Page 48 of Wild and Wrangled

My heart stopped. I lowered the box slowly back into my lap and pushed the sliding lid off all the way. It was full offolded notes. Everything was folded in a triangle—the same way Dusty used to fold notes when he passed them to me in class. Some looked older than others—more worn, but every one that I could see had something in common—my name scrawled across the front.

“What are these?” I asked.

It was so quiet in his house, I felt like I could hear his heartbeat. “Notes,” he said after a few seconds.

“Why is my name on them?”

“Why do you think?” Dusty asked.

Coming over here had been a mistake—thinking I could be here without feeling anything was a mistake.

“I should go,” I said, putting the box on the coffee table and standing up.

“Wait,” Dusty said and grabbed my hand softly. “Don’t go. Please.” I don’t know what made me sit back down—maybe the pain in his voice or maybe because I was still freezing.

But Dusty’s pain wasn’t something I ever wanted to see or hear or contribute to again.

My hand was still in his, and one of my knees was pressed against his on the couch. “What are they?” I whispered.

Dusty let out a long, deep breath. “Ash, even after everything went sideways, I didn’t stop wanting to be with you. I didn’t stop missing you. Adjusting to a world without you in it sucked,” he said quietly. The fireplace crackled and snapped.

“Even months and years later, when something happened to me or I had something that I wanted to talk about, you were the person I wanted to tell. So I did. I wrote notes like I used to. I told you about my jobs and my life and, sometimes, I told you how much I missed you and how fucking annoying it wasthat you hadn’t faded from my mind or my heart—even a little bit. I knew I’d never send them, but I don’t know, something about it was just…comforting, I guess.”

“Why do you keep them?”

Dusty leaned forward until our foreheads were touching. I didn’t pull away. “Because they’re all I had left of you.” I felt his breath against my face. “Do you want me to be all the way honest, or do you want me to stop there?”

I swallowed. I knew this could quickly turn into too much too fast, but I couldn’t help but want more from him. I wanted to hear everything about what he’d felt over the past fifteen years. I wanted to know if he thought of me as much as I thought of him. I guess I just wanted to know that I wasn’t alone in the aftermath of us.

“All the way honest,” I whispered.

Dusty closed his eyes tight. “They reminded me that it was all real—no matter how much time people spent telling me that we were too young or that it would never work out.” I hated that those people were right. “The notes made you feel real. I needed it all to be real for the pain to be worth it.”

“Was it?” I asked. My eyes fluttered closed, and I brought my hands up to each side of his face. He held my wrists. “Worth it.”

Dusty laughed a little, but it sounded pained. “I’ll let you know if it ever stops.”

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears—almost like it was trying to tell me what to do and drown out the noise from my head at the same time. My head wanted to run—to hightail it across my yard, slam my door, and hide from Dusty Tucker while I still had a chance. My heart? It wanted this moment to last as long as possible. It was overwhelming—how right itfelt to be this close to him. “Does this make it better or worse?” I asked, rubbing my thumbs back and forth on his cheeks.

“Worse,” he said. His voice was strangled and rough.

“And if…I kissed you right now?” I whispered, knowing that if I said it louder, I’d lose this moment of courage.

“Worse,” Dusty said again on a shaky breath, but then said, “but do it anyway.”

I inhaled deeply—breathing him in. He smelled clean and dewy. He used to smell like Axe, which I loved then, but I liked this version better.

I was so close to pressing my mouth against his for the first time in fifteen years. Would it feel familiar or new?

But when Dusty leaned toward me and his eyelids fluttered closed, the heartbeat in my ears turned into alarm bells. A flashing caution sign.Danger zone.Don’t cross.You won’t come back from it this time.I pulled away. I dropped my hands to my lap. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t…I want to, but I…” I didn’t really know what to say.

It was like me pulling back allowed the oxygen to reach me again. I blinked slowly—trying to process what had just happened, how close I’d come to upsetting the precarious balance that Dusty and I had found for something as fleeting as a kiss.

“I can’t…” I started, but I couldn’t finish, so I stood up quickly. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. I don’t know what that was.”

Dusty rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “Old habits die hard?” he said. He was trying to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I recognized it—the pain. Would I ever stop hurting him? “Let’s go look at your heater.”

Chapter 22

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