Deep Cuts
COLT
My pulse blares inside my head as I stare down Billie and Ryder.
“Together,” I manage. “As in—”
“We’re dating. I wanted—we wanted to tell you sooner, but you’ve been kinda hard to track down these days.” Billie’s voice shakes. “I’m sorry we didn’t have this conversation before, but we wanted you to know because we’re happy, Colton. Really happy. And we’re having a good time together—”
“A great time,” my best friend adds. “Billie—she’s brought out a side of me I thought died when my parents did. Neither of us were expecting this to happen, Colt. But it did, and we hope you can be happy for us.”
The afternoon sun slants into my eyes, making them water.
Billie and Ryder cornered me after a baby shower over on Lucky River Ranch.
Ryder’s twin brother, Duke, and his girlfriend, Wheeler, are expecting twins in December.
So Mollie Luck and some friends hosted a shower for Wheeler.
Ryder, Duke, and the rest of the Rivers brothers and I hung out and watched football during the shower.
Then we helped load up all the gifts into Duke’s old pickup.
There were a lot—a lot—of gifts.
I’m still on Lucky River Ranch now, standing in the driveway leading up to Mollie’s studio. It’s nearly November, but the heat of the afternoon still seeps through my shirt. When the hell is fall gonna be here?
I try to take an inhale, but my lungs aren’t working. There’s a two-ton weight on my chest that’s crushing me to death. The heaviness spreads through my veins and gathers in my arms and hands, making them tingle.
Shit, am I having a legit heart attack?
Billie and Ryder are together.
My baby sister and my best friend, who’s never, for as long as I’ve known him, treated a girl how Billie deserves to be treated.
He’s never dated anyone, period. He’s just had a never-ending series of hookups. Girls like Ryder. Always have.
I knew Billie had a crush on him too. But I always assumed he’d never cross that line. Not only because that’s something you just don’t do, but also because he knows she’s a romantic at heart. She wants to fall in love. Get married. Have some babies.
He’s never said anything about wanting any of that. In fact, I’m pretty sure that shit scares the living daylights out of him.
Now here they are. Together. Dating.
Judging by the way they hold hands and look deeply into each other’s eyes, they’re well on their way to falling in love.
Everything from Abby’s betrayal comes rushing back—the grief, the anger. The shame.
I noticed something was different with Billie and Ryder, and I kept meaning to ask them about it.
But I’ve been so busy taking care of everything and everyone on my own that I didn’t have time to check in on them.
I could’ve prevented this, I know. But life keeps getting in the way of me seeing people, socializing with them, outside work and Sunday suppers.
I’m always putting my head down and getting shit done. And now that’s coming back to bite me in the ass for a second time.
How many times do I gotta learn this fucking lesson?
Why can’t I stop being so busy? Working so hard?
This is exactly how I felt when Abby told me she wanted to separate. She’d caught feelings for the man she’d been sleeping with behind my back, and she asked if I would move out of the home we’d shared since we got married.
I was blindsided then. I had no idea she was having an affair. She was a teacher at Hart County High School, and turns out she’d been fucking the football coach for close to six months before she told me.
And now I’m blindsided all over again.
“How long?” I ask.
“I don’t think it’s any secret that I’ve had a crush on Ryder for a while—”
“But you never talked to me about it. Not openly.”
We go back and forth like this for a few minutes, Billie tearily defending herself, Ryder looking at her like he can’t wait to tear off her clothes. Apparently they’ve been dating for more than a month now, ever since Billie ran her first barrel race at a rodeo nearby.
He tells me he’s been living half a life until Billie nearly lost her life in the arena.
“Surviving…it ain’t enough anymore,” he says, and I gather my hands into fists.
This hurts. So fucking much. More than it should.
Thing is I wanna be happy for my sister and Ryder. I want them to be happy. My therapist tells me I’m not a monster, and only monsters would want people to be miserable just because they are.
But suddenly I’m swimming in this toxic soup of memories and insecurities and just plain old pain.
I hate that they felt like they had to hide the truth from me. Like I can’t handle it.
Like I don’t deserve it.
More words. Billie pleads. He explains.
Pressure builds inside my chest and behind my eyes.
“Y’all are adults,” I say at last. “You can do whatever the hell you want. But I don’t…
” Shaking my head, I swallow. “Y’all hurt me today.
Whether or not you meant to, I still feel betrayed, and both of you know that’s a sore spot.
Billie, you don’t accept the fact that I wanna keep you safe?
