Chapter 16
Juliet
I don’t want to pressure Archer, especially after all he was willing to share with me, but this answer feels like it could be more significant than the rest.
“I’m sure I’m past my six questions, so you technically don’t have to answer that one,” I say.
One of his hands hangs casually at his side while the other holds the reins above the saddle horn, Archer expertly leading his horse forward with subtle movements.
I haven’t had to direct Rapunzel once, the horse clearly following her true master’s lead.
A red handkerchief pokes out from the back pocket of Archer’s jeans, and the prominent muscles in his thighs shift as he sits atop his saddle.
When I came here on my date for Prom, I did my best to pay attention to Luke, but Archer captivated me in every way. He’s still doing so now. Only today, he’s stolen more than a few glances in my direction, as well.
This ride, his opening up to me and sharing about his past—it’s all been a dream. One I don’t want to wake up from, though I know I’m right at the edge of reality.
His chest rises in his black button-up, a white shirt peeking through near his neck as he speaks. “Of course I’d like to see you again. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Because of my dad? He’s not a tyrant, you know.”
“I do. But I know what he’s capable of doing in the name of Autumn Ridge. I can only imagine what he’d do in your name. I’ll end up arrested a third time while he tries to shut down the stables again.”
I swing my eyes to his. “He tried to shut down the stables?”
His mouth hovers open, then he clamps it shut. “You’re out of questions, Juliet.”
He knows I really want this one, too.
“Can I buy you more maple bars?”
“Sure, but it’s not going to get you anywhere.”
I try to pry it from him, but this cowboy won’t break. He distracts me by pointing out the empty maple buckets hanging from the trees we pass by, and I give up on asking him more questions. In truth, he’s given more than I thought he would, and I’m grateful for it.
By the time we reach the stables, I’ve resigned myself to just asking Dad about his apparent attempt to shut down Horseshoe Holler.
“Let me help you down,” Archer says as he dismounts in front of the stables and ties his horse up.
“It’s okay. I got it.”
“Wait, Juliet—”
But I’m determined to offset my humiliation from before by showing him that I’m capable of at least getting off a horse on my own.
I shove my foot farther into the stirrup for support, but instead of grasping onto the saddle horn, I decide to lean against Rapunzel’s smooth neck instead. As I swing my right leg over the horse’s backside, my hand slips instantly, and I plummet toward the dirt.
“Juliet!”
My foot twists in the stirrup, and a sharp pain pulls through my ankle before my boot finally releases, and I land hard on the ground on my right side.
I lay winded on the ground, the horse shuffling away from me as Archer kneels down at my side. His hands hold my face in place. “Are you all right?”
I nod, and relief floods through his features, probably because I can move my neck.
I’m not incapacitated, but my dignity sure is.
I try to sit up, but my head spins.
“Just stay there for a second. Catch your breath.”
I do as I’m told, wincing.
He releases his hold of me and glances down my body. “Where are you hurt?”
“My left ankle.”
“Not your head?”
“No. I caught most of the fall on my side.”
Probably a guardian angel because we all know I’m incapable of keeping myself safe.
I try to sit again, and this time, I manage. Archer pulls my boot off then slides my pant leg up to my knee. His warm hands trail up and down the arch of my foot and halfway up my leg.
Goosebumps prickle my skin, and warmth swirls from his touch to my chest. Now I’m winded for a completely different reason.
“Any of that tender?” he asks, still moving his hand up and down.
I’m so glad I shaved this morning, but I could really do with a less-sweaty foot. “Just the ankle.”
He nods, as if expecting my answer. I can’t see his face, the brim of his hat covering most of it. “I think it’s just a sprain, but better to be safe than sorry. I’m gonna take you to the hospital in Burlington. They’re better than the family practice here.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll just wrap it up myself.”
But when a tickle slips down my right arm, and I swipe at it, I feel moisture instead of the dirt I expected.
I pull my hand back and see blood on my fingertips.
Alarm rings through my body like I’m being pulled apart, and I twist my arm to see just below the elbow, a slice the length of a penny pouring blood down my skin.
I wince, only now feeling the stinging pain.
Archer’s at my side now instead of my feet, kneeling down as he holds my arm and examines the wound. “That’ll need stitches.”
“A butterfly bandage will be fine.”
Finally he looks at me, his lips stretched in a grim line and a deep crease marring his forehead.
“Are you mad?” I ask, pulling back.
“You should’ve waited for me to help you down,” he says in a gruff tone. “I needed to tie up your horse before you tried to dismount. You both could’ve been seriously injured.”
My cheeks overheat. I don’t like how his words make me feel, so I look away. My cowgirl hat lies upside down in the dirt. the once-pristine felt now spotted with dirt. Rapunzel stamps her hoof a few feet away, untied but lingering nearby, and I grimace.
This is a classic case of acting before thinking. Again. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I just wanted to dismount to prove I’m not the same immature teenager as before.”
Archer doesn’t meet my gaze for a minute. He shakes his head, and I catch little glimpses of his frowning features beneath his hat as he pulls the red handkerchief from his back pocket and begins to wipe the blood trailing down my arm.
“Unless I’m blind, your dad is the only one who still might see you as young, but that’s because you’re his little girl, which will never change.
But I—and I’m pretty sure the rest of Autumn Ridge—see you for who you are.
Mature, sophisticated, and yes, twenty-two.
That makes you an official adult of four years.
