Chapter 9 #2
Hell, rumor had it there was even a wager going around—ten bucks a head on how long Gray and Ozzie would last. And last night?
At Miss Loreen’s bi-weekly bake-off (a.k.a.
the Gossip Swap), their affair was all anyone could talk about.
Jessamine swore she saw them kiss outside Knot Your Average Wedding a few weeks back, and someone else claimed they’d been caught getting biblical by the lake last week. That tidbit sealed it for everyone.
Opie got thrown into jail again for taking a swing at Preston Callahan outside of Bristlecone’s watered-down version of a Dollar General after Preston made a crack about Ozzie being a gold digger with “loose morals.”
Opie and Ozzie had become as thick as thieves lately, and Opie had taken on the role of a one-man army to confront anyone who badmouthed his friend.
Donald, the sheriff and self-appointed mayor, had warned Opie’s husband, Lawson, that one more mishap and Opie would spend the night in jail next time.
Without the damned hen, Opie’s little two-legged baby, Ms. Cluck, that followed him everywhere.
In Bristlecone logic, shared manure was more binding than a marriage license.
I should know. Mine wasn’t worth the ink dried on it. I hadn’t even stuck around for the complete signing. Not when I’d felt sick to my stomach that I was ruining my chance at true love with the one man I cared about.
I pressed my heels to the mare’s sides and urged her faster as I neared the lake, needing the wind to whip away the helplessness I felt and the anger still simmering beneath the surface of hearing anyone talk smack about Matty.
A flash of movement drew my gaze to the left.
Junebug.
Her reins dragged loosely, and her coat gleamed like an autumn sunset as she picked her way along the edge of the water, chewing grass.
I followed her path with my eyes until I found him.
Matt.
No, Matty.
Sitting in the grass a few yards away, one knee bent, arms resting on it, head tipped back like he’d been watching the clouds drift across the sky.
He didn’t look up, though he must have heard the horse approach.
I didn’t move. Just watched him, a lump forming in my throat as the years peeled back like thin bark.
God, he looked the same. Maybe a little leaner in the face. A little more grown. But still so painfully Matty.
And all I saw was then.
Matty pushing me down in this same patch of grass, laughing into my mouth, his hair tangled in my fingers, and his hips pressed tight to mine. That summer we thought we were invincible. That we had forever.
“You’re gonna be mine forever, Hud,” he’d whispered, breathless, his smile big and boyish, eyes lit up like the whole sky had taken up residence in them.
By then, I’d started to believe him.
By then, I’d already slept with Heather.
By then, I’d fallen in love for the first time.
But that was before reality came crashing down with a surprise baby and a ring on someone else’s finger.
Now the silence stretched long and thin between us. Junebug gave a soft nicker and wandered toward the lake’s edge, her hooves crunching over stones. Matty turned slightly, finally looking at me.
His gaze met mine across the clearing.
No smile. No frown either.
Just those unreadable eyes that used to look at me like I hung the damn moon.
I wanted to go to him.
Wanted to say “sorry” and “why does this still hurt so bad?”
But my throat closed around all of it.
Two men.
Two heartbreaks.
One summer that wouldn’t stop echoing.
I dismounted and peeled off my gloves, then my shirt, sweat-soaked and clinging.
The sun baked down, and the fight still buzzed like static under my skin.
Hans’s words rang in my ears. The crack of my fist meeting his jaw.
The ache in my knuckles. The discomfort in my ribs where he’d landed a solid punch.
I didn’t want to bring any of that home.
Especially not to Ivy.
I kicked off my boots, shucked off my jeans, boxers, every last stitch until I was bare. The air hit my skin like a blessing, and I didn’t hesitate but walked straight into the water, deeper and deeper until the cold shocked through me, and I dove under.
The chill cut clean through my fury.
When I surfaced, I shook my hair back and blinked at the sky. I swam out to the middle, the water dark and cool beneath me, and let myself float. Arms out, body weightless.
The silence out here had always been different. Not quiet, not really, but calm. Nature humming in the trees. The breeze whispering through tall grass. Dragonflies skimming the surface.
I closed my eyes.
Could’ve been any summer. Any year. Like the summer we were.
I could still hear it. Matty’s laughter echoing across the creek, the splashes of him launching himself in after me. The two of us, soaked and tangled, dunking each other under, kissing like the world would end before we came up for air. Rolling in the grass like idiots.
God, we’d been happy. Stupid and young and happy.
My throat tightened.
The sharp cry of a horse broke the peace.
