Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bailey
Three years ago, when my world came crashing down, I ran away. I packed up my life, my whole life, and got as far from Kirk and heartbreak as I possibly could. But the thing about heartbreak is that it follows you. You can’t ever really outrun it.
Houston offered a change of scenery, a fresh start, but Kirk was there too. Inside of me. The knowledge of what I’d done, of how stupid I’d been, how easily I’d been conned into trusting him, followed me like a ghoulish shadow. Time was the only thing that helped.
Slowly, day by day, that shadow spread less into my world, leaving only a general sense of wariness, that I shouldn’t trust too easily again.
I know it will be the same with Beau. It hurts like hell right now.
It hurts like my heart has been ripped from my body and thrown against the wall of the hotel, and that’s not even being dramatic.
I literally feel as though there’s a hole in my chest where it burst from me.
That somewhere down there, Beau with his sprained wrist will be in his own room, and my heart is with him, thumping like mad, begging him to come back and understand.
To understand how much it hurt me to see him with Ash.
How much it hurt to realise that despite everything we promised each other, I’ve fallen in love with him.
To love a man who characterises your relationship as ‘sleeping together’, who will never love you back.
A man who was able to stick to his end of the bargain when I gave up any hope of that almost from the start.
Who will never give up on his dream, and his life on the ranch, to chase you to Washington. An impossible man.
I was wrong about my heart. It’s not out of my body, it’s inside me, and it’s twisting mercilessly now.
‘Fuck.’ I drop my head into my hands and sob. This isn’t over. But it is over. It has to be.
I stare around the room, at my possessions across all the surfaces, and begin stuffing them methodically back into my suitcase.
For the second time in my life, I’m running away, and I know the decision is as right now as it was then.
Space and time are the only things that will help me get over this.
Even as I think that, I don’t know if it’s true; I don’t know if I’ll ever get over him.
True love doesn’t work that way, and unfortunately what I feel is the truest of loves.
Real, everlasting, life-changing love. Unrequited, but still real.
Beau
I was right. Not only did I win the tournament in Phoenix, but the press went wild for me competing after that fall.
The sponsors too. They love a tough guy.
I should be riding high, on cloud fucking nine, but two days later, back home for a couple of nights before heading to Vegas for the next event, all I can think about is Bailey.
Not just Bailey, but the fight we had.
The way it ended with us.
The way she stared at me like I was some kind of horrible villain she couldn’t wait to get rid of. The way she ran away from me.
That’s what she did, in the end.
She checked out of her room first thing the next morning, caught a cab to the airport and flew back to Houston. I tried to call; she didn’t answer. I’ve texted; nothing.
She’s showing me it’s over, not just telling me. I have to respect that.
But hell, if it doesn’t leave a taste in my mouth I almost can’t bear to live with.
We both knew it was going to end, but it shouldn’t have been in that way—with some huge, stupid fight over a misunderstanding.
It makes it hard to think about the good times we had, and there were so many good times.
The best times. Some of the best of my life.
When I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, it’s easy to imagine she’s there with me; I can practically feel the weight of her head against my chest, the trail of her fingers over my skin. When I sleep, I dream of her.
But bitterness is there too. Anger that she wouldn’t hear me out, that she’s shutting me off from her life, like she can flick a switch and be done with this—me. Like I don’t matter enough to listen to, much less fight for. But that’s not what we are—not what we were ever meant to be.
On my third day home, I do what I should have done a long time ago, and go see Ash. No matter what’s going on with Bailey and me, Ash and I have a history, and, I hope, a future as friends. Close friends.
Walking into the Callahans’ is like walking into my own home.
I’ve been here so many times over the years.
As a kid with scraped knees, Cindy, their mom, would patch me up, or as a teenager, listening to music with Ash’s brother Hank, then chasing after Ash.
I smile as I see her sketchpad on the table, and resist the urge to take a peek.
That girl’s been drawing since she was a teenager, a talent too good to be wasted on a hobby, if you ask me.
I find her out back, sitting in the morning sunlight, cup of tea in one hand, phone in the other. A familiar warmth spreads through me at the sight of her. ‘Hey.’
She startles, angles her face toward mine, smiles slowly but warily. ‘Hey, yourself.’ She stands up, walks my way. ‘How you doing?’
We didn’t see each other again after the accident the other night.
