Chapter 26 - Jensen
If I thought only being allowed to touch Catalina in private while knowing she was mine behind closed doors was torture, this is much worse. Not being able to touch her at all is my own, personal hell.
Knowing I won’t get time with her later when we're back at the hotel is slowly killing me.
Watching her hand me the same stiff, professional distance she gives the rest of the world—like I've been demoted back to a blank face and a body she once cut into—is the thing that's going to make me lose it.
It's a slow death. A bleed out. And though it’s only been an hour since she told me she’s nothing but my doctor now, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to survive it much longer.
Micah leans in, close to my side. “You okay, big guy? You seem kind of off for a cowboy who just had a hell of a first ride back on the bull.”
I clamp my jaw shut, feel my molars grind together until there’s that familiar ache that tells me I’m still breathing even if it’s painful.
I’m still here. I’m still hearing static in my thick skull.
Still standing five feet away from the five-foot-something woman who owns my heart yet for some reason won’t even look at me anymore.
I don’t answer Micah. Because the truth is sitting right there across the table, cold and unreachable all because I fucked up. She's acting like a shell of the woman that I know she actually is, and I know in my heart I’ve already lost her.
It’s little freaking Louisa in elementary school all over again—except this time Catalina thinks she’s not good enough for me and that I went behind her back because I didn't trust her. When the reality is, she’s always been too damn good for me, and I've just been hoping she wouldn't find out.
Well, she found out alright. Because now she’s looking at me like I’m below the dirt on the bottom of her shoes.
After she stormed off at the arena, leaving nothing behind but a jagged rip in my chest and a pain that had me struggling for breath the same way I did the day I collapsed at my grandma’s, I went back into that training room ready to tear something apart.
Doctor Davis was already gone, but Dawson was still there.
And maybe he didn’t deserve it, but I gave it to him anyway.
I yelled. I cursed. I told him to fuck off.
Told him I didn’t want his coaching anymore, which we both know is bullshit.
He let me rage until I burned myself out, then told me to cool the fuck down and figure out my own shit after I told him he was fired.
Turns out he was just as blindsided by my reaction as I was by Catalina’s. I just needed to blame someone other than myself for how this all ended. I told her the truth. That I didn’t ask for that extra consult. That I didn’t want it. That I trusted her. What the hell more could I have done?
And dammit, yeah—it eats at me knowing that after my heart surgery I’d woken up and asked her where the doctor was instead of realizing she was standing right there in front of me like an angel.
Maybe I’ll never fully get why she’s mad.
I’ll certainly never understand what it’s like to claw your way through this world with immigrant parents and a woman’s body in a field that's been claimed by the patriarchy as men’s territory.
But I do know this—I trust her with my fucking life, and I never doubted her judgment on my shoulder.
But when she shut me down, when she told me I wasn’t her problem anymore… yeah. That pissed me off too. Because I didn’t stop believing in her just because Dawson dragged some nobody doctor in to examine a shoulder she already said was fine. She stopped believing in me. In us.
It felt a lot like she was just looking for an excuse to push me away. Like she was in too deep and didn’t know how to get out, so she was searching for a reason to end this. That’d make a lot more sense to me than whatever the hell happened back there.
“Jensen,” Mr. Alba says, clapping a warm hand on my shoulder as he comes up behind me at the outdoor table. He's a handsome man, looks like he's in his mid-fifties, with dark brown hair like Kitty's and a little grey at his temples.
He’s got that kind face that feels welcoming with eyes that make you feel like you belong.
Just like Mrs. Alba. And any other night, I’d be thriving in this sort of social setting.
Meeting the people who made Catalina was something I was looking forward to.
The people she respects the most, the ones responsible for her pursuing her doctor career. But tonight, I can barely breathe.
“You had a great ride tonight. How’d it feel to be back?” he asks me kindly.
I won the ride. Even missing the last one before the break, I’m still sitting in first place heading into the semi-finals planned for a week from now in North Carolina. But it's just barely.
I should be celebrating. I should be drunk on adrenaline and Catalina’s kisses. I should be between her legs, kissing her pussy until she forgets every reason she’s mad at me for something I said in a blur of anesthesia.
