Chapter 28
Wyatt
One Month Later
There's a funny thing about routines. You never realize you're building one until it's got you by the throat. And Willow's got me tighter than a bull rope in the final seconds of an eight-second ride.
I'm loving every second of it. The tighter she pulls, the more I crave. She could suffocate me with her schedules and meetings. All I feel is her love and the direction I'd been missing in my life. Or maybe I didn't want it because she wasn't attached to it. But I'm finally a peaceful, happy man.
Jax has me on another rope. Every day this past month has been a blur of bruised knuckles and two-a-day practices until my thighs scream.
Between the grueling workouts, I have endless meetings with Willow about cleaning up my reputation. Whatever she advises me to do, I agree to, and so far, it's working.
But good things never come easy. I've had to toss my ego aside so I can crawl out of the grave I dug for my career.
After the train wreck at The Buck and Bruise, I had doubts that any sponsor would touch me.
But Willow secured the deals with Tough Rider and Roughneck Armorworks.
With two contracts in hand, there's enough to keep me in the circuit so I can make my big comeback.
Only this time, I'm determined not to screw it up.
Sometimes, I pull up to the Butterfly House and dwell on my life like a lovesick fool. I lean back in the driver's seat, knowing Willow's inside, and wonder how she's still with me.
Sooner or later, she'll come outside, either in tiny pajama bottoms and goose bump-covered legs or skinny jeans made to haunt a man.
She'll cross her arms over her chest to keep herself warm, rasping, "Could hear your truck a mile away.
You plan on coming in sometime tonight? Or should I put dinner in the fridge for leftovers tomorrow? " Then she'll toss me a smile.
Sometimes, we don't make it inside the house. I'll pull her into the truck and try to put the last orgasm I gave her to shame. Too often, dinner goes cold, and we eat it under damp sheets.
Every morning, I get up at the crack of dawn, making sure I earn my keep. Willow whines when I get out of bed, but I never stay. I'm still trying to prove to Jacob and the rest of the Cartwrights that I'm a man who's worthy of her.
This morning is no different. I'm hunched over the workbench in the barn.
The cold bites my fingers as I retie a loose knot in Spitfire's lead.
Mason's somewhere outside, cussing loudly at the tractor that won't start.
Jagger and Alexander are in the corral. Sebastian went back to Dallas with Georgia.
The wood door creaks, and Willow's voice floats over to me. "You're gonna freeze your ass off out here, Houston."
I grin. "Thought you liked my ass cold. Builds character."
She snorts as she steps closer, and her warm-amber and crushed-jasmine scent that's always made my knees weak envelops me. She teases, "Not sure your ass has ever had character."
"You've forgotten." I stand up slowly, facing her fully. I turn, pushing out my hip. I boast, "This is class A character."
She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks pink up. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Sugar, this ass is a national treasure. You just forgot how lucky you were to admire it," I tease.
"Don't confuse me rubbing balm on your bruises as admiration," she fires back with a smile, batting her eyelashes.
"I was referring to the years you spent tracing it with those sweet hands. Don't pretend you didn't honor every inch," I taunt.
Her cheeks turn beet red. She laughs. "You're impossible."
I tug her toward me, and palm the back of her head, tilting it. "Did you miss me?"
"Always," she replies, her smile softening.
"I'm leaving later." The words come out heavy.
"So am I," she states, the humor gone from her expression.
"It's going to suck not seeing you," I add, wondering how I'll survive being away from her.
She nods. "Agreed."
Jax got me into a rodeo in Arizona. Willow's riding team will be at one in New Mexico. It'll be the first time we've really been apart since I got back.
Mason's voice booms, "Don't worry. We'll keep you entertained."
I look over my shoulder. "What do you mean?"
He grins. "You didn't think Jagger and I would let you have all the fun, did you?"
My pulse beats faster. I cock an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"
"Just what I said. But you're in the back with Jagger. I'm calling shotgun," he claims.
"I'm confused," I admit. Things have been better between us, but they aren't the same. Mason and I are on better footing than Jagger and I.
Mason grabs a tool from the chest and then points at Willow. "Explain it to him. I don't have time to dummy things down." He steps outside.
"Jagger is coming with me?" I question.
She shrugs. "Sounds like it."
