Chapter 30
Trey
In less than ten days, I’ll be climbing into the chutes back onto a bull. I want it so much I can taste it. It’s like I’m having withdrawals. I’ve cleaned and prepped all my gear, twice. New riding gloves, bull ropes, and rosin came in the mail last week.
I can’t get on the road fast enough.
But before I leave, Jessie and I need to have a talk.
She’ll be back from work any minute, and I’ve spent most of the afternoon rehearsing what I want to say to her.
I don’t want this to end. Yes, I’m going to go rodeo, but that doesn’t mean we have to be over.
Because her and I, we fit. We shouldn’t—hell, we’re like two awkward puzzle pieces that somehow fit together—and no one knows why, because we’re from two different puzzles. But we do fit.
I’m not ready to let this go. Deep down, I don’t think she is either. Since the doctor told me two more weeks, she’s spent every spare minute with me. I know she feels it—this magnetic pull telling her we were made for each other. I’m done pretending I don’t want to claim what’s mine.
Thwack.
I hear the back door close, then the thump of her ridiculous tote bag being lobbed on the table.
I stay on the couch, knowing I’m her next stop.
Some nights I’m in the kitchen cooking dinner, but when I’m on the couch, I’m her unofficial crash landing pad.
She rounds the corner, in sky blue scrubs with daisies on the top.
She has her hair tied up. I open my arms in time for her to fall into them, and she does.
With her head on my chest, she breaths deeply and asks, “How was your day?”
“Good. Hit the gym and got my gear ready.”
“Didn’t you get your gear ready last week?” She chuckles, knowing how wound up I’ve been.
“Yeah, but I decided to stretch my new ropes so they’ll be ready to go. I went to the ranch and Chet helped me.” I absentmindedly rub her back. “How was your day?”
“It was good. Pretty slow and uneventful.”
“Good. Hey, I was hoping we could talk about something.”
She must hear the hesitation in my voice because she pulls back slightly to look at me.
This is a conversation we need to have, but I’m not sure what her response will be, and that makes me nervous.
I’ve never had this conversation with a woman, since I have no relationship experience.
When I called Knox for advice, all he said was, “Be honest. And good luck.”
Thank you, best friend. Super fucking helpful.
“What’s up?”
I clear my throat, then say what I carefully rehearsed. “Well, you know, I’m leaving in a few days.”
She nods.
“And I know what we said in Arizona, but I don’t want this to end. We can—”
She pulls completely out of my arms now, sitting up on the couch.
Shit.
I sit up straight and reach for her, but her arm is stiff in my hand. “Just hear me out. I’m leaving, but—”
“There is no ‘but,’ Trey,” she says, but it’s weak, not harsh or angry.
“There can be, and there should be. We’re good together—no—we’re great together, Jessie—”
“We’re not together though, that’s not what this is,” she cuts me off, firmer than before, as she stands from the couch.
This isn’t coming out how I planned. I didn’t expect her to get so upset so quickly.
“We had a deal,” she continues, “this ends when you leave. Nothing has changed.”
I stand now. “Bullshit. Let’s call this what it is: a relationship. We are in a relationship.”
She shakes her head adamantly, but I keep going.
“This is more than roommates-with-benefits—at least it is for me. I don’t want this to end just because I’m leaving for a few months.
I’ll be back, and I want to come back to you, baby.
I know you want this, too, I see it every time you look at me, when you touch me.
So what if neither one of us was looking for a relationship this summer?
We stumbled into this, and I refuse to end what we have just because I’m leaving. ”
She repeatedly shakes her head, and I can tell she knows I’m right, but she’s about to argue. “There is no ‘us.’ We agreed this would end when you left,” she repeats. “You’ve lived here for less than three months. Don’t act like you know me or what I want.”
“You’re wrong. I do know you, and that’s exactly why I want to come back here. To you.”
She furrows her brow and she crosses her arms.
“I know your favorite color is purple, your favorite TV show is The Witcher, and you love Sabrina Carpenter but still say espresso wrong. You think tomatoes are gross unless they’re on a burger, and I think you secretly want a dog—which, by the way, we should totally get one—but you don’t say it out loud.
And I know grumpy sunshine is your favorite trope, but honestly, how can you choose that over enemies to lovers? ”
Her eyes go wide at the mention of book tropes from her favorite romance series.
“Yeah, I read every book.” I take a breath and keep going, “but I know—I see—more than that, Jessie. I watch you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, taking care of Gran, working extra to pay her bills, always being there for Kacey and Carson when they need you. I know there is more going on with your father than you let on, and I wish you’d let me all the way in.
You care way too much about what people think about you, and you struggle with your parents’ reputations. ”
Words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.
I’m losing her, I can feel it. I have to get her to understand.
“I see the way you can read a room and know exactly who needs a distraction, a laugh, a smile. You don’t see it, but you bring joy into every room you walk into, and you’ve made me feel more alive in these last few weeks than any 8-second bull ride ever has. ”
I stop, I know I’ve said too much. I pushed too hard.
She takes a step back, shaking her head like it’s all she can physically do.
Tears well, but she fights them. “No. No, we are not doing this. I see your phone light up, Trey. And every single fucking time, it’s a woman.
You’re a player, a fuckboy—and that’s all you’ll ever be.
We are nothing more than a fling, roommates-with-benefits, something to pass the time. ”
It feels like she just gut-punched me.
“You know I don’t respond to them, Jessie. I’m sorry, but I can’t change who I was, or what I’ve done in the past, but that’s not who I am anymore. It’s not who I want to be. I want you.”
“That’s not the point!”
“What’s the point, then? Want me to get a new number? Because I will. You are the only woman I want to talk to, the only woman I want to spend time with.”
“For now. I’m the only woman you want to see for now, Trey. You’re leaving. And you’re going to get on the road and find someone else. Someone who fits into your world and doesn’t have a father who deals drugs, or a mother who does them. We do not fit. And we shouldn’t pretend we do.”
I stare at her in disbelief after hearing the words coming out of her mouth.
I wasn’t sure how this conversation would go, but I didn’t expect it to go south so quickly.
Is this what she really thinks? That I can find someone better?
Is she that insecure about her past and who her family is?
I’ve told her I don’t care who or what her parents do.
“Do you think that little of me?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes snap to mine.
“Do you honestly think I give a shit about your parents? I’ve told you more than once I don’t care about them.
I care about you.” I feel defeated, I don’t know what else to say to her to convince her I’m in this.
“You think I’ll commit to you, then hit the road and find someone else?
If you think I can do better than you, baby, I can promise you, you’re dead fucking wrong. You are everything, Jessie.”
She swipes at a single tear that escaped. “You say that now, but you don’t understand. Please, don’t do this. Let it go. Let this end as something good.”
Before I can respond, she turns, grabs her purse off the counter, and flees out the back door.
Fuck.
I don’t chase after her. She needs space, and so do I.
I tug my hands through my hair, pulling at the strands.
That conversation went so far off the rails, I didn’t expect her to bring up the text messages or Snapchats from girls.
I ignored every single one of them. I even deleted the dating app and started blocking numbers, deleting contacts on Snapchat.
I haven’t even so much as looked at another woman in months.
That was a low fucking blow—and she knows it.
She was looking for an escape hatch out of that conversation and that meant denying what’s between us.
I’ll give her time to cool off, but this conversation isn’t over.