Chapter 41 Tex
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Tex
I slap two pieces of sourdough onto the cutting board and spread the mustard thick. I layer the ham and cheese, then cut the sandwich diagonally.
It’s a stupid detail, but she used to say diagonal cuts taste better. I don’t know why I remember that, but I remember everything about her.
I grab a bag of chips and a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge. The kitchen is quiet—too quiet.
For the last six days, this house has been a war zone of moans, screams, and the relentless slap of skin. Now, it’s just the buzz of the refrigerator and the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall.
My phone vibrates on the counter, and I glance at the screen: Clara.
“Hey.”
“Tex?” Her voice is frantic. “Please tell me she’s alive. You haven’t texted in twelve hours. I was about to fly back.”
“She’s alive,” I say, putting the phone on speaker so I can finish plating the food. “She’s sleeping.”
“Sleeping? Just sleeping?”
“The fever broke last night,” I say. “Late. Around three in the morning. The scent changed. It’s… settled now.”
Clara exhales, a long, ragged sound. “Oh, thank god. So it’s over?”
“Yeah. The heat is over. She’s out. Billy and Seth are with her. I’m making lunch.”
“Lunch. Right. Food. She needs food. And water. Lots of water.”
“I know, Clara. I got it.”
“She better call me the second she wakes up.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“And Tex?”
“Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself too. You guys sound exhausted.”
“We are,” I admit. “But we’re good.”
I hang up, put the sandwiches on a tray, and add a glass of orange juice before walking down the hallway. The door to the bedroom is cracked open, so I nudge it with my hip.
The smell hits me instantly. It’s not the burning, chemical scent of the heat anymore. It’s deeper. Earthier.
It’s the scent of pack. Of mating. It clings to the walls and saturates the sheets.
It smells like mine. Like ours.
I walk inside. The room is dim, the blackout curtains drawn, and the bed is a disaster zone of tangled sheets and pillows on the floor.
Billy is sprawled on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, snoring lightly. Seth is curled up on the other side, reading a book in the dim light with his glasses perched on his nose. He looks up when I enter.
Sedona is in the middle, a lump under the duvet.
I set the tray down on the dresser. “You hungry?” I whisper.
Seth nods, putting the book down and stretching his neck until it cracks audibly. “Starving,” he says.
I look at the bed. The lump moves, and a hand shoots out from under the covers to pat the mattress blindly.
“Water,” she croaks, her voice raspy and raw.
I grab a bottle from the nightstand, crack the seal, and hand it to Seth, who helps her sit up. She emerges from the cocoon of blankets, and my heart hammers.
She looks wrecked. Her hair is a wild tangle of red curls, her face pale but flushed. Her lips are swollen, and there are bruises on her neck and bite marks on her shoulders. She looks like she’s been through a battle.
She looks beautiful.
She downs half the bottle in one gulp, gasping for air. “How are you feeling?” I ask.
She blinks. Her eyes are glassy, but they’re clear. The fever is gone. The haze is lifted. “Like I got hit by a truck,” she says. “A truck full of penises.”
Billy snorts from the other side of the bed, pulling his arm off his face to blink his eyes open. “Morning, sunshine,” he grumbles.
“Is it morning?” she asks.
“It’s two in the afternoon,” I say. “Saturday.”
She freezes. “Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
She calculates, and her eyes widen. “Six days?” she asks. “I’ve been out for six days?”
“Mostly,” Seth says, brushing a curl off her forehead. “You were lucid for a few minutes here and there. But mostly… you were busy.”
Her face turns bright red, and she pulls the duvet up to her chin. “I remember…” She trails off, looking at me, then at Billy, then at Seth. “I remember everything.”
“Good,” Billy says, sitting up. He’s naked from the waist up, his chest hair matted. “That means you remember who you belong to.”
She swallows. “I think I need to pee.”
She tries to get up, throwing the covers back to reveal she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. It’s huge on her.
She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands up, but her knees buckle instantly. I lunge forward, catching her before she hits the floor.
My arm wraps around her waist, pulling her upright.
“Whoa, there,” I say.
She grips my biceps, her fingers digging in as she wobbles. “My legs are jelly,” she whispers. “I can’t feel my toes.”
“We did kind of keep you horizontal for a week,” Seth says, standing up to come to her other side and support her elbow.
“I can walk,” she insists, taking a step and stumbling.
I hoist her up and carry her to the bathroom.
“I can take it from here,” she says, holding onto the doorframe.
“You sure?” I ask.
“Yes. I need… privacy. Just for a minute.”
I let her go, and she shuts the door. I stand outside, Seth leaning against the wall next to me. We listen to the water running.
