Page 58 of Not Our First Rodeo
Beau parks the truck at the end of the long driveway, behind an intimidating line of cars that belong to everyone in his family, then turns to face me. “On a scale of one to ten, how nervous are you?”
“I’m not nervous.” The lie slips out before I can even consider speaking the truth, an instinct long ago ingrained in me.
Beau quirks an eyebrow, drawing my attention from the big house, and for a moment, I get lost in him. He looks good tonight. He looks goodevery night. He’s wearing jeans that hug him in all the right places and a charcoal tee with a black button-up layered over it, buttons undone. In the evening light, the sunset reflects on his irises, making the greens and golds in them pronounced. His lips are full, tilted in a knowing smile that makes my heart rate quicken.
It’s getting harder and harder to resist him, and I don’t know why I am anymore. The panic attacks haven’t disappeared and I’m notbetter, but I’m getting there, and it’s getting easier to share with him what I’m actually feeling. It’s like training a new muscle, learning a new dance move. It takes practice, determination. But that, I’m good at.
So it’s easier to say, “Seven.”
He nods, like this is a fair number. “Why are you nervous?”
He may think they don’t hold the separation against me, and maybe they truly don’t. It’s something that’s been running through my head on a loop since my conversation with Jade. I’ve been going over every interaction I’ve had with people in town for the last eight months, dissecting each one to see where I misinterpreted things, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe she’s right. Maybe the people of Larkspur haven’t been holding this against me. But I have been, and I can’t stand to look at these people that I love, knowing I hurt their son, their brother,them.
My gaze darts away, focusing on the view outside the truck, my hand falling to the swell of my stomach beneath my plain white tee, the hem of which is barely covering my unbuttoned jeans. I still haven’t managed to find maternity ones yet, and I’m paying the price for it.
The mountains catch my attention, and I marvel in the way the sun arches through them, coloring the world in shades of gold, and let the view calm me. Settle me.
“They might not be mad at me,” I finally say on an exhale. “But I’m still nervous about seeing them after abandoning them for so long.”
When I finally glance at Beau, he looks like he wants to protest, but I shake my head, and he stays silent.
“You don’t need to correct me. I know…” I pause, searching his face for the right words. “I know that’s not what happened, but it’s how I feel.” My throat feels tight when I swallow. “I’m tryingto be honest about how I feel, even when I know my feelings aren’t necessarily the truth.”
He holds my gaze for so long that I think he might not respond. “Thank you,” he says, voice thick. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for doing it.”
His approval slides beneath my skin, warming me from the inside out. I’ve always been so susceptible to praise, probably because it was so infrequently given to me growing up. Dancers are most often told what they’re doing wrong and how to fix it rather than what they’re doing right. It’s something I’ve been trying to do differently as a teacher. When Maya threw herself at me the other day, her thin arms wrapping tight around my middle in a bone-crushing hug, I knew I’d made the right choice.
But from Beau, it feels even more pivotal. All-encompassing. It sinks into my bones, branding itself onto my soul.
“Thank you,” I say, and before I can get anything else out, there’s a series of loud thuds on my window. I jump, heart racing, and turn to find Cheyenne, grinning like a madwoman.
She rips the door open, squealing at a pitch dogs from miles away would be able to hear.
“You’re here!”
She grips my knees and spins me until my feet dangle out the door. Her hands land on my stomach, touching it with awed reverence usually reserved for rare gemstones or the perfect heirloom tomato at the farmers’ market. It makes a smile tug at my lips.
Cheyenne’s eyes snap up to mine, blinking furiously to hold back tears. I’ve always admired her ability to feel everything so deeplyandshow it. It must be so freeing. “You’re having my baby.”
Behind me, Beau laughs. “Mine, actually.”
“Ours,” Cheyenne corrects, her hands still holding my stomach. “Our communal family baby.”
“Pretty sure there was nothing communal or familial about the conception. In fact, it was downright—”
“Please never finish that sentence.”
“I’m interested in hearing it,” I say.
Beau’s eyes glow with mischief. It feels so much like the oldus, like the new us we’re trying to find.
“You’re ruining this moment for me,” Cheyenne whines.
“Sorry,” I say, returning my attention to her and holding back a smile. “We’re all having a baby.”
Beau grunts and opens his door, climbing out as his sister smooths her hands over my stomach. “Chey, leave my wife alone, please.”
Cheyenne rolls her eyes and drops her hands. Her gaze fixes on mine. “I’m going to be an aunt.”
