Page 30 of Entwined Hearts
I shrugged. “I don’t know. She won’t let me back in. I’ve tried. I even told her I still love her.”
“Damn,” Beau sighed, running a hand over his mouth. “What are you gonna do?”
I shrugged again, staring at the table. “Don’t know,” was all I said, because for the first time in eleven years, the situation truly felt hopeless.
10
Savannah
I was cleaning up lunch when I glanced out the window, and did a double-take when I saw Weston outside on the lawnmower, shirtless without his sling on.
His skin was golden and slick with the sheen of sweat, and when the lawnmower swung back around, the plate slipped from my hands. My lips parted with a shaky breath when I saw his tattoo, saw the wings, and could make out the faint outline of a face.
I also saw the overgrown stubble and his weary expression. The dark smudges under his tired eyes. The way his shoulders sagged and how his hair was a touch too long. He hadn’t looked like that when I saw him last week at Anna’s.
Weston always took pride in his appearance. It was one of the things I loved about him. So the fact that he looked so worn down… Something must’ve happened, and I couldn’t fight the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach to do something about it.
My hands were moving on muscle memory as I whipped together a piece of our past, hoping it would lift his spirits. Andbefore I could second-guess myself, I marched outside to where he was sitting on the mower, wiping sweat off his forehead.
He must’ve heard me coming because he turned around before I reached him. “Savannah?” he said, surprised.
I shoved my hand out towards him. “Looked like you could use some of this.” I gnawed on my bottom lip when he looked down at the glass full of purple liquid between us.
He swallowed. “Is that?”
“Your blackberry lemonade? Yeah.” He took the glass from me tentatively as if he were worried it’d explode in his face or something. “You looked—I just thought maybe it’d make you feel better with whatever’s going on. I don’t know. It’s stupid,” I rambled, wringing my hands together.
Now that the glass was in his hand, I felt like an idiot. Like I’d gone too far. I could’ve just brought him a water bottle if I were that worried about his hydration status.
Except it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact I hated seeing him like this, knowing he was going through something, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
“It’s not stupid,” he said, meeting my gaze. “Thank you.”
“Yep.”
He took a sip, looking out at the pasture he’d just mowed. “Damn, that’s good, Sav,” he said. “Just like I remembered.”
I didn’t correct him for using my old nickname for some reason. “Glad you still like it.”
“I’d have to be dead not to like this,” he said, shooting me a grin that settled the unease in my chest.
A moment of silence passed, the warm air curling around us in a gentle breeze. Weston looked down at his glass. “You always have been able to read me like a book,” he said quietly, an admission of sorts.
I knew I shouldn’t take the bait, but I couldn’t stop myself because I knew in my gut he wasn’t purposefully baiting me. “Want to talk about it?”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye like he was seeing if I meant it. I nodded for him to continue. “I had my first rehab appointment four days ago. Don’t have to wear the sling all the time now, but they said I won’t be riding for at least another three months.”
“I’m sorry.”
He wrenched his jaw, letting out an angered sigh. “I really hate hearing those words come out of your mouth, Savannah,” he rasped with a hint of anger, taking another sip of his drink.
I knew he wasn’t talking about now, but the night I avoided thinking about with everything I had. I crossed my arms, looking down at the ground. I ran my toes along the grass, my pink nail polish bright in the sun.
“I hate saying them to you,” I said quietly. “But I do mean them. Have meant them every time.” I chewed on my bottom lip, then word vomited, “I feel like all this is my fault. If you hadn’t been looking at me, then?—”
“No. This isn’t your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for my mistakes.”
“Okay,” I conceded, still not looking at him. He could’ve said it wasn’t my fault until he was blue in the face, but it wouldn’t get rid of the guilt I felt.
