Page 17 of Chasing After You
I look up to meet his eyes before I answer. Nothing in them suggests he still believes Matti cheated on me. Maybe I was wrong, and Roni didn’t tell him about her theories on my divorce any more than she mentioned who my husband was. “No.” I muster a smile. “It was never the being apart. It was us. Doing what Matti does, having the dreams he had, we learned early on that the only way our relationship would survive, would be to always be willing to set each other free. If our hearts were anchored in each other, our souls could roam. And it worked for a long time. Until eventually, we got so good at setting each other free, I guess we forgot how to hold on.”
“Not holding on isn’t the same as letting go, you know,” he says quietly.
“No, I suppose it isn’t.”
A dull ache throbs in my chest.
And it has little to do with the fact Oliver just let go of my hand.
CHAPTER FOUR
MATTI
After I leave the trail, I just keep moving, jogging through the ranch’s extensive trails until I stumble upon the gift shop. I walk around the building for several minutes, both to cool down and to work up the nerve to go in and peruse the western wear I’m going to have to purchase and subsequently wear once I walk in through the double glass doors.
And I don’t have beef with western wear. I own probably three pairs of cowboy boots. I haven’t worn them in about a decade, but I know they’re there, somewhere in the back of my closet. Plus, I wear a shit-ton of flannel. Wait. Maybe that’s more lumberjack than cowboy. Fuck.
Whatever, it’s not the wardrobe that’s freaking me out.
It’s the part where buying the western wear wardrobe means I’m committing to the part where I’ll be doing the western wear activities.
Horses.
It means I’m committing to horses.
“Can I help you find anything today?” a woman as old as my great aunt Wilma with silver-white hair, wearing everything from boots to a cowboy hat, complete with spurs, shiny buckle, and a red bandana tied around her neck, asks me the second I step foot inside.
My sanity.
But I don’t say that out loud.
Instead, I fake a smile and say, “I hope so.” Indicating my running gear, I offer a chuckle at my own expense and go on, “I’m afraid I didn’t pack as well as I should have for my visit here.”
She takes in my shorts and sneakers and smirks, clearly agreeing with me. “I’m sure we can get you fixed up in no time.” She turns, hooking her arm to gesture toward the back of the store. “Name’s Tina. Follow me.”
I do.
Deep into the maze of boots and hats and wrangler jeans, I follow her.
“I don’t suppose you also sell coffee mugs? Extra-largecoffee mugs?” Might as well attempt to fix all the supply shortages while I’m here.
“Sure do.”
“Excellent.”
A little while later, I emerge having been made over into a cowboy. I even have an entirely new walk thanks to these tight-ass jeans to go with it. I’ll break them in. Tina promised. Several times.
Still, the transformation is so extreme, I pass two mirrors and fail to recognize my own reflection at first glance.
Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe becoming this character is exactly what I need to tap into in order to face my fear of horses.
Tomorrow.
Tonight, all I’m facing is a shower and hopefully some food. Preferably via room service. I don’t want any more surprise run-ins with Ness. Especially not in this get-up.
I also don’t want any more surprise run-ins with Vale. But for some reason, that seems unavoidable. Although it might not be considered a run-in when the other person is waiting for you outside your door.
“Are you looking for Nessa?” She should have made it down the trail and back here by now.
