Forty | Harlow #2
“I do. I’ve kept it bottled up for so fucking long.
” I nod lightly, giving him what he needs.
“The bull’s hooves came down on her head and chest while she was hesitating.
It felt like the slowest fucking seconds of my life, Harlow.
Then, before I knew it, I was cradling my broken sister in my arms, clinging to hope that she would be okay.
But deep down in my gut, I knew she wasn’t going to be.
When they took her to the hospital, they found an intracerebral hemorrhage and rushed her into surgery.
They said if she woke up, she wouldn’t be the same and would need a lot of help from my parents and me.
She was unconscious for a week before …”
A tear glides off his bottom lashes onto his cheek. I swipe it away, letting him keep going.
“She woke up, and the first spark of hope hit me before she left me with two final words. She didn’t speak them, but she traced the letters on the back of my hand with her finger.”
“Letters?”
He says them slowly. “D. O. N. T. S. T. O.P.”
“Don’t stop?” My face falls along with my hand cradling his jaw. I painfully exhale as I lift his hand and stare at the ink embedded in the backs of his fingers.
Oh my God. All this time, I thought my rival had these tattoos because I expected it to be a joke that he was good with his fingers, and those two words were something women would scream at him.
I’ve never felt so wrong—so guilty for only seeing the surface level and not thinking there was depth to him, when I always judged him for not seeing the deeper parts of me.
We were both circling around each other in the kiddie pool and were now being plunged into the depths. His truths are floating to the top, forcing me to accept that the waters I’m wading in with him are darker than I thought.
“She didn’t say the words, but her final request was that I keep riding—That I would work to make it into the professional league even if she wasn’t there to experience it with me.
The same minute I made her that promise, she passed.
” His eyes slam shut. “Like my promise gave her the peace she needed.”
My fingers gently drift over his knuckles to the leather bracelet he always wears. I softly touch the sunflower charm, my attention then locking on the parts of his tattoos on his forearms.
“Sunflowers were her favorite,” he admits, watching me. “I gave her that necklace for our sixteenth birthday, and I always carry it with me.”
His name floats between us. “Colson.”
Those eyes open, settling on mine again, but they’re still glassy.
“We found out later, after she died, that her hemorrhage had re-ruptured. The doctors said she must have had a brief surge of awareness before the pressure in her brain became too much. My parents still blame me for a lot of things, which is why I haven’t talked to them in the last three years.
But I think the hardest part was that, in a way, I got to say goodbye, and they didn’t.
I barely left that hospital room. I couldn’t.
” He lifts a hand, scrubbing a palm over his jaw.
“I’ve been riding ever since, and she’s the reason I’ve never been able to stop.
I feel like I would be betraying her if I did.
I’ve been holding on to Paisley, to bull riding, just like I’ve been holding on to her last words.
There’s so much I’ve been holding on to, Harlow, and I’m fucking terrified to let it go. ”
“Does that mean that Cosmos—”
“Cosmos was Paisley’s horse. She was there on the other side of the fence when my sister had her accident. Even after all these years, she won’t let anyone else ride her, but you are the closest she’s ever been to trusting someone again.”
I fully break now, my heart shattering for the man in front of me. My hand flies to my mouth as I choke out a sob through my fingers.
His forlorn expression shifts to concern. His hands reach out to my forearms, stabilizing me.
“I’m so sorry,” I choke out. “All this time, I thought it was you. I thought you were the issue between us, and I gave you shit for it. But I didn’t realize it was my riding, my injury, that made you fall back into the darkest moments of your life.
All this time it’s been me.” He wastes no time, tugging me into his sculpted chest.
“No, Harlow. No. I should’ve told you. I could’ve walked away from bull riding a long time ago, but I didn’t. The blame is on both of us, and I will not let you carry that weight alone.”
I sniffle. “God, it makes so much sense now. The things you said—The way you looked when you watched me. I feel like an idiot for judging you like that and making things worse whenever we would argue.”
“People always use the phrase ‘attached at the hip,’ but Paisley and I always said, ‘half of my heart.’ That’s what it felt like when I lost her.
” His palm cradles the back of my skull, holding me to him as his warmth envelops me.
“I was stuck, riding this rotating track, letting my mind conjure up images of her because it was easier than dealing with the truth. Reality. I needed a kick in the ass to get off and take a good look at where my life is at and where it is going.”
Tears fall down my cheeks, soaking into his T-shirt.
“I wanted to keep my promise to Paisley as long as I could. As long as I could still compete. Everything felt numb until you came along and made me face the things I’ve been too afraid to.
I offered to coach you to help you face your fears because I know what the cost can be and how much you can lose when you don’t bury them, but I didn’t realize helping you would make me confront my own.
Harlow, I wasn’t healing before, but watching you ride, watching your injury, having you fucking here on the property where I lost her, refilling my home with so much good, it feels like the start of healing.
It’s about goddamn time I started to heal, baby. ”
I nod against his pec, his spiced and woodsy scent filling the parts of my soul that are fracturing for him.
His lips press against my hair before he looks out at the lake. “It’s time,” he whispers.
We stand there for a moment, only our heartbeats, crickets, and soft sounds of the lake stretching through the heaviness.
“I have something for you,” I say after a few minutes of us soaking up the moment.
His head perks up at that, those dark eyes reflecting the silver light from above us, flickering with curiosity.
I reach down and lace our fingers again, guiding him over to the blanket.
We settle down, letting the soft lapping of the lake on the shoreline fill the silence between us.
I grasp the bag I brought, reaching in to take out the container, a few forks, an old, mangled box with only a few candles I found in the junk drawer, and a lighter.
Opening the container, I take out the microwavable chocolate lava cake and place a candle in the center, Colson’s relentless stare heating my skin.
I flick the lighter open, Colson and I watching as the orange flame dances before I light the candle and hold the ceramic bowl out to him.
“Happy birthday, Colson.” I smile.
Colson’s eyes bounce between mine, his lips flattening like he’s trying to keep whatever emotions are swirling inside him at bay.
When he leans over and blows out the candle, it’s the kind of breath that lingers. The kind of breath that makes me wonder if he’s found clarity.
I know I’ve found mine.