13. Sorrel
SORREL
We sit in the pickup, windows down. Crisp air and the sound of the wind rustling the pines fill the cab. I think back to that night. I’ve tried to erase it from my memory—I want so bad to forget it ever happened. The words cut like razor blades as I try to get them out.
“I thought he loved me. I made every excuse in the book for him.”
Denton just gives me a look that says it’s okay and to keep going. And I bare it all to him.
One year ago
We were in another one of our breakups when he showed up at the ranch, determined he was going to get me back.
It was cold and gloomy that evening. We were outside by the arena when the rain started coming down. We were arguing back and forth. He begged and pleaded, said he would change. It would be different this time.
I gave in to him. We ran into the barn to take cover from the storm.
He grabbed my face, pressing his mouth to mine.
It was passionate and soft at first. I missed him, and his touch, the feel of his hard muscles beneath my hands.
He pushed me up against the haystack.
Our kisses became more frantic and intense. I knew what it was leading to.
My skin was wet from the rain, and my sundress was soaked through. I ran my hands through his wet hair as he slid his hands up my damp thighs. He began to slip his fingers into my underwear.
“Not here, someone could walk in,” I told him.
Anyone of the hands could have walked in or even worse, my dad. But Huck wasn’t listening. He kept going. Caught in the heat of the moment, I knew he was needy.
It wasn’t the right place and I didn’t want to get caught with him in the barn. He had been pushy before, but nothing like this.
It was a matter of seconds before he turned me around and bent me over the haystack. His grip on me tightened, sliding my dress up with his free hand.
“No one will come in. It’s fine, baby,” he promised.
I gritted my teeth and gave in to his needs.
He loves me. He’s my boyfriend. He wouldn’t hurt me.
His thrusts were hurried and he wasn’t gentle in the slightest, but he finished quickly.
After stuffing himself back into his jeans, he kissed the side of my head. One tear rolled down the side of my cheek as I pulled down my dress.
I’m unable look at Denton while I tell him what happened between me and Huck, but I know he’s listening the entire time. Tears are running down my cheeks. He holds my hand in his, letting me try to get the rest of the words out.
After that night, I couldn’t look at Huck the same. I cried myself to sleep that night, staring at his back, while he slept peacefully.
I knew then that he had no idea what love was. That putting your needs before someone—who you supposedly care about—is wrong.
It was a few nights after that when I discovered he was cheating on me.
I should have known he wasn’t the faithful type. I couldn’t have felt more stupid and disgusted with myself.
Instead of hurt, I feel anger as I tell Denton the rest of my story.
. . .
We had stayed up drinking and fighting all night before the rodeo. We both felt horrible the next day.
We didn’t talk to each other the entire drive, occasionally pulling off to sleep before we finally made it to the arena grounds.
It felt like the longest drive of my life. I stayed in the car feeling sick and tired and didn’t get out until he was up to ride.
I sat on the fence line and took my phone out to record.
He drew a nasty bronc.
He got into position on the horses back.
Pulling his hat down low, he nodded and the chute opened.
The bronc busted out of the chute, bucking and snorting.
Huck was spurring him when he lost his seat, getting bucked off.
He got hung up in his riggin, the bronc dragging him around the arena.
With pure terror in my eyes, all I could do was watch as the bronc trampled him.
The pickup men were doing their best to get his hand out, but before they could, I heard a gruesome cracking noise.
My stomach churned and adrenaline pumped through my body as I jumped the arena fence, heart racing, running for him.
His leg was broken at the ankle, and turned out in the wrong direction. His cowboy boot was the only thing holding it in place.
I held back the bile rising in my throat, trying to stay strong for him. It hurt my heart to see him in so much agony and pain, even after what he did to me.
He screamed with a rage that frightened me.
“FUCK! I’m done. This is going to ruin my fucking season.”
I’d never seen him so angry.
The paramedics loaded him onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.
I told him I would follow behind the ambulance to the hospital and call his mom to let her know what happened. As I backed out of the ambulance, they began to close the doors.
“Don’t you fucking call her and don’t go through my phone.” He screamed at me as the doors shut in my face.
I had no idea what all that was about and stared at the ambulance in confusion as they drove away.
When I got to the car, I opened his phone, and all the evidence was right there, bright as day.
That good-for-nothing prick. Not just one but multiple women, including his ex. I scanned through dates and thought back to our relationship timeline. The cheating wasn't even when we were broken up.
I pulled over to the side of the road and vomited. Screaming and crying, on my hands and knees, I let it all out.
He broke me. My heart was in a million pieces. I didn’t know how I could go on. But day after terrible day I did.
. . .
I take a long, deep breath when I finish telling Denton my story. He looks at me with sadness and a look of understanding in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Sorrel, thank you for telling me.”
I nod, wiping away my tears.
God, I’m a mess, and I can only imagine how I look right now.
“Every time I see his face, the memories come rushing back in—they flood my mind and I—I feel like I’m drowning.”
“Tell me what I can do to help.”
“I wish there was something, Denton,” I say, smiling softly and lowering my eyes. “It’s something I’ll hold with me for the rest of my life, but I know I’ll overcome it.”
It feels good to tell him. I’ve been holding it in for so long. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, and now—the weightlessness—I can finally breathe again.
After that night, it was like I’d had an awakening. I woke up that morning and looked in the mirror. I didn’t see the bright-eyed cowgirl who loved life. I had become a shell of my former self. But now, I’m reclaiming my strength.
I’m a cowgirl through and through, and as much as it hurts, I will face my demons. I’m done hiding and I’m done hiding who Huck really is.