Chapter 10 Savannah
Savannah
I was cleaning up lunch when I glanced out the window, and did a double-take when I saw Weston outside on the lawnmower, shirtless without his sling on.
His skin was golden and slick with the sheen of sweat, and when the lawnmower swung back around, the plate slipped from my hands. My lips parted with a shaky breath when I saw his tattoo, saw the wings, and could make out the faint outline of a face.
I also saw the overgrown stubble and his weary expression. The dark smudges under his tired eyes. The way his shoulders sagged and how his hair was a touch too long. He hadn’t looked like that when I saw him last week at Anna’s.
Weston always took pride in his appearance. It was one of the things I loved about him. So the fact that he looked so worn down… Something must’ve happened, and I couldn’t fight the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach to do something about it.
My hands were moving on muscle memory as I whipped together a piece of our past, hoping it would lift his spirits. And before I could second-guess myself, I marched outside to where he was sitting on the mower, wiping sweat off his forehead.
He must’ve heard me coming because he turned around before I reached him. “Savannah?” he said, surprised.
I shoved my hand out towards him. “Looked like you could use some of this.” I gnawed on my bottom lip when he looked down at the glass full of purple liquid between us.
He swallowed. “Is that?”
“Your blackberry lemonade? Yeah.” He took the glass from me tentatively as if he were worried it’d explode in his face or something. “You looked—I just thought maybe it’d make you feel better with whatever’s going on. I don’t know. It’s stupid,” I rambled, wringing my hands together.
Now that the glass was in his hand, I felt like an idiot. Like I’d gone too far. I could’ve just brought him a water bottle if I were that worried about his hydration status.
Except it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact I hated seeing him like this, knowing he was going through something, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
“It’s not stupid,” he said, meeting my gaze. “Thank you.”
“Yep.”
He took a sip, looking out at the pasture he’d just mowed. “Damn, that’s good, Sav,” he said. “Just like I remembered.”
I didn’t correct him for using my old nickname for some reason. “Glad you still like it.”
“I’d have to be dead not to like this,” he said, shooting me a grin that settled the unease in my chest.
A moment of silence passed, the warm air curling around us in a gentle breeze. Weston looked down at his glass. “You always have been able to read me like a book,” he said quietly, an admission of sorts.
I knew I shouldn’t take the bait, but I couldn’t stop myself because I knew in my gut he wasn’t purposefully baiting me. “Want to talk about it?”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye like he was seeing if I meant it. I nodded for him to continue. “I had my first rehab appointment four days ago. Don’t have to wear the sling all the time now, but they said I won’t be riding for at least another three months.”
“I’m sorry.”
He wrenched his jaw, letting out an angered sigh. “I really hate hearing those words come out of your mouth, Savannah,” he rasped with a hint of anger, taking another sip of his drink.
I knew he wasn’t talking about now, but the night I avoided thinking about with everything I had. I crossed my arms, looking down at the ground. I ran my toes along the grass, my pink nail polish bright in the sun.
“I hate saying them to you,” I said quietly. “But I do mean them. Have meant them every time.” I chewed on my bottom lip, then word vomited, “I feel like all this is my fault. If you hadn’t been looking at me, then—”
“No. This isn’t your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for my mistakes.”
“Okay,” I conceded, still not looking at him. He could’ve said it wasn’t my fault until he was blue in the face, but it wouldn’t get rid of the guilt I felt.
My eyes widened when he tipped my chin back, his fingers ice cold against my skin. “I mean it. I might’ve been looking at you, but it was my fault for letting my mind wander. I knew better.” He let my chin go, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away. The pain in his eyes killed me.
“Are you okay? Really?”
His eyes searched mine, and he let out a heavy breath, his mask cracking. “No. I’m not okay.”
I took a step closer. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He looked down into his drink, swirling it around. “I’m terrified Pbr won’t have a place for me once I’m healed,” he confessed on a broken whisper.
