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I’d begged her. Pleaded with her to let me make the distance work. But she had said no. That last night with her—despite the way she kissed me, despite the way she clung to me—I knew it was over.

I tightened my grip on the reins, tilting my head back to stare at the sky. Thunder moved beneath me, powerful and steady, his muscles flexing with every step. I reached down, threading my fingers through his mane, grounding myself in the feel of him.

If I hadn’t deleted Eleanor’s number, hadn’t blocked her as my final goodbye, I might’ve called her. Right here, with the sky and the dying sun as my only witnesses, I would’ve sunk low and begged her again. But I couldn’t because past Colton knew future Colton would be weak. Knew he’d give in.

I did love her. God, I still did. It would take me longer than I wanted to accept that being alone was my future.

Desperate to dull the ache, I turned Thunder back toward the ranch. The Spur & Barrel was calling my name, and tonight, I’d answer. I’d drink until the burn in my chest matched the burn in my heart. I’d find a way to make the war inside me go quiet. Because this kind of hurt…this was the only way I knew how to survive it.

Chapter 45

Colton

AFTER PUTTING THUNDER away, I dragged my sorry ass to my truck and drove straight to The Spur & Barrel.

Tonight, this barstool would be my home and bourbon would be my only conversation.

Ironically, the same bartender who’d been here the night I met Eleanor was behind the counter, moving just as damn slow as ever. Nothing had changed here. Not in this place. But everything had changed in me.

Back then, I think I cared too much. Now, I didn’t care enough.

I held the rocks glass in my hand, swirling the amber liquid, watching it catch the dim light as my mind replayed my conversation with Cooper. To an extent, he was right. Normally, I’d sit right here, find some passing tourist to take home and let her help me forget. But tonight, there was no forgetting. There was no replacing what I’d lost.

Flexing my knuckles, a sharp sting reminded me of the punch I’d landed on Cooper. I didn’t regret it. He should’ve kept his damn mouth shut. He’d pushed me, and I let him get the best of me.

Lifting the glass, I took a slow, deliberate sip, letting the liquor burn its way down my throat. The warmth did nothing to thaw the cold inside me.

Chasing her wasn’t an option. I’d already done that. I’d begged. I’d made a fool of myself at her rejection. Eleanor had been clear—whatever we were was done. We existed only in memory now.

It had taken me weeks to finally send the painting I’d bought her. For a while, I toyed with keeping it, hanging it on my wall, letting it be something I could look at when I needed her.

I knew better.

It wouldn’t bring me peace. It would only piss me off.

The bar was packed tonight—people lined the counter, others twirled and swayed on the dance floor, moving to the country music spilling from the jukebox.

The same jukebox that was taunting me.

Some asshole chose to play “You In A Honky Tonk” by Randall King, and I let out a pathetic laugh at the cruel irony. Another reminder of Eleanor Stewartt.

The way we danced on that very floor, gliding and spinning like we were the only two people in the world. That was the night I started chasing her. The night I never stopped, until she’d left.

I downed the rest of my drink, raising my glass for another.

“Again.”

The lanky bartender stretched onto his toes, yanked the bourbon from the top shelf, and slammed it onto the bar. The liquid sloshed in the bottle as he met my gaze.

“You look like you need the whole damn thing.”

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

I gave him a curt nod, grabbed the bottle by the neck, and poured until my glass was filled to the rim. Without hesitation, I took a long, burning pull.

“I’ll take a bourbon on the rocks.”

A familiar feminine voice cut through the twang of the music.