Chapter Eight
JAMIE
Today was the last day of my circuit contract until October. I hopped out of the ring with a new buckle and rushed straight to the airport with my hair still wet from a shower. I probably should have stayed until tomorrow morning, but I’m stepping off a plane in New York instead, and I don’t really care what the consequences are.
Two weeks, two wins. I’ve deposited several nice, fat checks into my bank account, and I’ve got enough bravery to stand in front of Oakley again, even if I don’t feel like I deserve to breathe the same air as her. I may not feel like I’m a man she can lean on yet, but I feel a little less like a helpless high school boy.
I’ve only got a little over a month off from the circuit, but I probably only have about an hour before my dad calls me demanding to know where the hell I went, and I want to make every last second count. Frank signed me on for another show at the next rank up, and I’m hoping that I’ll start pulling some steady money in soon. If I can tuck a few more buckles onto my belt, maybe Oakley will see me as someone she can rely on.
The way she deserves.
My hands shake as I step out of the airport and scan the crowd of cars for an unoccupied cab. I wrinkle my nose at the scent, even if I know it’s probably worse in the city. It’s not even that bad, really. I’m just used to the air smelling like open land and animals, but this just smells like people , jam-packed into one shared space that’s way too small for them all.
When I finally find a cab with their light on, I rush over to pull the door open and slide into the backseat, halfway to breathless. It’s all finally happening.
I’m in New York, and I’ve got one hell of a speech planned, and if I’m lucky, I might just have the girl of my dreams back in my arms within the hour.
“Where to?” the cabbie says, starting his meter.
I fumble my phone out and read off the address that Bo sent me.
I settle back into the seat as the cabbie starts weaving his way through the congested lines of airport traffic, trying to keep myself calm. I’m so insanely grateful that Bo decided to throw me a bone. He’s been the only one willing to help me at all here. Phoebe won’t give me a second of her time, no matter how much I’ve tried to explain everything. All she’ll say to me is that I’m getting what I deserve and that Oakley wants nothing to do to me.
I won’t believe she’s right. Not when I’m so close to getting her back.
Maybe Oakley will laugh at me for even trying and refuse to give me a chance to talk. Maybe she’ll give me that same blank, uncaring look she did the night that I lost her and tell me to leave.
Part of me thinks even that would be better than the silence I’ve been suffering through.
I desperately hope that she still thinks of me, that maybe she even misses me, just a little. I can’t bring myself to hope that she’s been as wrecked over this as I have because even if Savannah Ward is to blame for that kiss, not telling Oakley about the circuit is my fault.
My lungs go tight with excitement when I catch the name of the penthouse, emblazoned in massive, glittering letters on the top of one of the buildings. The whole city is bright and sparkling, but suddenly all of it seems dull in comparison. I do my best not to bounce in my seat like a toddler as we draw closer, and I clench my hand around the strap of my bag in an attempt to distract myself for just a moment.
I need to be calm for this. I need to be able to tell her everything that I’ve been thinking about since she left, and I need to give her a reason to come back to me. I need her to see that I’m someone she can trust, someone mature and capable.
Throwing up out of excitement the second I see her isn’t going to cut it.
“Anywhere in particular I should drop you off?” the cabbie asks as we pull into the parking lot.
I fumble for my wallet, ready to throw him as much money as he asks for without a second thought. I feel like I can hardly even think, my heart pounding so hard that I can feel it in my throat.
“No,” I say, shaking my head, “the front door should be?—”
I cut myself off before I can finish my sentence, a million different thoughts and emotions flooding me all at once.
There she is.
Oakley, my girl, the love of my life, just…standing there. She’s on the steps leading to the lobby doors, and she’s so gorgeous it’s painful when I see the smile on her face. It’s almost nine here, although my body still thinks it’s only seven, and my heart clenches in my chest at the sight of her.
And then it stops entirely, dropping straight down to the pit of my stomach, when the tunnel of my vision widens enough to realize that she’s smiling at someone. Someone who’s standing too close to her, who’s tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and bending down closer to her.
Someone who’s kissing her.
My mind goes blank in time with my vision, horror and disgust and earth-shattering pain slamming into me. I think I make some kind of noise, and I vaguely hear the cabbie ask if I’m alright, but I have no idea how to answer that question.
Oakley’s never left me feeling like this, not even when I was watching her walk away from me that night, not when I watched her mom’s car speed off, not the first time I broke down panicking with the thought that I may really never see her again. A shaky, humorless laugh falls from my lips as I stare wide-eyed at my own hands where they tremble between my knees. Throwing up doesn’t sound like such a bad idea anymore.
I remember feeling this way at my mom’s funeral. It’s the same world-ending ache, the same desolate, broken emptiness.
The same loss.
“Um,” I choke out, uncaring of the raw agony in my voice or the tears welling in my eyes, “can you take me back to the airport, please?”
The cabbie is silent for a long moment, and I want to crumple in on myself at the thought of a stranger knowing, of being so obvious and completely ruined that anyone can see what I’ve lost. He doesn’t say anything before I feel the car start to move again, and I’m powerless to stop myself from breaking down in tears.
They burn hot lines on my cheeks, and I see the same bright lights we passed just moments ago flash over my closed eyelids. It feels like mockery, the glamor and excitement of it all.
I want to be sick. I want to lash out at someone, anyone—myself, most of all. I’m shaking, but I almost can’t even feel it. My entire body is numb, too hurt to process it. It’s like getting hurt at the rodeo, but this already feels worse than getting gored ever could, and the shock of it hasn’t even worn off yet.
I’ve been so certain that I could get Oakley back, that I prove to her that I’m worth waiting for. I’m not anything special, and I don’t have money or connections like her family does, but I swore that I’d take care of her. I swore I’d be someone she could be proud of, someone who would deserve to put a ring on her finger. Did I really lose my last chance?
Did I lose Oakley for good?
She’s probably already dating someone else .
I want to scream in pain, in fury, in heartbreak. God damn Savannah Ward, of all people, for being right. I don’t want to hear her cruel, mocking voice in my head right now, but as images of that guy leaning down to kiss the love of my life flash behind my eyes, all I can hear is those words. Oakley deserves better than some no-name idiot who can barely even manage to win a few stupid buckles.
I don’t know what to do with my life if I’m not doing it for her. Oakley has always been my motivation, the light at the end of every tunnel. There’s no point in me going back to the circuit if I won’t be using the money I win to take care of her, but I’m still not good at anything else.
I’ll look like a fucking idiot showing my face back home, anyway. Running off after the love of my life only to come back brokenhearted and without purpose.
Oakley moved on.
She left me behind, and I’m going to be nothing more than a thing of the past for her. I’ll never get over her, and she’ll move on with her life. I’ll be a mediocre bull rider and work on the ranch with my dad, and she’ll be incredible at anything she decides to do.
I’m going to be nothing but a footnote in her history, and there won’t be a day in my life when I don’t think about her.