You don’t have anything to prove, Juliet. ”
The pressure of having to impress him slips away, and I breathe deeply for the first time. Falling off the horse made me feel like an elephant fighting against gravity. Now, I’m floating lighter than a leaf.
“For what it’s worth,” Archer continues, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad. I just...didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Because of my dad and what he’ll do.”
Hurt reflects in his eyes. “No. Because I don’t want you getting hurt,” he repeats.
With a sigh, he takes his hat off and runs his hands through his hair. The way he kneels next to me, shoulders slumped and features down, he looks tormented.
“This is why I don’t know if we should see each other after this,” he says. “It ain’t fair for you because you will get hurt again.”
“How am I going to get hurt if neither of you want to hurt me?”
He replaces his hat. “By you being in the middle. At surface level, what’s going on between your dad and me may seem childish, but beneath it all, there’s a lot of old grievances that just can’t be erased.
I don’t want either of you to think I’d use you to get back at him.
As much as I disagree with your dad, I’d never be able to live with myself if I did anything to jeopardize your relationship with him.
You don’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire. ”
He looks at me with his soft, brown eyes from under the brim of his tan cowboy hat—the cowboy hat that made me first notice him.
I told him my crush had been laid to rest. I really didn’t want to be with a guy who couldn’t hold his own next to Dad. But knowing that Archer can—that he stands up for himself and stands by who he is now—my heart swells.
Old feelings begin to resurface. I try to let them out the side door, desperate to be rid of them, but they float above me like wisps of clouds, seeable, untouchable, and completely real.
“I hope that makes sense,” he finishes, “and I hope I don’t hurt you now because of it.”
I remain silent. For years, Archer hurt me. Every time I walked by unnoticed, every time I saw him on a date, every time his eyes scanned the crowds at the Fall Festival and didn’t land on me, it hurt—even if he never meant to.
I’m not going to let it happen again, though. I refuse to be hung up on this cowboy for the next five years of my life.
I shift on the ground, wincing as my body starts to recognize the fall it suffered. “I think you’re right about the cut and sprain. Will you take me to the hospital?”
He looks as if he wants to linger, probably to see if I have any response to his words, but I don’t see the point.
If he says I have nothing to prove, then I believe him.
I won’t try to prove that I’m worth whatever war he needs to fight Dad to get to me because obviously, to Archer, I’m not worth it.
He helps me stand, then supports me as I hobble to his truck. I have a feeling he wants to carry me in his arms, but I’m glad he refrains. His earthy cologne and the smell of leather on his clothes is strong and appealing enough without being any closer.
When I’m settled on the seat, he makes a phone call as he returns to the stables, and I hear him asking whoever he’s talking with to groom and untack the horses we’ve just ridden.
It’s probably Sadie. I don’t feel jealousy anymore at the thought of her. She’s nice and obviously fits Archer better. I’ll be happy for them when they eventually end up together.
Archer returns a few minutes later with my sandals I’d forgotten about and a first-aid kit. He cleans out my cut, and I struggle not to flinch at the sharp pain sending stabbing prickles up and down my arm.
An awkward silence hovers between us, like the black specter decorations Dad insists on hanging from our front trees every year.
But just because Archer has chosen not to see me anymore doesn’t mean we can’t be civil with each other.
“You’ve done this before,” I state, motioning to my arm as he places a sterile bandage over it to prep for the upcoming ride to Burlington.
“I got used to it on the circuit. Sometimes ambulances weren’t at the ready in remote areas.”
“The circuit?”
“When I was rodeoing.”
Now the phrase sounds familiar. When I was an obsessed teen, I found YouTube videos and news articles of Archer when he was “on the circuit.” I’d watch and read them on repeat, marveling at his ability to ride so fearlessly, then I’d moon at him during the interviews afterwards.
He finishes looking after my arm, and while I’m grateful for his care, I’m ready to have a different nurse now—preferably one who’s old and smells of dryer sheets and antiseptic soap.
I replace the boots with my sandals as we drive in silence, country playing on the radio and filling the void between us.
Finally, I breathe a sigh of relief as we arrive at the hospital thirty minutes later.
Archer helps me into the waiting room and stays with me as I fill out the forms. He’s kind enough to hand the papers in for me so I don’t have to stand again, which is good because there’s now a heartbeat the size of Otter Creek in my ankle.
At least the blood is no longer sliding down my arm.
“How are you feeling?” The blue leather of the waiting chair creaks as Archer takes his seat next to me.
“Fine,” I reply honestly.
He stares straight ahead, his arms on the armrests and fingers holding his hat.
He doesn’t have hat hair which isn’t fair.
Especially considering the mop on my own head, which I’d seen in the reflection of Archer’s truck window.
Sweaty and flat and unflattering. Archer’s is full of life, one strand flopping over his brow, the rest of it thick and voluptuous.
There’s a slight, lower ring around part of his head that I can’t see unless I look closely, but it only adds an appealing level of unkemptness to his appearance.
I try to fluff up the top of my hair, but I can already tell it doesn’t do much.
“You don’t have to wait anymore with me,” I say. I’d prefer to be left alone to wallow in my unattractive state.
“How are you gonna get home?”
“I’ll just call my dad.”
He hesitates. “Can I ask you something first?”
“Sure.”
A man nearby stands as his name is called by a nurse in the interior doors. He walks past us before Archer continues. “I got to share some of my feelings before, about whether or not we should see each other again. But you didn’t get the chance to.”
Some of his feelings? What more does he have?
His voice softly rumbles as he continues. “Do you wanna see me again?”