Page 34 of A Cowboy's Twinkling Lights Lasso
“This one wouldn’t need taking care of if you hadn’t punched me in the face,” Theo mutters.
“You shut up, or I’ll do it again,” my sister threatens as I chase after Thorn.
Chapter Ten
THORN
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MY BROTHER’S BETRAYAL seethes inside of me. It would be easy if that were all I felt—anger. Instead, I’m torn between fury and relief. A relief that nearly takes me to my knees. But I know better than to fall with an audience. I need to get the hell out of this lodge.
I don’t wait for the elevator. Instead, I take the main stairs two at a time, practically sliding down them. My hands grip the railing so hard I know my palms will be splintered as all hell, but I don’t give a shit.
I burst out the door. The cool December wind hits me, and a chill brushes my skin.
I need it.
I need the scent of the pine-filled air and the rustle of tree branches. Each breath I inhale is infused with an earthy aroma. Nature is my refuge—it always has been. And I need it now more than ever, as my heart races while that fury and relief battle a tug-a-war inside me.
My legs don’t stop moving until Flora’s voice breaks through the turmoil of my thoughts.
“Thorn? Can we talk?” She’s breathless and far enough behind me that I know if I keep going, I can climb into my truck and get the fuck out of here without talking to her.
My feet slow.
Damn them.
The parking lot is so close, just past the small wooden gazebos nestled in the shadows along the grassy strip dividing the parking and the west side of the lodge.
“Thorn, please.”
She’s closer.
So close.
My boots crunch against the dormant winter grass. I tell myself to keep going, to pick up my pace. She didn’t trust me then. What the hell is the point of talking now?
I curse myself as I slowly turn around.
The lanterns lining the path cast a soft glow over her features, which shift when she sees me face her. Her sprint dwindles to a walk, and her eyes’ urgency softens with a flicker of uncertainty. She leaves a chunk of space between us that swirls with confusion.
“Now you want to talk?” My teeth grind. “You’re over ten years too late.”
“That’s not fair,” she shoots back.
“What’s not fair was you not talking to me in the first place.”
“I was young and confused and heartbroken.”
“You didn’t trust me!” As I raise my voice, a couple emerges from the parking lot behind me. As they pass, we step aside, and I watch the panic of having this conversation in the open translate all over her face.
Good. Seeing her flush gives me a spike of victory.
Then guilt.
Damn my morals.
“Come here.” I grab her elbow and guide her to the closest gazebo.
