Page 75 of Kicking Up Dust

“You’ll freeze to death,” he warns, having to raise his voice so I can hear him above the rain.

Austin’s dark red curls, pasted to her face by the rain, appear beside him, her eyes worried. She reaches for me, pulling me away from Maddox.

“Come on,” she says gently, guiding me where she wants me to go.

“Call Colt,” he tells her once we’re inside the barn and the rain isn’t soaking us anymore. I’m so cold. “Blair, I need you to sit down here for a second. Can you do that?” He takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shivering shoulders.

Where’d Austin go? Why was Maddox talking to me again? He hated me. He thought I slept around. Thought I was after Colt’s money. After their ranch.

“Blair, I need you to calm down for me, please,” he says gently, taking my hand and pressing it against his chest. “Can you match your breaths to mine?”

I try to pull away but he holds me firmer. “Your baby needs you to breathe normally. Can you try? Austin’s calling Colt. He’ll be here soon, but it would really help if I could get you calmed down before then.”

Baby bear. He’s right. Her oxygen comes from mine. If I’m not breathing, she’s not breathing. I work to follow his lead, focusing on my hand against his chest and matching the movements to my lungs, a distraction from the panic.

“Good, you’re doing so good,” Maddox says gently. He seems like an entirely different man than the one at the table earlier, and I have to wonder if this is the side of him that Austin gets to see.

It takes a few minutes, but my breathing slows enough that he feels comfortable letting go of my hand. The rain continues to pound on the roof and I try very hard not to let myself get worked up again, thinking about Colt being outside, driving in this weather.

“He’s on his way,” Austin says, as though she can read my mind. She pockets her phone and takes a seat next to me on the bale of hay they’d sat me down on earlier.

Maddox opens his mouth to interject, but Austin cuts him off.

“I told him we had her and to drive safe, Rancher.” He looks torn between touched and irritated that she’d known what he was going to say.

“Sorry. I don’t know what that was,” I lie, feeling embarrassed as I rub my arms, trying to get rid of some of the water on them. It’s a lost cause and I feel bad for getting Maddox’s jacket all wet inside. Austin jumps up and heads to a little closet in the corner, bringing back a few old towels and passing them out.

“It was a panic attack,” Maddox says, waving away the towel she tries to give him. Austin rolls her eyes fondly and wraps a different one around my hair, trying to squeeze out some of the rain so it stops dripping. “Do you have anxiety?”

I nod, still not able to meet his eyes, thanking Austin instead.

“I have it, too,” Maddox says. “I’m sorry if I caused it.”

It’s such a blunt thing to say that it takes me by surprise. Not only that a man as gruff and capable as Maddox has anxiety—something I only view as a weakness in myself—but also that he so easily apologizes for the role he might’ve taken in causing it to spiral out of control tonight.

“The rain, mostly,” I say, a bit of a cop-out, if I’m being honest. It had primarily been about the conversation at the table, the reminder of how it felt to be unwanted, but the rain had certainly exacerbated it.

Colt’s headlights bounce along the ground outside as he whips up in his truck, not even bothering to turn it off before he’s out the door and running into the barn. Maddox just barely manages to get out of the way before Colt’s kneeling down in front of me and taking my face in his hands. I’m so glad he’s okay that my face immediately crumbles with the weight of the relief and the residual anxiety, my body recognizing and seeking out its safe space.

“Shh, mama, you’re okay,” he promises me, pulling me into a hug. I love our baby so much, but sometimes, I hate the way my bump makes it difficult to be as close to Colt as I’d like.

Maddox clears his throat after a few seconds, clapping his hand on Colt’s shoulder, which makes him stiffen around me.

“Come to the house tomorrow so we can talk. I’m sorry for how I handled things.”

Colt nods, but doesn’t pay him any more attention, helping me stand and leading me to the truck again. I think it might be time to explain to him why I hate the rain so much.

FORTY

BLAIR

Colt’s being unnecessarily hard on himself. He’s quiet in the driver’s seat as we head back to the cabin at a snail’s pace. The rain isn’t even coming down all that hard anymore, but I appreciate the care he’s taking in trying to make sure I’m not triggered further, even though he doesn’t exactly understand what part of the rain is triggering for me yet.

“I’m sorry I left,” he says as he puts the truck in park in front of the cabin. He doesn’t look at me, instead staring straight ahead.

I reach out to put my hand over his on the gearshift. “It’s okay.”

He pulls away from me, which stings.