22. Phoenix
Phoenix
I ’m lying in bed, knowing it’s pointless to try and sleep. Once Walker came upstairs though, I couldn’t really convince myself to stay in the living room. Like somehow managing for eight years in different time zones was suddenly unthinkable and I couldn’t even handle being on a different floor.
The angel and demon continue waging war on my shoulder.
One wants me to just give in to whatever this is between us, accepting the small amount of time we have.
The other, more rational side reminds me that I still harbor a decent amount of anger toward Walker along with some resentment—although, these days, that’s mostly directed at myself for not being able to shut him out during the ride that almost ended my life.
Nonetheless, he’s here temporarily, handling something, and then he’ll be gone.
The small amount of feeling that seeps out when I’m at my weakest tells me if I let him in anymore, it’ll kill me when he goes.
Again…damned if I do. Damned if I don’t .
I hear the low hum of his voice through the walls. I can’t make out what he’s saying and I fight the urge to press my ear to the wall we share.
A short while later, I hear the unmistakable sound of a sob.
The urge to physically harm whoever is causing him pain has me throwing back my covers ready to march into his room and launch my own personal crusade.
But before I can barge in there like a complete idiot and demand he tell me what’s going on, I hear his door open followed by the creak of his weight on the stairs.
Maybe he wants a glass of water or something?
I lie in wait for what feels like half an hour and when he doesn’t return, I grab some shorts and a t-shirt and go in search of him, afraid he’s going to try and duck out in the middle of the night.
I round the bottom of the staircase, heading toward the kitchen, and come up short when I see him, still in the same baggy t-shirt he put on after his shower, hating it because it hides his body from me.
Stop being a creep.
He doesn’t look up when I come into the kitchen, but instead, swirls the—what I assume is—liquor in his cup.
“You want to talk about it, yet?” I ask softly, alerting him to my presence.
When Walker raises his eyes to look at me, they’re rimmed in red and I almost, almost, pull him into my arms.
“Not really,” he says with a sniffle.
I clasp my hands together to ensure I don’t reach for him. “Look, our history is fucked up, but if you need help with something, I’m…” I trail off not knowing how to finish that offer.
“The thing I need help with is the reason our history happened in the first place. But unlike back then, you can’t help me this time. It’s something I have to do on my own. ”
“What does that mean?” I ask, knowing and not caring that he can hear the begging in my voice.
“Phoenix, I appreciate you letting me stay here. You’ve already saved me so many fucking times I’ve lost count.
It feels like…” He bites the inside of his cheek and his nostrils flare as he fights another wave of tears, but he loses, and one rolls down his face.
He swipes at it quickly and takes another sip of his drink, gutting me in the process.
I still his hand before the cup reaches his lips. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I don’t want him to drown his sorrows in liquor, not when I’m standing right here offering to help.
“It feels like what, Walker?” I ask quietly, urging him to continue.
He pulls his eyes away from me and picks at invisible lint on his brace.
“It feels like this thing between us is so fragile that I don’t want to jeopardize it by adding more baggage.
” I start to interrupt him, but he holds up a hand.
“Deny it all you want, Phoenix, but there is something here. There has been ever since our eyes locked across that bonfire. And even if all we end up as is friends with a history, it’s better than the enemies we’ve been for the last eight years. ”
I stay silent, unsure how to answer as he finally finishes his drink.
It isn’t until he gets up and puts his cup in the dishwasher that I finally respond.
“When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”
“Thanks,” is all he says before heading back up the stairs.
All I can think is cowboys don’t cry, so what’s got him so torn up that he couldn’t hold it back?
The next morning, I’m pouring another cup of coffee after waking early and doing the necessary farm chores.
I love my farm, but man, it’s nice being able to pay someone to do the things that have to get done.
I miss Trisha already, and am glad Walker’s here to help out when I have to go back to work on Monday, even if I’ll worry about his wrist the entire time.
Speaking of the devil, he comes into the kitchen a moment later. I expect his eyes to be puffy and his hair to be a mess, especially since it’s longer on top than most cowboys keep it, but he looks fucking sexy and oddly, well rested.
