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“Yes, you do!”
I was trapped in this never-ending loop with Kinsley, going around and around in circles with the same damn fight. She always had to push me, never content to let things be. It was like she couldn’t help herself, constantly needling and prodding at me to get me to see things her way.
I shoved my hands through my hair roughly, pacing back and forth. The anger and frustration were building, expanding in my chest until I felt like I might explode. The more she pushed, the more I pulled away, digging my heels in. It was exhausting, but I didn’t know how to break the cycle.
I wheeled around to face her, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. Those blue eyes I knew so well shimmered with unshed tears, and her arms wrapped protectively around her middle. It should’ve been my arms around her, protecting her. Instead, I was hurting her.
I cared about her more than I wanted to admit, but her relentless pressure made me feel cornered, like a caged animal. I just wanted her to back off, to let me breathe, but it seemed like every time we found some kind of balance, we ended up right back here, trapped in this endless argument neither of us could win.
Her hand reached out and touched my forearm—a soft plea—but I yanked my arm away, the flood of rage and pain within me needing some kind of release. My boots scraped against the dirt as I turned on my heel, putting distance between us. At that moment, what I felt was so ugly and wrong next to her.
Kinsley was a force of nature—vibrant, glowing, larger than life. And I was me, with all my flaws and shortcomings. She deserved better. I wished with my whole being that I was enough for her, that I could give her the life she wanted.
Sinking down into my chair, I dropped my head into my hands, fingers digging into my hair.
I would only disappoint her in the end. The fear of failing her, of letting her see how broken I still was inside, filled me with more anger and bitterness. It wasn’t fair to take it out on her, but I didn’t know any other way to protect us from the heartbreak I was sure would come if she stayed.
So, I pushed her away, despite the ache it caused me. I told myself it was for her own good, that this was the only way. Seeing the hurt in her eyes ripped right through me, making me hate myself even more.
Leaping back to my feet, I began pacing again, my restless energy thrumming. I had to break this cycle before I destroyed her real shot at happiness.
Voice hoarse, I said, “I can’t do this with you anymore, Kinsley. I can’t.”
With that, I walked away.
Chapter 9
Cowboy Til I Die - The Road Hammers
Kinsley
The bleachers were packed so tight I had to suck in my already thin stomach to squeeze through the rows. Popcorn crunched under my boots with each step. I clutched two bottles of water and a butter-soaked popcorn bucket, nabbing a few kernels with my tongue before handing one bottle to Maisey.
“Thanks.” She shifted over as much as she could.
I wedged myself into the space, my shoulder pressing against some dude’s beefy arm. You couldn’t even slide a toothpick between us. The whole freaking town must have turned out for the bull riding. It was the last event of the day, and it always drew the biggest crowd. Even us girls racing at breakneck speeds couldn’t compete with cowboys riding bulls.
We secured a spot close to the chutes, which gave us a prime view of the cowboys’ faces as they descended onto the backs of their assigned bulls. I’d loved that vantage point ever since I was a young girl watching my dad compete. Seeing the exhilaration mixed with nerves flash across the riders’ faces in the moments before the gate opened always gave me a thrill of anticipation.
I lived for the eight-second eternity—the ultimate test of man against beast. Daring cowboys clung on with all they had as those bulls twisted, bucked, and spun with cataclysmic force. When the buzzer finally blared, the rider went airborne before landing in the dirt. It didn’t matter how many times I saw it; that heart-stopping moment before they hit the ground made the hair on my arms stand on end.
Though it had been years since my dad rode, I still got that same rush watching the new generation of cowboys try to conquer the rankest bulls on the circuit.
Wyatt stood at the bottom of the bleachers, forearms resting on the metal bars of the arena fence. He chatted with Finn but cut his eyes my way when Finn nodded towards me. Our stares locked for the briefest moment before Wyatt snapped his head back, jaw clenched tight as a vise grip.
“I’m guessing that it didn’t go well this morning.” Maisey nodded over at the guys.
“Nope,” I replied. “Pretty much as I expected.”
“Does he know what he’s going to do? Is he even going to the next rodeo?”
I gave an exaggerated shrug. “I mean, I guess he has to stay with the other guys. They’re travelling in his truck.” I studied the tense lines of Wyatt’s shoulders and the rigidness in his stance. “He’ll have to haul poor Drifter around and pay his stabling costs, even though he’s not even competing.”
Maisey shook her head. “Man, that’s rough.”
Wyatt surveyed the bull riders with an intensity that bordered on envy.
A familiar ache tugged at my heart. It wasn’t his sport, but knowing he wouldn’t be out there at all would be hard on him. He was not meant for the sidelines. It frustrated me I couldn’t do something; I wanted to, desperately.