“She’s okay,” Seth says, exhaling. He looks tired. We all look tired.
“Yeah,” I say. “She’s okay.”
Billy stumbles out of bed, stretching and scratching his chest. He walks over to the tray of sandwiches and grabs one, taking a massive bite. “We need to talk,” he says with his mouth full. “About what happens now.”
The toilet flushes, and the sink runs. The door opens, and Sedona walks out, holding onto the wall for support. She looks shaky but determined.
I walk over to her and scoop her up again.
“Hey!” she protests. “I was walking.”
“Barely,” I say.
I carry her back to the bed and settle her in the middle, handing her a sandwich. “Eat,” I say.
She takes a bite, chewing slowly as her eyes close in bliss. “Best sandwich ever,” she mumbles.
We all climb onto the bed and surround her, forming a protective circle. The silence is comfortable, heavy with what we just shared: six days of madness, instinct, and bonding.
Sedona finishes half the sandwich and drinks the rest of the Gatorade before setting the tray aside. She looks at us.
“I remember,” she says again. “I remember… everything. The things I said. The things we did.” She looks down at her hands. “I was scared,” she whispers. “That when the heat broke, you would regret it. That you would look at me and see a mistake.”
I reach out and grab her hand. “Look at me,” I say.
She looks up.
“I don’t regret a single second,” I say. “Not one.”
“I love you, Tex,” she says. “I think I’ve loved you my whole life. I was just too stupid to see it.”
My chest tightens until it feels like my heart is going to beat right out of my ribs.
“I love you too,” I say. “I’m never letting you go back to New York. You’re stuck with me now.”
She smiles—a watery, tremulous smile—before turning to Seth.
“Seth,” she says.
He takes her other hand and kisses her knuckles.
“I love you,” she says. “You’re my steady place. You always have been.”
Seth’s eyes crinkle. “I love you too, Sedona. Always have. Always will.”
She turns to Billy, who is sitting at the foot of the bed, looking at her. “Billy,” she says.
He crawls up the bed, stopping right in front of her to put his hands on her cheeks.
“I hated you,” he says. “For five years, I hated you because I loved you so much it was killing me.”
She nods as tears spill over.
“But I don’t hate you anymore,” he says. “I can’t. Not after this. You’re part of me. You’re part of us.”
“I love you, Billy,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I know,” he says. “We’ll figure it out. We have time.”
He kisses her forehead, and we sit there—the four of us. The pack.
I check my watch, and my stomach drops.
“So,” I say. “Now that we’ve established we’re all disgustingly in love…”
Sedona looks at me. “Shit!”
“What is it?” My chest constricts. Did I already fuck this up?
Her eyes widen. “The rodeo,” she breathes.
I feel my heartbeat begin to slow down. “What is it?”
“The bronc riding,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“It’s today, right?” she asks.
“Uh-huh.”
“What time?” she asks.
“This afternoon,” I say. “I think the first chute opens at four.”
“You have to go,” she says.
I shake my head. “No. I’m not leaving you. You can barely walk. You’re exhausted. You need—”
“I need you to go,” she says firmly.
“Sedona—”
“No, Tex,” she says, pushing my chest with what little strength she has left. “You’ve been training for this. You’ve been working for this. Tripp is going to be there. The whole town is going to be there.”
“I don’t care about Tripp,” I say.
“I do,” she says. “I want you to beat him. I want you to get on that horse and show them what a Carson looks like.”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” I say.
“I’m not alone,” she says, gesturing to Billy and Seth. “I have them. I’ll be fine. I’m going to sleep for another twelve hours anyway.”
She grabs my face and pulls me in, kissing me. It’s a different kiss than the ones in the heat. It’s not frantic. It’s not desperate. It’s a promise.
“Go,” she whispers against my lips. “Win. Bring me back the buckle.”
I groan, resting my forehead against hers. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Sedona looks at me, her eyelids drooping again. “Go,” she says. “Please. For me.”
I stand up and look at her—tangled in the sheets, smelling like us, looking like home.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll go.” I lean down and kiss the top of her head. “But I’m coming right back.”
“You better,” she mumbles, her eyes already closing.
I turn to the door, feeling different. Lighter.
I have a rodeo to win.
But the rodeo isn’t the most important thing. She is. And she’ll be waiting when I get back.
The fairgrounds are a riot of noise and color.
I steer the truck into a slot near the back of the lot, the gravel crunching under the tires, and cut the engine, the silence of the cab instantly replaced by the distant roar of the crowd and the tinny sound of country music blaring from the loudspeakers.