That was one of the few times Weston had ever sounded unsure of himself, and it broke my heart. “Of course, they will. You’re Weston Tate. You’re the best of the best.”
A corner of his mouth curved with a weak smile.
“I’m glad you feel that way, but my agent doesn’t.
He just sees dollar signs.” His lips went into a thin line as he kicked a rock around with his boot.
“And I’m not bringing any in right now. What if I don’t heal fast enough?
What if I don’t heal enough period and never get cleared to ride again? ”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not a bull rider, Savannah,” he said, his voice full of doubt. “You know how much it means to me.”
My blood boiled at the idea of someone belittling Weston and his lifelong passion to nothing more than how much money he was bringing in. It was dehumanizing and just flat-out pissed me off. He was more than a walking money bag. So much more.
“Then fuck him,” I said, scowling.
Weston’s head shot up, brows raised. “Fuck him?”
“Yes. Fuck him. Fuck Pbr. Fuck the fans. Fuck all of them. If they can’t see how great you are, then they don’t deserve you.”
He laughed, the sound low and warm. It settled over me like a blanket I wanted to curl up with. “Never thought I’d live to see the day I hear you say fuck.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed in eleven years. I say fuck all the time now. I even scream it sometimes.”
He brought the glass to his lips, eyes locked on mine, while he let out a little hum that had me shivering in the ninety-degree heat. “That right?”
I cleared my throat, now realizing how what I said could’ve been misconstrued. “Yep.”
His eyes flicked over me before meeting my gaze again. “I bet some things are the same.” His voice had a husky edge to it, like he wanted to find out for himself.
Unable to resist it, heat bloomed beneath my skin. “Maybe.”
I knew one thing for certain: our chemistry was the same.
There was no denying it. Not then, not now. I’d never been able to replicate it with anyone else. It was fire in my veins, lightning cracking along the sky, potent and exhilarating and so damn addicting.
I gave in to the temptation and let my eyes rake over every glorious inch of him. He’d always been in shape because of riding and working at the ranch. But this was more. So much more.
Weston was purely man as he stood before me. From the V that angled into the waistband of his jeans to the chest hair dusting along his defined pecs. My mouth went dry as I got my fill, and I knew I was being obvious, but I couldn’t care. Especially when I knew he didn’t.
But then I looked at his left arm, at the black ink I had somehow forgotten was there.
I took a step closer, standing in front of his arm now.
“Weston…” I rasped, trailing my fingers over the angel’s face.
Goosebumps prickled along his skin. She wasn’t just an angel, but Lady Justice with the blindfold over her eyes and holding the scales.
Her features were similar to mine. Too similar.
I looked up at him wide-eyed. “Is that—”
“You?” He nodded. “Yeah.”
I blinked quickly, trying to get rid of the burn in my eyes. “When did you do this?” I whispered, unable to look away.
“A few months after you left,” he said softly, staring down at my fingers on his arm. “I was drunk and sad and figured if you were going to be under my skin forever, I might as well make it official.” His throat moved with a thick swallow. “My angel who upholds the law.”
As usual, his honesty was staggering. I envied his ability to bear his heart so easily. I always had. And I knew he wasn’t like that with everyone, so to know after all this time he still felt that comfortable with me was… I couldn’t put into words what it meant to me.
“I can’t believe you did this.” I couldn’t stop looking at it. Couldn’t stop touching it. Him.
“You like it?”
I looked up at him. “I love it. It’s beautiful.”
His expression softened as he looked at me. “Like you.”
Ignoring the butterflies I felt, I rose to the balls of my feet, finding the incision that ran along the top of his shoulder like a bra strap would. It wasn’t big, maybe two or three inches long.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not as much as it did when I woke up after surgery. Just a few twinges here and there if I move it too fast or pick something up that's too heavy. Rehab is a real pain in the ass, though.”
I arched a brow at him, smirking, and gestured to the lawnmower beside us. “I bet driving doesn’t help it any.”
He chuckled. “The lawnmower hardly counts as driving.”
“Hardly still counts.”
