49
“I love you.” Exhaling a breath, I stare at myself in the rearview mirror of my truck. “Just say it. Like that. I love you.” Fuck. “I love you, asshole. Better.”
I pull onto the curb, my heart rate spiking when I spy Wyatt’s truck in the drive.
Ugh. I need to get a new hobby that doesn’t include swooning after my husband.
The edge of my lips lift. Husband .
Yeah. I could get used to that.
I throw my truck in park and hurry into the house. Wyatt’s in the kitchen. His back to me, his hands braced on the counter, staring out the window.
I sling my bag on the counter. “How was it today?”
His voice is tight. “It went fine.”
I scoff, limping toward him. “Fine? That’s all you have to say? What about the part where you beat his ass?” I run my hands over his muscled back, frowning when he tenses at my touch. “What’s wrong?”
Finally, he turns. His voice is a void. Unreadable.
“You got more flowers.” He holds out a piece of newsprint. “And this.”
Fuck . My heart plummets. It’s an article about the upcoming Round-Up Rodeo. In the list of riders, my name’s been highlighted.
I meet his hard stare. “Where’d you get that?”
“Does it matter?” he asks, voice thick. “This is in two days, Fallon. Were you ever going to fucking tell me?”
My mouth opens, closes. This isn’t how I wanted today to go. I wanted to comfort Wyatt about Younger. Tell him everything I’ve been holding back. But now it looks like he’s going to bait me into fighting with him. The asshole.
At my silence, he crumples the paper in his fist. “You didn’t tell me after all this time, after everything we’ve gone through together, you didn’t tell me. You fucking hid it.”
“You would have tried to stop me.”
We glare at each other, the fire stoked between us licks, snaps. Rises.
“You’re damn right I would. You promised me you’d wait,” he accuses. “And you didn’t fucking do it.”
I dig my stubborn boots in. “I don’t care what you think. This is my dream. This could be my last chance—”
“To what—to die? To get hurt again? To put your sister through hell? To put me through hell?”
“That’s not fair.” I shake my head. “You can’t—”
“What?” Wyatt’s nostrils flare. “Worry?”
I clench my hands, pull them to my heart. I hate my voice. High and thin and desperate to convince him. “You worry because I’m a girl—”
“It’s not because you’re a fucking girl!” Wyatt shouts, causing me to freeze. “It’s because you’re MY fucking girl.” He’s pacing now, his hands twisting in his hair. “It’s because all I do is worry about losing you again.”
I go still, my heart trembling.
“Christ, Fallon, you could have died.” He reaches for me, stops himself. The simple action has me closing my eyes. “Every damn day I see you lying there in that fucking ring. I can’t lose you. I won’t.”
“You have me, Wyatt.”
“I don’t.” He shakes his head and my stomach twists. “Not really. Not all of you.”
Kiss me and let me live. I want to scream it at him. But I swat away the emotion and double down.
I tilt my chin. “This is the game we play, Wyatt. We’re cowboys, we’re not cowards. We don’t settle down, we don’t stay in one place, we ride when we’re broken, and we don’t fear death.”
“Fuck your cowboy bullshit,” he snaps. “You’re the coward, Fallon.” His voice is raw, stripping us both bare. “You’re lying and pushing me away with your rodeo bullshit. I see it. I know it. You’re afraid.”
I suck in a breath. “I’m not afraid of anything. Especially not some man who tells me what I want.”
He stomps toward me, hauls me into broad chest. “What do you want?”
The heat from his muscled, heaving body scorches.
The pain in his eyes sears. He’s so damn handsome.
So much of my heart is wrapped up in this man that suddenly, I’m afraid.
I’m not willing to give everything up—give up who I am—for a man.
Is that what he’s asking me? Is this what love does?
Scare and cage? I thought Wyatt was different, but maybe I was wrong.
I harden my voice. My heart. “I don’t know. Not anymore.”
He steps away from me, croaks, “Don’t.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “This was a mistake.”
The words slam into him, and he flinches. Then he chuckles, rubbing a broad hand along his scruffy jaw. His eyes are wet. “We’re doin’ this again? After everything we’ve been through?”
My eyes prick, but I blink away the tears. “What we have is on paper. The bedroom. We should have kept it there.”
“Papers won’t change what we are. Cut ’em up, divorce me, take off the ring, it don’t matter.” His steely gaze rakes over me. “I know what’s between us. And it’s not a mistake.”
I fling an arm. “Go. I don’t want you here.”
His face falls. Then it resets into a hardness that wrecks my heart.
Without another word, Wyatt whirls around, bootsteps stomping as he storms down the hall.
I wait until the front door slams before I cover my face and crumple into tears.