Page 67 of My Cowboy Trouble
A knock on the bathroom door interrupts my pity party.
"Go away."
"It's Asher. Open up."
"I'm in the shower."
"I don't care."
"Asher, I'm naked and crying and having a crisis. Please go away."
"That's exactly why I'm not going away. Open the door or I'm picking the lock."
"You don't know how to pick locks."
"I grew up in foster care. I know how to pick locks, hot-wire cars, and make seven different meals with just ramen and ketchup. Open the door."
I turn off the water and wrap myself in a towel, then crack the door open. "What?"
He pushes the door wider and steps inside. "Trent's an idiot."
"He's not wrong."
"Yes, he is." He cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. "You're not using us. If anything, we're using you."
"What?"
"You brought life back to this place, Kenzie. Not just the ranch—us. We were just existing before you showed up. Going through the motions. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Now..." He traces his thumb over my cheekbone, catching a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "Now we have something to look forward to. Even if it's temporary."
"The whole town thinks?—"
"The whole town can fuck off." It's Gavin, crowding into the bathroom too. "They're jealous, bored, and have nothing better to do than gossip about people actually living their lives."
"They're not wrong though. I am leaving at the end of thirty days."
"Maybe," Trent says from the doorway, because apparently this is a party now. He looks miserable, running his hand through his hair in that way he does when he's stressed. "Maybe not."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means twenty days is a long time.A lot can change."
"You just accused me of using you!"
"I was wrong." The admission seems to physically pain him. His jaw works like he's chewing glass. "I was... scared."
"Scared?" I laugh, but it's bitter. "The great Trent Mercer is scared?"
"Terrified," he admits quietly. "That they were right. That you're just marking time until you can leave. That this—us—doesn't mean anything to you."
I look at all three of them, crowded into my bathroom while I stand there in nothing but a towel, water still dripping from my hair, and something shifts in my chest. The anger drains away, leaving something raw and vulnerable behind.
"It means everything," I whisper. "That's the problem. It means everything and I still have to leave."
"Why?" Asher asks.
"Because that's the plan. Because I have a life in the city. Because this was never supposed to be real."
"But it is real," Gavin says, stepping closer. "What we have is real."
