16. Phoenix
Phoenix
I lost two hundred and fifty bucks in poker to my asshole friends last night.
I must have a tell because I don’t remember ever being that bad , even if my head was all fucked up from earlier.
I’m still salty from the loss, but it’s got nothing on the anger coursing through me after watching Walker hit the dirt.
If last night messed with him like it did with me, then I’m angry at myself for even engaging, and I’m pissed at him for getting on that fucking horse.
I should’ve known better. To make matters worse, my anger is intensified by my fear, and I’m a big fucking mess as I hop the rail and sprint across the ring to get to Walker as he exits, no doubt headed to seek medical attention.
As he fell, it felt like the whole scene was in slow motion. Like I was watching my own career come to a screeching end. I don’t want that for him. No matter how pissed I am.
I round the corner and find his incompetent behemoth of a coach standing next to him, and completely lose my cool.
“Jonas! What the fuck was that?” I yell, causing him and Walker, both, to stop and turn around. Once they’re facing me, I continue. “You let him continue to ride like that and you’re going to get him killed!” My voice is bouncing off the cinderblock walls down here, really causing an echo.
Jonas’s eyes go wide and his face turns red. “ Me ? I’m not the reason his wrist is broken! What kind of negligent asshole tells a rider to bail halfway through?”
Two strides later and I’m in his face, my fists clenching at my sides so I don’t do something stupid like punch him in the mouth.
“The kind who’s smart enough to realize that it would’ve been his spine if he’d tried to land that last buck.
Everyone knows Pocahontas is wicked smart.
She feels her riders better than they feel her.
If you’d cared to look into these horses at all like I told you to, you might’ve known that.
She got Walker off balance on purpose, and as soon as his ass left her back, it was over.
If he’d stayed on, his only options were to smash his face on the back of her head, or sustain multiple stress fractures in his spine. ”
Jonas doesn’t know how to respond because his coaching is one-dimensional. He’s arrogant enough to think the rider controls the whole interaction, when in reality, we control none of it.
“If you’re done,” Jonas starts, “I’d like to get my rider to the medical team.”
The way he emphasizes my makes my skin crawl. I only keep my mouth shut because one look at Walker’s face and I know he’s in pain. He’s trying to be stoic about it, but it’s in the pinch of his brow and the set of his jaw.
I nod my head down the hallway telling them to go. My eyes stay glued to the back of Walker’s head the entire time and when he looks back over his shoulder to find my eyes, something cracks in my chest.
Full of bad decisions today—case in point, I’m here in the first place—I decide to wait just outside the arena to try and catch Walker on his way back to his camper. It’s only four in the afternoon, but he clearly won’t be finishing this competition.
His visit with medical takes an hour, during which time I field several texts from Cassie and the guys wanting to know where I am before Walker and his fucking guard dog come out the back door.
The sun’s still got plenty of firepower and a drop of sweat rolls down the back of my neck as I step out from the side of the building and put myself in their path.
Jonas sees me first.
“Fucking hell, man. Haven’t you done enough damage for one day? Christ, leave the kid alone.”
Walker answers first. “I’m not a kid, Jonas. And you’re not my goddamn bodyguard or my babysitter. I can find the camper by myself. I’ll meet you back there in a bit.”
Jonas’s eyes flash to me in warning as he puts a patronizing hand on Walker’s arm. Don’t fucking touch him, my mind begs me to yell, but miraculously, I stay silent.
“I don’t think it’s a good ide—” Jonas says, but Walker cuts him off.
“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit. We’ll come up with our plan when I get back, but please, for the love of God, stop hovering.”
Jonas sighs and then turns to me, whispering under his breath, “If you hurt him, I swear I’ll make you regret it.”
Too late , I think to myself.
But I bite my tongue, and he throws one last look at Walker before turning his back on us.
When it’s just Walker and I left, I can’t decide which emotion to unleash first, my anger or my relief. Deciding relief might lead to a repeat of last night—which absolutely cannot happen—I decide to go with anger .
