined your life. But deep down? You know that’s not true. And when the dust settles, you’re gonna have to live with the fact that you pushed away the one person who’d walk through fire for you.”
His words hollow me out, leaving me raw and trembling. I want to argue, to scream, to throw something—anything—to drown out the echo of Beck’s footsteps fading from my life.
But all I can do is stand there, clutching my stomach, the weight of my choices pressing down until I can barely breathe.
28
BECKETT
My headlights blur into streaks as I push the truck faster down the dark road, gravel spitting under the tires. My hands grip the wheel so tight my knuckles ache, but I don’t let go. I can’t. If I slow down, if I stop, I’ll think. And if I think, I’ll see her face again—pale and furious, her words sharp enough to carve me open.
You ruined my life, Beck.
She was right. God help me, she was right.
The truth of it presses down on me, leaving me breathless. I’ve been choking since I walked out of Atwood Manor, since she looked at me like I was poison. Maybe I am. Hell, I’ve poisonedeverything I’ve ever touched—my rodeo career, family, and reputation. And now her. The one good thing I ever had, and I’ve managed to shatter it.
The night air coming in through the cracked window does nothing to clear my head. Wrangler Creek fades in the rearview mirror, but the shame doesn’t stay behind with it. It clings, heavy as tar, crawling under my skin.
I slam my palm against the steering wheel, the horn blaring into the emptiness. “Goddammit!”
I can’t go home. I can’t face Dad’s disappointment, my brother’s questioning, and Ella’s worry. I can’t face Quinn’s brothers either, especially Landon, who trusted me with his sister. No, I need distance—somewhere no one expects me to be strong, or sober, or worth a damn.
Which means there’s only one place left to run: Ryder’s.
My big brother, the family’s black sheep. He walked away years ago and never looked back, building a life out in the wilderness where no one could tell him what to do. Everyone calls him trouble, whispers about the shady things he might be mixed up in. But right now, I’d take Ryder’s rough edges over the suffocating weight of Wrangler Creek. He won’t judge me. He’ll laugh in my face, maybe, but he won’t expect me to be anything other than the screw-up I’ve always been.
So I keep driving past the county line and the place I call home. The road narrows, the stars stretch wider above me, and still, I can’t outrun the sound of Quinn’s voice in my head.
Her tears. Her fury. And the knowledge that I’ve lost her.
