26
T he water gleams like a silver reflection, so bright by the light of the moon overhead.
The hot tub bubbles in the warm summer evening.
Fallon appears with a bottle of whiskey.
She wears a little black bikini tied together with strings that look like they could snap any second.
Her caramel-blonde hair is unbound and wild, draped over one shoulder.
Her body is tan and muscled, tattooed and flawless.
My mouth goes dry. My cock jerks with want. She looks like a fallen, defiant angel. Sexy and feral.
As she limps toward me, her hand drifts self-consciously to the scar on her stomach before falling to her side.
I press off the back of the house, shamelessly staring at her ass in those tiny bikini bottoms. “Let me help you in.”
She frowns but obeys. As she grips my hand, I don’t miss the way her gaze lowers to my bare chest. Her appreciative eyes on me pushes a surge of blood to my cock.
Carefully, I help her into the hot tub, making sure she’s settled and comfortable before I slip into the water across from her.
“Ugh,” she says as she relaxes on a seat. She flashes the bottle of whiskey. On the label in gold foiling, Weston Whiskey . “Can’t escape him.” Then, giving a little shrug, she says, “Bottom’s up,” and takes a long pull.
“How is it?” I ask.
She coughs then grins. “Gotta admit, fucker makes fantastic whiskey.”
I lean in as she passes me the bottle then take a swig myself.
We sit barely four feet apart in the small square space. Almost touching, but not quite.
Fallon tilts her head back to the moon and sighs.
I examine the sharp lines of her face. Serene and exhausted, but confident. “You’re tired.”
“I am. But it feels good.”
My gaze falls to her breasts, her beaded nipples, and my groin tightens. What I wouldn’t give to undo one of those strings around her neck.
Taking a steadying breath, I say, “You’ll be back on a horse in no time.”
“Liar.” She purses her lips, her expression agitated. “My hip’s fucked.”
“No lie.” I pass her the whiskey. “I’m always honest with you, Trouble.”
She considers this, drinks from the bottle, breathes out. “That’s true. You have always told me the truth.”
“So let’s tell it, then. Tonight.”
Interest flickers in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean a game. Truth or dare. Just truth.”
She stares out at her dark backyard. “Games always get us.”
They do. There are multiple instances of us losing our tempers over pool, Fallon hurling my car keys into the grass after losing at darts.
“What else do we have to do but fight?”
I study her as she studies me. My cock throbs. She’s too fucking beautiful, having a goddamn stare-down with me because she’s so fucking stubborn.
Her lashes lower. “Okay,” she agrees. Another swig of whiskey, and then she passes it back. “No half-ass answers either.”
“All in,” I drawl.
“And I go first,” she says, lifting a challenging brow.
This should be fun.
“Sheena,” she says, crossing her arms, contempt in her eyes. “Did you fuck her?”
I exhale, pained. Damn. No wind up. Straight to the fucking point. But it’s what I deserve. It’s been a long time coming.
This time, it’s my turn to drink. “I never fucked Sheena,” I tell her, breathing through the whiskey burn. “Not once.”
I keep my eyes on her placid face, so she knows, so she really fucking hears me. She has to.
Tonight, all my cards on the table. My whole heart.
Fallon remains tense as a snake, poised to strike.
“But I used her,” I continue. “I wanted to make you jealous.”
Her nostrils flare.
“My turn,” I say, handing her the bottle. “Aiden. Why him?”
“Why not?” When I stare at her, she sighs. “Aiden was just different enough to be interesting. He wasn’t a cowboy. He wasn’t—”
“What?” I ask sharply.
Her eyes drop to the water. “Nothing.”
“I thought you said no half-ass answers.”
She snarls. “Fuck you, Wyatt.”
She’s pissed because I’m pushing her, affecting her. Forcing her to drop her walls, to tell me why she ran. I’m ready, I’m here to knock them all down.
Her eyes dart around the backyard. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“You need to,” I press. “You think runnin’ away will fix everything, but it won’t. It won’t get him out of your head, because you and I both know all he’s done since you left is follow you around.”
She closes her eyes, covers her face. “Stop! Stop it.”
My fists clench and unclench beneath the water. “Because of that motherfucker, you left. You left us.”
“There was never any us,” she flings.
“Now who’s the liar?” The sharp snap of my voice makes her jump. I soften it, but it’s no less stern. “I’ve felt you, Fallon. I’ve fucked you. I’ve held you in my arms as you bled out and begged you to fuckin’ stay. So you lie to me again and tell me there’s no us, I fuckin’ dare you.”
We glare at each other. Seconds tick by.
“I hate what he did to you.” I soften my tone. “I hate that he hurt you. That he took you from me.”