“What the hell was that? I know she’s a tough bronc, but that should’ve been an easy win for you,” I bark.
“You think I meant to ride like shit?” he fires back passionately. “You don’t know half of what’s going through my head right now.”
He’s right, I don’t, but can it really be worse than the mindfuck he’s giving me?
“Then by all means, enlighten me, Walker. Because I’m dying to know why you thought after eight years, it was a good idea to come to my city now.”
Well, hell.
That’s not what I meant to say.
Not at all. And based on Walker’s next question, I know I’ve said too much. Which also means I need to shut this down. I need to go home, take a cold shower, and lock the last four days back up in the box that holds all the other memories of my time with him.
“How do you know I haven’t competed here before?” he asks. The cautious hope in his voice breaches the walls I’m trying to erect and tears them down faster than I can put them up.
“You know what?” I ask, avoiding the question. “Never mind. Compete wherever you want. I’m sure you can find a crooked doctor willing to sign off and let you ride tomorrow. Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve lied about the important shit.”
It’s a low blow, but I make it anyway. I’m starting to lash out because he has me so off-kilter.
“When have I ever lied to you?” he shouts.
“How about when you told me you’d had sex before?”
“I had had sex before,” he says, not making eye contact.
“I meant had you ever done it with another guy and you know it, but if that’s splitting hairs, then how about when you told me it would be better if we went our separate ways?
Because clearly that wasn’t true either.
” My brain and my voice box are conspiring against me. I didn’t mean to say any of that aloud.
“Oh, fuck you, Phoenix.”
Walker sounds tired, but I’m relentless, because how could he come here and bring all this shit to the surface?
“You’ve already done that,” I tell him, taking a step closer as a growl slips past my lips. “It might’ve been my dick in your ass that night, Walker, but we both know who really got fucked, don’t we?” If he’s going to make me relive it, then by God, so is he.
“You think it’s been any easier for me?” he retaliates, working hard to keep his voice low as other riders come out of the door next to us.
I’m on a roll so I cut in before he can continue to answer.
“You let me take a version of your virginity without telling me! That fucking meant something to me, and the next day you couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge my presence,” I snarl.
My brain continues the argument in my mind.
You used me to get in my head. Not to mention I can’t even touch another guy without thinking of you .
That’s too many truths for this reunion and he doesn’t deserve any more of mine, no matter how much I want to give them to him.
Instead, using both hands, I shove him, hard , sending him into the exterior wall of the arena behind him. He winces and immediately pulls his injured wrist to his chest. It’s then that I notice the black brace covering his right wrist. His rope hand.
And my anger abates just enough for me to ask about the prognosis.
“What’d they say?” I jerk my head toward his injured wrist.
“It’s broken in two places. My season’s done.
And regardless of what you think of me, I’m not an idiot who’s going to risk my life by riding with a broken wrist. There’s not enough time left to acquire all the points I’ll need to beat Jackson, so finals are out too.
Even if I’m healed by then.” Which we both know he won’t be.
“And Phoenix, I never meant to hurt you. I was so locked in to that ride eight years ago, by the time I registered the fact that you were?—”
“ Stop .” I hold up a hand because I can’t hear this.
I can’t hear that I overreacted. That my career ended because of my stupidity.
My crush. My instant obsession with the guy standing before me right now.
I can’t handle that truth because if he finishes that sentence, it means there’s a chance I could still be competing, and that I didn’t need to spend the last eight years punishing myself unnecessarily.
And that’s worse than thinking he’d used me.
“I was going to come talk to you after your ride,” Walker finishes despite my plea.
Goddammit.
My chest aches. My lungs hurt. My eyes burn. I’ve never wanted to embrace someone and kick the shit out of them at the exact same time.
I’m not prepared to rehash that awful day so long ago. Instead, I switch topics like a coward.
“Jackson’s almost as big of a prick as your coach,” I mutter to my boots, my anger retreating at the reality of Walker’s situation. I’ve gone from seeing red to a dull orange. I’m still pissed, but in the darkest parts of my soul, isn’t this what I’ve yearned for?
