Chapter 36
Where It Ends - Bailey Zimmerman
Kinsley
“ Y ou know you’re pulling on her mouth, right?” Finn’s accusation came after a practice run.
We had arrived at our next rodeo that morning, and if I wanted to win enough points this year, I needed to practise more and keep Cher in top shape. I’d asked Finn to help since he had the most horse training experience.
“Ugh, I know. I’m sorry, baby girl,” I apologised, leaning down to hug Cher’s neck.
“That’s not like you.” Finn’s observation hit home.
My horse’s welfare had always been my primary concern, but my desperation for better race times was clouding my judgement.
“I’ll try harder,” I promised.
“No. That’s the problem; you’re trying too hard. Relax a bit, trust her to do her job, and stop trying to force it. She can feel all your tension,” he advised.
I exhaled, acknowledging the truth in his words. My competitiveness was getting the best of me, and Cherokee was suffering for it.
“Call it quits for today. Start fresh tomorrow.”
“Fine.” I dismounted and gave Cher a reassuring pat.
Finn walked us back to the barn, but my mind was still on the ride and how to get more speed out of my horse. Doubts gnawed at my confidence, whispering insidious suggestions of failure.
“Get out of your head, Kinsley.”
“I can’t help it. I want this so bad. Do you think Cher can compete at this level?”
“Yeah, of course.” His assurance was swift, but his eyes darted away, betraying his words.
My stomach dropped. “You’re lying.”
“She’s a great horse, a pro. You couldn’t ask for a more consistent horse.”
“Just a faster one.”
“She might pull it off.” Finn’s tone lacked conviction.
“I’m not going to take Gambler back if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s not—"
“I can see it all over your face. It’s a miracle we got Wyatt to ride him. I will not mess that up—”
We’d reached Cher’s stall, where Wyatt was busy tossing hay, his expression a fury of anger as he glared at us. He’d clearly overheard everything.
“The two of you just thought you would team up to solve all my problems?” Wyatt said bitterly.
“No! That’s not—" Panic tightened its icy grip around my chest.
“It wasn’t like that, man,” Finn said.
“No? Poor Wyatt needs a horse, so you two concocted a plan to get me riding him.”
The accusation stung because he wasn’t wrong. Tears welled up, hot and stinging, blurring my vision.
“I’ll always be a fucking charity case to you, Kinsley.” With that, he stormed off.
“Wyatt, please.” My tears drowned out my plea. I attempted to follow him, but Cher tugged me toward her stall, eager for her meal.
“Shit.” Finn grumbled, taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair. He slumped against the stall wall. “I’ll talk to him.”
“No, I’ll talk to him,” I insisted. My heart was heavy with guilt. Wyatt’s anger was directed at me, and it was up to me to make things right.
When I caught up with him, Wyatt was furiously packing his belongings into his truck.
“Where are you going?!” My voice broke, the panic rising in my throat like a tidal wave.
“Home.” His response was curt as he hefted his saddle into the back. He wouldn’t even look at me.
My apology stumbled out, sounding desperate. “Wyatt, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—"
“Didn’t mean to trick me into riding your horse?” His retort was sharp, cutting deep.
“You needed a horse!” I countered, my frustration mounting.
“That wasn’t your problem to fix.”
“I don’t fucking care!” My outburst echoed between us, raw and unfiltered. The dam of my composure had broken, and the flood of fear and desperation poured out.
“What?” He seemed taken aback by my vehemence.
“When you’re in a relationship with someone, that’s what you do! You help each other, you figure things out together, and you sacrifice for the other person! But you can’t seem to understand that! You’re constantly pushing me away because you think you have to do things on your own. Well, it’s bullshit! You say you love me, that you want a life with me, but it’s never going to work until you pull your head out of your ass and let me in!” My words spilled out, a torrent of emotion and frustration, each sentence punctuated by the rapid beat of my heart.
He stood there across the hood of the truck, silent, his glare as intense as the emotions swirling between us. I held his gaze, my breath heavy, as my entire being screamed for him to just listen and understand.
But he only shook his head, the finality of the gesture like a slap to the face.
“No. I’m not doing this again.”
I struggled to draw in air, each breath a sharp pain in my chest.
Watching Wyatt hastily throw the rest of his things into the truck was like watching the last two years of our lives being carelessly packed away.
“Wyatt, please, let’s talk about this,” I pleaded, my voice breaking with the effort to keep him here and make him see reason.
He paused, his hands gripping the edge of the truck bed. “There’s nothing left to say, Kinsley.” His voice was low and strained.
I moved closer, the gravel crunching under my boots. “I-I thought we were in this together. That we could face anything, as long as we had each other.”
Wyatt looked up at me with an expression of anger and pain. “How can we be in this together when you’re making decisions for me? Decisions that I should be a part of?”
I reached out. If I could just touch him…
But he stepped back, putting more distance between us.
“I love you, Wyatt. I thought that meant I should do whatever I could to help you.” My voice was barely a whisper, drowned out by the sound of my heart breaking.
“I don’t need that kind of help, Kinsley. I need... I don’t even know what I need anymore, but it’s not this.”
The moment stretched on—a standstill in our personal storm. Then he climbed into the truck, starting the engine without another word.
The roar of the engine was a harsh farewell, leaving me standing there, grappling with the realization that love, no matter how deep, might not be enough to overcome some obstacles.