Page 78 of Switch

The cowboy grins, offering his hand. “Name’s Cody.”

“Bella,” I say, slipping my hand into his.

The song is fast-paced, a perfect two-step rhythm. Cody is a good lead, smooth and confident, and I do have fun, twirling across the floor, my boots sliding against the polished wood.

“See?” Brooke calls from the bar. “She can have fun!”

I roll my eyes but laugh. It is fun—light, easy, uncomplicated.

Then the song slows.

The twang of a steel guitar hums through the bar, and just like that, the mood shifts.

Cody’s hands slide to my waist, his grip more intentional as he tugs me closer.

I freeze.

He’s not doing anything wrong—just following the rhythm, the natural transition into a slow dance. But the second his hands settle on my hips, my stomach twists.

Because it isn’t Jax.

I step back, shrugging out of his hold. “Sorry. I don’t do slow dances.”

Cody blinks, surprised, then nods easily. “No problem.”

I turn on my heel, heading straight back to Brooke and Brianna.

Brooke smirks. “Well, that was fast.”

I grab my drink, taking a long sip. “It felt… wrong.”

Bri tilts her head. “Because he’s not Jax?”

I don’t answer. I don’t have to.

Brooke sighs, shaking her head. “Bella, you’re in deep.”

I exhale, my shoulders slumping. “Yeah. I am.”

Because no cowboy, no distraction, no amount of distance will change the truth.

I love Jax. Fiercely. And I have no idea what to do about it.

The scent of cinnamon and coffee drifts through the cabin, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. My head isn’t pounding, but there’s a dull ache at the back of my skull—a mix of too many drinks and too many thoughts.

I roll over, burrowing deeper into the blankets, willing the world to disappear for just a little longer. But it’s no use. The weight pressing against my ribs, the heaviness in my limbs, none of it fades.

The mattress shifts beside me, and I know before she speaks that Brooke is awake.

And watching me.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice softer than I expected.

I sigh. “I’m fine.”

Brooke doesn’t buy it. She shifts to sit up, pulling her knees to her chest, and I can feel her waiting for me to say more.

After a long pause, she finally says, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I think you should.”

---