To see him again? Hear his voice?
He huffs a laugh and rubs the back of his neck under his cowboy hat.
“What’s your plan?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
“Go back to Texas, I guess,” he says with a half-hearted shrug .
The ache in my chest grows.
“When will you leave?” I shove my hands in my pockets to prevent myself from reaching for him. After last night, I know he’d come willingly and I just can’t let that happen, considering I’m not even over the first time he left me.
Walker shrugs again, not meeting my eyes. “Maybe tomorrow since I’m not competing Sunday. Guess I’ll have to figure that out.”
My phone pings from my back pocket. Out of habit, I pull it out. If nothing else, it’s a good excuse to prolong this goodbye.
Knox:
Just got done on a job. I got that breakaway latch you wanted for that sad excuse for a barn. You still at the arena?”
Phoenix:
Yeah.
Knox:
Be there in 15.
I slide my phone into my back pocket and look up to find Walker’s eyes on me. “Someone important?” he asks.
I hate that I can’t tell if the pain in his voice is due to his wrist or the thought that there’s someone special in my life. The second part almost makes me laugh out loud. I couldn’t even tell you the name of the last three women I slept with.
“Just a buddy of mine. I don’t date. Seems I have trouble letting people in.” I silently beg myself to shut the fuck up.
“Phoenix, I’m?—”
I interrupt.
“Sorry. Yeah, I know. Can’t rewrite history, though. Forget I said anything.”
Neither of us seems to want to leave, but we also don’t know what else to say in our fragile state.
To break the silence, Walker holds up his broken wrist. “They said no surgery because it isn’t displaced, but it could become so if I fall again.
” He tries to move his fingers but they’re so swollen they barely wiggle.
“Gave me a removable brace instead of a cast because he said he’s seen too many cowboys cut ‘em off and that just makes everything worse.”
I snort a laugh because I know we make shitty patients.
“Yeah, well, just do what they tell you and you’ll be better in no time.”
His uninjured hand raises to caress my cheek slowly, his words a whisper. “If only hearts would heal as fast as bones, huh?”
Damn him. I can’t stop myself from nuzzling into his touch. His thumb comes around to brush across my lips and except for that one small body part, we stand completely still. Both of us afraid to break the spell.
There are so many things we need to say to each other, but for this small moment in time, we allow ourselves to just exhale in relief at being together.
It’s becoming increasingly clear with every interaction that whatever was between us back then is still present, and perhaps I’m not the only one who’s struggled to let go.
But what I said earlier is still true. This changes nothing.
All too soon our moment is over when a couple of drunk cowboys come barreling out of the door next to us, all loud voices and laughter, arms slung over their girls.
Walker drops his hand and we both stay silent so as not to draw attention to ourselves. By the time the group has gone, the spell is broken, even if I can’t step away from Walker like I should.
“The friend of mine who texted will be here soon to help me with a new latch for the door we put on the barn,” I tell him, staring at his chest, too much of a pussy to raise my eyes to his, knowing I’ll find pain and regret there.
“So, I should probably head to the stalls,” I say throwing a thumb over my shoulder.
He nods. “I should go talk to Jonas and figure out our plan from here.”
My turn to nod.
Fuck, I want to kiss him, but that won’t make any of this easier. He’ll be gone by first light and I’ll already be trying to scrub my memory clean of last night’s kiss. I don’t need to add another. It’s bad enough I’ll feel his thumb on my lips for days to come.
“Be careful with that guy, okay?” I warn Walker about his coach as the first part of this goodbye. “Do your research even if he won’t.”
“Yeah,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.
I let my eyes have one last greedy look and before I can stop myself, I’m reaching forward.
With two fingers, I tap the edge of his hat, angling it down over his eyes before bringing those same fingers to my lips and then pressing them against his heart just like before.
His breathing falters loudly enough that I hear it over the crunch of tires on the gravel behind us.
Which reminds me… people can see us.
I drop my hand and swallow hard.
“Take care of yourself.”