Page 7 of Ghosted Cowboy
The words hit like a fist to the gut. Because those weren't just Evangeline's words.
I stepped onto the stage, coming up behind her like Vivian had directed. Close enough to feel the heat from her body. Close enough to catch the scent of her—lavender, like always—that made my chest tight.
My line was simple.
"I never wanted to."
But the way it came out—rough, raw, real—wasn't acting. That was the truth I'd been carrying. The guilt that had eaten at me every single day since I'd left.
Rainey's breath caught. Her mask slipped for just a heartbeat. I saw the hurt underneath.
Then Vivian called "Hold!" and the spell broke. Rainey stepped away from me fast, putting distance between us. "Good. That was good. We'll work on the timing more, but that intensity is exactly what we need."
The rest of rehearsal blurred. More changing positions, more scenes, Vivian encouraging the actors to discover the true motivations of their characters. Brooke kept finding reasons to stand too close, to make comments about "chemistry" and "working closely together." I kept moving away.
Through it all, I watched Rainey. How she became the lovelorn saloon girl on stage, losing herself in the role. How she carefully avoided looking at me when we weren't required to interact.
God, I'd missed her.
When Vivian finally called it for the night, the cast started gathering their things, chatting about the production. Rainey headed toward the prop room, away from the crowd.
This might be my only chance.
I followed her into the dimness at the back of the stage. She was looking through a rack of costumes, her back to me.
"Rainey."
She stiffened but didn't turn around. "Don't."
"I need to—"
"Five years, Ransom." Now she did turn, and the anger in her eyes was worse than I'd imagined. "Not even a text. Not a call. Not a single word to tell me if you were alive or dead or just done with me."
"I know."
"You know?" Her laugh was bitter. "That's all you have to say? You know?"
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix anything." She grabbed a shawl from the rack, gripping it like a lifeline. "Sorry doesn't make up for wondering what I did wrong. Of checking my phone every day thinking maybe today you'd remember I existed. Of trying to convince myself I didn't care when clearly I was stupid enough to care way too much."
Each word landed like a punch. I'd earned every single one. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was never about you."
"Then what was it about?" She moved closer, those green eyes blazing. "Because from where I stood, one day we were planning a future, and the next day you were gone. No explanation. No goodbye. Nothing."
I opened my mouth, but the words stuck. How could I explain without breaking the promise I'd made to Aiden? Without telling her things I'd sworn never to tell anyone?
"I can't—" I started.
"Can't what? Can't tell me? Can't be bothered to come up with a decent excuse?" She shook her head. "You know what? It doesn't matter anymore. We have to work together for the next few weeks. Let's just keep it professional and pretend we're strangers otherwise. Shouldn't be too hard. We basically are now."
She started to walk past me, and I caught her arm. Just a touch, but she froze.
"We're not strangers," I said quietly. "We could never be strangers."
For a heartbeat, her expression softened. Then the wall slammed back up.
"Let go, Ransom."