I avoided her, if I’m honest. I couldn’t deal with everything in that moment.
Bailey was all I had room for, and it’s taken me days to get to the point where I can at least have this conversation.
Because it’s the right thing to do. Because no matter what Bailey clearly thinks, I’m not an asshole.
I’m a decent guy, and I care about the women I’ve been with.
‘How’s your wrist?’
‘Fine,’ I say, moving back to sit beside her on the bench. Ash and I usually talk a mile a minute; this strained, polite conversation makes me want to rip my hair out.
‘You won the next night.’
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.
‘The crowd loved it. I saw on TV.’
‘Yeah.’ I lift my shoulders. ‘So did the sponsors.’
She smiles at me. ‘And the ranch’s followers.’ She waves her phone toward me, and I see she’s got Instagram loaded up. A video of me riding is right there. I grimace, look away.
‘I don’t check that shit.’
‘I know.’ Her smile is wistful. ‘You’re way too modest.’
‘Are you mocking me?’
She shakes her head. ‘No. I mean it. I know you’re not in it for the adoring public.’
I let out a long, slow breath. Bailey’s made me defensive.
It hurt. It really hurt. Having someone like her, who I’d let see right inside me, who understood who I am, look at me like she did.
To say the things she did. As though I’m some dipshit that goes around breaking women’s hearts for the sake of it.
‘You’re off to Vegas next?’
I nod once, my chest stitching at Ash’s knowledge of my schedule. ‘Getting to the business end of the season. Can’t miss an event now if I can help it.’
Silence fills the morning air. I stare across the courtyard, force myself to man up and do what I came here for. ‘Listen, Ash, I think we need to talk.’
Her eyes sweep closed, her cheeks a pale pink. ‘Yeah?’ She turns to face me. ‘About what?’
I look into her eyes and feel the world shift.
I could ignore this. I think that’s probably what she wants me to do.
But something’s pushing me to have this conversation, some other force.
It takes me a second to realise there are two things at play here: talking to Ash and being real about what we are is the right thing for Ash.
She deserves proper closure. But it’s also the right thing for Bailey.
Being honest with Ash is the only way I can prove to myself, and Bailey, that Bailey’s not the other woman in anything.
‘You’re one of my best friends,’ I say, hating that Ash’s lower lip trembles. ‘You always have been, and I hope always will be. I can’t think of my childhood without seeing you there.’ Memories draw a smile across my face.
She nods slowly, eyes scanning my features.
‘We’ve had a lot of fun together.’
She chews on the corner of her lip.
‘But Ash—and I could be wrong here. You and I both know I’m not that bright,’ I joke, but it lands different now, with Bailey’s words tightening inside of me. ‘I kind of got the feeling that maybe there’s something more there for you. Or maybe you want there to be?’
She blinks away quickly, looks straight ahead, then, as I watch, takes a sip of her tea.
‘Am I wrong?’
She places the teacup on her knee, stares straight ahead. ‘You’re asking if I’m in love with you?’
The words being out there like that scares the hell out of me. ‘I guess I am, yeah.’
She glances at me, then away again. ‘You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met.’
I try to dismiss that with a joke. ‘Honey, I’m a dime a dozen out here.’
‘No.’ Her tone is every bit as serious as mine is joking. ‘You’re not. You always do that, you know. You downplay your strengths, deflect a compliment. But you should know how special you are, Beau Donovan.’
More silence. It stretches between us. Then she faces me. ‘Yeah, I love you.’ She says it almost flippantly in the end, like she’s telling me she had eggs for breakfast or something.
My throat shifts as I swallow.
‘I’ve loved you my whole damn life.’
Guilt is like a knife in my side. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘Damn straight,’ she says with a proud nod. ‘I made sure of that. I didn’t want you to.’
‘But why?’
‘I didn’t want to spoil things.’
‘Christ, I did that, honey.’
She frowns. ‘How?’
‘By sleeping with you like it was just a bit of fun. A roll in the hay, or whatever.’
‘That’s what it was for you, and I loved you enough to take whatever you’d give me.’
I blanch. ‘That’s not what I thought we were doing.’
‘I know that.’ She jabs her shoulder into mine.
‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’
‘I know that too. You can’t help how I feel; hell, I can’t help how I feel. If I could, believe me, I would.’
‘Ash—I’m sorry. I didn’t—’
‘Would you quit apologising?’