Page 98 of Tame Our Wild

Those eyes open, settling on mine again, but they’re still glassy. “We found out later, after she died, that her hemorrhage had re-ruptured. The doctors said she must have had a brief surge of awareness before the pressure in her brain became too much. My parents still blame me for a lot of things, which is why I haven’t talked to them in the last three years. But I think the hardest part was that, in a way, I got to say goodbye, and they didn’t. I barely left that hospital room. I couldn’t.” He lifts a hand, scrubbing a palm over his jaw. “I’ve been riding ever since, and she’s the reason I’ve never been able to stop. I feel like I would be betraying her if I did. I’ve been holding on to Paisley, to bull riding, just like I’ve been holding on to her last words. There’s so much I’ve been holding on to, Harlow, and I’m fucking terrified to let it go.”

“Does that mean that Cosmos—”

“Cosmos was Paisley’s horse. She was there on the other side of the fence when my sister had her accident. Even after all these years, she won’t let anyone else ride her, but you are the closest she’s ever been to trusting someone again.”

I fully break now, my heart shattering for the man in front of me. My hand flies to my mouth as I choke out a sob through my fingers.

His forlorn expression shifts to concern. His hands reach out to my forearms, stabilizing me.

“I’m so sorry,” I choke out. “All this time, I thought it was you. I thought you were the issue between us, and I gave you shit for it. But I didn’t realize it was my riding, my injury, that made you fall back into the darkest moments of your life. All this time it’s been me.” He wastes no time, tugging me into his sculpted chest.

“No, Harlow. No. I should’ve told you. I could’ve walked away from bull riding a long time ago, but I didn’t. The blame is on both of us, and I will not let you carry that weight alone.”

I sniffle. “God, it makes so much sense now. The things you said—The way you looked when you watched me. I feel like an idiot for judging you like that and making things worse whenever we would argue.”

“People always use the phrase ‘attached at the hip,’ but Paisley and I always said, ‘half of my heart.’ That’s what it felt like when I lost her.” His palm cradles the back of my skull, holding me to him as his warmth envelops me. “I was stuck, riding this rotating track, letting my mind conjure up images of her because it was easier than dealing with the truth. Reality. I needed a kick in the ass to get off and take a good look at where my life is at and where it is going.”

Tears fall down my cheeks, soaking into his T-shirt.

“I wanted to keep my promise to Paisley as long as I could. As long as I could still compete. Everything felt numb until you came along and made me face the things I’ve been too afraid to. I offered to coach you to help you face your fears because I know what the cost can be and how much you can lose when you don’t bury them, but I didn’t realize helping you would make me confront my own. Harlow, I wasn’t healing before, but watching you ride, watching your injury, having you fucking here on the property where I lost her, refilling my home with so much good, it feels like the start of healing. It’s about goddamn time I started to heal, baby.”

I nod against his pec, his spiced and woodsy scent filling the parts of my soul that are fracturing for him.

His lips press against my hair before he looks out at the lake. “It’s time,” he whispers.

We stand there for a moment, only our heartbeats, crickets, and soft sounds of the lake stretching through the heaviness.

“I have something for you,” I say after a few minutes of us soaking up the moment.

His head perks up at that, those dark eyes reflecting the silver light from above us, flickering with curiosity.

I reach down and lace our fingers again, guiding him over to the blanket. We settle down, letting the soft lapping of the lake on the shoreline fill the silence between us. I grasp the bag I brought, reaching in to take out the container, a few forks, an old, mangled box with only a few candles I found in the junk drawer, and a lighter. Opening the container, I take out the microwavable chocolate lava cake and place a candle in the center, Colson’s relentless stare heating my skin.

I flick the lighter open, Colson and I watching as the orange flame dances before I light the candle and hold the ceramic bowl out to him.

“Happy birthday, Colson.” I smile.

Colson’s eyes bounce between mine, his lips flattening like he’s trying to keep whatever emotions are swirling inside him at bay.

When he leans over and blows out the candle, it’s the kind of breath that lingers. The kind of breath that makes me wonder if he’s found clarity.

I know I’ve found mine.

FORTY-ONE | HARLOW

The music blares in my earbuds, my hips swaying to the beat as I whisk the pancake batter in the bowl. Colson’s T-shirt glides across my thighs as I sway, the only thing underneath being my bra and panties as I jam out in the kitchen that is oddly starting to feel like mine.

I should snuff out that thought—the feelings swirling in my chest that make this, in a way, feel like home—but I can’t bring myself to want to ruin this. I don’t want to ruin the little time I have left here in Tennessee before I move back to Arizona in less than a month after this season ends and a new champion wins the buckle and all the glory that comes with it.

We fly out tomorrow to New Mexico for the last event of the season before the finals. This is the most important weekend of my life. If I can last those eight seconds in all three rounds and collect enough points, I may have a chance at competing in the championship round in Texas with Colson. He’s already guaranteed one of those spots, but thanks to him and his coaching, I’m neck and neck with some of our other competitors.

This dream is so close that it’s brushing the tips of my fingers.

And for the first time since my accident, my parents are going to be in the audience because they know how much this means to me. How hard I’ve been working.

We’re supposed to train today, and I’m itching to practice with being this close to the end, but I know how hard yesterday was on him.

We got back from the lake around two a.m. and crashed the second we hit his mattress. Most of the night, his arms were holding me close, our limbs tangled together comfortably, until I slipped out of bed this morning and grabbed one of his T-shirts. I read for a while, enjoying my coffee, since I had no intention of waking him. But now that it’s nearly eleven, I move about the kitchen, getting brunch ready, knowing he should be up soon.