Page 340 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
I do.
To my core.
But I can’t say that.
“You disappear, you ghosted me, then you come back and we”—she cuts herself off with a swallow—“and now this?”
I step forward. “I kept that secret to protect you.”
“You kept it to protect yourself. If it’s even true.”
That does it.
Hurt, fury, betrayal, all slam into me at once.
“You never trusted me. Not then. Not now.”
“You don’t give me a lot to work with.” She holds her chin so damn high.
I take a step closer. “If you want an out, don’t make up excuses, just take it. Because what future do we have if you have to run to daddy and ask him something I would never lie about?”
She says nothing.
“I’ve got a banner to fix. Might as well face that fear. It can’t be worse than the woman I love not trusting me.”
My boots hit the dirt hard in long strides like I’m trying to outrun the last ten years. Or maybe it’s the last ten days.
I need something to hit.
I need my horse.
I need to ride away the feelings pulsing through me.
But those options are not at my disposal, so I need something to punch.
A tree. A wall. Anything.
I round the outside of the tent, striding by people slow dancing and making out.
Shit.
No privacy.
Why couldn’t that be Jade and me? How did we end up here? And why the hell does every painful addition to our relationship revolve around a feud I had nothing to do with?
A giant tree comes into view. Tall and thick, and I can already feel the bark slicing my skin.
Each step is faster. Harder. Stronger.
I’m feet away from drowning the feelings pumping through me, when my pa steps in my path.
I nearly tackle him, and it takes me a few steps to stop.
“What are you doing, son?”
“Fixin’ the banner.” I grit out.
“Looked more like you were fixin’ to give that tree a black eye.”