Instead, everything we laid down in Tennessee feels like it evaporated. All because my idiot trainer, a man I consider to be one of my best friends, lined up a consult with some orthopedic doctor I couldn't point out in a line up. And apparently, I didn’t shut it down hard enough.
I should have. I know that now. But fuck, is that so bad to throw everything we've built away so easily? Or has she been plotting this for a week now?
“It felt good to be back,” I say.
He nods. “Think you’ll take the belt this time?”
“I always think I’ll take the belt.”
He laughs easily. My eyes betray me, sliding straight to Catalina at the end of the long table that’s set up in her parents’ backyard.
The sun’s dipping low, turning everything out here gold.
The table’s packed with food—homemade, tapas-style, the best meal I’ve had all season.
Homemade by Catalina and her mama from what I've heard.
Catalina’s talking to June, letting her carry most of the conversation as usual. I know her too well. I know she heard her dad mention the belt because her lips have flattened and her jaw is clenched. It's that same tight expression she used to get with me when she was guarding herself.
I want to retreat, to hide inside my head and berate myself. I want to tell myself that she's too good for me anyway. She doesn't want me to keep riding. She doesn't respect my career just like every other woman before that I paid attention to.
The women who cared before did it for control. The ones who didn't, cared about my reputation and not me. As long as I was riding, I was popular. I was making millions. They were getting attention.
But Catalina doesn't care about any of that. She just fucking cares about me.
And other than my grandma, she might be the only person who’s ever really cared about me.
“With my daughter taking care of you,” Mr. Alba says, squeezing my bad shoulder gently, “you’ll never have to worry. She's the best at everything she touches. We're so proud of her.”
I know he's right, but I'm pretty sure his daughter won't be taking care of me anymore. Catalina must have heard that part too, because she blinks a few times and adjusts her legs like she’s been stunned by overhearing her father's compliment. Like she doesn’t quite know what to do with praise when it’s spoken out loud in front of people who don't really know her.
Have they never told her how extraordinary she is where strangers could hear it?
Just as quickly as the comment lands, Mr. Alba pivots. Changes the subject. Asks Micah about his last ride, presses Rafael about his family, starts joking about setting him up with Catalina’s youngest sister, Isla, who’s in her twenties and lives back in Whitewood Creek.
I already know Raf isn’t paying attention to that part since the only woman he has eyes on is June.
“I tell her all the time to move back to the West Coast,” Mrs. Alba says softly. “But you know my younger girls... they're free spirits. For some reason they all ended up in North Carolina.”
I know exactly why they did. The land’s different there. Different air. Trees and mountains that feel right. It’s the same way that Catalina opened when she saw the Smokies and the wide-open spaces of Tennessee.
North Carolina reminds me of Tennessee. I visited once a few years ago. Just passing by on my way to Charlotte. I can see why Hayes Walker, the previous number one bull-rider in North America, settled there and got married.
“We really thought Catalina would be here long-term,” Mrs. Alba continues, smiling wistfully. “She never expressed any interest in leaving California and, well… we assumed she’d have married her fiancé and started a family nearby—” She trails off.
Catalina cuts her eyes at her mother sharply, then wets her lips and swallows.
“My ex-fiancé,” she corrects her mom. Her spine straightens, shoulders squaring like armor snapping back into place before she turns her attention back to June.
“Yes. Sorry, Mija,” her mother adds before rolling right into her next story without missing a beat.
I don't think her mom meant it to come across as a slight, but I know it landed as one in Catalina's mind. Another reminder for her that she's not measuring up to her parent's expectations. Before I can think about that more, I overhear part of Catalina’s conversation with June.
“Okay, so we’ll just meet up at the bar then? Both of our guys are cute, but yours looks absolutely divine! Where did you find him at again?”
I glare at June. Then I glare at Catalina. Then I glare at both of them together. Heat floods my face so fast I feel weak.
Is she fucking serious?
Is she going on a double date with June immediately after telling me I don’t matter? After shutting me out like I was nothing but a mistake she regrets touching?