Epilogue
SAVANNAH
One week later…
Being back home for longer than a weekend in the last eleven years felt a lot like deja vu. I looked around at the places I had spent my childhood, at the people I grew up with, and I felt that same disconnect, that veil of unfamiliarity that only came with deja vu.
I knew the reason for the feeling was that I didn’t belong in Wild Creek anymore, but when your mother is dying, you kind of have to push your own feelings aside and be there.
My world now consisted of skyscrapers, custom-made suits, heels torturing my feet, and billable hours.
I ran on five hours of sleep, coffee, and words like share purchase agreement, material adverse effect, and escrow.
I did Pilates, got my face derma-planed once a month, and drank espresso martinis.
I didn’t belong in this world of cowboy hats, barns that had that distinct stench only barns could, and a small town community where everyone knew everyone’s business.
So why in the hell had I volunteered to stay here longer? It was the question I’d been asking myself every single day since Claire decided to merge with Circle M because she had gone and fallen in love like an idiot.
They were sickening to watch, my sister and Beau McLeod. Sickening in that ‘I had that once in a lifetime love but not anymore’ kind of way.
But after Claire had given up her dream so we could all pursue ours, I couldn’t not offer when she needed help. And it was the easiest out I could think of to get away from Dallas, away from the shitstorm my life had turned into there.
I just wish it hadn’t meant facing him again.
Everywhere I looked, there he was. Not him physically, but memories. Memories that I needed to stay dead and buried for my own sanity. But the past always came to haunt you when you needed it the least.
He had yet to show his face since I’d been home this last month—not even for my mother’s funeral—but there was no avoiding him now.
We were all going to the rodeo, and considering he was the poster boy bull rider of America, there was no way I could get around it.
People would’ve asked questions if I hadn’t come, and I wouldn’t have had answers.
Only because I had vowed to myself since I was sixteen that no one could ever know I had once loved Weston Tate, and he had once loved me. Or that it was the kind of love that tilted the world off its axis when it came crashing down, which it did. Spectacularly. Catastrophically.
Or that it had been my fault.
The parking lot of the arena was packed. People were slowly filing in, dressed in the typical rodeo-goer uniform that I had on myself: boots, jeans, a gaudy belt, and a tucked-in button-down. The only thing I was missing was a hat.
I felt stupid. I felt like I was impersonating my teenage self, and nothing about it was comfortable.
Actually, everything about tonight was distinctly uncomfortable. From the urge to scan the perimeter every five seconds for a certain blonde cowboy down to the way my shirt tag itched.
Claire clung to Beau’s arm like he was the center of gravity while I continued on my death march with Delilah, Tess, and Anna.
Seeing my headstrong, powerful, self-sufficient sister melt over a man was honestly disturbing; I never thought it’d happen.
But I had to admit that it was really nice to see her so happy, even if it was with a McLeod.
But Beau had been there for Claire, for all of us, really, when Mom died, and that earned him a gold star in my book.
“They’re so cute,” Anna said, smiling fondly at the couple. “I wonder when they’ll get married.”
Being around Anna again after all this time was both weird and comfortable, but just like when we were kids, our groups had merged together seamlessly.
The McLeod clan was here tonight, along with the rest of my siblings.
One big happy family again, as if the last two decades of contempt had never happened.
“Hopefully, they have enough sense to wait,” I murmured.
“I agree,” Tess added. I glanced over at my sister, who was watching Claire with a knowing look. She still hadn’t said anything about her life in Corpus Christi in the two weeks she’d been home, but judging by the way she walked on eggshells around everyone, I knew it wasn’t good.
“Y’all are just jealous,” Delilah said, linking her arm with mine. “Everyone wants to get dicked down by a man who worships the ground they walk on.” Not wrong.
I arched a brow at her. “Oh yeah? And where’s your worshipper?”
My best friend shot me her signature smirk. “Try worshipers,” she said, emphasizing the s. “I got a whole roster of men waiting on their knees for a piece of this.”
“Oh my God,” Tess squeaked, her cheeks pink. Sometimes I forgot she had always been three years younger than us, so we never talked to her about boys or sex. Guess that ship sailed, though, since she had a kid now, a kid she didn’t tell anyone about, which I still hadn’t entirely forgiven her for.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and when I saw Stewart’s name on the screen, I grimaced and put my phone on do not disturb.
