Chapter 16 Heston
HESTON
My hands slip into the front pockets of my jeans while Hattie freezes at Granger’s question. I want her to turn around. Her jeans are cuffed at the bottom, and something about the simple familiarity of it tightens my chest.
The last time I saw her, we were both on edge, and it ended in tears and frustration. I didn’t take the time to study her eyes. To search for any hint of truth in them—even if it was a truth she wasn’t willing to admit out loud.
It’s been almost three weeks since our confrontation at her house, and the entire time, I’ve been trying to convince myself that the only thing I can do is focus on finding distractions and just plain forgetting about her, once and for all.
The guilt over how I handled myself in our last conversation has made that more difficult.
Seeing her back on this ranch’s soil makes it seem damn near impossible.
Hattie’s hands twist in front of her after she spins back around. “Rafe is my dad. He’s out of town, and asked if I could bring a horse for you. Well, I’m assuming it’s for you?”
“Yeah, it’s for me. I owe him big time.” He’s facing away from me, but I just know he’s got the biggest smile on his face as he removes his hat and eagerly holds his hand out between them.
“My name’s Kid.” He shakes his head with a laugh.
“I mean, uh, Granger. Sorry, everyone around here’s been calling me Kid, and I guess I’ve gotten used to it. ”
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Hattie,” she replies, shaking his hand politely. Before letting go of the handshake, she peeks around his body and scrunches her nose at the jumping dummy behind us. “What are you up to out here, Granger?”
Their hands finally fall to their sides. The kid turns and juts his thumb toward me.
“We were just going over my stance. It’s “dogshit”, and I have some bad habits to kick, apparently.”
Again, he chuckles, and Hattie lights up with an amused smile. Seeing it makes me feel like I’ve been knocked on the side of the head with a sledgehammer. I’m physically unable to look away from her, even when her gaze darts to mine for a split second.
“I didn’t realize he was coaching,” she points out, like I’m not standing right behind him.
“He says he’s not,” Granger says with a sarcastic edge. “But I’m finally wearing him down, I think. Oh, sorry. Do you know Heston?”
Hattie flattens her smile a little, but not entirely. “We’ve met before.”
I cock an eyebrow. She’s standing twenty feet from where we had our first kiss, but sure, we’ve met before.
“Nice,” Granger replies. “Thanks for bringing the horse by. I don’t have a trailer.”
“That’s okay, I didn’t mind dropping her off. I’ve only been on Dr. Mike a few times, but if you’re going to be steer wrestling on her, she’s going to need a ton of reps in the box. She’ll back in good, but things get a little flighty after that.”
Granger puts a hand on his chest like he’s trying not to fall in love with her.
I know the damn feeling. Hattie has no idea how hot it is that she knows stuff like that.
It makes me want to rip open my own brain so I can scoop out the knowledge that she’s so competent around things like horses and rodeo and even basic ranching.
“Thanks,” he says. “That’s good to know. Uh, you call her Dr. Mike?”
He wouldn’t think Dr. Mike was a strange name for a mare if he knew about the calf she took under her wing two summers back. She insisted we all refer to him as A Bull Named Sue.
Hattie tilts her head. “Yeah, Dr. Mike. You know, like, Michaela? Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman?”
She tries to hide it, but I know she secretly loves when this happens. She names animals as if it’s her job to give the most niche and obscure meaning behind them as possible. It’s like winning the lottery when someone asks about a name, and she gets to explain it to them.
Granger lifts his hat and scratches the side of his head. “Never heard of it.”
“The Kid nickname suddenly makes sense,” she says with a laugh. “How old are you?”
He puffs his chest a little. “Nineteen.”
“Eighteen,” I mumble sternly.
Hattie swallows and looks over the kid—all dusty clothes, roughed up boots, and boyish grin.
Something passes over her expression, and her eyes soften at the edges.
I realize there are several uncanny similarities between Granger and her brother, Jay.
We never met, but I’ve seen enough pictures and home videos. I swallow hard and take a step forward.
Maybe I’m reading too far into it. But Granger ruffles the front of his hair through his fingers, pulls his hat back on, and smirks at her again.
She tries to smile back, but there’s an edge of sadness to it.
Maybe she isn’t mine anymore, but I’d still throw a punch if it meant wiping that look off her face. It kills me.
