Chapter 14
LILY
Even though the doors are open, I feel like we’re in our own little world inside.
The night brought heat, laughter, and moments of lingering looks where I thought there was more to say. Now it’s just horses shifting in their stalls and the occasional gust of wind from an almost-still night.
I’ve got his flannel draped over me, loving the smell of him on my skin, and I’m pretending not to notice the way he keeps nervously flicking the brim of his hat.
Colt Callahan, who rides through injuries, looks nervous because we stopped kissing long enough to talk.
“Does the quiet make you nervous?”
“Never has before.”
I smile. “So, it’s just me? Noted.”
He huffs. “It’s not you. I’m just thinking.”
The night settles again, and I realize he’s not going to give up any feelings, which means I have to.
“I didn’t quit riding because I wanted to,” I say, and his head lifts to me. “I tell people it was a choice.” I shrug. “But the truth is, my knee chose for me.”
His body locks up like he’s afraid of what I’m going to say next.
“I was good,” I admit. “Not just small-town good but good enough for circuits. I had big plans that included shiny buckles and all that.” I laugh softly. “Then I had one bad landing, and suddenly, I was ‘the girl who used to.’”
His jaw tightens. “I hate that phrase.”
“Me, too.” I twist the sleeve of his shirt around my fingers.
“Rehab worked for a while, but it wasn’t enough.
Surgery helped me walk again, but riding was out of the question.
” I let out a breath. “And one day, I realized I wasn’t scared of failing anymore, but I was scared of never becoming anything else, especially because I didn’t know what was next. ”
He watches me like I’ve just spoken aloud every one of his thoughts.
“I don’t know who I am without it,” he says quietly.
The honesty in his voice makes my heart ache. “I know what you mean,” I answer. “That’s the worst part.”
He drags a hand over his face. “Doc told me I should’ve quit a year ago.”
I nod because I had a feeling this had been going on for quite some time. I’ve seen the way Colt walks when he thinks no one’s looking; it’s not good.
“And you didn’t,” I say.
“Couldn’t.”
“Or wouldn’t?”
He stares up at the ceiling. “Same thing.”
I slide closer to him so our shoulders almost touch. He smells like leather, me, and everything I’m trying not to get attached to.
“You’re more than just riding,” I say.
“That feels like a lie.”
“It’s not.” I bump him gently. “You showed up even when it hurt. You’re there with the kids. You help your brother and your parents maintain things. That’s not nothing.”
His laugh is rough. “Feels like I need to do more.”
We sit there as two people who know exactly what it means to lose the thing that made the world make sense.
“I don’t want to be another thing you lose,” I say before I can stop myself.
His head snaps toward me. “You’re not—”
“But I could be.” I hold his gaze. “If you keep treating everything like it’s temporary.”
“You said you weren’t staying.”
“I said I came to do a job.”
“Same difference.”
I study him, the stubborn line of his mouth, and the fear that comes out as anger. Colt doesn’t push people away because he hates them. He pushes because he’s terrified they’ll leave first.
“Is that what you want?” I ask softly. “For me to go when it’s done?”
He opens his mouth, closes it again, and I can see the war on his face.
For a second, I think he might say it—the thing hanging between us.
Stay.
My heart climbs into my throat waiting for it.
Instead, he looks away. “I don’t know how to ask for something I might not get to keep.”
“Nobody does,” I whisper.
Wind rattles through the barn, and a horse snorts like it’s sick of hearing us talk.
“You don’t have to decide your whole life tonight,” I tell him.
“Feels like I do.”
“You don’t.” I nudge his arm. “One step at a time, cowboy.”
He looks at me then, and I swear the word is right there on his lips.
But Colt Callahan has made a career out of holding on until the buzzer, so, of course, he holds on now, too.
“Mornings going to come early.”
Disappointment flickers through me before I can hide it. “Yeah,” I answer. “But I like spending the night right here.”