Chapter 10 Wyatt #2
My phone vibrated in my pocket. For a wild moment, my heart jumped to the possibility it could be Eros news. But it was just Cooper, texting to ask if I wanted chicken or steak for dinner. My heart sank back into its, now constant, state of aching.
I texted back, "Don’t care," and shoved the phone into my pocket again.
When I looked up, the horse had moved to the far side of the paddock and was watching me with that same cautious interest. The sun caught her mane, turning it almost silver.
I fucking hope we don’t end up with a riderless horse.
Taking up money. Taking up space. Taking up the job of constantly torturing us with what could have been…
"What do you think, girl?" I asked, my voice carrying across the paddock. "Think they'll find our Omega?"
I was asking the horse.
That’s how far gone I was.
As if in response, she tossed her head, sending her winter-kissed mane flying.
It almost looked like she was shaking her head, ‘no’.
It sent a pang through my chest, but then I focused on the way the pale strands caught the light, appearing almost translucent for a moment before settling against her neck once more.
I'd always had a weakness for beautiful things, whether horses, landscapes, or women.
I craved the kind of beauty that made you stop and stare, that reminded you the world wasn't all hardship and waiting.
My hope was this horse’s owner, whoever they were and wherever they might be, would be cut from the same cloth. So, fucking stunning that you couldn’t stop staring.
I sighed and turned toward the gate where the adjustable neck rope was.
She’d tolerate that, so I could lead her back to the stables and the larger paddock.
For now, she could just run free. After coaxing her to me, I slipped on the lead and opened the gate.
She walked calmly beside me, and I found myself wondering why she was so opposed to the bridle.
She’d let me get the saddle and halter on, but she flat-out wouldn’t tolerate the bridle and bit.
Made me want to call the sellers, ask them what the hell they did.
For some reason, the steady thud of her hooves beside me was calming.
I increased my pace, and she matched my movements.
A little faster. She stayed with me, neither pulling ahead nor falling behind.
This was where the animal was going to excel—following its riders signals, whether physical or vocal.
“Attagirl,” I murmured.
We jogged the rest of the way to the stables, my breathing heavy and hers steady.
The spring sun was hot on my body and sweat soaked my shirt by the time we slowed to a walk and entered the stable’s shadowy interior.
We made our way to her stall, and I greeted Bowser who was lazily chewing hay.
The mare happily entered her little home, the light above her gleaming off her pristine coat.
I was dreading the next rainfall. If the horse proved to be one that loved muddy puddles, she’d be a pain to keep fresh.
"You did good today, girl," I soothed, closing the gate and reaching inward.
She padded forward and turned, offering her hindquarters.
I traced my hand gently down, feeling the wiry athletic muscles beneath the silky coat.
A horse giving you their back could mean one of two things—prepare for a swift kick, or I feel safe enough not to keep you in view.
“You’ll be safe here forever,” I promised her.
Was I really promising the horse? Or was I promising a scent-match I might never meet through the mare? I didn’t know. Dammit, I wanted to say the words to the right audience. To our potential Omega.
Here at Sagebrush, you’ll never be scared.
Safety. Protection. A place to belong without fear.
We’ve wanted you forever.
We’ll never take you for granted.
I dropped my hand from the horse.
I walked away quickly, emotions rising in me so fast that I knew the dam would break.
I made it outside, far enough I wouldn’t scare the mare or Bowser. In the paddock nearby, the other horses roamed. Didn’t want to scare them either. I nearly ran around the stables, over our land and past the greenhouses and towards the old barn full of bullshit from a bygone era.
When I got there, I slammed my fist into the outer wall, breaking yet another horizontal board.
I’d made it look like Swiss cheese lately.
Broken the old window glass. Scratched my fists all to hell.
Got splinters between my fingers. I brutalized the old barn to keep from brutalizing myself, my brothers, my business.
“Fuck!” I growled, slamming both fists against the barn now, and leaning forward to press my forehead into the weathered gray wood.
A breeze kicked up. The many scents of Sagebrush Ranch kissed against my body. Home. Our territory. The place we'd built for a pack that still wasn't complete. It would have been better if Cooper had never found Eros. It would have been better never to have this new hope.
Frustration clung to me; a second skin painted on so thinly that I kept forgetting it wasn’t an essential part of my being. The waiting. The uncertainty. The growing fear that Eros might never call, that their fancy tech might fail to find a scent match.
“Christ,” I breathed out, letting the breeze carry my words away, “I’m falling apart.”
The only thing that would help, the only thing that might temporarily stitch me together, was blowing off steam. It would buy me a few days. Buy me some sanity.
A simple distraction. Physical exertion that didn't involve work. A venture into town. A few drinks at Shorty’s place.
Maybe find someone good for a night. The thought should have lifted my spirits—it always had before.
A willing partner, no strings attached, just mutual pleasure to take the edge off.
For the first time, the idea left a sour taste in my mouth.
It felt... wrong somehow. Like a betrayal to a mate that didn’t even exist.
"Ridiculous," I muttered to the empty air. I forced myself to walk away from the barn. I forced myself not to look over my shoulder to see the new damage I’d inflicted.
I slowly made my way back to the working area of our ranch. As the stables and hothouses came into view, I could see Wade in the northern pasture. Two calves walked beside him. Looked like a damn Rockwell painting.
Seeing him, I realized I didn’t want to hit Pinedale solo. Wade always required coaxing to go into town—especially at night with me because he knew my end game—but he needed a break. Guy still wasn’t sleeping for shit.
As I got closer to him, I hollered his name and waved. We locked eyes. He must have seen my need, written all over my face with permanent marker, because his left brow quirked up curiously.
“What’s up?” He asked, hopping the fence and closing the remaining distance to me. We turned in tandem, heading towards the house side-by-side.
“Thinking tonight’s a Shorty’s night,” I shrugged.
He looked over at me, and a crooked grin warmed his face. Yet, it didn’t meet his eyes. These days, all our gazes were clouded with stress.
“You know, for once, I’m not going to argue.”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t this time,” I nodded.
We didn’t say anything else, finishing the journey to the house in silence.
We parted ways in the hall, heading to our rooms. We didn’t have to say, ‘going to shower and change’ or ‘meet you in the living room in twenty’ or even ‘what’s on the menu tonight?’ Our wavelengths were synched.
We’d go into town, have a few beers, maybe play some pool.
If companionship presented itself, I was going to take full advantage. There was no reason to be falling apart inside and celibate. A man could only handle so much.
Whiskey and meaningless women would have to keep me going.
It always had before.
But… shit. Why did it still feel wrong now?