Page 32 of Tame Our Wild

She points to her chest. “I wanted to ride again. I pushed myself too hard and convinced you that I was okay. I’m the reason I can’t be out there with you like we always dreamed. You kept going because I asked you to, but things change. Dreams change. And it’s okay not to want the same things you used to.”

When I don’t say anything and stare down at the ground, she playfully kicks my boot with hers. “There’s more to life than bull riding, Colson. I know that now, and deep down, I know you do, too. I’m okay with this life, and I need you to find a way to be okay, too.” She stands, putting her finger below my chin, lifting my face to make me look at her before she holds out her pinkie finger. “Promise me you’ll try to look forward instead of back.”

I force a grin, but it doesn’t reach my eyes as I wrap my finger around hers. “I promise.”

“Also, you should take it easier on Harlow, little brother.”

I shake my head, blowing out a breathy laugh. “Always throwing that four-minute head start in my face.” My twin grins, and I tilt my head. “You know how hard it is for me to watch her. She’s not you.”

“Then maybe it’s time for you to move on so you don’t have to.”

My eyes drop to the words “don’t stop” inked across my fingers.

She catches me. “You know this is not what I meant when I said that in the hospital.”

I don’t say anything.

Her head gestures to the front door. “Don’t forget your thermos of coffee on the kitchen counter.”

Running inside quickly, I grab my coffee for the road, truck keys, and my Carhartt jacket hanging in the closet by the front door. When I return to the porch, she’s still staring at the sunrise with a far-off look.

I tug on my jacket. “I’ll see you soon?”

She turns to me and smiles. “Soon better mean you’re thinking about coming to Mom and Dad’s for Christmas.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Uh-huh,” she mutters disbelievingly with a hint of a grin ghosting her lips. I walk down the porch steps to my Chevy Silverado. And of course, she never fails to say the words I cling to. Words that we never fail to say to each other. “I love you, Colson.”

I climb into my truck, flashing her a smile. “I love you, too, Pais.”

THIRTEEN | COLSON

Iknew this was an awful idea, but now the situation is fully sinking in. I’m pulling up to the airport, damn near ready to blast past the pickup area and leave the girl behind who I should never have asked to come here in the first place.

I have never lived with a woman who wasn’t blood before. Sure, I’ve had plenty of women stay the night, but they have never infiltrated my home like Harlow is about to.

For five months.

Fuck.

As I see a blonde tapping her foot impatiently on the baggage claim curbside, basking in the early morning sun with a pair of aviator sunglasses on, two things are clear: she’s going to give me hell for being almost twenty minutes late, and I should’ve thought about this decision more than I did.

There’s no turning back now, no matter how much I want to thrust the pedal to the floor and zoom past her as if she were never there in the first place.

I pull up to the curb, letting my eyes travel down her frame, clad in a long-sleeve shirt and tight-fitting black leggings that hug her ass in a way that has me crushing the steering wheel in my fists. I’ve always seen this girl in bootcut Wranglers, and here she is, in a layer of clothing that appears painted on her body, clinging to parts of her that I’ve tried very fucking hard not to notice.

But there’s no harm in taking a second to admire her—she can’t see me behind the tinted windows. I’m proven wrong when she steps toward the passenger window, giving me a smug smile that grates on my nerves.

“Are you going to help me get my bags in the truck or keep ogling me, cowboy?” Harlow’s sass is muted through the glass, but frustratingly enough, I can hear her perfectly well.

Off to a great start.

I throw open the door and hop out, moving toward the back of the truck where she meets me with two full-sized bags in tow—one looking like the butt of an axe was taken to the hard exterior. Repeatedly.

I point to the bag. “Did they accidentally drop that in flight?”

Harlow huffs. “Sorry if I don’t have sponsors for everything like you do. We can’t all afford expensive luggage.”