Page 20 of Frosty in Flannel
Now he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Wildfire blew out a heavy breath and swung his big head toward me, as if he knew exactly what was happening. “Don’t you start,” I muttered, moving closer to stroke his neck.
I tried to steady my breathing, let my palms rest against the warm curve of his shoulder. His size always struck me—fifteen hundred pounds of raw muscle and instinct, but when he exhaled against my palm it was as soft as a sigh. “You get it, don’t you?” I murmured. “Keeping people at arm’s length. Pretending you don’t care so it won’t hurt when they leave.”
For a moment, with his forehead nearly brushing mine, it felt like a confession, like telling a secret to someone who couldn’t betray me.
I tried to convince myself I was overthinking it. That he was just busy. That the distance didn’t mean anything.
But by afternoon, when I still hadn’t seen him, I knew something was wrong.
What the hell had I been thinking? That one night—one perfect morning—would change everything? That he’d suddenly be okay with letting someone in?
I should’ve known better.
Horses or men. I always fell for the ones who couldn’t love me back.
Still, as I stood there in the barn with Wildfire’s warm breath fanning my neck, I couldn’t stop one thought from sneaking in. Maybe this wasn’t over yet. Maybe he’d come back. Maybe theman who’d looked at me like I was the only safe place left in the world hadn’t disappeared completely. I closed my eyes, pressed my forehead to Wildfire’s and whispered, “We’ll see, won’t we?” The horse flicked his tail, and for the first time all day I almost smiled.
Chapter Eight
Beckett
The sound of Wildfire settling in his stall should’ve been calming.
It wasn’t.
I stood in the barn, running my hands over the mustang’s flank, and all I could think about was the look on Libby’s face when I’d snapped at her. The way her shoulders had gone tight when I’d walked out on her this morning.
I’d hurt her.
And I knew exactly why I’d done it.
Because this morning—fuck, this morning had been perfect. Too perfect. Waking up with her in my arms, making love to her slow and deep, watching her smile at me over pancakes. Her hair a mess, my shirt hanging off her, her laughter still in my ears.
And that’s when the panic hit.
She was going to leave.
Maybe not today. Maybe not next week. But eventually, her contract would end and she’d drive away and I’d be right back where I started. Alone. Empty. Nothing but scars and silence.
Everyone left. Everyone always left.
My parents. Dead in a car crash. My team in Afghanistan—half of them blown apart, the other half scattered to the wind once we got stateside. The woman I’d been with beforedeployment—took one look at me when I came back and couldn’t get away fast enough.
Why would Libby be any different?
She was smart. Talented. Beautiful. She could work anywhere, be with anyone. Why the hell would she stay here with a broken-down grunt who never talked?
So I’d done what I always did when something good got too close.
I pushed it away before it could leave on its own.
“She’s probably packing right now. Getting ready to leave. And it’s my own damn fault.”
Wildfire bumped my shoulder with his nose and I sighed.
“I know. I need to fix it. I just don’t know how.”
