Page 95 of Tame Our Wild

My voice breaks. “If I stop riding, I’ll lose you completely. I’ll lose us.”

She places her palm on the side of my sweaty face, and I sink into it, but just like always, I can’t feel her. God, I wish I could feel her. “You won’t. I wanted you to keep riding because I knew how much you loved it. Even if I had been okay and gone home, it would’ve been selfish of me to ask you to stop; that’s why I told you not to. But this isn’t what I meant by don’t stop, and you know that. Your dream is starting to look different now, and I need you to know it’s okay to want what you’re trying so hard not to have.”

“I love you; I can’t let you go. I never should’ve had to.”

Her thumb brushes over my cheek. “Love comes in many different forms, brother. Sometimes love means letting go.” I hang my head, her words weighing on me as my chest shakes. “And just because you move on, doesn’t mean I’ll be completely gone. Even when the dust settles, I will still be here.”

“Promise?”

Her eyes and hand drop to the dangling sunflower charm, Paisley’s fingers drifting over the leather bracelet on my wrist. “I’ve always been with you through every low and every high, haven’t I?”

Then I feel it, the bloom of warmth that spreads across my hand.

“I’m here.” But it isn’t Paisley’s voice.

I’m here.

I cling to those words, the mirage of my sister’s hand slowly vanishing until all I see are fingers I’ve had tangled with mine. Fingers that have roamed my body and chased away my pain, like a simple cure I want to overdose on.

It takes me longer to register Harlow’s features with the alcohol laced through my veins. Her brows are drawn together, her hair in one long side braid, appearing like liquid gold from the kiss of the sun since she doesn’t have her hat on. Her plush lips are pulled into a frown, those worried eyes looking at me in a way they never have.

I don’t like her looking at me like this.

Like I’m broken and crumbling before her.

I am, but I don’t want to be.

I just want to be free of this torment. I know it’s time, but holding on with everything I have is all I’ve ever known. I’ve never known what it feels like to let go for long. My life is shaped by falling and getting back up to go at it again.

And again.

I don’t know why, but seeing Harlow here now, crouched beside me in the very place I plant the memorial for Paisley every year on our birthday—the place that took her from me—I don’t hold back. It always hits me the fucking same. My body can’t hold my weight any longer as I fall forward into her, letting her arms wrap around me.

Soft hands envelop my thighs, their warmth battling the numbness that has overtaken my body since I woke this morning. To anyone else, Harlow’s palms would seem rough, calloused; to me, they’re gentle and soft, leaving behind an unfamiliar sensation I want to hold on to.

Harlow doesn’t try to console me; she just exists. My head spins, my stomach rolling as it protests the amount of alcohol I’ve ingested.

My eyes close as I fight the intoxication to feel her—feel anything but the torment that never lets me go.

My honesty cuts through the spring air. “I need you closer.”

A rush of air escapes her lungs when I wrap my arms around her back and pull her onto my lap for her to straddle me. Harlow’s forehead falls to rest on mine, the sweat and dirt coating my skin doing nothing to deter her. Her chest molds against mine.

Slowly, her soft fingers cup my neck, moving to the back of my nape as her fingers gently thread through my hair. “You don’t need to tell me if you’re not ready, but tell me what I can do to help,” she says softly, like the request might anger me.

Harlow lifts her forehead off mine, my red-rimmed eyes sweeping across her face. “Harlow, you don’t have to.”

Her words start to knit together the fractures of my heart inside my chest. “Sometimes, after a fall you’re not sure you’ll rise from, the best thing you can do is accept help from the very places you once swore you never would. You’ve had my back all this time. Come hell or high water, I’ve got yours. I always will.”

My exhales are ragged, the air seeming too thin.

I feel disoriented and confused as hell. The girl, my competitor, who has always reminded me of the worst day of my life because of her fearlessness and stubbornness, is clinging to me, as if she’s my escape.

My release.

She feels like home with the way her body is flush against mine, her heartbeat against my chest a sweeter distraction than the whiskey. Like if I hold on to her, she’ll chase off the things that have haunted me for so long. Considering I’m celebrating another birthday by myself instead of with my twin, I shouldn’t be feeling lighter, but with Harlow in my arms, I see the first glimmer of something I never thought I’d find or allow myself to have.

It feels like peace.