I jerked upright in the water. My horse galloped away from the edge of the clearing, hooves pounding the dirt in a blur of panic.
“What the—” I scanned the grass.
Matty was standing right where the horse had been.
He wasn’t chasing after it. Wasn’t yelling. Just…standing. Like he’d summoned the damn chaos himself. I wouldn’t put it past him so I would have to walk back to the ranch house.
Fucker.
So much for reminiscing.
I waded out of the lake fast, water sheeting off my skin. “What the hell happened?”
Matty didn’t flinch. Didn’t answer. He stared at me.
No, devoured me with his eyes. So blatantly I felt it like a hand sliding down my body. His face was unreadable. Cold.
And God, it gutted me.
Because I used to know what his every look meant.
I used to be able to read every flicker in his eyes, every twitch in his mouth, the way he bit the inside of his cheek when he was nervous, or the flare of heat that meant he wanted me—needed me.
But now?
Now all I saw was a stranger looking through me, like I was a disappointment. A regret. A reminder of every wrong turn we—I—took.
His stare didn’t set me on fire. It left me hollow.
Like he’d already buried what we had and was lingering to make sure it stayed dead.
And maybe I deserved that.
But Christ, it still hurt.
“Snake,” he said finally. “Rattler spooked him.”
“Shit.” I ran a hand through my wet hair, muttering, “I should go after him—”
“He’ll find his way back. He’s well trained.”
“Still.” I snatched up my underwear. I needed something between me and that look. Matty grabbed my wrist, stopping me from putting them on.
I froze.
His grip wasn’t rough. But it wasn’t gentle either.
“What happened to you?” he asked, voice low.
Before I could answer, he brushed his fingers over my collarbone, right over the bruise blooming there, dark and tender from the earlier fight.
I sucked in a breath, unprepared for the jolt of sensation.
His touch wasn’t soft. Just the bare press of calloused fingers, grazing skin. But it was him.
Matty.
My Matt.
Touching me like this again, even in anger, even in concern. My brain short-circuited.
Don’t pop a boner.
Don’t pop a boner.
Goddammit, Hudson, keep it together.
But it was impossible not to feel everything at once. The heat of his palm, the weight of his stare, the lure of his scent so close. The memory of him holding me down, fucking me so deep I couldn’t think straight.
And now here he was, touching me again. And I was ready to fall to pieces.
God, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly it hurt.
I pulled back, clearing my throat. “Nothing.”
His jaw flexed. “Who punched you?”
“It’s fine.”
“Hudson—”
“I got a few licks in too,” I said. “What, you think I should only be your punching bag?”
He parted his lips, a huff of breath escaping. “Yes.” He caught himself. “I mean, no. Maybe. It’s just—it’s my damn concern if you got into a fight because of my family’s honor.”
Of course. That was the reason he was being sort of chill today instead of pounding me into the ground. And not the good type of pounding either.
“It had nothing to do with your family.” Not true, but Matty didn’t need to know I was still hung up on him. Hell, I’d already embarrassed myself by begging him to fuck me, and he’d walked away like none of it affected him. I wasn’t a sucker for humiliation.
“Then why?” he asked.
“Ozzie doesn’t deserve for people to talk about him like that. He’s…he’s really sweet. A good guy.”
Matty grabbed me by the neck, startling me.
He grazed my throat with his thumb, and every nerve ending under my skin lit up like wildfire. My stomach flipped, heat pooling low as a memory surged, his weight pinning me to the bed, his voice rough against my ear, both of us gasping into the night.
This grip—it was like that. Possessive. Commanding. Familiar.
“What the fuck is so special about him, huh?” Matty’s breath hitched, and his eyes blazed with the anger I now associated with him. “You want him too? That it?”
I swallowed, my mouth dry. “No. It’s not like that with Ozzie.” Why was I even explaining myself to him?
He clenched his jaw. “You gonna bottom for him now? That it? Because newsflash, I don’t think y’all are compatible.”
I stared at him, heart pounding, pulse a drumbeat under his fingers. “I only bottom for you.”
The stillness cracked. The air snapped tight.
Matty’s hand flexed slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make me feel his breathing hitch too.
We were back there again. Not on the ranch.
Not beside a creek. But in that motel room, with the bed creaking and shaking, the neighbor banging on the wall for us to shut the fuck up, and his body on top of mine, both of us desperate, tangled, and young enough to believe passion like ours lasted forever.
“Fuck,” Matty whispered.
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
And I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Waiting to see if he’d cross that final inch.
Waiting to see if I’d stop him if he did.