Page 60 of Drifter’s Heart

I finally glance up at him and find his silhouette standing tall above me where I sit on the porch of Dallas and Avaline’s house. They’re both out, so I have plenty of time for a showdown with this man, whatever form it’s going to take. And it’s time for some home truths. “You ran away,” I say softly, unafraid to be honest with a man for the first time.

“Fuck, Winnie.” West’s voice strains as his heel snaps to the ground, disturbing my line of ants who scurry around the impression.

Now who’s the cruel one? “I’m not sweet. We both know that.”

“Yeah. I figured that part out.” His rigid frame never changes, not when I hope he might sit beside me or crouch to my level.

I shade my hand over my eyes to see him, the sun right above us both. “Cord’s impossible. You left him in as bad a mood as you’re in right now. I’m not dealing with you both. Come back and fix it.” It’s not a plea; it’s a directive.

“Cord can fix his own shit. I’m not his babysitter.” West is as stubborn as me. Worse, maybe. We clash, but also I respect him. Maybe that’s why we get along, at least sometimes.

“You’re also his best friend,” I remind him. “Don’t be like me, West. It’s—” I close my mouth, unwilling to say the words.

He laughs. The sound retorts, cruel and sharp between us. “What, Winnie? Are you willing to say that you’re alone, and that your life is filled with meaningless relationships? Because I feel like you were.”

I rise, ignoring my ants. “That’s the mark of a true asshole. Maybe you and Cord should get together. The things he said the other night—” My chest squeezes tight at the memory.

West steps closer, and for the first time I see his face, if only in part, as the strange angle of the sunlight throws the shadows over us into sharp relief. Tight lines around his mouth and eyes display his anger at both himself and me, but it’s the endless self-hatred that hurts.

That burns.

“West,” I whisper, reaching up to graze my fingers across the stubble at his jaw.

A muscle ticks there as he grips my wrist in a firm hand, not rough, pulling my hand away gently.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Winnie,” he grates out. “This is the life I have. I told you it was nothing. No home, nowhere to stay. Don’t think I have more than I do.” Coal-dark eyes blaze into mine, daring me to challenge that statement.

I lean into him while he’s pushing me away with everything that he has. “I never said I wanted you to have everything, Wilder West. Or that I need that stability. Have you seen my life?”

A hand rises to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin. The warmth and security of his love floors me. My eyes flutter shut and I rest my cheek into his palm, if only for a second.

It’s all I get. He pulls back, stepping away. “I’ve seen your life, Winnie. You have a daughter. She deserves better than what we both can give her. It’s time one of us grows up.”

I open my eyes and watch his back, the lines hard and strong and fixed, rigid, just like him, as he strides away from me. Every step is sure and firm.

And every one cracks my freshly healed heart a little more until all that’s left is a pile of dust bearing the name of the drifter who wrote it there one night at Coyote Falls so many months ago.

“Go, Applehooves, go!” Sally calls to the bull in training that stands still beneath her and refuses to go anywhere as she flaps at it. “Come on, gee gee gee gee!” She makes clicking noises at it and then flops back. “Mommm. This one’s broken,” she shouts up at me.

I hang over the railing of the arena at Valiant Peak where the Invitational will be held tomorrow night. Sally and the calf look ridiculous, like tiny shrunken dots in the oversized space.

“That’s because its real name is ‘Poisoned Thorn,’” I call back to her, checking my sheet of the names Cord gave me earlier. “Try calling him that?”

“Is she still going?” Cord rests his elbows on the metal railing next to me. “Damn, that’s cute.”

I snort. “I mean, it’s cute because it’s going nowhere right now. If it leaves the ground, then I’m plucking your eyebrows in the middle of the night.”

“Ha. Lanie has dibs on things hair-related. You can take a number and get in line, Sissy.”

“How has she been at home?” Lanie and I crossed paths like ships in the night after I left. My bestie moved back into my place for a brief reprieve until after the Invitational, wanting to stay out of the organizational mess. Nomadic and used to solitude for most of the year, she and West have something in common—the people overwhelm for them both is real. She hinted in a text message earlier she might try to stay longer, but I was half-asleep at the time and now can’t remember if I replied or not.

Cord frowns. “Lanie sleeps a lot, and she misses her wolves. Working at a screen level like a regular nine-to-five person isn’t her favorite thing. She has migraines, and cravings, so Levi and I are kept busy.”

Dammit. I didn’t stock up the fridge before I left. Cloakton is big enough to have everything, and my place isn’t far from the store. I cringe inwardly at the oversight, but movement in the arena draws my attention back to my offspring. “I’ll bet. Go, Pathetic Thorn!” I holler, as the stupid horned beast trots in a circle—in reverse. What the hell was I worried about?

My fears are realized a moment later. Cord huffs a laugh as Sally finally calls the bull-to-be by his real name.

The damn thing takes off and rockets across the sawdust-laden arena with my offspring barely holding on. Cord cheers, while the rest of the Coyote Falls and Valiant Peak Invitational staff halt work to watch the center-stage spectacle unfold.