Page 84 of Saddle Storm

Dallas: lol

I shake my head with a grin. Least he didn’t come back with, What else is new?

I turn and step back into the cottage, catching Storm mid-pace between the kitchen and the living room. She stops cold when she sees me, eyes searching my face, her expression caught between confusion . . . and relief.

I shut the door and turn back to her.

“Morning,” she says, her voice raspy.

I don’t say anything as I take my time crossing to her, watching her shift to smooth herself out like I didn’t just catch her spiraling because I wasn’t in bed with her when she woke up. Because she didn’t know where I was.

She straightens at my advance, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen it.

A slow, knowing smirk pulls at my mouth when I reach her. “You thought I left.”

Dropping the act, she sighs. “Ugh. Can you blame me, hotshot?” She turns toward the kitchen. The pot of coffee already going.

I catch her arm with my left one—already conscious of the overuse yesterday. “No,” I tell her. “I don’t blame you.”

Putting light pressure against her abdomen, I push her until her lower back hits the island. I’m towering over her and I don’t like it. Stepping back, I say. “Get up here.”

Glancing behind, she hops onto the counter like a pro.

I grin and lean into her. “God that’ll never get old.”

“What?”

“You doing what I tell you.” I stroke her jaw.

She purses her lips and cocks her head. “Something you need to say?”

“Yes.” I set both hands on either side of her. “I don’t blame you for thinking I left. But I want it to be the last time you doubt me, Storm.”

Her hazel eyes flash at the command in my tone, then narrow at the audacity of it. “Do you always get what you want?”

“I thought I made it clear yesterday, Bee. I wanted you . . . all those years ago. I came back for you.”

Her eyes soften for a brief moment, dropping to my mouth, then back up. “And what did you do when you couldn’t have me? When someone got in your way?”

I swallow. “I left.”

There’s a momentary beat between us. “Can I get down now?”

“No. There’s something else I need to say so there’s no question about my intentions. I want you. I want this.”

She scoffs. “Silas, last night was—” Her voice cracks like blowing this off is harder than she thought it would be. “It was amazing,” she finishes with a breath. “But I don’t think it’s good for anyone to bet our hearts on a morning-after high.”

I lick my lips, taking her hands. “Fair enough. But this isn’t some big revelation, Storm. It’s . . .” I search for the right words but they’re not as poetic as she deserves. It’s honest. “It’s just the truth finally catching up to me.”

The look in her eyes is like she’s almost afraid to ask. “What truth?”

“When I came back for you . . . and your father sent me away—I was still weak. Still raw from being shut out by my own family for being different. Not because they pushed me out—but because somewhere along the way I convinced myself I didn’t belong there anymore.” I grip her hands a bit tighter with the confession and feel her soft thumbs smooth my rough skin. “What I heard wasn’t a simple request from a protective father. It was bigger than that for me. Almost solidifying my choice to move on. For a moment, I thought holding on to you was a way to hold on to my roots, my town, what’s familiar, but it wasn’t. It isn’t. You were something else entirely for me. Someone I used to love spending time with. The first person I thought of when I got the news of the early draft picks. Losing you meant far more to me than being cheated out of learning how to saddle a damn horse.”

She exhales a laugh, her eyes misting over.

“I don’t blame you for doubting me, Storm. But I’m not walking away this time. So unless you don’t feel the same, don’t expect me to.”

She wants it too. I can feel it. I can see it by the way she leans in to what I’m confessing. Like a longing she’s too proud to admit. But there’s still that shadow behind her eyes—one I keep catching that’s got nothing to do with me leaving. And everything to do with something she’s not ready to say.