Page 57 of The Stallion
Son of a fucking—
“Am I interrupting something?” A throat cleared.
Caught off guard, I whipped around to see a woman with long, bright red hair standing behind me. My shoulders relaxed from their tensed state as my eyes met her piercing amber gaze.
Bria lingered in the entryway with her arms crossed over her chest, and her hip popped out to the side as she twirled her keys around her index finger—my sassy fucking wife.
She came home.
“Not the warm welcome I was expecting—breaking furniture. What was wrong with the coffee table? I actually liked it. It was tasteful.”
I stared at her in dumbfounded disbelief—like a deer in fucking headlights.
The hair, the attitude—as if she came home an entirely different person. Far from the woman who’d left in a frantic rush only mere days ago.
“Dallas—”
Before she could say another word, I rushed at Bria from across the room, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her to my chest, refusing to let my sweet girl out of my embrace.
Fuck not having feelings.
I felt everything for her.
And the harder I fought, the faster I fell.
Bria gasped with how tightly I was holding her, the breath leaving her lungs quicker than she could suck it back in, and I didn’t care.
She was here, she was home, and I was never letting her go—never again.
I spent days staring at my phone, trying to type multiple messages to her but unable to bring myself to press send—letting her see just how attached to her I had become, my obsession driving me insane.
She stole my air with a single look; it was only fair that I stole hers in return.
“Dallas… if you suffocate me… you’re back to fucking your hand…” She wheezed through strangled breaths, and with a relieved chuckle, I finally loosened my hold on her. “Jesus Christ…” Bria coughed as she inhaled deeply, dragging a hand through her hair to pull back the long strands that had fallen into her eyes.
“New hair, new you?” I mocked with a smug grin, taking in her now brightly colored hair, which closely reminded me of the accents on my McLaren—cherry red.
“Very observant of you, but no. Just a very long, overdue change of perspective.”
Did this mean she was choosing to follow through with the test? To stay?
My heart swelled at the thought, but I had to keep myself from rushing too far ahead. She could still say no. Leave.
“It suits you—”
Bria brought her hand up between us before pushing herself away from my reach, straightening her denim jacket and roughly shoving her fists into the small pockets.
“Save your compliments for later. I’m still pissed off at you.” She rolled her shoulders and licked her lips before continuing, “I thought about it—about everything you dumped over my head that morning like a bucket of ice cold fucking water—thanks, by the way, for ruining that lovely little moment we were having.”
Her quip at the end was nothing short of what I would’ve expected from the woman I married, even before this stark change.
“You don’t need to remind me of how stupid and ill-timed that conversation was, but it needed to happen—sooner rather than later, given the current timeline.” I sighed, dropping my gaze and sliding my hands into the pockets of my jeans to restrain myself from grabbing her again, thinking back to that morning and how I’d wished I had approached the situation differently. “What have you decided?”
I held my breath after asking the question. Hoping and praying to whatever fucking god that existed that she didn’t come back just to fuck me over and run away for good.
“I’ll do it… But under one condition.”
Fuck sake… did I even want to know?
