Page 178 of Ride the Sky

“I don’t.” He shakes his head and my stomach twists. “Not really. Not all of you.”

Kiss me and let me live.I want to scream it at him. But I swat away the emotion and double down.

I tilt my chin. “This is the game we play, Wyatt. We’re cowboys, we’re not cowards. We don’t settle down, we don’t stay in one place, we ride when we’re broken, and we don’t fear death.”

“Fuck your cowboy bullshit,” he snaps. “You’re the coward, Fallon.” His voice is raw, stripping us both bare. “You’re lying and pushing me away with your rodeo bullshit. I see it. I know it. You’re afraid.”

I suck in a breath. “I’m not afraid of anything. Especially not some man who tells me what I want.”

He stomps toward me, hauls me into broad chest. “What do you want?”

The heat from his muscled, heaving body scorches. The pain in his eyes sears. He’s so damn handsome. So much of my heart is wrapped up in this man that suddenly, I’m afraid. I’m not willing to give everything up—give up who I am—for a man. Is that what he’s asking me? Is this what love does? Scare and cage? I thought Wyatt was different, but maybe I was wrong.

I harden my voice. My heart. “I don’t know. Not anymore.”

He steps away from me, croaks, “Don’t.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “This was a mistake.”

The words slam into him, and he flinches. Then he chuckles, rubbing a broad hand along his scruffy jaw. His eyes are wet. “We’re doin’ this again? After everything we’ve been through?”

My eyes prick, but I blink away the tears. “What we have is on paper. The bedroom. We should have kept it there.”

“Papers won’t change what we are. Cut ’em up, divorce me, take off the ring, it don’t matter.” His steely gaze rakes over me. “I know what’s between us. And it’s not a mistake.”

I fling an arm. “Go. I don’t want you here.”

His face falls. Then it resets into a hardness that wrecks my heart.

Without another word, Wyatt whirls around, bootsteps stomping as he storms down the hall.

I wait until the front door slams before I cover my face and crumple into tears.

Bull riding is the most humbling and dangerous sport ever. It’ll test everything about a person. But no one ever said anything about love.

No one ever said anything about Wyatt Montgomery.

I wake up in the morning and shower and dress. I feed my horses and practice my PT exercises. I make coffee and scrambled eggs.

I do everything without Wyatt Montgomery.

And it’s fucking miserable.

Like there’s a gaping hole in the pit of my chest.

There’s no glimpse of his cocky smile over the breakfast table, no slam of the screen door as he barrels my way, eager for that first kiss after work. No front porch sunrises or sunsets. Missing him, his absence, steals my breath and makes me want to cry.

Ugh, one day. I can’t even survive one day without him.

I need air. I need to be in public on Main Street. No way am I crying angry, hot tears into a cold beer.

So I go to Nowhere and park myself at the bar. The thud of the jukebox is loud, but it doesn’t stop that day from playing over and over in my head.

Coward.He called me a fucking coward.

But he’s right.

I took the easy way out. I fought with him because I was afraid of what loving him—saying it aloud—would mean. Would do to us.

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