Page 97 of Tame Our Wild

He peers down, watching the movement as it soothes him. “There was a time when it wasn’t lonely. My life was special in a way that not a lot of people get to experience, because I shared it with my twin.”

My brows draw together. Flashes of the pictures hanging on the walls in the house assault my eyes. I always thought their features were so similar. “Your twin?” I repeat in a whisper, trying to process.

He nods. “Paisley.”

“You said shared, as in past tense,” I murmur. “But the way you talk about her … The things you told me—”

His chest rises and falls, the weight of this moment making it too hard for him to look at me. The pause feels endless, but I give him time. “Paisley died when we were seventeen.” Colson’s heavy exhale sinks into my bones, hurt weaving through my ribs like a lasso that keeps tautening. “I guess I’ve never been good at letting go, so I still see her.” He says it so simply. “I couldn’t accept she was gone, and things were easier, pretending like she wasn’t.” He swallows.

“You told me she was with your parents.”

He nods. “She’s around when I want her to be. But I also believe I’m not the only one she’s watching over. I know she’s with them, too, even if it’s not the same as she is with me.”

“When I found you in the practice area …” I tread lightly. “I thought you were talking to yourself.” I already know the answer, but I ask it anyway. My voice is strained. “You were talking to her, weren’t you?”

His thumb pauses the circular motions on my hand, his head lifting to peer into my watery gaze. He doesn’t let go of my hand as his head bobs.

Aaron was the first person I’ve lost, and it felt like the world as I knew it had lost a piece that kept me balanced. Steady. God, I can’t imagine what kind of torment losing your sister can have on you.

Your twin.

My mind flashes to Mel, tears burning behind my eyes at the thought of not having her, even though I find her annoying sometimes.

I ask the next question that’s been weighing on me. My heart batters against my chest. “Why do I remind you of her, Colson?”

His eyes flutter closed, the dread written all over his features in the way his brows draw together. His dark, full lashes fan across his cheekbones, the soft kiss of the moon creating shadows that dance across his skin. When his eyes open again, I rub my thumb over the back of his hand, because I know the motion soothes him.

“Being in the professional bull riding circuit together was Paisley and my dream. We wanted to be the first set of twins to compete at that level.” He gives me a pained smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We had practiced, worked our way up through the junior circuits and high school leagues—We were so fucking close.” His voice breaks, while my heart starts splitting.

“One week, Paisley was injured, sitting out of practice with a fairly bad concussion. She could be so hardheaded and stubborn sometimes. Paisley was competitive. She was beautifully bold, resilient, and determined to prove she could, even when people thought she couldn’t. She convinced me to let her practice anyway, but partway through her ride, I saw her fear surface, dragging her back to that moment when the bull tossed her into the fence.” The moonlight drifting across the expanse of his throat moves. I hear the tears in his tone. Sometimes, we don’t need to cry out in the open when our soul is already breaking down in silence. “When she fell, I think she was so overwhelmed by the fear that she couldn’t move. The bull—”

I reach up to cup the side of his face. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it out loud,” I whisper.

“I do. I’ve kept it bottled up for so fucking long.” I nod lightly, giving him what he needs. “The bull’s hooves came down on her head and chest while she was hesitating. It felt like the slowest fucking seconds of my life, Harlow. Then, before I knew it, I was cradling my broken sister in my arms, clinging to hope that she would be okay. But deep down in my gut, I knew she wasn’t going to be. When they took her to the hospital, they found an intracerebral hemorrhage and rushed her into surgery. They said if she woke up, she wouldn’t be the same and would need a lot of help from my parents and me. She was unconscious for a week before …”

A tear glides off his bottom lashes onto his cheek. I swipe it away, letting him keep going.

“She woke up, and the first spark of hope hit me before she left me with two final words. She didn’t speak them, but she traced the letters on the back of my hand with her finger.”

“Letters?”

He says them slowly. “D. O. N. T. S. T. O.P.”

“Don’t stop?” My face falls along with my hand cradling his jaw. I painfully exhale as I lift his hand and stare at the ink embedded in the backs of his fingers.

Oh my God. All this time, I thought my rival had these tattoos because I expected it to be a joke that he was good with his fingers, and those two words were something women would scream at him.

I’ve never felt so wrong—so guilty for only seeing the surface level and not thinking there was depth to him, when I always judged him for not seeing the deeper parts of me.

We were both circling around each other in the kiddie pool and were now being plunged into the depths. His truths are floating to the top, forcing me to accept that the waters I’m wading in with him are darker than I thought.

“She didn’t say the words, but her final request was that I keep riding—That I would work to make it into the professional league even if she wasn’t there to experience it with me. The same minute I made her that promise, she passed.” His eyes slam shut. “Like my promise gave her the peace she needed.”

My fingers gently drift over his knuckles to the leather bracelet he always wears. I softly touch the sunflower charm, my attention then locking on the parts of his tattoos on his forearms.

“Sunflowers were her favorite,” he admits, watching me. “I gave her that necklace for our sixteenth birthday, and I always carry it with me.”

His name floats between us. “Colson.”