38 #2
Looks like the night’s just getting started.
Busted knuckles and black eyes and suddenly it’s three a.m.
“Tonight fucking ruled,” Fallon exclaims before taking a drag on the joint. Beside us, littered on the bedspread, a first aid kid, an ashtray, and a platter of half-eaten chocolate cake.
I give her a wry grin. I know what she means. Nothing makes me feel more alive than a fucking fistfight.
“Here,” I say, reaching for her, “let me see your hand.”
We’re battered and bruised and patching each other up. It calls to mind rodeos past. Our old times. I clean her hand then tear off a piece of tape and wrap her knuckles.
Fallon blows a smoke ring and watches it disappear into the dark. “It felt like living. Really living.” She passes me the joint.
I take a drag on the joint then lay it in the ashtray. “There’ll be other times, Trouble. Other bars. Other assholes.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “But no more lives, right?”
I snap shut the first aid kit. “With you, hard to say.”
Her gaze finds her cane standing in a corner of the room. Her throat bobs. “I love it so much, Wy. I really do.”
I swallow. “I’m glad.”
“It makes me feel like I can do anything.”
“You can,” I tell her.
She scoots forward, closer to me. “Poor baby,” she says and kisses gently beneath my black eye. When she pulls back, she scrutinizes my face. Her fingertips trace over my jaw.
Her eyes jump to mine. “Why do you fight, Wyatt?”
“Why do you?”
“I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”
I sigh. “Fine. I fight because I know a five-foot-six blonde in need of an attitude adjustment.”
“Asshole.” She slaps my bicep. “I fight because it’s a way to prove to the world, to men especially, that I deserve to be here.” She grins. “Not to mention the adrenaline makes me feel fucking amazing.” She plucks the joint from the ashtray. Inhales. “Your turn.”
My back teeth grind together. Voicing it has me in a fucking knot. But it’s time to be honest. To get it out.
“Wyatt?” A hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
I chuckle at how damn perceptive my girl is. It only makes me love her more.
I blow out a breath. “I fight because someone hit me.”
She tenses. “Your brothers?
“No. A trainer.”
Fallon hisses a gasp. “Who?” Absolute destruction rages on her gorgeous face. “I’ll kill ’em.”
I needle my brow. “Fallon.”
On the sheet, Fallon’s hands are pulled to fists. “Tell me, Wyatt.”
“Rand Younger,” I say hoarsely, and she goes stone-still. “When I was fourteen, my parents hired him to give me private lessons. He was the best. And my parents always had to have the fucking best.
“Well, what they didn’t know was he was a fucking asshole. Always yellin’ at me for some shit or callin’ me a fuckup. Thought it was just his style. You know, a trainer, we have to be—”
Her tattooed hand covers mine. “Tough.”
“Yeah. Tough as nails. When really, he was a fuckin’ asshole.” Pressure builds in my chest. I feel Fallon’s stare on me. Hot. Waiting.
“The day it happened, I was in the barn cleaning out the stalls. He didn’t see me in there. I heard him yelling at someone, something, and when I took a look, he was yellin’ at the horses. And then he—” I shake my head, keeping my gaze on her hand wrapped around mine. “He hit the horse. My horse.”
Fallon sucks in a sharp breath.
“I came out of the stall, and I told him to leave her alone. I got in front of them, tried to stop him, and that’s when he fuckin’ snapped.” My heart pounds. “He hit me across the face. He beat the fucking shit out of me until I blacked out.”
A vicious curse blasts from Fallon’s mouth.
“Do your brothers know?” Her voice is soft, gentle, like she’s talking to one of her horses.
I turn, finally meeting her gaze.
“No.” Even now, guilt rises, and I feel like throwing up.
“When I woke up in the hospital, I told everyone it was a horseback riding accident.” I chuckle bitterly.
“After I got out, I went back to training with Younger like nothing ever happened. How fuckin’ twisted is that?
He never said a damn thing. It was only one time—”
Fallon squeezes my hand. “One time’s too much.”
“Yeah.” I rake a hand through my hair, exhale. “It was.”
We’re quiet for several long beats.
Fallon searches my face. “You work for him.”
I rub my jaw. “I do. I thought by takin’ the job I could at least keep some kids away from him. It ain’t much. But it’s somethin’. It’s all I can do, because I…”
“What?”
“Why didn’t I tell my parents or my brothers? The guy probably did this all the time, and I just let it happen.” My eyes are suddenly wet, but I keep talking. “If I was tough like Davis or brave like Charlie, maybe—”
“No.” Fallon’s voice snaps with fire. “Don’t you dare. You were a kid.”
