Chapter 17
Willow
Monday
The house is bustling with my huge family. Every holiday is a little hectic, but Christmas and New Year's have more excitement than the rest of the year.
But this isn't a normal holiday. It took me three years to enjoy Christmas again after Wyatt left. Now that he's back, the bitter taste I finally got rid of has returned.
My only saving grace is that Jagger's made sure to keep Wyatt away all weekend. They're off on whatever adventure grown men call fun, and honestly, I'm relieved.
I need the space to breathe and pretend the last few days haven't ripped open old wounds I swore were long healed. So, instead of having fun with my family, I'm burying myself in preparations for the New Year's Eve rodeo on Thursday.
Contracts, sponsor decks, travel itineraries, and riding schedules aren't doing much to distract me.
It all reminds me of Wyatt. Every time my mind drifts to him, I dive deeper into work, trying to drown in it.
Unfortunately, I keep grabbing a life raft to keep me from going under, and then I have to try to forget about him all over again.
Phoebe is the one person who takes my mind off Wyatt. When I'm not working, we're giddy over her engagement, obsessing over wedding dresses, bridal shoes, and bouquets.
And it's ironic. At one point, I thought I'd be Wyatt's wife.
Now, I'm scrolling through endless photos of lace trains and champagne fountains, and it's the only thing keeping me from spiraling into dangerous memories of my past with Wyatt.
And I hate how he's the only man who still has the power to set my skin on fire by merely looking at me.
"Are you sure you don't want to come with me to the florist on Wednesday?" Phoebe asks, holding her tablet up to show me the different designs the local flower shop posted on Instagram.
I smile, forcing my voice steady. "You don't need me hovering while you and Alexander pick out flowers. Besides, I have meetings scheduled all week. Sponsors don't woo themselves."
Phoebe arches a brow. "I know, but you're my ride-or-die. Planning a wedding is supposed to be fun, you know."
"Who's not having fun?" I question, sipping my coffee and adding, "I'm having a blast. And it makes me happy to see you and my brother so happy. And out in the open." I wink, referring to the secret romance they had, even though I knew something was up between them.
She narrows her eyes at me playfully. "And what about you? You've been working yourself into the ground lately. You need something—or someone—fun too."
I try to deflect, saying, "My kind of fun is making sure everything is ready for this rodeo."
Phoebe sighs dramatically. "You're impossible sometimes.
" She scrolls to another image of a floral arch.
"I don't understand why Alexander keeps telling me to look at venues instead of having the wedding here.
The view at the lake is perfect for sunset photos.
But I swear, if one cloud ruined my pictures, I might throw a full-on bridal tantrum. "
I chuckle. "You'll be stunning no matter what. Alexander will be too busy staring at you to notice if you're inside or outside."
Phoebe's cheeks heat. She swipes the screen and lowers her voice. "But seriously, Willow, look at this dress." She holds the tablet out. "I know I said I wanted simple, but this one? The beading, the train… Do you think it would be too much? I'm kind of in love with it."
I study the photo. The dress is stunning, a perfect balance between classic and dramatic. "It's gorgeous, Phoebe. If you feel amazing in it, you should wear it. Alexander won't know what hit him."
Her smile goes soft, dreamy, and excited.
She gushes, "That's exactly what I want. I want him to lose his breath when he sees me walk down the aisle."
I reach over and squeeze her hand. "He will!"
She admits, "I never thought I'd get married."
"That makes two of us," I mutter.
"You will," she insists.
I shrug. "Doubt it."
All the dreams I used to have of marrying Wyatt pop into my mind, and I blink hard.
Phoebe's expression shifts, a hint of hesitation creeping in. "Speaking of men… Can I ask you something?"
I stiffen slightly and then force a nonchalant tone. "Of course."
She glances around to make sure we're still alone, and her voice drops to a curious whisper. "Is there something going on between you and Wyatt?"
My stomach clenches. I blurt out, "He's going to be more trouble for me than a snake in a sleeping bag."
"I didn't mean client-wise." She arches her eyebrows.
Panic hits me, and all I can do is lie. "No. Nothing is going on. Why would you insinuate there's anything besides the trouble he's created for me?"
She studies me for a moment, then says, "Every time his name comes up, you get this look."
I scoff. "He's a pain in my booty, that's why."
