Chapter 25 – Catalina
Jensen’s ride was good.
Okay—no. It was great.
It might have been the longest eight seconds of my life, my lungs locked tight as I counted them down in my head, but he stayed on the entire time. He looked strong and grounded. Like his body trusted itself again.
He didn't slip, didn't hesitate, didn't bail early.
He rode the full eight seconds and made every one of them look earned.
I know how much that took physically. But even more than that, I know the kind of mental and emotional strength it takes to come back after an injury and trust your body again—to believe you won't fall and end up right back where you started.
And even though he didn’t catch my eye before his ride, didn’t ask me to hold out my tongue like he said he would, I still held my breath anyway.
The flash of his hand when he dismounted showed the red paint streaked across his nails to match mine, visible when he tugged off his riding gloves.
These were enough to tell me he’s claimed me in ways that no one else can understand yet.
My cheeks heat just thinking about the stretching room and what we did in there.
Something I would never—ever—do with someone under my care.
And yet since Jensen entered my orbit, I’ve been breaking rules I built my entire life around.
I've been stepping out of the normal lines that I've drawn for myself.
I just can’t tell yet if that makes me reckless… or more honest.
“So, we’ll see you for dinner?” my mother asks me, her smile warm and easy.
She looks so much like me. It’s something I never noticed when I was younger, but the older I get, the more people comment on it, and now I see it too.
The almond shape of her eyes. The shine of her dark hair.
Maybe I had to step away from surgery, from being so relentlessly critical of everyone and everything, to finally notice how wonderful my mother is.
Because my mom is a saint. She always has been.
She’s one of the kindest, most generous people I know.
It's an honor to look like her. It’s an honor to be an Alba.
“Yes,” I say. “And I invited a few of the riders and staff. The team photographer, June, our coordinator Noa…” I trail off.
It could have just been me and Jensen. I wanted it to be at first. But I invited others to make it seem less… couple-y. Safer. Especially since I still don't know what exactly it is that we're doing. All I really want right now is to be alone with him, taking my clothes off.
There’s something about watching Jensen on the back of a bull that makes me so terrified and turned on.
She nods. “Okay. Your dad’s waiting at home, so I better get back and start prepping the food. See you soon.”
“Love you, mom.”
Her smile melts a little as she hugs me. And for once I don’t turn stiff. I hug her back.
“Love you too, Mija.”
I watch her leave, then turn toward the exit chute where the cowboys gather after rides—signing autographs, posing for photos, soaking in the crowd that shows up for them. It’s packed, which is unsurprising. It was a big ride, and Jensen’s first one back since the injury.
I still haven’t told him about Olivia’s surgery and about missing Seattle.
About the fact that I won’t be there in two days when he rides next, but that I know his injury will be fine.
I've examined it, had the scans redone in Tennessee, and I'm confident he'll be okay without me physically present.
But I still want to give him a heads up that I have to step away from the series for a few days.
I elbow my way through the mass of people, flashing my staff badge until I reach the front. Micah, Joel, and a few of the others are surrounded by a cluster of women who look far too eager for their attention.
“Hey,” I say. “Have you guys seen Jensen?”
They exchange a look. One of those ‘we know why you're asking’ looks.
They couldn’t… could they? I know Jensen wouldn’t have told them. I trust him. But we also haven’t been subtle since Nashville. Not with the way we look at each other, or the sneaking around between hotel rooms.
“I think he went to meet Dawson in the training room,” Micah says.
“Okay. Thanks.”
No need to explain my happiness to them or come up with some lie about checking his shoulder again.
Us hooking up isn't a risk I would normally feel is worth the payoff, but something about what Jensen and I have feels different. Beyond that, I know working in the rodeo won’t be forever.
I’ll have a life after the series wraps up.
And I’m starting to think it might include Jensen.
Heat creeps into my cheeks at the thought, and I carry it with me the entire walk down the tiled hallway toward the training room. My heart feels lighter than it has in days, fluttering with equal parts excitement and nerves. But the second I reach the door, I stop short.
Voices drift through the open crack. The moment I recognize all three of them, my heart plummets.
“Yeah. It felt good,” Jensen says.
Relief flares then promptly dies.
“Well, I’m glad you came to me,” the other voice replies. This one is full of confident arrogance. It's familiar in a way that makes my skin go cold.