“Coffee?” I ask, already turning to grab a mug for him, afraid if I let my gaze linger, I’ll find his lips and stare too long…because God…those fucking lips. They were made to wrap around my cock.
“Yes, please,” he says, his voice deeper than usual as sleep clings to it.
Neither he nor I mention the previous night. Like all of our secrets, it disappeared with the dawn.
“So, uh, a good friend of mine is in town this week. She’s going back to Miami tomorrow morning so everyone’s getting together for dinner tonight at Knox’s house. He’s the guy?—”
“I remember who he is,” Walker says quickly.
“Right. Well, you’re welcome to come along. Cassie won’t mind. She’s a big fan.” I huff out a laugh and roll my eyes. “You won the hottest cowboy at the rodeo award between her and our other friend, Shannon.”
I give Walker a tight smile, willing myself to shut the fuck up. I’m rambling and I’m honestly not sure if my rambles are designed to make him say yes or no to coming with me.
“Yeah, sure,” he says casually, allowing me to release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I’ve got time to kill and it would probably do me some good to get out of my own head for a bit. Thanks.”
His answer takes me by surprise. I fully expected him to comment on the hottest cowboy award, but he let it go like he didn’t even hear that part.
After coffee, we pass the day in a semi-strained state. Each of us dancing around the other, doing our best to ignore the tension rising around us.
Walker was right last night.
There is something between us. And if either of us gives it room to grow, it has the potential to destroy us both.
By three o’clock, I’ve shown Walker where everything is and I’ve taken him through the routine I expect him to use once the broncs are back home. Honestly, it’s been kind of nice these last couple days having them at the arena.
Along with Trisha, I also have trainers who work with the horses to get them ready for the competitions.
I have the space, the funds, and the passion.
The one thing I don’t have is the time. So, I hire that part out.
But that means there are usually two to three people milling about my property during the day, getting things done, but thankfully, just like the riders, the horses get a couple of weeks to recoup after a rodeo, so no additional personnel will be by for a while.
“I’m going to grab a shower before we leave for Knox’s,” I tell Walker as we head back into the house. The summer heat hasn’t let up at all and I’m drenched in sweat.
“Yeah, okay. I should probably do the same.”
“Leaving in an hour sound good?”
He nods and heads up the stairs right behind me. Walker doesn’t need help with his clothes this time because there are no buttons or zippers…and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
An hour later, we’re climbing into the cab of my dually, heading for Knox’s.
“Can I ask you something?” Walker says as I pull out onto the main road.
“Sure.”
“How do you really afford that house and the horses and the trainers, especially if you only supply the broncs for your hometown rodeo?”
My shoulders relax, this is an easy question.
“I was only twenty when my rodeo career ended. Knowing I had to find something to do to support myself, I decided to go to school for chemical engineering. I know you probably can’t tell, but I’m actually fairly smart. At least in math and science.”
“Beauty and brains, huh?” Walker smirks.
I snort. “Whatever you say. Anyway, by my second year of college I already knew I wanted to be a firefighter, but my parents wanted me to have a degree since I tend to choose careers that have a limited shelf life. If they were willing to pay for it, who was I to argue? Long story short, I ended up developing a skin-safe flame retardant that I patented. It’s how I afford everything I have.
” And what put another seven figures in my investment account last year.
Beside me, Walker is silent, but when I turn to look at him, he’s staring at me with his mouth hanging open.
“What?” I ask, stupidly.
“You’re incredible,” he replies without hesitating.
My heart swells at his praise and if I’m not careful, my cock will start swelling because of the look on his face.
“Just glad to be able to help, you know?”
Walker quirks a brow. “If you have enough money to live on, why raise the broncs at all? ”
I briefly think about avoiding the question and just telling him I don’t know, but I know he’d understand, so I give him the truth.
“Because it’s nice to feel like I matter and that I make a difference, but my passion has always been, and still is, the rodeo. I couldn’t cut myself off completely after I was injured, so that’s how I stay connected.”
His next question catches me so off guard I almost run off the road.
“What really happened that morning, Phoenix?”