Page 109 of Fool for You
I didn’t know which words to believe.
I shook my head, dropping my chin only to see a tear fall to the dirt. “No. I don’t think I do. We’re done. This is done. Get your bag out of my truck and leave me alone.”
“Then what?” he asked, raising his hands only to slap his thighs.
I shrugged. “I don’t care what you do. I’m sure Kelly will be happy to help you out. Hell, you’re a Hartwell. You can make it back to Alpine Ridge no problem. Just…” I waved him off,ready to be done with this entire thing—forget it even happened. Forget the entire year if I could. “Leave me alone.”
I climbed in my truck, my hands firm on the wheel. Wyatt stared at me through the windshield for a moment before he dropped his head, came to the side of the truck, and grabbed his bag. The moment the door closed, I started the engine…and left him there, not even looking in the rearview mirror at the giant mistake I just made.
Thirty-Eight
Wyatt
Me
Quinn, please call me.
We need to start season four—they brought in Frozen!
Quinn, we need to talk. Please answer me.
I’m gonna murder your trainer. He’s being an ass to Hook.
Quinn…
I’m sorry. I can’t explain if you don’t let me. Please call me.
I love you.
Threeweeks.
It had been three weeks since Quinn left me at that rodeo. Three long weeks since I had to catch a flight home and beg Cash to come pick me up at two in the morning. Three fucking weeks of absolute misery.
And the worst part—I saw her every day.
She’d come to train. She’d come to ride. She’d come to spend time with Abi and Kyla.
And even though I was right in front of her the entire time, she wouldn’t even look at me. Or if she did, it was as if she saw through me. Like I wasn’t even there.
It was so fucking hard to try to smile. Try to be…normal.
The only good news I had gotten this week was that—yay, please note sarcasm—my name was picked for a few rodeos. Four rodeos contacted me since Montana. And each time my phone buzzed in my pocket, I prayed it was Quinn, only to have my heart fall when it wasn’t her. I, of course, put on a happy voice, agreed to the jobs, and travel with my friends—and that’s exactly how I found myself standing in the middle of my bunkhouse apartment, surrounded by every pair of boots I owned.
I had my hands on my hips, each pair staring me down as if to call me out. They were just screaming at me that I was the idiot here, that I was the one who fucked things up, and now I had to live with it. Live without her.
I just wished she would talk to me. I just wanted to hear her voice and see her smile. I just wanted her.
“God dammit,” I glowered, heaving a sigh and kicking a boot over. It landed with a soft thump.
The doorknob to the bunkhouse rattled, opening seconds later to let in the crisp fall air. Abi stepped over the threshold, followed quickly by Stetson, both carrying baskets of eggs. Abi gave me a quick smile before she began to make herself at home in the kitchen. She filled the fridge with the eggs from the coop and let out a soft groan when she saw the last batch she had put there untouched.
“I hope we’re going to make omelets soon,” she muttered under her breath, yet still loud enough for me to hear.
“Hey Uncle Wy—whoa.” Stetson stopped in his tracks, his eyes going wide as he took in the sight of my living room.
“Hey, bud,” I responded, folding my arms over my chest before turning back to the boots.
Okay, his reaction was valid. It was more than my boots. It was also my hats, and every button-down shirt I owned. But only the boots were screaming at me.
