Chapter 57 Facing Fears
HART
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A FLASH OF white shoots through my skull.
My hand flies up on instinct, clutching the bridge of my nose.
“Shit—” I stagger back, stunned more by the shock than the pain.
She turns fast, wide-eyed and pale, her chest still heaving like she hasn’t come back down from whatever has her in a panic.
That’s when my nose doesn’t hurt anymore.
“Hey, hey, I’m right here.” I’m reaching for her. “Are you okay? Just breathe with me.”
Her breathing is off, quick and shallow, as if she’s bracing against something only she can see.
She steps back.
That single step says everything.
“Jade?”
Her fingers tremble as she wipes sweat from her upper lip.
“I’m okay.” She takes another step back, as if she doesn’t even realize she’s just clocked me.
“Alright.” I stay rooted. “What are you doing out here?”
“I needed a break. A moment to myself.”
The usual snap of her voice is there. The one she designated to me before this week. Before we confessed a love that never died.
But it’s deeper than the snap. She wants me to go. She wants me to leave her alone. I’m not sure what’s happened in the last twenty minutes, but I’m not the asshole who’s about to start demanding more from her.
“I can leave.” I don’t want to take a step back, but I do, for her. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. Anything, Jade.”
Why is it so fucking hard to turn away from her? Why do the three steps I take feel like a lifetime?
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?” Her words sting.
I pivot to face her. “Not if you don’t want me to. Just say the word and I’ll stay.”
She runs her hands through her wild hair. “I never said I wanted to move in with you.”
The admission hurts. Stings. Rubs me all the wrong ways.
I swallow hard, keeping my voice steady. “I didn’t ask you to, but I assume eventually that’s where we’re headed.”
“And my last name?” Her eyes flash, sharp and challenging.
“What about it?”
“I ain’t changing it.” She crosses her arms, stubborn as ever.
I nod, slow and easy, folding my arms over my chest. The silence between us thickens.
“Are you askin’ me to marry you?” I finally say.
“No.”
“Okay.”
She takes a deep breath.
“What is this, then?”
“Our siblings. My sister’s ready to plan a bridal shower. And your brother’s ready to move me into some North Ridge Wilde property.”
I smile faintly. “They’ve been laying it on thick tonight.”
“That’s an understatement.”
My brows furrow slightly. “I mean, I do own that place.”
“That’s not the point, Hart.”
Her hands land on her hips in that don’t-fuck-with-me way that usually gets my insides pumping with admiration. But right now, the vibes aren’t on my side.
“Did you just assume I’d move onto Wilde land? Like it’s already decided?”
I blink. “No. I didn’t assume anything.”
“I’m not ready to have kids.”
Who the fuck said anything about kids? I just got her back, and I want to spend time with her. I’m not Levi. A kid isn’t where my head is at. Hell, I might never want a kid. And I’d tell her that if she gave me a chance.
“I’m not a Wilde. Not now, not down the road. Just because I’ve picked you, doesn’t mean everything else I’ve built doesn’t matter.”
My shoulders tighten. “Whoa. Hold on. I haven’t said any of this.”
“Really? Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like everyone expects me to fold into your life like mine doesn’t count.”
“I thought we were building something.” My voice rises with hers. “Together.”
“Together in your house? On your land? With your name? You offering me your dad’s tractor too?”
I step toward her, hands out like I think I can still steady this thing. “I’m offering you everything I have.”
She shakes her head. “Not if it erases me.”
“I don’t want it to erase any of you. I love everything about you.”
“I don’t want to be a Wilde!” She screams it so loud, my insides jerk.
I stare at her, breathing hard. For a second, I don’t say anything.
Then, when I do speak, it’s quiet and cold. “I didn’t realize you still hate my family more than you love me.”
Her mouth opens, then closes.
No objection.
No standing up for us.
“I wouldn’t care if I lived in a cardboard box as long as it was with you.
” I take another step toward her. “I would buy land with you. I would marry you. Hell, I’d take your last name.
But you can’t hate my family. Not now. Not when they’ve all tried so fucking hard to accommodate your sister. Your family.”
She swallows. That’s her response.
Unbelievable.
I shake my head. “I’ve forgiven your family. I’ve forgiven all the shitty choices we’ve all made in the name of this feud. But if either of us has earned a right to hate a family, I’d be at the front of that line.”
The words drop like stones.
Hard.
Final.
“What the hell does that mean?” Her voice snaps out like a whip.
