Page 62 of Drifter’s Heart

Cord grins. “Being impulsive is something Lanie thinks is new to me.”

I cackle. “She’s so freaking wrong.”

Cord lets out a small groan as he drapes an arm around me. “Now, don’t move because that’s the limit to my motion. We’re gonna watch Sally safely ride the dammed calf because that stupid thing is well worn out now. It only had one good dash in it, anyway. So let’s sit here and pretend to be friendly for a bit. And you’re gonna tell me what the hell you and West fought about earlier.”

“It was yesterday.” I close my eyes and curse. “Dammit, Cord. How do you do that?”

“It’s a talent.”

I grump at him. “Fine. But you go first.”

“You eavesdropped. You know what we fought about.” Cord shifts on the metal seat. “There’s a hoodie of Lanie’s in the bag. I need support.”

“You’re a stubborn man who needs a pillow under his bent ass.”

“Yeah. That too.”

“I want all the details. Then I’ll tell you why West and I broke up for good.” I watch Sally gallop around the arena on Apple-Sparkle-Thorn or whatever in the hell it is that she’s renamed the damn baby bull.

“You love him.”

“So do you.”

Cord laughs at me. “This isn’t a who gets to keep West competition, Sissy.”

I grimace. “Don’t call me that. I hate it.”

“You used to love it.” Cord wedges the hoodie that I pass him under one butt cheek. “That does the trick.”

“Lots of things have changed in the last few years. I had Sally. I threw Brad out. You lived your best afterlife for a handful of minutes. And you know what?”

“I’m gonna hear it whether I want to or not, aren’t I?”

“West was there the entire time. He’s my safety net. Yours too.” My heart is heaviest as I force the words out.

Cord blows out a long breath. I count every second. “What’s your point, Winnie?”

I’m glad he’s dropped the nickname. “Neither of us know if we’re capable of surviving without him being there for us.”

“We can.” Cord’s denial is swift and ill thought out.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“And you have a broken heart, big chicken.”

“Do not call me big chicken ever again.” I glare at him. “Just because I call Sally ‘chicken.’”

“Deal.”

I stay in my brother’s embrace, my confession winding around us, filled with doubts and home truths that have been on my mind for years but that I’ve never voiced until now. And every breath I take etches a new chink in the armor I’ve built between me and the world.

Armor that’s untested without the additional barrier of West between me and it.

I have to try, because otherwise I’ll never know. Which means that he can’t be there when I do.

And that hurts most of all.

TWENTY-ONE