Chapter 57
The sky is the color of tin—gray and flat—this morning.
It presses low over the ranch, like it’s thinking about rain but hasn’t quite committed yet.
I’m gathering items from the barn when Knox stomps in, boots loud against the packed dirt, his energy dialed up to a level I don’t have the patience for.
Daisy shifts in her stall, her ears flicking toward the doorway, as I tighten her halter.
It’s like she knows we’re loading up for a rodeo.
“You about ready, Teag?” Knox calls.
I nod, tossing the turnout rug over Daisy’s back.
“Trailer’s hooked,” Knox continues. “Cooler’s packed. Deacon gave me a lecture about not dying. Again.”
“Good,” I mutter, attaching a lead rope to the halter. “Would be a shame if I only had one brother to annoy me about every detail of my life.”
Knox walks a few paces behind us as I lead Daisy to the trailer, his eyes on my back.
Jerking my head over my shoulder, I snap, “What?”
“You look like you’re heading to a funeral.”
“I’m heading to a rodeo.”
“Same thing, the way you’re carrying on.”
I stop walking and turn to face him fully, brushing the hay off my jeans. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’ve said that a lot lately.”
Turning on my heel, so I don’t have to meet his gaze, I finish the short trek to the trailer and load Daisy. The truth is, I’ve been running on fumes for weeks. Work fills the days. Riding fills the arena. But the spaces in between, those are harder.
After checking we have everything we need, we hit the road.
We make it halfway to the Wyoming border before Knox starts to look restless behind the wheel.
“You gonna talk to me at all on this trip?” He half-teases, giving me a slight jab with his elbow.
“Or are you planning on brooding across the state line and all the way to Cheyenne?”
“I don’t brood.”
“You absolutely brood. Wilsons are brooders. It’s practically genetic. It skipped me, though,” he jests, with an obnoxious smirk. “You haven’t stopped brooding since Eas—”
I shoot him a look that quickly shuts him up. “What do you know about caring about anyone, anyway? You haven’t ever cared about someone longer than it takes to unzip your fly.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
He recoils dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch.”
“Too harsh?” I ask, though I don’t sound sorry.
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re deflecting.”
“I’m being realistic.”
He studies me for a long moment, then sighs. “You really think that’s who I am?”
“You’re a man-whore.” I shrug. “I love you to death, but history is kind of on my side on this one.”
He scratches the back of his neck, something uncharacteristically uncertain flickering across his face. “There’s something I need to tell you…”
I roll my eyes. “If this is about another buckle bunny—”
“It’s about Jess.”
I blink in confusion. “What about her?”
He shifts his weight uncomfortably in his seat. “I’ve been seeing her.”
I snort. “Yeah. In The Dew Drop bathroom.”
“No,” he corrects slowly. “Since that night at The Dew Drop.”
The cab of the truck falls silent.
“That was…” I calculate. “… months ago.”
“Yep.” I stare at him in complete disbelief. “You’re kidding.”
He shakes his head.
“You’ve been seeing Jess for months?”
“Correct.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
He shrugs lightly. “You’ve been a little preoccupied.”
My mouth falls open. “Preoccupied?”
“First with Easton, and then with your own disaster.”
I gape at him. “The amount of crap you’ve given me about keeping secrets… You absolute hypocrite.”
He grins faintly. “Takes one to know one.”
I shift to face him, my brain still trying to process it all. “You? And Jess? For months?”
“I know,” he says.
“You hate commitment.”
“I do not hate commitment.”
“You once broke up with a girl because she commented about Valentine’s Day.”
“That was aggressive behavior, Teag. It was November.”
I stare at him, skeptically.
“It was,” he insists. “It implied a future well beyond our third date.”
“And now?”
He exhales slowly. “Now I don’t panic when she texts me at 2 a.m. to tell me the middle names she likes for Brooks and Dunn.” He laughs warmly.
I lean against the door, trying to wrap my head around this new information. “You’re serious?”
“Painfully.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugs. “It started off as casual.”
“It always starts as casual with you.”
“Yeah, well. It didn’t stay that way.” His tone softens, becoming less flippant before he continues, “After a few casual hookups, she told me she wasn’t being a warm bed to crawl into until I got bored or distracted by some bunny at The Dew Drop.”
I huff a soft chuckle. “Sounds like Jess.”
“She said if I wanted to keep seeing her, I had to actually show up for her, too.”
“Did you?” I ask quietly.
He nods. “Scared the fucking hell out of me.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “You?”
“Yeah, me.” He meets my eyes. “Turns out, caring about someone, and having them care about you in return, is actually kinda worth it.”
This isn’t the Knox I’m used to, the carefree flirt who collects phone numbers like they’re rodeo programs.
“How serious are we talking?” I ask.
He rubs his jaw. “She’s met Dad.”
I choke on air. “What?”
“I know.”
“You don’t let girls meet Dad,” I exclaim, unable to hide my disbelief.
“I know.”
I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “Does Deacon know?”
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
He winces. “You’ve been fragile.”
“I have not been fragile.”
“You cry in the tack room.”
“That was one time.”
“It was three.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
I shake my head slowly, still stunned. “So, this whole time, while I’ve been spiraling, you’ve been… what? In a stable relationship?”
He smirks. “Define stable.”
“Months, Knox.”
“I know.” The pride in his voice is unmistakable.
“You love her?” I ask, the question softer.
He hesitates. Then nods once. “Yeah,” he says simply.
My chest tightens unexpectedly. “Wow… That’s…” I swallow. “… big.”
“I’m aware.”
“And she loves you?”
His mouth curves slightly, and he jests, “She’s named all our kids, remember?”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“She’s told me she’s in this with me. That’s enough for now.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe you kept this from me this whole time.”
“You’ve been busy, torching your own love life.” I know the jab is a joke, but it lands anyway. His tone softens, and he asks, “How are you really doing?”
“Honestly, I miss him. And I’m angry at myself.”
He tilts his head. “For what?”
“For not seeing it… And letting him leave.” I stare at the white line racing along the road and ask quietly, “You think he’s ever coming back?”
Knox ponders for a minute before responding, “Yeah.”
The certainty in his voice surprises me. “Why?”
“Because I saw the way he looked at you.”