Granger is innocent and unaware of the situation, so I don’t deck him. “Go help Tripp with the hay, Kid.”
“I thought we were—”
My voice lowers. “Beat it.”
He sighs, but doesn’t argue a second time. Hattie watches him jog toward the fence and lower his upper body to slide through the rails. As soon as he disappears around the barn, Lucky walks up to her and runs a paw down the length of her shin. Hattie bends to scratch her behind the ears.
I should walk away now. There are rocks to kick or tires that need their air checked somewhere around here, I’m sure. Neither of us says anything as I rub the back of my neck and look around for an out.
One afternoon, Tripp’s words replay in my head.
I don’t think he knew Hattie would be here when he dared me not to avoid anything for the rest of the day. The benefits of facing things head-on instead of pushing them under the rug are obvious. I just don’t want to do it.
Clearing the air and wrapping things up with a pretty ribbon so nothing feels unfinished between us anymore seems too final. It’s something a guy who didn’t want her back would do.
My head hurts, and I look down, pressing my fingers into the skin on my neck. Hattie’s boots shuffle in the dirt like she’s thinking about walking away, too. I settle for putting some distance between us by heading over to get the jumping dummy, so I can put it up for the day.
If Tripp were here to witness this, he’d be shaking his head at me right now.
“It’s been so cold,” Hattie says loudly, surprising me. I’m almost all the way across the arena from her when I stop and face her again. Her hand moves above her brow to shield it from the brightness. “It’s nice that the sun finally decided to come out,” she adds.
I’ve been balls deep inside this woman while she whispered in my ear that she loved me before.
Now, we’re standing so far apart that she has to raise her voice just to awkwardly point out a change in the weather.
I wear a scowl while she wears a ring, and no part of me gives a single fuck about the sun coming out today.
I sigh, and her shoulders drop. I turn away from her again as I pop my knuckles and stare down the breeze as it rattles through dried leaves hanging loosely from a tree branch.
My eyes slide back to hers when I hear her sniff. She’s not crying, thankfully. It doesn’t irritate me when she does, but she’d find it pretty weird if I wrapped her up in a hug, which is what seeing her tears would make me want to do.
“Should we talk about it?” She asks, quieter this time.
I tilt my head back and squint at the sky. “I guess it’s a nice day for a change.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Her eyes are just as haunted as mine when I look at her and shrug. “I know.”
Standing here, staring at her in silence as she waits for me to speak freely, reminds me of why I first fell for her.
I’ve always kept people at a distance, even as a kid.
Later in life, I did the same thing with friends and girls.
I know it appeared like I hated the idea of connecting with anybody and that I never had anything to say. But it was never that simple.
The truth is that I wasn’t at a loss for words. I was stuck on a cliff, whispering from the edge for years, while no one listened. All I wanted was for someone to finally hear me.
Hattie did.
She heard me, and I’ve loved her to the point of madness ever since.
I cross the distance of the arena so that only a few feet separate us, and lean forward on the railing. “About the text,” I say, shifting my weight from one foot to another. “It was a mistake.”
Her shoulders shrink. “Oh.”
“That’s not what I meant, actually.” My chest stalls halfway through an inhale while I work to find the right words. “I mean, I didn’t know you unblocked me. You weren’t supposed to see it.”
A sudden coldness settles around us as she draws her arms closer to her ribs. I shouldn’t have said anything. Words never come out the way I want them to.
She releases a breath that puffs her cheeks out. My heartbeat turns to a quick, nervous flicker, and against my better judgment, I try to redeem myself.
“It’s okay if you’re mad at me for coming to your house and acting like I did,” I say. “It was—unfair to you.”
She juts her chin back like she was expecting me to abruptly end the conversation after telling her she wasn’t supposed to see the text.
Her genuine shock does sting a little. I’m aware of how automatic it was to close myself off in the past, and that’s what she’s used to from me.
I guess her shocked expression is still better than if her shoulders were to have rounded forward in immediate disappointment, so I’ll take it.
“I get it,” she says quietly.
“You do?”
“Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it or that you had any business doing it. But . . . I get it.” The intensity in her eyes cuts right through me. “I meant everything that I said, and you won’t catch me apologizing for it.” She shrugs. “I could have worded it differently, though. I wish I had.”