“It never hurts to get a second opinion. Especially since this is my specialty. I’m the top orthopedic doctor on the West Coast. I'm better equipped to make this decision than a heart surgeon. I’ll take a quick look, and we’ll go from there on what the right course of action may be—”
I don’t hear the rest of the sentence. Because I’d recognize that voice in my sleep. These days I only hear it in my nightmares.
I turn sharply and press my back to the cold concrete wall, palms flattening together as I draw in a shaky breath.
Jensen is meeting with Davis.
Jensen is meeting with my ex-fiancé about his shoulder.
My mind spirals, cruel and fast.
Jensen doesn’t trust me.
Every insecurity rushes in. Jensen sees me as just a female doctor. Not his doctor. Not someone worth listening to with experience treating all sorts of injuries, including his.
He lied when he said he trusted my call.
He sought an external opinion because he doesn’t think I’m qualified.
Tears sting my eyes, sudden and unwelcome. I clamp down on my bottom lip with my teeth until they stop.
He’s just a body.
He doesn’t matter to me.
I got ahead of myself thinking we could be more.
I do my job.
I don’t get attached.
I don’t need him to see me as anything more, because he’s no more important than Micah or Joel.
I shove off the wall, ready to disappear down the hallway before I can get caught, but the door opens behind me and Jensen steps out, calling something over his shoulder to Davis before pulling it shut behind him.
“Oh—hey, Kitty.” That boyish smile he always wears spreads across his handsome face when he notices me.
“No.” I shake my head and take a step back, my voice shaking more than I want it to, but I let it.
Maybe he needs to see the cracks that I keep so perfectly concealed most of the time. Maybe he needs to see how serious I am about being done with this. With whatever it was we started that I can’t afford to bleed for.
“Don’t call me that. I’m Doctor Alba.”
His brows knit together like he doesn’t understand. Like he can’t fathom how much my credentials mean to me. I wonder if he just addressed him as Davis, or as Doctor Davis.
“Yeah—sorry. No one’s around. I just...” His voice trails off and his face turns more serious as he studies my gaze. “You’re upset? What happened?”
I shake my head, the motion sharp. “Don’t call me that anywhere. In fact, we won’t ever be in private again, so you won’t have to worry about slipping up. I'm Doctor Alba to you now.”
“Catalina—uh, Doctor Alba—hey. What’s going on?”
He takes another step toward me. I lunge back like I’ve been burned. “Don’t touch me.”
He’s just a body.
He throws his hands up, stopping himself mid-step. “Okay. Okay. Just—talk to me. Please.”
To his credit, he looks worried.
To his discredit, I no longer care. I can’t think straight. Davis’s words roar in my head.
The shutters are back up around my heart, slamming into place so fast it makes my chest ache.
Where I was looking at a man I was actively falling for just minutes ago, now all I see is pain.
Another man who chooses someone else, or something else, over me.
Another man who sees my small stature, my soft curves and thinks I can easily be dismissed.
“You never really saw me as your doctor, did you?” I ask.
“What?” He stares at me in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
I laugh, but it comes out thin and brittle.
“My word was never enough. You’re just like every other man I've ever encountered. I can have the credentials, the accolades, the experience—but it isn't enough for you. I might know your body better than anyone else, I might have fixed your heart, but you’ll still need a second opinion before you feel confident.” I swallow hard.
“I’ll never be smart enough for you. And fuck, I’ll probably never be good enough for you. ”
I hate the way it sounds when it’s spoken aloud.
Hate how small it makes me feel. I’ve never said words like that to a man before.
I’ve never let them have that much control.
But I’m not na?ve enough to think this is only about Jensen.
He’s just pressed on the wound harder than anyone has in a long time.
Maybe this is old pain resurfacing—unhealed, untreated—left behind by Davis and now festering in whatever Jensen and I were building. I see it then, like lightning cracking the sky—the exact moment my words land. The moment understanding registers.
“Dawson set that up,” he blurts, extending his arms wide to point at the room he just left. “I trust you, Catalina. I trust you completely. I told him I didn’t need a second opinion. My shoulder feels strong.”
I lift my hand to stop him. “You should have shut it down. You should have told him you were already under another doctor’s care.”