Page 170 of Make Me Trust Again
Mom hums noncommittally. “I don’t know about that.”
Just then, my phone chimes, so I pull it out to check the message, thinking it’s Rose, but it’s from Mae.
Becky quirks her brow. “Problems?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s Mae. She’s been bugging me for days now to go and check out some horses. She knows a guy who’s rehabilitating them before he finds them a new home.”
“That would be nice,” Mom comments. “You’ve always loved riding.”
“That was a long time ago, Ma.”
“Maybe, but is there any harm in trying? It’s not like you don’t have space for them. And who knows, maybe you’ll find out you enjoy it again.” She places her hand over mine. Her skin feels paper-thin and dry, her grip weak. “Loss is hard, that’s without question, but there is nothing we can do about it, Chase. We can’t change the past; all we can do is continue moving forward, one foot in front of the other, and make the best of what we’re given. Don’t waste the opportunity you’ve been given because you’re hurting; you might not get another chance.”
Somehow, I have a feeling she isn’t talking just about the horses.
I nod at Malcom, who’s standing behind the counter, as I place the can of paint in front of him. It’s a light green color that I had in mind for my old bedroom. From the corner of my eye, I can see a cacophony out the window overlooking the street. As a matter of fact, as I was driving into the town after visiting with Mom, I noticed that Bluebonnet is busier than usual, which is saying something.
“What’s with that?” I tip my chin in the direction where I can see a group of guys dragging some kind of wooden boards down Main Street.
Surprise flashes on Malcom’s face. Although I’ve been coming around a lot lately, between all the work I’ve been doing on the house, we’ve never exchanged more than a hello and thank you.
“It’s the town fair this weekend. Like every year.”
My brows pull together in confusion, and Malcom must see it because he explains, “Founder’s Day? There will be live music,different food stands, and shops scattered throughout town, games for kids... Stuff like that.”
“Huh.”
Now that he said it, I vaguely remember people talking about it recently. If I tried hard enough, I could see glimpses of it from my past—when my dad was still alive, and we all went like a family. A lifetime ago.
“Is this going to be all?”
Shaking my head slightly, I nod. “Yes, thanks.”
I pay for the paint, take the can, and leave the store, the hot afternoon air slamming into me as I walk to my car, taking in the street. A handful of stands have appeared on the side of the road, people chatting as they work.
A few familiar faces spot me, so I nod politely as I make my way to my car. The lights flash as I unlock it, just as the door to the bar opens, and none other than John O’Neil comes out.
The hair at my nape prickles as his eyes meet mine, my jaw set in a firm line. The guy’s a sleazy prick of epic proportions. How Rose ended up with him in the first place, I’ll never understand.
Opening the trunk, I drop the paint inside and turn around, ready to get the hell out of here, when John’s smug words make me stop in my tracks.
“Enjoying my sloppy seconds, Williams?”
Fucking asshole.
My fingers curl into a fist as I try to hold back my anger.
Keep on walking.
No matter how much I want to punch him in the face and erase that smug expression, I know I shouldn’t. It’ll only fire him up further, and knowing his MO, he’d do something to upset Kyle or Rose.
But does the idiot get the memo and go on his way?
Of-fucking-course not.
“Lucy told me you were all nice and cozy with my wife the other day. Although let’s be real, her pussy hasn’t been the same since giving birth, so I can’t imagine you do?—”
I spin on my heels, my fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, and tugging him closer to me. Rage, hot and heavy, burns in my gut as I hold him close. In the distance, I can hear Shadow growl from inside the truck.
