Page 56 of Sugar
I stifle a scoff. This is the last place I want this conversation to go. “I didn’t have a choice,” I admit.
His gaze narrows. “Then why did you say yes? Why did you let me put that ring on your finger?”
“BecauseI wanted you.” My voice breaks. “But I didn’t trust myself.” The words spill out of my mouth, revealing a fractured part of myself I never intended for him to see.
“Didn’t trust yourself to do what?” he asks.
I let my gaze trail along the hard set of his jaw, deciding how far I’m willing to go. “Stay,” I answer honestly. I move to sit down in a chair on the other side of the table as I work to gather my thoughts. “I didn’t trust myself to stay here. I wanted to say yes to you, Kasey. When you asked me to marry you, I felt sounbelievablyhappy. Like every dream I ever had was coming true. But then I remembered who I am, and . . . I didn’t trust myself to stay.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure I even know how to. It’s like this . . . this curse. Sometimes I think I was built to run from everything good in my life. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.” I let out a bitter laugh. “And it’s exactly what I did anyway. I convinced myself that if I left, I’d find some relief from the pressure of this place, and maybe I’d learn to be still. I even thought maybe Icould come back to you someday, but . . .” I let the words die off. “I mean, it’s not like I could’ve asked you to go with me?—”
“Why?” he demands, color rising in his cheeks.
“You would have said no,” I say plainly. “You wouldn’t have come.”
“Yes I fucking would have!” he snaps, rising to his feet with a strong push that sends his chair flying behind him. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”
“You have the ranch, Kasey!” I yell. “I know what it meant to you, what it still means to you. I wouldneverput you in a position where you have to choose between it or me. I already know what you’d pick!”
“I would have chosen you,” he insists, and the sincerity in his eyes crack me wide open. “I would havealwayschosen you.”
He shakes his head, turning away from me. “I’m going to bed,” he says, sounding defeated, before disappearing down the hallway.
I hear the soft click of his bedroom door as he pulls it shut behind him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
KASEY
“Well, look who it is,” Rhett grumbles from inside a barn stall, a shaving fork gripped in his hand, looking a little green around the gills. “All this ‘I better find you in that barn at sunrise, or your ass is grass’ bullshit and you don’t even show up ’til fucking ten.”
He’s right, I’m late. But I don’t have the patience to deal with him this morning. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“Yeah.” He nods. “You better fucking be.”
Wells strides in, leading a retired racehorse we’ve been working with back into his stall. He raises an eyebrow as he looks from Rhett to me. “Fair warning. He’s a little cranky,” he tells me, nodding to Rhett.
“Seven shots and half a dozen beers will do that to you.”
Rhett suddenly hunches over to gag in the corner. When nothing comes up but a mouthful of spit he aims in my direction, he takes a moment to collect himself before straightening and looking back at me. “I still showed up this morning.” He glowers. “I think I’m stilldrunk, actually, and yet I almost have this whole barn clean.”
I sigh, working to press down my own irritation. “Look, I’m sorry. It was a late night.” Not a lie—I didn’t get into bed untilalmost two in the morning after that disaster of a conversation with Ava, and then I tossed and turned all night with more fucking nightmares. “I must have slept through my alarm.”
“Late-night visits from pretty brunettes can have that effect,” Wells quips with a sly grin. “I mean, hell, I know all about it.”
“That’s not what happened. She was just here to talk.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” He laughs. But his smile slips as he really looks at me. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I say, turning to reach for a saddle pad so I can get the golden mare Ava pointed out the other day ready for a ride.
Rhett grumbles something under his breath to Wells, but I don’t hear it and I don’t want to. I ignore them both as I focus on my task of getting the horse ready for a ride before leading her out of the barn. She puts up a bit of a fight at first, none too happy with being saddled, but after a few affectionate strokes along her nose and some murmured praise, she allows me to do what’s needed.
There are two corrals that sit relatively close to the big barn, just outside of the wide doors, as well as a third tucked around the corner that we haven’t been using as much lately without Brooks in rotation on this training schedule. It’s further away from any prying eyes and, not trusting myself to keep my cool with my brothers today, I decide it’s where we’ll go.
Leading the mare takes effort because she’s not very trusting. She might’ve let me get a saddle and bridle on, but she doesn’t like it when I encourage her to keep moving with light tugs and lets out loud snorts in obvious protest. It takes controlled patience—something far easier to extend to her than to Rhett—but we eventually make it into the open pen.
