Page 70 of A False Start
“I learned about horses from my grandfather, my mom’s dad. He grew up on a cattle ranch in the area with his family. He got me on a horse early. Taught me everything I know. I loved my days with him—until I threw a football and got a taste of everything my life could be with that. I did a few rodeos. Sat a bucking horse or two. But then I lost interest. My throwing arm became too valuable. Success became addictive.”
I sigh. Hashing out my childhood makes me feel like an even bigger failure than I already do. I have no good reason to have fallen into the shit I did. Greed and ego.
“Before my accident, I was a real douchebag. I don’t think you’d have liked me very much. I don’t like that version of myself very much either, to be honest.”
“How come?”
“Because I took everything for granted. My good fortune. My family. It was never enough. I wanted to win more, fuck more, buy more. I had it all, and it was never enough. I was greedy and cocky. I thought I was untouchable. The universe has a fascinating way of putting us in our place, though, and I think that’s what happened to me. I made a lot of really stupid decisions.”
“I think you’re too hard on yourself.”
“That’s because you don’t know all the shit I’ve done.”
“Okay.”
“Why do you always give me that out?”
She shrugs, looking up at me from where she lies on the blanket, hair fanned out around her like a halo. “Because me saying you’re wrong won’t make you believe it. I’ll save my breath.”
I chuckle and lie back beside her. “Sounds like a line from therapy.”
“It is.”
“Is this where you tell me I need therapy?” God knows my parents have tried.
“Would it make you go?”
I turn my head to meet her curious gaze. “It hasn’t in the past.”
She smiles, but it’s somber. “Then I’ll save my breath on that, too. You’ll know if you need it. I did.” I snort. “I still do.”
Rolling toward her, I mimic her position, folding my hands under my cheek. “How did you know you needed therapy?”
“Because I kept sabotaging every potentially good thing that was happening to me. Because the voice in my head that told me I was worthless was louder than the one that told me I deserved to be happy.”
“I have that voice, too,” I murmur.
“I know you do.”
“How do you know that?”
She laughs, but there’s no amusement in her tone. “Because I swear, I can see it in your face, in your body, when you’re listening to it. It’s like I can hear it, too.”
Our eyes lock for a few moments, and the air crackles between us. Her lips part, like she’s about to say something more, but she sighs and flips over on to her back, letting the cool air rush in between us like an invisible wall.
“Let’s watch the sunset. Then I’m going to bed.”
I should pull her back toward me. I should tell her I’m what she needs, that nothing is too complicated in the face of a connection like this.
But I think that would probably be a lie.
24
Nadia
Griffin laidbeside me in the field, and a companionable silence stretched between us. He may have flirted back with me, finally rising to my bait, but he didn’t take it any further. He didn’t put his hands on me. He didn’t crawl on top of me and take my clothes off, but he didn’t just disappear after getting naked with me, either.
He looked at me like I fascinated him. Like I was a treasure, like I held value to him. He laid there with me, not touching. Just talking. He listened to me, and I could see him turning my words over in his mind. I could see he wanted more, but he was respecting my space. I guess I made myself clear when I handed him his clothes and said goodnight.
