Page 92 of Tame Our Wild

It’s his birthday?

Matt breathes in and out like he’s debating whether to disclose whatever he is holding back. He sighs. “Colson has never hated you, Harlow. Watching you ride reminds him that you aren’t her.”

THIRTY-NINE | COLSON

Ipush my way through the sunflowers, trying to get back to Paisley. We were only playing hide-and-seek; she wasn’t supposed to get hurt. I feel bad because it’s my fault.

Dad always told me that when a man makes a mistake, he does whatever he can to fix it. My sister is injured and sad, and I want to do whatever I can to make her happy.

When I see her again, where I left her sitting in the field, she has one boot off, but her pink polka-dot sock is still on.

When she sees me with the flower, she smiles even though she’s still crying. “Wow! Where did you find that?”

“I saw it when I was trying to find you, and I thought it would make you smile.” I hold out the sunflower with only one red petal, looking like blood. It’s really cool, and I thought she would like it because she loves sunflowers, and this one is different than the others.

She takes it from me, brushing her fingers over the petals. I like making her feel better because she makes me feel better.

I take a seat next to her and take off my cowboy hat, setting it beside me. My forehead is sweaty from looking for her in the summer heat.

Paisley still has hers on. It’s the same color pink as her polka-dot socks. With her cowgirl hat, overalls, and pattern socks, she looks like a girly rodeo clown.

I look at her foot. “Can you walk?”

“Not yet. Will you wait with me?”

I don’t have to think about it. “Yes.”

“I wonder why this is the only petal that’s red. It’s weird,” she says, looking at the sunflower.

“Like you,” I say.

My sister leans over and punches me in the shoulder. “I thought you weren’t going to come back.”

My brows pull together. “I’ll always come back for you. You’re my other half.”

Paisley smiles. The sun peeking through the tall sunflowers makes her hat look like a halo.

“Even when we are really old, and I get hurt, do you promise to take care of me and make me smile?”

“If I get hurt, will you take care of me?” I ask back.

“You are too tough to get hurt.” She laughs.

I look at her foot. “When you’re hurt, I’m hurt.”

She puts the sunflower down; her eyes locked on mine as she holds out her pinkie finger. “I promise, even when we are really old, if you’re hurt, I’ll always be there to make you feel better.”

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

A steady beep interrupts my dream of that late summer day of Paisley and me in the sunflower field. For some reason, I always go back to that memory, like I’m supposed to remember it.

I lift my head off the side of the bed, the stark-white walls, chemical scent, and machines settling before me like a nightmare. It’s been a week, and Paisley still isn’t conscious. I sit up, my back aching from sleeping beside her all night in the chair with my head resting on the bed next to her. Mom and Dad tried to get me to leave with them, but I wouldn’t go. My truck has barely left the parking lot since the accident.

I glance down, seeing Paisley’s necklace still clutched in my hand. They had to take it off for her CT scan before they did her surgery, and I haven’t let it go.