She's not convinced. "Willow—"
"Phoebe," I cut her off softly, managing a weak smile. "It's business. That's it. He's a rider trying to earn his place back. That's all."
She pauses, then holds up her hands in surrender. "Okay. If you say so. I'm here if you need to talk."
"I know." Guilt fills me. When I called her out about my brother and her, she confided in me. I don't know why I'm not doing the same when I trust her.
Because my history with Wyatt is staying in the past.
"My lips are always sealed," she reminds me.
My chest tightens. I force another smile. "And I appreciate it. But really, it's just business."
She lets it go, switching back to another dress design, but I feel her gaze flick back to me, as if she doesn't quite believe me. And if I'm honest, I don't entirely believe myself either.
Nothing is happening between Wyatt and me, no matter what he says.
The way he left the office after signing his contract hasn't left me feeling very reassured about that, though.
"Let's find you the perfect shoes," I say quickly, eager to change the subject. "If you're going to make Alexander's jaw drop, you might as well do it from head to toe."
Phoebe grins, letting me off the hook for now. "Oh, you know I already have a Pinterest board full of options. Sparkly, strappy, and dangerously high. Nothing I would normally wear, but, hey, it's my wedding!"
"It is, and I say go for it!" I gush.
She adds, "My feet may hate me, but it'll be worth it for the photos."
Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes with a text. I glance at the screen.
Jericho: Colt and I are on our way.
I stand, my stomach twisting into knots. I haven't had the patience to deal with them and Wyatt, and like always, Wyatt seemed to step first in line. I sigh. "Duty calls. Idiot one and idiot two are on their way to my office."
Phoebe winks. "If you need to scream afterward, I'll have wine waiting."
"And that's why you're my bestie!" I tell her, then leave the house and drive to town.
When I get to my office, Jericho and Colt are already seated across my desk, wearing the same sheepish expressions from Christmas night.
The weight of their actions still hangs between us, heavy and thick. It's a storm refusing to break, and I won't let it stop me from taking action.
"Let's get this over with," I say flatly, dropping the paperwork onto my desk.
Jericho rubs his palms together. "You're still mad."
My voice is calm but clipped. "Sixty thousand dollars' worth of mad. Sign here, initial there." I point to each stickered section without elaborating.
Colt leans forward, studying the contract. "This says you're taking three times our normal payment until the debt's paid off."
I lift my chin and square my shoulders. "Correct. Until I recover the sixty grand from prize money, sponsorships, or your personal funds, I take triple."
"What about Wyatt? He started it," Colt whines.
"He's on the same contract, but it's not your business, is it?" I point out, still upset that my two best riders ruined an establishment.
Jericho's eyes turn to slits. "You're representing him?"
"It's not your business," I repeat sternly.
Jericho grinds his molars.
I tap the paperwork, ordering, "Sign."
Colt begs, "Can't you take double? That's not leaving us with much."
"No. I can't. You should have thought about that before you destroyed another working man's livelihood," I lecture.
They exchange a glance, hesitating, but then sign.
Jericho sets his pen down first, his tone tight when he says, "Seriously, Willow. This Wyatt situation… Do you really think adding him to the team is a good idea?"
Colt leans in to add sharply, "It's bad enough you're entertaining it. But if you take him on, you're risking the entire agency and team. He's toxic."
"This has nothing to do with you two. Stay out of it," I fume.
"The hell it doesn't," Jericho snaps. "Every time his name shows up in a headline, our sponsors get nervous. You know how small this circuit is. If he screws up, it doesn't just stain him. It stains the entire team."
Colt pipes in with, "You think every sponsor isn't watching him? Now they'll be watching you too. And the second they smell instability, they'll pull their money. So if you bring him in, you're rolling the dice with all our futures."
I clench my jaw, refusing to let them rattle me, not ready to reveal Wyatt's riding as an independent.
Let them squirm after what they did.
I declare, "I know exactly what's at stake."
Jericho laughs bitterly. "Do you? Because from where we sit, it looks like you're making decisions with your heart, not your head. And that's a problem."
A wave of anxiety crashes over me. I fire back, "I'm treating him like any rider who wants to rebuild. He's earned at least that much."
Colt scoffs. "Earned it? Plenty of riders out there who've worked their asses off don't get this shot. But he does? Because he grew up on your ranch?"