I see her everywhere. In everything.
Every time I’m working on my house and pass by that fucking porch swing, I want to tear it down and burn it. But I can’t bring myself to destroy the memory of Sadie confessing her love for me while I was buried inside her.
It’s all so fucking pointless.
No matter how many hours I pour into work, no matter how many times I tell myself to let her go, it’s hopeless. I’m hopeless.
I’m hers in every sense of the word—and I’ll never be able to tell her that.
I pull the reins, asking Outlaw to turn left, but the fucker tosses his head back, turning right to spite me.
“You’re a real ass sometimes, you know that?” I ask, as if he would give me an answer.
It’s a small miracle that I’ve even managed to get a saddle on him and keep my seat. I think, despite his grumpiness, he kind of likes me.
A sudden whistle cuts through the air, and I turn my head to see Emmett leaning against the fence line. His hands are shoved into his pockets, jaw tight, and he looks a little unsure of himself.
“I thought you’d have given up on him by now.”
“The bastard’s grown on me.”
He nods, tapping his fingers against the post, eyes locked on the horse. “Can we talk?”
“Sure,” I say, taking one more lap before I dismount and gently pat Outlaw’s flank, letting him free to graze.
I climb over the fence, taking my hat off and wiping the sweat from my brow. “What’s up?”
Emmett hesitates. “I didn’t know. About you and Sadie.”
My jaw ticks at the mention of her name. At the reminder of what happened. Of everything that went wrong. But I don’t say anything. I clench my jaw and swallow the words I shouldn’t say—the words that would only shred my relationship with my brother and make everything worse.
Instead, I drown while standing on solid ground.
“I swear to you, Wes. If I had known you were—that she was—Ineverwould’ve made a move.”
I glance at him. His face is tight, like he really hates himself for it.
Good.
“Nothing happened,” he adds quickly. “We were both drunk. We made out. It willneverhappen again.”
A tidal wave of relief floods over me.
She’s not with him.
The tightness in my chest dissolves for the first time in days, and for a heartbeat, I can almost breathe again.
And then the agonizing truth cuts through me, slow and merciless, like a blade slipping between my ribs.
I wasn’t just wrong. I was cruel.
And she let me. As if it was what she deserved. As if she knew it was easier for me to be angry than to admit how much it hurt.
Her confession unravels in my mind, taking on a different weight.
She thought of me.
Not because she wanted to hurt me, but because wanting me was hurting her and she was trying to forget.