"Did you arrange this?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "No."
A hint of anxiety pricks at me. Back in the day, I would have given my right foot for Jagger to go on the road with me. But things are different now.
I'm different.
It's like Willow can read my mind. Worry fills her expression at our shared concern. "You're going to have to tell my brothers. Probably best to discuss it before you leave."
I take a deep breath, holding it in as I grind my molars. It's not that I didn't know this day was coming, but the shame and disappointment in myself are still fresh wounds.
I'm a gambling addict. That means no casinos. No racetracks. No bets on the side while sitting at the bar. The thirty-five days of Gamblers Anonymous meetings I've attended have taught me a lot. Yet there's still so much I need to learn and come to terms with.
It's been easy staying on track at the ranch. I go about my daily routine and come home to Willow at night. Even though I go to the meetings, I'm not jonesing to place a bet like most of the members.
Now that I'm going on the road, and Willow won't be there, waiting for me, it's another story. And nothing is engrained in the Cartwrights more than gambling. After all, they own a racehorse business.
"Breathe, Wyatt," Willow orders gently, stroking my cheek.
I release air I didn't know I was holding.
"That's it," she teases, smiling.
"I think I need a kiss," I say, leaning closer.
She gives me a good one, and I tighten my arms around her.
The alarm on her phone goes off, and she groans into my mouth before retreating. "I've got to get ready to leave."
I sigh.
She tilts her head. "I can tell my brothers for you, if it's easier for you."
I shake my head and take a deep breath. "No, sugar. I'm a man. That's something that needs to come from me."
Her lips twitch. "And what a man you are." She waggles her eyebrows.
I pat her ass, warning, "Get out of here before I strip you out of your clothes and spread you out on the hay."
She kisses me again, then begrudgingly exits the barn.
I finish working on Spitfire's lead, going through different ways to tell Jagger and Mason. When I finish, I put the tools away and step outside.
Jax pulls through the gate and parks near the corral. He gets out and struts over to the others.
"No time like the present," I mutter, my heart racing and chest tight. I slip on my gloves and duck against the wind. I push my way toward where the horses are being trained. When I get there, I lean against the rail, hating the chaos clawing inside me.
Dawn's barely cracked, the sky bruised purple on the horizon. My breath mists white as I exhale. My nerves shoot higher and higher as I watch Jagger and Mason saddle the colts, who snort clouds in the air while their back muscles bunch with restless energy.
Don't be a pussy.
Jax asks, "You ready?"
"All packed," I answer.
"Good. It'll be like old times, right, boys?" he crows with his smoke-cracked drawl.
Jagger turns to me with a mischievous expression. It's the first time since finding out about me and Willow that he's looked at me with anything resembling the way he used to look at me. He announces, "I'm ready."
Tell them.
My blood pumps hot, and my pulse pounds between my ears.
Mason shouts, "Booker! Come take the horses inside."
The new ranch hand replies, "Okay, boss."
"I'm showering before we go," Mason says.
"No shit. I'm not riding all the way to Arizona smelling any of you," Jagger states.
"You got coffee?" Jax asks.
"Of course. Mom can warm some breakfast up if you want," Jagger offers.
Jax nods. "Lead the way."
The three of them move toward the house. My anxiety builds as the opportunity to tell them dwindles.
Jagger looks over his shoulder and teases, "Are you coming, or are you gonna miss the rodeo?"
I can't go without them knowing. I'll end up wrecking myself all over again and dragging Willow down the hole with me.
I blurt out, "Stop."
They all turn, looking at me in question.
Say it. Don't be a coward.
A sound like gravel rattling around a steel drum fills the air. And I realize the noise came from me when I cleared my throat.
Mason arches a brow. "What's got your boxers in a twist?"
Jax's eyes narrow, the wrinkles around them deepening.
"Wyatt?" Jagger prods.
I swallow hard. My pulse kicks into a brutal gallop. The horses behind me seem to sense it, neighing loudly.
"I need to tell you something." The words scrape my throat raw.
Mason teases, "What is it, buttercup?"
I laugh, but it sounds awkward, making me more nervous.
Jagger's eyes harden, and his voice is sharp when he asks, "Is this about Willow?"
