Page 117 of Wilder

The second my boots had hit the gravel outside the stables the day I’d sent Asher home, the breath I’d been holding finally collapsed out of me, not at all bringing the relief I desperately thought it would.

Instead, it brought nothing. Just this hollow ache that bloomed inside of me and spread like wildfire through every vein in my body.

But I didn’t stop walking.

Couldn’t.

If I did, I’d turn around. I knew I would. It would only be a matter of giving in to what my heart bled for that would have me spinning around and running back into that barn, scooping Asher clean off his feet and holding him tight to me while I apologized endlessly into that tangled mess of hair of his until we were both a puddled mess on the floor.

I’d hidden myself away in my office after that, made sure to not be around when his bags were carried out to the cab and packed into the trunk. Avoided seeing him say his goodbyes to everyone and climb into the backseat as the door was slammed shut behind him, dust kicking up behind the tires as he was taken off property.

I’d been careful to avoid my ranch hands and their questions, their confused gazes exchanged with one another, as they searched for answers on why I’d let my favorite go.

I told myself that all of this was the right thing to do. That sending him home would spare us both more pain than we’d already been forced to deal with. Being here—tangled up in whatever the hell would’ve happened once the rest of the staff found out about us—was only going to hurt him worse in the end.

The longer I stayed with myself, the more I had to sit with my own thoughts, my own feelings, that were starting to tell me a different story. A more honest one, as I began to listen.

It was all bullshit.

I hadn’t done it for Asher—not entirely.

I’d done it because I was scared.

Because every second I spent with him chipped away at the walls I’d spent my whole life building.

He saw through me too easily, he looked at me like I was someone worth knowing, worth loving, and I didn’t know how to carry the weight of that—the responsibility that came with having someone like Asher as a permanent part of my life.

My selfishness in wanting to keep him didn’t mean I knew how to take care of him or a relationship. Not the kind that he deserved to have.

I didn’t want to break him, that was never my intention.

But I had anyway.

I’d ripped the ground out from under him. I’d promised him better without ever saying the words out loud. In every look, every touch, every moment that I allowed myself to drift too close, I’d been promising him more. Then I’d gone and destroyed it all in one single goddamn conversation.

Now, I had nothing left.

Of him.

Of me, before we met.

Of us.

Nothing.

A deserving, fitting, end for someone like me.

CHAPTER 30

Wilder

I found Sully near the south fence line, leaning heavy against it like he’d been standing there for a while.

He moved his head in slight twitches as he followed the movement of our two new colts, watching as they kicked up dirt in the late afternoon light while running around the rest of the herd. His arms were crossed over the top rail, a relaxed line to his back.

To anyone else, he seemed at ease. Relaxed, even.

Knowing him as long as I had—my entire life—I knew the tension in his shoulders spelled things a little differently, saw the curve of his spine stiffen the moment I drew closer.