My jaw clenches. My hands curl into fists at my sides. I didn’t want to tell her. Fuck, I don’t want to tell her. But I want her to see that the step I’ve made here isn’t a small one. My choice to be with her wasn’t taken lightly.
I rake my hand through my hair. “I don’t want to say it out of anger.”
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“Because it’s a big fucking deal to me.”
“What is?”
I lick my lips and press them together. “My dad didn’t just fall off the loft the night of the game.” The words hurt, but not as much as the memory.
Not as much as the punch to my stomach every time I relive that night.
I take a deep breath and push the air out until my lungs hurt.
“Your father pushed my Pa off that loft.” The words come out quiet, measured, and deadly clear.
“No. He didn’t.”
“Yes. He did.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I was there, Jade. That was the night I was going to tell my dad about us. After we made love under the bleachers.”
Her jaw ticks. No softness. No caring.
“I was determined. Fucking stupid. So cocky.” I grunt.
“Your dad was so angry, and they were arguing. At first, I didn’t even pay attention to their words because they were always arguing.
And then the fists came out, and honestly, that was nothing new.
Then they were talking about us. Your dad threatened to shoot me if he ever saw me on his property again.
A life for a life. I didn’t get it then, but he was referring to your aunt. ”
Her lips part, but nothing.
“My pa crashed down and hit a toolbox on the way.” Each word cracks and shatters me.
I’ve never told a soul.
No one.
“The crunch, it was so loud. Deafening.”
It plays in my head now.
“His body just broke and twisted beneath that metal. Then he hit the ground.” I close my eyes.
That thud I heard over and over in my sleep for years. Hell, sometimes I still hear it. I still wake up in cold sweats, like I’m that young teen still.
I open my eyes, but hers are so cold.
“It happened so quickly, and I saw darkness. Your life. My life. My dad’s life. And this fear pulsed inside of me, making it clear I couldn’t be with you, and I couldn’t tell you why. I couldn’t tell you at all.”
“No.” She steps back, shaking her head. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” But it fucking hurts that she thinks I would.
“Bullshit, Hart.” It’s a sharp, disbelieving bark. “Where was the police report? Why wasn’t my daddy arrested? There’s no paper trail to back this up, and if my daddy pushed yours, there would’ve been repercussions.”
She’s right. I’d always wondered the same thing. Her questions align with mine, but I’m having trouble getting past one thing.
“You think I made it up?” I ask.
“My daddy would never do something like that.”
“I wish that were true, Jade. I really do.”
“You’re a liar. He would never do that.”
“I’m sure it was an accident on your daddy’s part. Maybe he tripped or—”
“You’re sure?” She crosses her arms. “You think he’d do it on purpose?”
I do.
To my core.
But I can’t say that.
“You disappear, you ghosted me, then you come back and we”—she cuts herself off with a swallow—“and now this?”
I step forward. “I kept that secret to protect you.”
“You kept it to protect yourself. If it’s even true.”
That does it.
Hurt, fury, betrayal, all slam into me at once.
“You never trusted me. Not then. Not now.”
“You don’t give me a lot to work with.” She holds her chin so damn high.
I take a step closer. “If you want an out, don’t make up excuses, just take it. Because what future do we have if you have to run to daddy and ask him something I would never lie about?”
She says nothing.
“I’ve got a banner to fix. Might as well face that fear. It can’t be worse than the woman I love not trusting me.”
My boots hit the dirt hard in long strides like I’m trying to outrun the last ten years. Or maybe it’s the last ten days.
I need something to hit.
I need my horse.
I need to ride away the feelings pulsing through me.
But those options are not at my disposal, so I need something to punch.
A tree. A wall. Anything.
I round the outside of the tent, striding by people slow dancing and making out.
Shit.
No privacy.
Why couldn’t that be Jade and me? How did we end up here? And why the hell does every painful addition to our relationship revolve around a feud I had nothing to do with?
A giant tree comes into view. Tall and thick, and I can already feel the bark slicing my skin.
Each step is faster. Harder. Stronger.
I’m feet away from drowning the feelings pumping through me, when my pa steps in my path.
I nearly tackle him, and it takes me a few steps to stop.
“What are you doing, son?”
“Fixin’ the banner.” I grit out.
“Looked more like you were fixin’ to give that tree a black eye.”
“Not now, Pa.”
He chuckles. “Not now, huh?”
I scrub my hands over my face. “Where did you even come from?”
“I spotted you and Jade in some heated words.”
“Spotted or overheard? On purpose?”
“I don’t eavesdrop.”
I snort. “Can’t preach these lies to me. So, if you’ll step aside, I do have a date with that tree, then I’m going to go rehang the banner before it falls on our country singer.”
