Page 91 of That Moment
Her expression softens, lips parting. “Scotty, I’m sorry?—”
I can’t let her finish. If she says one more word, I’ll break. So I step back, forcing the emotion out of my voice and aiming straight for her heart, wanting in the moment to hurt her, the way she hurt me.
“Don’t bother. You were a hot fuck and worth the trouble, but not anymore.” I regret the words the second I say them, but it’s too late.
Her eyes widen, devastation flickering across her face, but I don’t stay long enough to see it land because I’m a coward. Iyank my truck door open, slam it shut, and fire up the engine. Tires screech as I peel out of the lot, leaving her standing there in the glow of the parking lot light, frozen.
Don’t look back. Don’t fucking look back.
But even as the town disappears in my rearview, the expression on her broken face stays burned into me. Those eyes… that protective exterior she wears, that cracked look when I shoved the knife in.
And I know I’ve just done the one thing I swore I never would. I hurt her.
The ranch has never felt so damnempty.
I slam the truck door and stand there for a second, staring out at the barn, the dark fields, the silent house. Usually, the quiet grounds me. Tonight, it’s like the whole place is judging me, holding up a mirror I don’t want to look at.
The words I threw at Adrienne keep bouncing around my skull:You were a hot fuck and worth the trouble, but not anymore.
Christ. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve any of this… it was just a stupid phone number.
I shove through the front door, grab a beer, and crack it open. It doesn’t even taste like anything going down, just cold and bitter. I tip my head back, drain half in one go, and lean against the counter.
Her face won’t leave me. That flicker when she softened, when she started to apologize. She meant it. I cut her off before I had to hear what she was going to say next because I was so caught up in my anger and jealousy.
I bring the beer back to my mouth, draining the bottle in embarrassment. I repeat this over and over until by the last beer, the room is spinning and I’m passed out on the couch.
The next morning, I throw myself into work. During the day, the garage is my savior. I try to keep my head down, pretending I don’t notice how the crew side-eyes me when I snap too sharply.
At night, the barn becomes my refuge. Rosa lifts her head, offering me a contented sigh as I run my hand over her face, rubbing soft circles above her eyes like she likes.
“Hey girl, I see you.” Priscilla nudges against me, jealous of the attention that Rosa is getting.
I bury my hands in their manes, brush them both until their coats shine, muck stalls that don’t even need it. Work until my back aches and my shoulders burn. Anything to keep from thinking.
But when I’m lying in bed? It’s a different story. I can’t escape her. The ceiling fan spins slowly, the shadow of the large Aspen outside my window crawls across the walls, and my brain won’t shut up.
Her voice echoes over and over.What is this between us?
I didn’t answer because I don’t know. I still don’t fucking know.
Maybe this is what being in love feels like?
My stomach drops at the realization, and I feel like an idiot. Like an immature idiot that has been running from love my entire life, I really fucking missed it when it bit me in the ass.
By the third day, I’m running on caffeine and stubbornness. I stay late at the shop, eat whatever greasy takeout one of the guys brings back, then come home and sit on the porch with too many beers, watching the sun sink behind the mountains.
That’s when the memories creep in. The taste of her skin in my mouth. The way she laughed when I smacked her ass in mykitchen. The look she gave me in the morning, like she didn’t want to leave my bed. Each one slices me open a little deeper.
Thursday night, I walk into the house, toss my phone on the table, and hit the shower. When I come back out, the screen’s lit up with her name.
My stomach clenches. I swipe it open before I can stop myself.
Adrienne:Are we still on for the Mustang on Sunday?
I sit down heavily in the chair, phone warm in my palm. My thumb hovers over the keyboard, but that uncomfortable, questioning feeling stops me. I can’t imagine wanting to feel another woman against me, dancing in a bar after having Adrienne. Clearly, she doesn’t feel the same way, and that reminder is enough for me to push the feelings aside.
Instead, I grab another beer, crack it open, and step outside. The stars are out, spread across the sky in a way that usually makes me think of her. Tonight, they just make me feel small.
