Page 33 of From the Ashes
And my anger abates just enough for me to ask about the prognosis.
“What’d they say?” I jerk my head toward his injured wrist.
“It’s broken in two places. My season’s done. And regardless of what you think of me, I’m not an idiot who’s going to risk my life by riding with a broken wrist. There’s not enough timeleft to acquire all the points I’ll need to beat Jackson, so finals are out too. Even if I’m healed by then.”Which we both know he won’t be.“And Phoenix, I never meant to hurt you. I was so locked in to that ride eight years ago, by the time I registered the fact that you were?—”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand because I can’t hear this. I can’t hear that I overreacted. That my career ended because ofmystupidity.Mycrush.Myinstant obsession with the guy standing before me right now. I can’t handle that truth because if he finishes that sentence, it means there’s a chance I could still be competing, and that I didn’t need to spend the last eight years punishing myself unnecessarily.
And that’s worse than thinking he’d used me.
“I was going to come talk to you after your ride,” Walker finishes despite my plea.
Goddammit.
My chest aches. My lungs hurt. My eyes burn. I’ve never wanted to embrace someone and kick the shit out of them at the exact same time.
I’m not prepared to rehash that awful day so long ago. Instead, I switch topics like a coward.
“Jackson’s almost as big of a prick as your coach,” I mutter to my boots, my anger retreating at the reality of Walker’s situation. I’ve gone from seeing red to a dull orange. I’m still pissed, but in the darkest parts of my soul, isn’t this what I’ve yearned for?
To see him again? Hear his voice?
He huffs a laugh and rubs the back of his neck under his cowboy hat.
“What’s your plan?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
“Go back to Texas, I guess,” he says with a half-hearted shrug.
The ache in my chest grows.
“When will you leave?” I shove my hands in my pockets to prevent myself from reaching for him. After last night, I know he’d come willingly and I just can’t let that happen, considering I’m not even over the first time he left me.
Walker shrugs again, not meeting my eyes. “Maybe tomorrow since I’m not competing Sunday. Guess I’ll have to figure that out.”
My phone pings from my back pocket. Out of habit, I pull it out. If nothing else, it’s a good excuse to prolong this goodbye.
Knox:
Just got done on a job. I got that breakaway latch you wanted for that sad excuse for a barn. You still at the arena?”
Phoenix:
Yeah.
Knox:
Be there in 15.
I slide my phone into my back pocket and look up to find Walker’s eyes on me. “Someone important?” he asks.
I hate that I can’t tell if the pain in his voice is due to his wrist or the thought that there’s someone special in my life. The second part almost makes me laugh out loud. I couldn’t even tell you the name of the last three women I slept with.
“Just a buddy of mine. I don’t date. Seems I have trouble letting people in.” I silently beg myself to shut the fuck up.
“Phoenix, I’m?—”
I interrupt.
“Sorry. Yeah, I know. Can’t rewrite history, though. Forget I said anything.”