She goes still, expressionless. Her eyes glass over as she says, “I don’t want to talk anymore about Aiden.” She wets her lips, stares daggers at me. “And if you cared so much about an us , you had your chance.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
She looks at me like I’m stupid. “I told you where I was in my letter.”
I blink. “Whoa. Hold up. Rewind that back. Letter?”
She looks surprised then recovers. “I left you a letter. The night I left. I left one for Koty and one for you.”
The news hits me like bomb.
Water ripples. I push off my seat, swim toward her, grip her fingers. Her teeth click together, but she doesn’t stop me from touching her.
The heart in my chest is unstable. “You told me where you were?”
Her voice is cold, wobbly. “I thought someone with half a brain cell should know.”
She told me where she was. She told me.
“Fuck, Fallon.” My voice breaks. “Baby, I never got it.”
“You didn’t?” Something like relief, pain, crosses her face. “I thought…” She swallows. “I thought you didn’t come, because you didn’t want to.”
“No.” I lace our fingers, holding tight. “I would have come. I would have been down there with you the fucking second I read it.”
Fuck. All this time. All this time lost, all this miscommunication. We’re both fucking idiots.
I grip her chin, force her to look at me. “Do you hear me? I would have been there.”
She laughs wetly. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
The fuck it doesn’t.
“Was that all that was in the letter?” I rasp. “Where you were?”
Her mouth falls open, closes, opens again. “Yes,” she says, dropping her eyes. “That was all.”
She’s lying. The tightness around her mouth says it all. But I let it go. I want to keep moving forward, not back. Even if my heart feels like it’s been put through a shredder.
“My turn,” Fallon snaps. “Why’d you really give up the rodeo?”
“For you.”
She flinches, swears. “I fucking knew it.” Her expression is sad, conflicted. “But, Wyatt, why—”
I hold her gaze. “It didn’t matter if you weren’t there.”
She steals the bottle of whiskey from the hot tub edge, drinks heavily. Finished, she hands it to me. I take a swig then set it down.
“My turn.”
“Something else,” she says softly, turning her face away. Her eyes shimmer. “No more Aiden. Please.”
I press my lips together. I don’t like it. She needs to get it out, not bottle it up.
Still, because I’m a goddamn sucker, I back off.
I have my next truth locked and loaded. “Tell me why you hate me.” Thanks to the whiskey, she has a loose tongue, and I fully intend to take advantage.
That pink flush staining her cheeks, Fallon vigorously shakes her head. The ends of her caramel hair trail the water.
“Tell me,” I demand, gripping her chin and forcing her gaze to mine. “So I can make it right.”
“I doubt it,” she says, but her lower lip trembles.
“Please, Trouble.” I cup her face, and her eyes close.
I can see that stubborn war waging in her head. Self-preservation kicking in. Stone walls erecting.
“I heard you,” she whispers.
My heart skips a beat. Close. So close to learning about this grudge.
I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Heard me what?”
“I heard you say it.” She licks her lips. Her voice strengthens, trembles. “I heard what you said.”
Silence. The only sound the ripple of the water.
Chest hitching, she continues. “You were standing around with a group of cowboys. I was at the ranch cleaning the stalls and I heard you.” She inhales, lets it rip.
“You called me a cowbarbie who wouldn’t last the summer.
You said the only reason you were giving me lessons was because of Stede.
You said…” Her eyes flash. “You said you bet Stede wishes he had a son instead.”
All I can do is gape at her. Can’t even refute it.
“You said it,” she accuses, tone defiant. Hurt.
“Fuck. I—Fallon…I—I’m sorry.”
I don’t remember saying it, but it sounds like something I would have said at the time. Especially in front of a group of cowboys. Back then, at twenty-two, I had an ego, a smart mouth, not a care in the world about who I hurt.
But that was then, and this is fucking now.
I tear a hand through my hair. “Hell, I wasn’t thinking when I said that, Fallon. I was new in town, I was showing off like an asshole, but I never meant what I said. I fucking promise,” I rasp, fighting for words. Hating myself.
How long has she agonized over my words?
She’s been holding on to this, and I had no idea how much it spurred her on, consumed her.
Fuck, it eats at me. To know she’s hurt this much, for so long, because of something I said.
I didn’t want to be that type of trainer, that guy.
I tried my best, but fuck, it wasn’t good enough.
“I hated you for that.”
It shudders out of her. I see it on her face. How damn pissed she’s been. And why wouldn’t she be? She was sixteen, and I shit all over everything she loved.
“I hated you for so long. But I vowed to get better because of you. So I could beat you.” A smile curls her lips. “And then I fucked you.”