Page 87 of The Cowboy and the Stray

Eventually, she did.

“I’m not running anymore,” Tess said.

I nodded. “Good.”

She glanced at the dead boar, then at me. “You could have told me.”

“I should have.”

She reached over and poked my leg where it had stopped bleeding. It was healed already. “You’re an idiot.”

I winced. “Probably.”

She wiped the blood on her jeans, then leaned back against the wall. “You owe me a shirt.”

“I’ll get you ten.”

We stayed there until we both stopped shaking.

Then I stood, offered her my hand, and she took it.

We climbed out of the ravine together, step by step, mostly with me helping her, as my ankle was clearly bothering her.

Tess tried to laugh, but it collapsed into a cough. She flinched at her own weakness, like it embarrassed her. “This is insane. I’m insane.”

“No,” I said. “It’s real. You’re not crazy.”

We sat down, out of the ravine and well away from the boar.

Tess massaged her ankle, and I scooted close but was careful not to crowd her. “Ask me anything,” I said. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

She stared at me. “Why me?”

“Because I’m selfish,” I said, which was true, but not all of it.

“Don’t bullshit,” she shot back. “You could’ve kicked me out a dozen times.”

“I didn’t want to,” I said, my voice cracking. “Not after I met you.”

I could see every freckle on her nose, every tremor in her hands. If I reached out, I knew I’d break something fragile, but I did it anyway. Slow and steady, like with a spooked foal.

She didn’t pull away, not at first. Her shoulders shook once, then twice. I expected her to slap me, or punch, or spit, but instead, Tess just leaned her forehead into my chest.

I put my arms around her. I didn’t mean to, but it happened like instinct. I’d have held her forever if I could.

Her breath came in little jerks. “I should be scared.”

“You are.”

She nodded. “Not of you, though.”

It surprised me, how much that meant.

We stayed like that for a while, tangled up in fear and sweat. After a while, I sat down in the dirt and pulled her into my lap, like I was the one who needed comfort. She didn’t fight it. Maybe she was too tired, maybe she just knew.

I stroked her hair, not knowing what else to do. “I’ll keep you safe. You know that, right?”

She sniffed. “Not from you. From everything else.”