Page 64 of Saddle Storm

“What?”

“Dad, for Christ’s sake,” Silas mutters.

He raises his hands. “Sorry, I’m not helping. For what it’s worth, now that the idea’s in our heads, we’re not letting you not take it, Storm. You’re family here. Always been.”

Warmth floods my chest. “I appreciate that, Mr. Thorne.”

He nods. “Course if you don’t take it, Wilder says he’s going to make your start time six a.m. if that’s what it takes.”

I narrow my eyes. “Ya’ll got a bet going or somethin’?”

He stares blankly at me. “I think my eggs are getting cold. Good seeing you, Storm.”

I glare at Silas, then release a sigh. “I’ll ask the girls to swing by my place on the way back. Pick up a few things.” I point a finger at him. “But just for a few more days.” But also because I don’t trust this man not to buy the building just so he could get into my apartment to clean it out.

“Works for me.”

Rose rushes out with our coffees and urges Willow, who’s fussing over Emmit in his stroller by Dallas. “Will, he’s fine, let’s go. These lattes took forever.”

“I’d better go before she starts hollerin’ at me.” I offer him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, I just got in trouble for pulling your hair. And you didn’t defend me.”

“Why would I when I still feel the sting?” I whisper before grabbing my latte from Rose and hopping in the back seat.

21

Jenny’s moved our rehab sessions to near the barns, resistance bands anchored to a post, the late morning sun finally warming my bare back. I roll my shoulder once, then pull, controlled but aggressively. The burn intensifying with each stretch.

“Okaaaay. That’s better,” Jenny says with some hesitation. “Strength’s fine too. But—” Her eyes narrow. “You’re still rushing it.”

First I was pushing it, now I’m rushing it. Damn woman’s going to refuse clearing me, I just know it.

I reset my grip and pull again, jaw tight. I don’t hear Jenny’s warning. Her judgement on how much I know I can handle. All I hear is Storm’s voice from the other morning, barely teasing as she looked me in the eye. I imagine they make those things to know what they’re doing.

“Ease up. You’re carrying a lot of tension.”

No kidding.

The band shakes as I hold the stretch longer than I should, bicep screaming, breath shallow. This isn’t about my arm anymore—it’s about control. Restraint.

Storm has to know I didn’t walk away because she offended me. I walked away because she doesn’t have faith in me. And okay maybe I was a little offended, but not because she thinks I’m leaving town again. That she thinks one time with me is going to be enough.

It’s not.

And the urge to prove it to her is too strong to keep resisting.

I release hard, arm dropping, chest heaving.

Jenny makes a note on her clipboard, not looking at me now. “Something on your mind, hotshot?” she asks bluntly.

My eyes flick to her. “Don’t call me hotshot.”

And I mean it. Not for the same reason I didn’t like it when Storm first called me that. But because it’s Storm’s.

“All right, all right, get a hold of yourself. Look, we’ve got two more sessions this week and then I need to fill out an official report on your progress. Whatever’s going on in your head, handle it, control it—whatever you need to do. Because it’s fucking with you.”

Damn right it is.