There was something inexplicably stupid about that man for him to have not realized “I’m going home to be with my family, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” was code for stop blowing up my fucking phone because I need space.
I guess fiancés did that, though.
I hadn’t told my family I was engaged. There wasn’t really a good time between my mother dying, Tess coming home after being MIA for eight years, Mom’s funeral, and Claire merging the ranches to announce it.
And because I hadn’t really given Stewart an answer either. I hadn’t said yes, but I hadn’t said no either. So I guess that made him my would-be fiancé if we got real technical.
He had proposed with this horrid grand gesture of giant, illuminated block letters spelling out “marry me” and a trail of rose petals in his penthouse. Naturally, the ring was a small boulder given his partner's salary, too.
Any sane woman would’ve passed out in love-addled bliss. But not me.
When I stared down at him on one knee, looking up at me with hopeful eyes, my mind instantly went to the one place I had forbidden it to go for the last eleven years.
That alone had scared me so much that I ran out of the penthouse, went home to throw shit in a bag, and drove straight to Wild Creek.
Stewart was a good man. He was brilliant in the courtroom, well-respected at our firm, and dedicated to his clients, but in the two years we had been together, I never really felt it. The it Claire so clearly felt for Beau, that Anna felt for Joseph, that Colt seemed to feel for Brittany.
And I didn’t know what to do with that, so I ran.
All twelve of us squeezed into the stadium-style bleachers, three rows back and dead in the center, so we got a good view. I would have rather sat in the parking lot out of sight, personally, but that was only because Weston’s absence had built this moment up far more than it needed to.
I had planned the moment we crossed paths for the first time in over a decade perfectly.
I was going to say hello with all the poise and no-nonsense attitude I had in the courtroom, and then not speak to him again after that unless absolutely necessary.
Totally mature and the best thing I could come up with after suffering over it for days.
“Nacho, Savvy?” Emmett asked, extending the plastic tray of chips and neon orange cheese to me. He had Luke in his lap, and the kid was stuffing his face with popcorn like a vacuum.
I looked down at the nachos hovering over Tess’s lap, and my stomach only twisted harder. I hadn’t eaten shit like that in years and knew it’d wreck me, but for some reason, I took one anyway.
It tasted about as disgusting as it looked and did nothing to ease my anxiety.
My nerves only climbed as the night dragged on. Every time a rider was announced, my chest tightened to the point of pain. Only to release like a deflated balloon when it wasn’t Weston.
But then the stadium started to rumble from people stomping their feet, and the announcer's voice boomed over the speaker, saying Weston’s name.
My heart flew to my throat when I looked at the chute and saw that wavy, sandy blonde hair I had spent hours of my adolescence combing my fingers through. Saw the distinct line of his jaw, stronger and sharper now. Saw the firm set of his mouth that told me he was focused.
He raked his hair back, slapped his light brown cowboy hat down tight, tapped his left bicep, and nodded at the guy controlling the door.
But then he looked up in what I assumed was supposed to be a fleeting glance, and his eyes locked with mine. The world stopped spinning. Even with eleven years of no contact and hundreds of miles between us, those eyes could still unravel me in just half a second.
All the air left my lungs as the door flew open. His eyes widened. I didn’t know if it was because of me or the fact that he wasn’t ready. It all happened so fast. So fast, if I had blinked, I would have missed it.
My body went rigid as he flew out of the chute on the back of that angry bull. His chin wasn’t tucked, his muscles were locked, his hand wasn’t secure on the handle of the bull rope. The crowd roared, not realizing what was happening. They counted the seconds he stayed on.
They only counted to two.
I flew to my feet as he went flying into the air.
Something between a gasp and a sob left me as he fell on top of the bull, only to get kicked so hard his hat flew off and his body went limp.
Tears sprang to my eyes as he landed on his left shoulder, his arm bending unnaturally.
I tore through the crowd to the front of the bleachers when he didn’t get up.
His name rose to the surface before I could stop it. Raw and aching and straight from my teenage heart. “Wes!” I screamed so loud my voice cracked, flinging the top half of my body over the railing, gripping it so hard my hands hurt.
I never thought I’d call him that again, never thought I’d feel this fear for his safety either. It was why I left him all those years ago. Why I had sworn to never watch him ride live.
I thought I’d buried all the feelings that came with him. But the past wasn’t just haunting me now; it was charging full speed ahead, and I wasn’t ready.
The END