The realization hits me like a bucket of ice water.
He isn’t going to choose me. Not in front of them. Not in front of the world.
He’s going to let them tear me apart to keep the peace.
My chest cracks open. The hope I felt last night, the warmth of his arms, the sweetness of his whispered words—it all evaporates.
“Sedona?” Clara asks, limping over to me. “Are you okay?”
I don’t answer. I can’t breathe.
“Sedona, look at me.”
Billy finally meets my eyes. He looks pained. He looks conflicted.
But he doesn’t come to me.
He stays there, letting Tex and Seth handle Joey. He’s choosing his brothers. He’s choosing his pride.
I take a step back. Then another.
The reporters turn their cameras toward me, lenses zooming in on my tear-streaked face.
I turn and run. My boots pound against the hard earth as I sprint toward the bunkhouse. Behind me, Clara’s voice calls my name, but I don’t stop.
I can’t be out there. I won’t be the source of their fighting.
Reaching the door, I yank it open, then slam and lock it behind me. I lean against the wood, my body sliding down until I hit the floor.
With my face buried in my knees, the weight of it all hits.
I was stupid to think anything had changed. How could I let him touch me? How could I tell him I loved him?
He didn’t stand up for me.
He let his brother call me a plague. He let his brother push my friend.
And he did nothing.
I’m back in the same place I was five years ago. Alone. On the outside looking in.
The Carson brothers are a pack. And I’m just the girl who broke it.
I stay on the floor. The noise outside continues, muffled by the thin walls.
I don’t cry. I’m done crying.
I just sit there, staring at the ugly rug, feeling the last of my warmth turn to ice.
I lose track of time.
It could be minutes. It could be hours.
The light filtering through the window shifts from the harsh white of midday to the softer, golden hue of late afternoon. I stay on the floor, my back against the door, my knees pulled to my chest.
I don’t move. I don’t think. I just exist in the hollow space where my heart used to be.
The silence in the bunkhouse is heavy. It presses down on me, amplifying the noise in my head. The replay of the fight loops over and over.
