38. Nathan
38
NATHAN
The day after the interview, I rise bright and early like usual, and head towards the barn office. My community service log is in my hand, the hours and dates filled out in neat columns, with Candice’s initials marking each week’s work. Two hundred hours, done over the last month. I worked six days a week to get it done, and I don’t regret it. It feels good to nearly be done with this chapter of my life, and to put everything that happened with Brad behind me. The article is going live online in two weeks, and if it’s well received, I’ll be reporting what I saw with him and Palladium.
When I get to the barn office, I find Candice inside with Tabitha, having her morning coffee.
“Hey,” I say. “I just brought this for you to sign.”
I hold the community service log out to her, but she doesn’t take it. She looks at it like it’s on fire or something.
“So you’re leaving?” she says finally, letting out a sigh.
“Yeah. I’m all done with my hours, so why not?”
She still just stares at the paper in my hand, all of the emotion gone from her usually expressive face.
“Though, based on what I heard yesterday, me leaving won’t matter all that much to you. I’m just a family friend,” I say, trying to bait her.
Candice scoffs, the sound reminding me so much of who she was when I first met her—dismissive, quick to anger. A Viper.
“It’s not like I could tell Shane the truth,” she says. “We’re not in a relationship and I didn’t want to reveal the sexual aspects of our friendship to a reporter. I thought I did the right thing.”
“So that’s all this is to you?” I brace my hands against the desk and lean over it. “Just sex?”
“Y-yes,” she says shakily, flicking her eyes from my forearms to my face and back again.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear you say that,” I say, offering her a bit of honesty. It’s not like I expected her to say anything different, but I still feel my heart sink a bit.
“Are you? Because you seem pretty eager to get back to competing and leave this, and me, all behind you,” she says fiercely.
“It’s my job,” I say defensively. “I have my next event in two weeks. There’s a big winter stock show and rodeo outside of Bozeman that I used to do every year, and it’ll be a good place to ease myself back into things. I’ll be spending the next few weeks making sure that Bally and I are ready.”
“I knew you wanted to compete again, but I didn’t know it was happening so soon. Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Her voice breaks a bit as she speaks.
“Because I just made the decision firmly the other day,” I say, as gently as possible. “Amber and I discussed it more yesterday. I’m competing again, and I’m also going to report Brad soon.”
“Well good,” she says. “I’m happy for you then, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not just a want. I need to keep supporting my family’s ranch. It’s doing better, but I want to be able to continue providing for them.” I don’t mention that I want to keep providing for the rescue, too. I don’t want Beau or Candice to think I’m taking pity on them or something.
“I get that. Family is everything.” Candice looks at me, and her eyes are shining with tears. I’m not sure if she’s crying because of the mention of family, or because she’s sad to see me go.
“We could continue things,” I say. “I won’t be away all of the time.”
“I know,” Candice says, nodding. “But how often were you actually home last year? Just give me an estimate.”
“For a week here and there. But you could come with me some of the time.”
“Nathan, I don’t want a sometimes boyfriend. I don’t want to chase you around the country either, following you from event to event. I want a partner, by my side, here with me in Star Mountain. This is where my life is.”
“We could make it work. We just have to try,” I say, but I already know it’s a lost cause. And I’m not willing to plead much more—if she doesn’t want me, then fine. I’ll be fucking fine.
“Will it work, though?” she says, a tremor in her voice. “Will it work when I haven’t seen you in weeks and am stuck here alone? Will it work when women are throwing themselves at you left and right, and you’re out partying without me?”
“You know I’d never cheat on you,” I say, but shame unfurls inside of me, as I think of my father. Of what is in my blood and bones.
“And I don’t think you would,” she says, sighing. “I’m just saying that it will be complicated and difficult. Our lives are too different. You’re America’s favorite cowboy and I’m just a lonely girl in a barn.”
“Candice, that’s not true and?—”
“Yes it is. And a relationship that lasts is all I’ve ever wanted. I can’t afford to try and make this work just for it to inevitably fail because of distance. I can’t handle another loss.”
It dawns on me, clear and fresh as the morning. All Candice has ever wanted—needed—is for someone to stay with her and never leave. A relationship in which I have to leave her for weeks at a time would never work. It would tear her apart. I’ve already seen how much losing Storm affected her—she doesn’t need the emotional up and down of saying hello and goodbye to me all the time. She’s not willing to take a chance on me, and I wouldn’t if I was in her shoes either.
I’ve never been able to commit to someone and have it work out in the long run—why should things with her be any different?
“You need stability,” I say hoarsely.
She nods.
“I can’t give you that right now.”
She nods again.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling the life go out of me. “I love you. If it makes any difference—I love you.”
She swallows, and toys with the end of her braid. “Thank you. That’s—that’s not what I expected you to say.”
“Well it’s the truth.”
Candice says nothing, and just stares past me and into the barn beyond, where the horses are awake and making a bit of noise.
“I’ll get Ballantine ready to go and then I’ll be out of your hair by the afternoon,” I say.
I turn on my heel to leave but she says, “Wait.”
Heart in my throat, I face her again, and see that she’s sticking her hand out. “I need to sign that,” she says.
“Right.” I hand over my community service log, and after a glance, she quickly signs and dates it. She folds it and puts it in a sealed envelope.
“There,” she says, handing it back to me.
“Goodbye, Candice,” I say, smiling at her and trying to memorize her features. The slope of her nose. Her expressive mouth. Those eyes that will always remind me of Ballantine. Her long braids, crowned by a black Stetson.
“Goodbye, Nathan.”
I rip my eyes away from her and walk down through the stables, making my way to Ballantine’s stall. The only thing that will keep me together right now is spending time with my horse, and getting the hell out of here. A familiar face pokes its head out of a stall near Bally’s and I see that it’s Brown Sugar.
I pause. I have to say goodbye to her, especially after all of the progress we made together. I give her a scratch on her neck, right where I know she likes it.
“You won’t be seeing me much anymore, Brownie,” I say softly. “I’m sure I’ll be back at some point. But it’s goodbye for now. Thank you for everything. You taught me more than I taught you.”
I leave her be and visit Ballantine in the stall next to hers. He’s not going to be happy about getting back in the trailer, but for once we’re united on that issue. I’d give anything to stay in Star Mountain with Candice, but even if she wanted to be together, I’d have to leave in a few weeks to compete anyways.
“We’re going back on the road again, Bally,” I say to him.
He nudges me, and then rests his head on my shoulder like usual.
“But don’t worry, I’m going to start a new horse soon, and then you can retire for good.” I make a mental note to tell Salvador that we should start looking for a yearling or a two- year-old. If I’m going to keep my mind off of Candice, then I need a project.
I put Ballantine’s trailer boots on, get it prepped for him with hay and mats, and then tempt him into it with his favorite kind of treats. He must sense that I’m in a bad mood, because he doesn’t put up much of a fight. I send Beau a text letting him know that I’m all done with my community service and heading out, but he must be busy with a patient because he never responds. All that’s left is to clear my things out of the bunkhouse, and that only takes fifteen minutes.
By noon, I’m pulling out of the driveway, and Star Mountain is fading into the distance behind me.