Page 46 of Freeing the Wild
“In my defense, I had no idea I’d see him again so soon.”
“Oh shit!”Ginger laughs, stuffing a handful of bar nuts into her mouth.
“It was one night.But there’s nothing going on now.He’sstubborn, kind of bossy, and I’m convinced that man isn’t even sure if he likes me most of the time.”
“You know what else he is?”Olivia winks at me with a laugh of her own.“Hot.”
“That too,” I confess.“Ugh … It happened when I was here last fall.He didn’t know I was Ivy’s sister.I only told him my first name.I think that really pissed him off when I came back.It puts him in a tough place with Wade.”
“He isn’t the type to get pissed off easily,” Ginger notes.“What else happened?”
I grin sheepishly.“Well, I also told him I’d be right back afterwards and snuck out the back door of this place.”
Ginger doubles over.“You fucked and ducked?”
I laugh in return.“I panicked.The sex … it was … really hot.”
“Well, he definitely wouldn’t want Wade to think he used you.That ranch has been everything to him since he started here.He was a couple grades below us at school but I remember the talk about him then.His coach was positive he was destined for the pros.”
“And then he lost it all when he was injured,” Olivia adds.
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.Olivia raises an eyebrow as she sips.“Didn’t tell you he wasthatgood, did he?”
“No,” I answer, remembering everything he did say: about his mom leaving, the pressure his dad put on him, that football was never his passion.But he did it because heknewit.Just like me.My passion has never been singing.I’m good at it so I do it, even though it’s just the vessel to get my words out into the world.
“From what Cole says,” Ginger continues as a server returns and places a hefty plate of nachos in front of us, “working with horses was what Haden wanted to do in the first place.”
I think about what Haden told me about taking night classesthrough in Equine Management at a community college a couple years ago.And the live demonstrations he’s attended at Churchill Downs with Ivy while they’ve been training Angel’s Wings.
“Wait … holy SHIT!”Ginger gasps now, choking on a handful of nachos.“Is he your song?‘Your Truck’?!”
I nod slowly as she slaps a hand on the tabletop.
“No way!I love that song.But he didn’t ditch you.Maybe what he’s really mad about isthat?”
That thought never dawned on me, and a pang of guilt floods my chest.
“We never made any promises.Haden has had his fair share of women, he told me so himself.I just assumed I was another notch,” I say defensively.
“You’re dwelling an awful lot for ‘nothing going on,’” Ginger notes, telling me she understands what that’s like before steering the conversation in a different direction.“So what will you do for the rest of your time here?”
I shrug and swirl my sangria in my glass.“I don’t know.My therapist says I need to find ways to relate positively to music again.”
Ginger knocks back her drink and flashes me a grin.“I have the best idea!”
I look at her expectantly.
“My school has had the worst funding cuts over the last year, and I know our music department was looking for special guests to come in and talk to the kids.They’re doing a segment called ‘For the Love of Music.’”She spreads her hands out like the title is up in lights.“I bet they’d love to hear your story, about how you fell in love with writing.If you’re interested?”
I wait for the familiar feeling of anxiety to creep in.But the idea of relating to kids and rediscovering why I fell in love with music in the first place?That might not be a bad idea.
“I think I could get behind that,” I say to Ginger.
Ginger’s beautiful smile lights up her face as she tucks a strand of dark curly hair behind her ear.“Perfect!I’ll talk to our music department.They’re not starting the program for two weeks, but I’ll let you know what they say.”
“Speaking of music,” Olivia says, pointing to the dance floor as one of my favorite Lainey Wilson songs starts to play.We all slide out of the booth, singing the lyrics as we hit the dance floor.
And we don’t stop.We spend the next half hour dancing as we finish off our pitcher of sangria.By that time my feet are aching, and the girls have escaped to the ladies’ room, and I’m feeling just confident enough to text the modest, hotshot cowboy I’ve been spending my mornings with.I smile as I find his self-appointed name in my phone for the first time and take a deep breath.
