I’m too mad to care.
I swing back onto Shadow, gripping the reins tighter than necessary.
“Come on, boy,” I murmur. “Take me home.”
Thank God I’m good with directions. Thank God I pay attention. Because what if I wasn’t? What if I panicked? What if I got lost out here with a storm rolling in? What if I wasn’t strong?
The sky cracks with thunder in the distance, rain starting to sprinkle down, light but insistent.
How could he do that?
It’s at least ten minutes back, maybe more, and the rain’s already picking up. I give Shadow the signal to run, and he takes off beneath me, powerful and steady.
When I’m on this horse, I feel free.
Like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Maybe not on this ranch forever, maybe not with this man but here, in nature, moving fast, breathing deep.
The rain starts coming down harder, soaking my clothes, stinging my skin. I can see the guest house ahead.
“Come on, boy,” I urge softly. “We’re so close.”
I shake my head, frustration burning hot behind my eyes.
I’m not here forever. That’s the thing. Why can’t we just have a good time? Why can’t it be easy? Flirting. Messing around. Enjoying six months for what it is. I’m not asking for forever. I haven’t been in a relationship in years. The last man I let close was emotionally unavailable and cruel, and I promised myself I’d never tolerate that again. But this? Kissing me like he means it and then disappearing like it didn’t matter? Not okay. This should be something he wants. This is exactly what most men would want.
As I get closer, I see him.
Cole is sitting on the porch of the main house, a beer in his hand, watching me come in through the rain. Staring me down like he’s been waiting.
I stare right back at him. Not soft. Not curious. Pissed. Hurt. Embarrassed as hell. I won’t be the one to beg. If he wants me he can come get me.
I lead Shadow under the poplar tree to keep him out of the rain and tie him off, my movements quick and clipped. I kiss his nose, pressing my lips to him for a brief second because at least he didn’t leave me.
I glance back at Cole one last time. Then I slam the door behind me. I’m not saying I’m done with him but I won’t chase him either.
A few hours go by, and when I finally look up from the couch, I see Maggie outside my front window, leading Shadow back toward his stall.
So… they must’ve had dinner without me. Good, I need the space. I’m not punishing anyone, I'm protecting myself. That’s fine. I can handle that.
I’ll pop a TV dinner in the microwave like a responsible adult and pretend I don’t care. Who needs country cooking anyway? I need to get some writing done. That’s the whole point of being here.
I open my laptop and stare at the screen. Nothing. My brain is empty, which is ironic considering it hasn’t shut the hell up all day.
With a frustrated sigh, I turn on some music, country, because apparently Tennessee is rubbing off on me whether I like it or not. It helps a little. Loosens something. But I still feel wound tight. John did say the liquor cabinet was full… The problem is, I have no idea where it is.
I open every cabinet like a raccoon on a mission until I finally spot it, a small wooden chest tucked beside the recliner in the living room.
“Ah ha,” I mutter.
Jackpot.
Rows of tequila. Jack Daniel’s. A couple bottles I don’t recognize but don’t care enough to Google. I grab the Jack, crack it open, and take a deep swig.
Oh yeah. That’s the stuff. I know I’m numbing and not fixing but tonight, I don’t want to fix anything.
It burns going down, settles warm in my chest, quiets my thoughts just enough. I sit back down at the table, fingers flying across the keys, and suddenly the words are there. Chapter after chapter pours out of me like I’ve been holding it in for weeks. Every sentence feels like control I lost and am taking back. The storm keeps raging outside.
My brain doesn’t stop either.