He steps sideways with me, his brows furrowed. “You don’t like heights.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” The words snap out of me. “And when did that start, Pa? Tell me, why don’t I like heights?”
“I don’t know, son.”
“Really? You don’t know? You can’t put the timelines together?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I was fine until the night you fell off the loft.”
He stares at me, confusion playing in his eyes.
“The night Mr. Fox pushed you.”
He really stares at me now, and his face twists into understanding and regret.
“Yeah. I was there. I saw it. Saw the whole thing. The argument and then the punches. I heard the crack and crushing of your body hitting the toolbox.” My voice is no longer laced with anger.
It’s like the little child in me is tearing past all the walls I’ve used to push down in this moment.
“I watched you lie there lifeless while he called for an ambulance. And I watched him leave as the medics walked in.”
“Hart, I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, well, I blame you and Mr. Fox for this fear. It’s pretty difficult to watch the family enemy shove your father off a loft and almost kill him.”
“I don’t know what to say. You should’ve talked to me. Or your mother.” Remorse now fills his eyes like that’ll make it all better.
“You should’ve talked to the authorities.” I get all up in his face. “You didn’t even charge him. You didn’t tell a single soul he was responsible.”
“He was hurting.”
“I was hurting!”
He looks away.
“No, no, no. You don’t get to look away from me. You almost died, and I carried that guilt. I cut things off with Jade. I got hit on the field. I lost everything because of that fucking fall.”
When he finally looks at me, it’s not anger, not even defense. It’s guilt, raw and heavy, sitting behind his eyes like it’s been there for years.
His jaw works as if he’s chewing on words he can’t spit out, and pain lives in the lines around his mouth, as well as in the way his shoulders sag, as if he’s been holding something up too long.
That look? It’s a man who remembers every second of that night and still wakes up to it.
A man who knows he nearly died.
And for a second, I almost hate how much I recognize it because it’s the same weight I’ve carried.
His hands land on my shoulder, strong and unshaken.
“Hart, that guilt doesn’t belong to you. You were never supposed to carry that burden.”
“But I did—I do. And it’s affected every step Jade and I take.”
“I’m sorry, son. What can I do?”
“Nothing. It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late. If anything, we’ve learned that.”
I step back, breaking our connection. “She doesn’t believe me, Pa. She thinks I’m lying. She thinks I’d make up a lie like this.”
“It’s her father, boy. Imagine if the roles were reversed.”
“I’d believe her. I’ll always believe her.”
He clamps his hand on my shoulder again. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become. Don’t give up on love so quickly.”
Quickly? Does he not realize I’ve loved this woman for over ten years?
“Talk to her.”
I shake my head. “I have a banner to fix.”
Inside, the music thunders from the speakers, and the pulse of the bass vibrates the ground beneath my boots.
Behind the stage, the glow of the light show cuts through the shadows, bouncing off the dark tent.
I grab the extension ladder backstage and carry it around the maze of gear.
A loud scuffle breaks out nearby with two roadies shouting and shoving. I could go break it up and pray one of them hits me. After I fix the fucking banner.
I find my brothers bickering like idiots at the base of the frame I lean the ladder against.
“You gonna climb that thing?” Levi eyes the ladder like he knows my fear.
I haven’t right out said it, but I’ve sure avoided heights.
Bronx waves a bottle in my direction and grins. “It’s just a banner. Let it sag. Nobody cares.”
“It’ll take five minutes.” I start extending the ladder.
The sections glide upward with a metallic rasp.
“It’s just that little wire there you need to grab.” Dean points at the banner above.
Levi grunts. “If it’s just a little wire, you do it.”
“Bro, I ain’t seeing straight.”
Hell, I ain’t seeing straight, but I tuck away my anger, and my fear of heights, and the stage lights flare in my vision, red, then blue, then green.
I can barely hear myself think.
That fight is part of a larger battle now, just a few feet away, and people are yelling through the singing and dancing.
The metal clinks with each rung I lift.
Click. Click. Click.
Every sound deepens the dread of the ascent until it’s eight or ten feet up, enough to reach the banner about as high as the loft that almost killed my dad.
Dean steps closer, nudging me with his elbow. “It didn’t click.”
I press my hands to the ladder’s sides. The cold metal is sharp, like it’s warning me off.
“It clicked.” My foot finds the first rung, and I pull myself up.
“No, man, it didn’t.”
“You’re drunk. It clicked. It’s fine.”
I start my unsteady climb.