Page 56 of Not Our First Rodeo
She pulls the truck into a parking spot on the main street in town, right in front of the Canteen, a little café in town.
“What are we doing here?” I ask when she turns off the car.
She shrugs and opens the door. “I’m hungry.”
I don’t really feel like being around people right now, especially people in town, but I can tell Jade isn’t in a mood to be argued with, so I suck it up and climb out of the car on still shaky legs. When we walk through the door, a bell chimes, alerting everyone to our presence. I can feel the stares of the other diners, the smiles they give Jade and the barely restrained contempt they reserve for me. I’m shrinking in on myself little by little, but Jade doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes fixed on the menu written on the wall above the counter.
“I don’t know if I want a burger or a salad,” she murmurs, lost in her own head as I try to ignore the stares of the people around us, my skin burning with embarrassment. I want to leave. I want to get takeout and eat it on my couch, away from all these people who loathe me for something I blame myself enough for already.
“What are you getting?” Jade asks, ripping my attention away from where it’s fixed on my sneakers.
“What?”
Her expression changes, eyes narrowing, as if she can read the emotions on my face. I hate it. I may have felt safe earlier, but right now, I want to hide. My eyes burn and my throat feels thick. I feel out of control, too bare to anyone who takes a second glance.
“Order me a burger and sweet potato fries. I’m going to the bathroom.”
I slip away before she can ask what’s going on, feeling everyone’s eyes on me as I head down the hall and into the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind me, loud in the silence, and I lean back against it, head pounding. I still feel frail from the panic attack, my body stuck somewhere between fight and flight. No part of me wants to go back out there, to the stares, to Jade’s all-knowing gaze.
Deep in my stomach, the baby moves, stronger than she was even a few weeks ago, and I press my hand to try to catch it. There’s a little kick, faint, against my palm. So faint, I think I must imagine it, but then it comes again, and my heart stops in my chest.
I lift up my shirt, staring at the now rounded bump, looking for movement, but there’s nothing there. It’s like she wanted to let me know she’s here for just a moment when I need her. It gives me a strength I’m not sure I possess, and I swallow down my fear before turning and heading back out of the bathroom, ignoring the looks shot my way.
Jade is already at a table, a laminated paper number clipped to a table marker. She has her phone in her hand, and I imagine she’s adjusting her bolus before the food arrives. Her eyes find me as soon as I exit the restroom, watching me as I walk across the restaurant to where she’s sitting.
As soon as I sit down, she asks, “What’s going on?”
I let out a little breath that ruffles my long grown-out bangs and meet her stare. “What do you mean?”
Her face flattens and she lifts a brow. “Seriously?”
I can feel eyes on us from around the restaurant, the stares of other patrons making me feel like a bug stuck on a Styrofoam board. I don’t want to have this conversation here, but I know she’s not going to drop it.
“That was a panic attack,” I say, so quietly she has to lean forward to hear me. “I’ve been having them since I was a kid.”
Her brow furrows, confusion clouding her features. “Really?”
I think I notice hurt in her voice, and it makes guilt stab at my chest, because I’d be the same way if she told me she’s been suffering with something for years and has never shared it with me.
“Yes,” I respond, voice small. I force myself to keep my eyes on her and not on the people around us. “I…I don’t really rememberlife without them, but I was always able to manage them. But after this year—the injury and losing dance and the miscarriage. All of it just kept piling up, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Jade is quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Does Beau know about them?” She looks like she already knows the answer, like she’s piecing the puzzle together in her head.
I shake my head, throat too tight to reply.
She nods, like my answer only confirmed her suspicions. “You didn’t want him to know—to see you like that.”
I meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft, understanding, without an ounce of judgment in them. Once again, I feel the bitter taste of regret. I should have told her years ago. I should have told Beau. Keeping it from them only hurt us all.
“No,” I manage to get out, staring at my lap. “And so I asked him to leave. I was always going to tell him to come back, beg him if I had to.” I shake my head, stomach twisting. “It’s stupid, I know that now, but I wanted to be better for him. I didn’t want to be broken. He doesn’t deserve that.”
When I finally look back up at her, there’s a sheen of tears behind her eyes, and they threaten to loosen the last hold I have on my composure.
“Els,” Jade whispers, her hand finding mine across the table. She links our fingers together, holding tight enough to hurt, but I don’t let go. “You’re an idiot.”
A laugh shoots out of me, unexpected. “I know.”
Her hand squeezes mine. “But I understand. I wish you hadn’t gone through all this alone, that you’d trusted us to help, but I understand.”