His gaze roamed all over my face, the air growing charged with something that didn’t feel like the tension I felt with him in the alley behind the law firm, but something more. Something familiar; the easiness that we had all those years ago, the comfort that always came when he was near.
I didn’t know what it meant that I felt it with him now, after years apart, when I was technically with someone else. Someone who drifted further and further out of my mind the longer I stood here with Weston.
“It was worth it.”
I chuckled, trying to play off the ache in my heart. “What? Having shorter grass?”
His eyes darted between mine, that dark blue overflowing with feelings. Feelings I was terrified of. Feelings that stirred up my own. “No. Getting bucked from that bull.”
My head reared back, my hand leaving his shoulder. Was he insane? “You can’t possibly mean that, Weston. You could’ve died.”
“I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant I’d have you here talking to me like this.
” He turned to face me straight on, his face only a few inches from mine.
“I meant what I said at the hospital; I’ve missed you like crazy, Sav.
Every day without you has been torture, and I’m sick of living without you. ”
I swallowed, my heart racing. “I’ve missed you, too, but it’s not that simple. Things are different now. We’re different people now.”
God, he was going to lose it when he found out about Stewart. Stewart was safe, steady, the logical choice. But standing here with Weston, I wasn’t thinking about logic; I was thinking about how his voice made me feel comforted in a way that no one else had.
“The way I feel about you isn’t any different. And I’m starting to wonder if the way you feel about me isn’t either.”
I wasn’t going to tell him that he wasn’t the only one.
Back inside, I couldn’t focus on anything, lost in the way Weston smiled at me like I was the center of his universe.
I stared at the glass he used, at the smudges of his fingertips and the mark of his lips he left behind.
I was permanently covered in those smudges and marks.
And no matter how hard I scrubbed my skin, Weston would always be there beneath the surface.
My phone rang, and without looking, I answered it. “Hello?”
“Finally.” I froze against the counter at Stewart’s voice.
“Stewart,” I whispered. “Hi.”
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks, Savannah. What the hell is going on?”
My eyes drifted shut at the justified anger in his tone. “I told you I needed to go home for a while. My mom was dying, I had to come home and say goodbye.”
“I know, and I’m sorry that she died, I am. But don’t you think I deserve a phone call? I asked you to marry me, and you’ve blown me off for weeks. Nobody from work has heard from you. None of your friends. It’s like you’ve dropped off the face of the earth.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “I’m just really busy here with my family. We’re grieving.”
“And how much longer exactly are you going to be grieving? I had to go to the Fourth of July gala by myself.”
I scowled at the tile, my grip on the phone tightening. “However long it takes.”
“What am I supposed to tell work? Tim said he sent you an email about your bereavement leave, but never heard back. You’re not doing yourself any favors blowing off a partner.”
“Tell him whatever you want, Stewart. I don’t care.” And I truly meant it.
The last thing on my mind was the firm. My attention was here with my family, and the merger I promised to help with…and Weston.
“And what about us? You still owe me an answer.”
I wrenched my jaw, letting out a heavy breath. “I can’t think about that right now, Stewart. I just lost my mom, and my family needs my help. I need time. I know I should’ve stayed in contact, but it hasn’t exactly been easy here.”
“Fine,” he said, letting out a long breath. “I just worry you’re doing more damage staying there than coming home and moving on with your life.”
“How dare you,” I growled into the phone. My eyes burned, my body shaking with rage. “Do you hear yourself? My mom died, and you’re making it sound as if we couldn’t get a fucking reservation at Nobu. Fuck you.”
He sighed. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I love you, Savannah. I’m just trying to look out for you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need you looking out for me. I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk,” I said and hung up, tossing the phone onto the counter.
My eyes drifted shut, bracing myself against the granite, and I let out a heavy sigh.
He’d never been so callous with me before, so insincere.
It made me wonder if choosing him was the right choice.
If he could speak to me like that without a care, dismissing something as heavy as my grief, then what else was he capable of?