Page 203 of Josephine and Clay

I frown slightly.

He laughs under his breath, but there’s no humor in it. “Josie, I’ve spent half my life running because staying anywhere long enough means people eventually realize I’m not built right for any of it.”

“That isn’t true.”

“My own dad thought I’d fail.”

The admission settles between us, impossible to ignore.

I go still.

Clay scrubs both hands over his face roughly before continuing. “He left money behind for me. Separate from the ranch.”

“Oh, Clay.”

He laughs bitterly. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No.” My chest aches suddenly. “It’s sad.”

That surprises him enough to make him look at me.

Clay exhales slowly. “Then I got hurt, and suddenly everybody’s hovering over me while I limp around Buckhorn feeling useless.”

“You weren’t useless.”

“I couldn’t even carry feed bags without somebody watching me like I might collapse into the dirt.”

“That’s because your brothers love you.”

His eyes close briefly.

“That’s the problem,” he says quietly.

I stare at him. “How is that possibly the problem?”

“Because I don’t know how to deserve it.”

The confession settles deep between us. I think about the voicemail.

About him alone in this motel room, convincing himself nobody would notice if he disappeared.

About the way he looked at me when I opened the door.

He'd looked stranded, as though he'd finally run out of places left to run.

And suddenly I can’t hold my own secret anymore.

Fear climbs hard into my throat.

Clay notices the shift in my breathing immediately. “What?”

I stare down at my hands. My pulse pounds everywhere at once. “I need to tell you something.”

Every trace of humor disappears from his face. “Okay.”

I open my mouth and nothing comes out. The irony would be funny if I weren't so terrified.

I’m a grown woman with a veterinary degree and enough emotional maturity to qualify for Olympic sponsorship, and suddenly I can’t form a complete sentence.