Then I don’t accept the fact that you wanna date a guy whose track record leaves a lot to be desired.
Don’t let me see y’all together, and definitely don’t come running to me, Billie, when he”—I nod at Ryder—“does what he always does and leaves.”
I’m saying things I shouldn’t.
Acting like a selfish asshole.
Maybe Lainey’s right about you. Maybe you are a dickhead.
In another dickhead move, I turn on my heel and walk away.
I don’t remember tacking up Big Brother.
I just find myself in the saddle, urging him into an all-out run as the afternoon sun sinks lower and lower still toward the horizon.
The heat dissipates, but I still sweat as I move with the horse. I don’t know where we’re going, only that I can’t stand the thought of staying still. Dean is hanging at Mom and Dad’s house, and I have a few hours yet before I need to pick him up.
Riding has this way of clearing my head. It’s like the mind goes quiet while the body works. The stiffness in my back and shoulders melts away the longer we move.
Big Brother’s stride is enormous. He’s about as fast as they come, and my heart pounds as I work to keep up with him. We streak through field after field, pasture after pasture, the wind roaring in my ears and drying the sweat on my temples and chest.
I never imagined life would turn out this way. That I’d feel this alone at the ripe old age of thirty-one, when you’re supposed to be knee-deep in babies and work and family and marriage.
I don’t want to want more than I have. I want to be fine with life as it is.
But if I’m being honest, over the past year or so, I’ve started to feel like something is missing. And fast as Big Brother moves, I can’t outrun the feeling that, well, Ryder might be right, much as I fucking hate to admit it. Surviving isn’t enough.
I need more.
I’m just terrified that asking for it will inevitably lead to more pain.
And that’s a risk I can’t take, because I have a kid to think about.
A kid I need to protect from even more heartbreak, because at the tender age of six, he’s already experienced enough of that to last a lifetime. I have to keep going.
I can’t afford to get knocked down all over again, the way I was when Abby cheated and a month later was diagnosed with cancer. I’m worried I won’t survive another hit.
Lainey arriving on the ranch has brought all this shit to the surface. I hate her for it.
I hate that I’m thinking about Lainey again. Because once she wraps up her project, she’s leaving. Me and Dean…
We’ve already been left once, when Abby passed. I’ll be damned if I let that happen again.
It’s dark by the time I head back to the stables. It’s a Saturday night, so the corral and surrounding areas are a ghost town.
Thank fuck. I don’t feel like talking to anyone right now.
I untack Big Brother, brush him down, and make sure he’s set for the evening. I’m digging in my saddlebag for my keys when I hear something.
A whisper. Then a dull creak, the kind leather makes when it moves.
My hands go still. Looking up, I duck my head out of the tack room and look down the aisle.
Not a soul in sight.
I turn back to the bag, but just as my fingers find my keys, I hear another whisper.
“Left foot first, in the stirrup. Yup. Okay.”
My stomach plunges into a bucket of ice. Sounds like Lainey.
But what the fuck would she be doing out here at this time of day? I hope she’s not getting into trouble. Girl doesn’t know her ass from her elbow when it comes to, well, anything on the ranch.
Tossing the saddlebag over my shoulder, I head down the aisle and turn the corner.
There, sitting upright in a saddle placed on the old wooden stand that’s been around longer than I’ve been alive, is none other than Princess Lainey.
She’s got earbuds in, and she’s looking down at her phone.
I notice she’s wearing a pair of sneakers tonight. Not as good as boots but better than those clogs she wore.
She’s also in leggings and a hoodie. Her hair is pulled up into a tiny, messy ponytail at the back of her head. Tendrils work their way loose and fall down the milky-white skin of her nape.
“Right. So I hold the reins”—she practices with both hands—“and I sit up straight, pressing my heels down into the stirrups. Don’t grip with my legs…”
My body seizes. Pulse goes haywire.
She’s teaching herself how to ride a horse, isn’t she?
She looks ridiculous sitting there on the stand, knees bunched up because the stirrups aren’t long enough for her legs.
But yeah, she’s also really fucking pretty. Especially when she furrows her brow and chews on her lip, deep in concentration.
The clueless, entitled waste of space I want her to be wouldn’t be interested in learning how to ride. But here Lainey is, sneaking out on a Saturday night not to hang with friends or get wasted but to try out something new.
Try out something I love.
Remember you hate her. She is entitled. She is wasting your family’s hard-earned dollars.