I offer a shrug. “Still shoulda done the right thing.”
“The right thing would be me killing that motherfucker.”
I laugh bitterly. “Give it a month. He’s comin’ to the ranch.”
Fallon jolts in shock then growls. “When?”
“End of summer. Hell, I ain’t even sure if he remembers me, but I fuckin’ remember him.”
“How do you feel about seeing him again?”
“Honestly, I ain’t sure. Fourteen years old feels like a thousand years ago, but I can still feel it all the same, you know?
” My jaw works back and forth. “Part of me wants to take a swing at the guy the second I see him. The other wants to show him what a real cowboy looks like. Even if I am still a fuckup.”
“You’re the furthest thing from a fuckup, Wyatt.
” Fallon’s eyes are misty. “The way you train those kids. They way you are with the horses. You’re so damn good.
” Her voice shakes. “Being gentle, being kind, that makes a man.” She touches her heart.
“I’ve never met anyone like you, Wyatt. When everyone was against me, there was only you.
You show me over and over again what it means to be safe. ”
Fuck. Her words have my heart burning in my damn chest.
Fallon cups my face and leans in. “I’m here for you, you know. Sometimes I’m an asshole, but… I’m so sorry that happened to you, Wyatt.”
“You’re goin’ soft, Trouble.”
She smiles, kisses my lips. “For you, maybe.”
I move then, pulling Fallon into my arms and down onto the bed. She lies on my chest, hand fanned out over my heart. I smooth her silky hair, those long caramel strands.
Fallon lets out a long sigh. “I don’t want PT to be over.”
“You’ll miss it that much?” I ask, lifting my head.
Her bottomless hazel eyes meet mine. “No.” She hesitates then says, “I’ll miss you.”
Fuck. If that isn’t the devastation of my heart.
She bites her lip. “What if I said I like living with you?”
I smother a smile at how she always tries to be nonchalant before giving in to her feelings. “I like living with you, too.”
“It’s easy. Does that sound weird?”
“Nope.”
“We both sleep well together.”
“No nightmares,” I agree.
“You make food, I eat it,” she says, and I chuckle. Her features screw up like she’s in pain. “And you…you make me happy, Wyatt. You have always made me happy, even if I want to strangle you on the daily.”
I swallow, my heart pounding so hard, I swear she can hear it.
This conversation is veering toward dangerous territory. I need to tell her I love her. But she’s finally letting me in. If I tell her the truth and she shuts down, I might lose what we already have.
Still, I can’t lie completely. Not after what’s just happened between us. Not when she’s in my arms, trembling, heart keeping rhythm with mine just like those wild horses.
I clear my throat. “That day in Arizona, I didn’t come to watch you ride, Fallon.”
She angles her head, curious. “You didn’t? Then why did you come?”
My throat wells, but I say, “I came to bring you home. I came to bring you back to me.”
Her wide, hazel eyes lock on mine. Something like shock and fear crosses her face as she goes rigid.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her hands slide up my chest to cup my face. “Kiss me.”
“Christ, baby,” I rasp and slam my mouth to hers.
She twists in my arms, slicing her fingers through my hair. Ravenous desire mounts between us, kissing so frantically our teeth knock. With a moan, Fallon melts against me. Soft, surrendering.
Gently, I lower her to the sheets and slide down her body. I pepper kisses down her breasts, her stomach, her scars. She arches in the sheets, gripping my hair, burning beneath me.
The sight of Fallon stretched out beneath me, beautiful, brazen, bare, is almost too much. I devour her with my eyes before capturing her mouth once more. Her taste explodes in my mouth. Whiskey and fire. Woman and warrior.
Mine.
Slowly, I sink inside of her. Fallon’s moans meet mine.
As I thrust, I cup her face. “Tell me,” I say roughly.
“Tell you what?”
“That it’s us.”
I need her words.
Her hazel eyes flutter. Then she whispers, “It’s us.” At my whimper, she rakes her nails down my back. She cries out as I bury myself to the hilt. “It’s us, Wyatt. No one else.”
All I need from her. Now that I know where we’re going, I know what to do.
Ask Stede for permission—real permission—to keep her hand. Then I’ll do it right. Tell her I love her.
Sparks ignite between us as I drive deeper.
Slow and steady, lost in this woman who has my heart.
Fallon’s cries cut the dark of the early morning.
Every thrust feels like being on the outskirts of heaven.
Every thrust feels like locking our souls together.
And I know I’m falling harder than ever before.