Page 177 of Ride the Sky

I bend down and pick it up.

And read.

“Ilove you.” Exhaling a breath, I stare at myself in the rearview mirror of my truck. “Just say it. Like that. I love you.” Fuck. “I love you, asshole. Better.”

I pull onto the curb, my heart rate spiking when I spy Wyatt’s truck in the drive.

Ugh. I need to get a new hobby that doesn’t include swooning after my husband.

The edge of my lips lift.Husband.

Yeah. I could get used to that.

I throw my truck in park and hurry into the house. Wyatt’s in the kitchen. His back to me, his hands braced on the counter, staring out the window.

I sling my bag on the counter. “How was it today?”

His voice is tight. “It went fine.”

I scoff, limping toward him. “Fine? That’s all you have to say? What about the part where you beat his ass?” I run my hands over his muscled back, frowning when he tenses at my touch. “What’s wrong?”

Finally, he turns. His voice is a void. Unreadable.

“You got more flowers.” He holds out a piece of newsprint. “And this.”

Fuck. My heart plummets. It’s an article about the upcoming Round-Up Rodeo. In the list of riders, my name’s been highlighted.

I meet his hard stare. “Where’d you get that?”

“Does it matter?” he asks, voice thick. “This is in two days, Fallon. Were you ever going to fucking tell me?”

My mouth opens, closes. This isn’t how I wanted today to go. I wanted to comfort Wyatt about Younger. Tell him everything I’ve been holding back. But now it looks like he’s going to bait me into fighting with him. The asshole.

At my silence, he crumples the paper in his fist. “You didn’t tell me after all this time, after everything we’ve gone through together, you didn’t tell me. You fucking hid it.”

“You would have tried to stop me.”

We glare at each other, the fire stoked between us licks, snaps. Rises.

“You’re damn right I would. You promised me you’d wait,” he accuses. “And you didn’t fucking do it.”

I dig my stubborn boots in. “I don’t care what you think. This is my dream. This could be my last chance—”

“To what—to die? To get hurt again? To put your sister through hell? To putmethrough hell?”

“That’s not fair.” I shake my head. “You can’t—”

“What?” Wyatt’s nostrils flare. “Worry?”

I clench my hands, pull them to my heart. I hate my voice. High and thin and desperate to convince him. “You worry because I’m a girl—”

“It’s not because you’re a fucking girl!” Wyatt shouts, causing me to freeze. “It’s because you’reMYfucking girl.” He’s pacing now, his hands twisting in his hair. “It’s because all I do is worry about losing you again.”

I go still, my heart trembling.

“Christ, Fallon, you could have died.” He reaches for me, stops himself. The simple action has me closing my eyes. “Every damn day I see you lying there in that fucking ring. I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

“You have me, Wyatt.”

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