“You should have told us,” Ford says, offended.
“Too many secrets in this family,” Charlie snarls, shoving a hunk of lasagna in his mouth.
Silence falls around the table.
I ball my fists and keep my mouth shut. What they don’t know won’t hurt ’em.
“Did you see Fallon’s ad?” Ruby’s light voice floats around the table, chasing away the tense silence.
Charlie’s eyes flick to me then his wife. “Sunflower.”
“We have to talk about her.” Ruby gives her husband a pretty frown. “She’s not…dead.”
Dakota flinches at the word. “Ruby’s right. Fallon’s still part of this family, even if she’s not here.”
Reese reaches over to hold Dakota’s hand.
We all figured Fallon needed time to let her wounds heal. But when one month turned to two, and two months turned to three, it became clear she wasn’t coming back.
I haven’t felt a damn thing since she left. Only emptiness in my chest. A blank space in my heart.
“Where is it?” I ask casually, trying to act like I’m not ready to tear the goddamn room apart in search of a single magazine.
At Ford’s nod, Reese stands and pulls the magazine from high atop the fridge. I scowl at the ridiculous hiding spot.
“Here she is,” Reese says softly, passing it my way.
I exhale when I open it to her centerfold advertisement.
In the glossy issue ofCowgirl Magazine, Fallon sits on the back of a massive Clydesdale. She wears Tecovas, propped up on bejeweled spurs. Caramel hair curling around her slender shoulders, her eyes darkened by kohl. She looks beautiful and bad ass. Up close, I can see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. My chest is suddenly on fire, and I rub a hand against the ache.
I can feel the eyes of my family on me, expectant, waiting.
“They even captured the scowl on camera,” I grumble, earning a sharp elbow to the side from Ruby.
“Well, she did it,” Reese says, a small hint of pride in her voice. “She’s famous.”
She is. After scoring the highest a woman ever has on a bull, she became the poster child for Tecovas. Wranglers. Hooey. Everyone wants to cash in on the fact that she’s a woman on a bull. Hell, a woman on a bull who’s rode andsurvived. It also helps that she’s a goddamn smoke show with a smart mouth. Everyone eats it up.
I should know.
“And Pappy got what he wanted,” Charlie says, his face turning dark at the mention of Fallon’s slimy manager. “Fame. Fortune. Fucking bullshit, if you ask me.”
“He has our girl.” Dakota’s voice is hard, her eyes misty. “He doesn’t care about her.”
I scowl. “Pappy don’t care if one day they pull her up dead, as long as he makes his fucking money.”
Reese chokes on her wine.
Dakota picks up a basket of rolls and narrows her eyes. “Wyatt, keep talking and you will die a brioche-related death.”
Reese, her pretty face creased in sympathy, says, “He reminds me of Gavin.”
Ford’s face grows cloudy, and he runs a big hand over his wife’s arm.
“You hate that guy, don’t you?” Ruby asks me.
“Yeah. I do.” I lean back in my chair, cross my arms. “Just another bad trainer the world don’t need.”