Page 113 of The Wrong Ride Home

I knew what he was thinking. The river on Wilder land was wild, untamed—fast-moving and merciless. It crashed against the rocks, churning, foaming, hungry. The current was vicious, dragging debris—branches, rocks, anything foolish enough to challenge it—downstream like a damn freight train. The river didn’t care if you were strong or if you could swim. It would drag you under, pull you down, and never let go.

It was cold, too. The kind that locked your lungs up tight and turned your muscles to stone before you evenhad a chance to fight. You didn’t swim in that river. Either you made it across by sheer luck, or it swallowed you whole.

“Hunt pulled me out. I found out later that I was unconscious for a while. He took me to one of the empty cabins we used for the temporary hands. When I woke up, I was cramping. He wanted to take me to the hospital, but I told him that no one could know. He stayed with me that night. And then he stayed another. He bathed me. Gave me painkillers. Held my hand. Let me cry.”

When I finally stopped talking, Duke wasn’t breathing right. His face was tight with pain, hands clenched into fists against his thighs, his whole body shaking like he was trying to hold himself together.

“Jesus Christ, Elena.” His voice was wrecked.

I let go, let the wind take my breath, take the burden I had carried for so long. “After, I moved out of the ranch house. I couldn’t leave Mama; she was so scared I would, and I told her I was just going to earn my keep from now on.”

“And that’s why you didn’t go to college?”

I shrugged. “I barely finished high school, Duke. But it bothered me, so I got my GED a few years ago.” It was a pointless exercise, but it made me feel better to at least have that, even if I didn’t go to a fancy college (or any college) like Duke. “I wanted to work, earn a living, mostly prove to Nash that I wasn’t a whore.”

He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing away the last of my tears. “You’re not. You never were. Those were ugly words from a stupid boy who didn’t know what thehell he had.” His voice was rough, raw. “You’re strong. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. And, Jesus, Elena, you’re Goddamn glorious.”

I shrugged. “I don’t believe any of that, so…don’t bother.”

“Mama kept threatening to kill herself,” he said softly. “All the fuckin’ time I lived in fear. So, every time she called, I went running, afraid that by the time I got there, it would be too late and she’d OD. Finding out that was her way of manipulating me is…hell, Elena, it’s devastating.”

I picked up a stone and played with it. “How is she going to handle your leaving her now?”

“I’m still terrified that I’m going to get a call that she killed herself and…it’ll be my fault.”

“No. That would beherchoice,” I said emphatically. “Remember, you can’t control how others behave or act, only how you react to their behavior and actions.”

“When did you become so wise?” He put a finger under my chin to raise my eyes to his. “God, you’re beautiful. Every time I look at you, I feel like I can’t breathe because you…are so fuckin’ beautiful.”

A part of me, averysmall part of me, believed him. Maybe because I desperately wanted to.

“Don’t ask me to stop saying it,” he said when he saw my lips thin. “I’ve been dying to say it for weeks now, and finally, I have the freedom to be with you, say whatever the hell I want. I can’t stop myself.”

We sat there for a long while, hands tangled together, the silence between us saying more than words evercould. I wasn’t sure how I felt about all of this—about the past, about the future—but I knew one thing for certain: Duke was right. We had a connection, something deeper than time or distance, something that refused to fade no matter how much we’d tried to bury it.

The only way to sever it would be for me to leave if he was staying. But would that even work? We’d been apart for ten years, and look at us now—right back where we started, drawn to each other like a river to its bed. Desperate to touch, to hold, to breathe each other in. So would leaving really help? Or would it just be another lie I told myself? Because the truth was, I didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not when my Duke was here, right beside me.

“When we have children, we’ll be careful with them,Florecita,” he said suddenly. “We’ll love them unconditionally.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re not even together, and you’re birthing children in your head?”

“We’re together,” he assured me. “We’vealwaysbeen together.”

“Mama didn’t love me as much as she loved Nash.”

“My mother doesn’t love me as much as she loves designer goods,” he mocked.

We both laughed.

“How muchstuffcan she want?”

“I have no idea, but she spends…a lot. Like, she’ll buy a necklace for a million dollars.”

I scrunched my nose. “No shit! But why?”

“So, she can wear it to a party, and everyone willknow she has a necklace worth a million dollars,” he explained.

“Wow! I could wear new boots here and no one would give a shit…maybe except me since they wouldn’t be broken in,” I said dryly.

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