I shake my head, gaze fixed on the trampled dirt under my boots, then I raise my eyes to his. "No. This is about me."
A gust of wind whips across the corral, slapping my back. I almost chicken out, only getting out "Never—" before cutting myself off.
I swallow hard, clenching my jaw.
The three men wait.
My pulse pounds harder. I finally blurt out, "I've got a problem."
Jax's focus is lasered on me. "Spit it out, son."
I drag in a shaky breath. The shame is thick enough to choke me, but I reveal, "I'm a gambling addict."
Jagger laughs. "Funny."
"It's not a joke," I say seriously.
Time seems to stand still. Even the horses go silent. The only sound is the whisper of the cold wind as it blows by.
Jagger comes closer, his boots crunching on the ground. "I'm confused," he says.
I lift my head higher, meeting his stare.
My gut twists like a bull's spine when he's trying to buck off a rider.
"I have a gambling problem. A bad one. I've lost more money than I want to admit.
There's nothing I haven't bet on. Bulls, cards, horses, sports teams I know nothing about, even stupid things like which rider would get thrown first."
Mason mutters a low curse, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Jax's glare drills into me like a branding iron.
Confessions pour out of me as fast as blood from a fresh cut. "It's a big reason why my sponsors dropped me. Why my life's been circling the drain. But I'm done. No more. No racetracks, casinos, or stupid bar wagers. And I'm swearing off whiskey too."
A moment of thick silence descends.
Mason's gaze looks like it wants to slice me open. "You serious?"
I nod, throat burning. "I have to be. I can't keep living like this. I won't."
Jagger mumbles, "Damn, Willow."
I snap my gaze to his. "Why are you damming her?"
He shakes his head and groans. "Should have known she'd convince you of something so you'd change."
"What are you talking about?" I hurl, anger building quickly.
He continues, "You don't have a problem. Don't listen to her."
"Willow didn't know until I told her. I realized I had a problem. I took myself to the first meeting over a month ago. I sat her down and told her I'm an addict."
Jagger gapes at me.
"It's true. I can't control it when I start, so I'm not betting ever again," I explain, disgust with myself burning in my stomach.
Mason declares, "Christ, Wyatt. You should've told us sooner."
"I was too ashamed," I admit, my voice splintering.
Jax pins me with his steely gaze. "So you're getting help?"
I nod. "Yes, sir. I started attending daily meetings a month ago. I just wanted you all to know why I won't be indulging in anything I used to while we're on the road. And I'll probably find a meeting to attend once we get there."
Jagger takes a bit to process it, looking like he wants to either punch or hug me.
I stay silent, my chest tightening so bad, I think it might collapse in on itself.
Mason steps beside him, his eyes glassy in the cold morning light. "You better keep hold of this, Wyatt. 'Cause I'm not watching you destroy yourself or our sister."
"I got this," I assert.
Mason nods. "Okay, then. We'll stick to beers on the road."
Relief fills me. "Thanks."
Jax finally moves, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You mess up, you come talk to me. Are we clear?"
I nod, a sob lodged so deep, it doesn't stand a chance of escaping. "Clear."
Jagger shakes his head, his voice coming out rough. "All right, you stubborn bastard. Let's get cleaned up so we can hit the road."
I let out a strangled laugh, eyes burning from more than the wind. "Sounds good."
We make our way toward the house, but Jagger hangs back with me. We're almost to the porch when he quietly says, "You could have told me."
"I just did."
He adds, "Before today."
I stop walking.
He turns toward me, eyes locking on mine.
"I know I've been giving you shit about my sister, but I still have your back."
Appreciation for my oldest friend sends warmth through me. "Thanks. Good to know."
"So no betting at all?" he questions.
"None," I answer.
He stares at me for a moment, then questions, "But we can still drink beer?"
I chuckle. "Yeah. I only have a problem with whiskey. It makes me think I'm invincible and that the odds are in my favor."
Jagger grins. "Whiskey's overrated these days anyway."
I offer, "I'm okay if you drink it around me."
He shakes his head. "Nah. Don't tell anyone, but the headaches the next day are starting to kill me."
I grunt. "Isn't that the truth."
He slaps me on the back. "All right, then. Get your dirty ass inside and shower. We have to get on the road. You have a rodeo to win!"