Page 33 of Reckless
I don’tneedhim. I never did. But he hurt me all the same.
Thanks for letting me know.
Sometimes that sentence wakes me up at night. I hoped that even though we were clearly incompatible, he might want to play some part in raising the child we made.
After all, I watched my dad dote on a little girl born of an affair my entire life. There were times I begrudged him for that, but now? Now, I can respect him for how he handled Summer—even if he failed me in the process.
“Cool,” is what I respond with. And it’s not something I would ever say, which is why Summer turns and eyes me with suspicion.
“Wh—”
“Summer!” Willa calls from the end of the row of stands where she carries three drinks in each hand. I guess all those years spent bartending weren’t a total waste. “Did you know they have mimosas in the beer tent?”
My sister rolls her lips together and casts her gaze down. “I might have known, yes.” Mimosas are her thing. She often hosts a “Boozy Brunch” as she and Willa call it.
“Man, Rhett can be really romantic sometimes.” Willa drops down and shoves the plastic cups in our direction. “Help a girl out.”
“Why are there six?” My nose wrinkles, mind still on the too-good-looking asshole bull rider down near the gate. Do I act normal? Kick him in the balls? Ignore him?
“I don’t know, Winter. You’re the doctor here. How many hands do we have between us?”
I glance down at us, like I need a visual representation of how many hands there are between three humans.
God. Theo Silva has a knack for making me lose my brain. I almost don’t think I should drink. Maybe there’s something chemical between us, because when I peek at him from beneath my lashes, I see a flash of his white teeth and almostfeelthe rumble of his laugh when he throws his head back. So carefree.
And flashing his Adam’s apple. I remember the way it moved up and down when I dropped to my knees in front of him. His head tipped back in a similar fashion when I fisted his length and—
“Winter, stop being such a buzzkill.” Willa pushes the two drinks into my hands, the ones that are now clammy and clasped over my jeans.
My fingers fold around the damp plastic cups and I look down at the new boots on my feet. Pale brown cowboy booties with a metal embellished toe. Because, apparently, I can’t wear normal shoes to this event without becoming some sort of pariah.
Summer’s snakeskin boots are a subtle touch with her white WBRF tee. But Willa has adopted the lifestyle. The boots. The jeans. The sparkly belt with her mane of coppery hair blown out and curled like some sort of rodeo Barbie.
The two of them talk around me about the event. Today’s lineup. The final night of the three-day rodeo and what a success it’s been.
I take a sip of my mimosa and will myself to remain calm as events pass. Barrels, roping, something where small children try to stay on sheep and everyone laughs when they fall off. Summer and Willa pat my back and try to engage me in conversation. They think I’m worried about Vivi, but all I can think about is that her father is right fucking there.
I’ve imagined this moment in my head a million times. What I’d do. What I’d say. I’ve oscillated between hating him and understanding his choice.
But I’ve never gotten over how his reaction doesn’t match the man I thought I met that night. Sure, he was wild and carefree, but he felt like an old soul somehow. There was a gentleness in him.
A roughness too.
Choke on it, Winter.I blink the memory away, not wanting to go there.
“Oh, here goes Theo.”
My head snaps up and sure enough, the man holding the microphone in the middle of the ring is talking about Theo. About his dad, Gabriel, and their family legacy. About his accolades and wins.
But my eyes are stuck on Theo, his ass looking way too good in those jeans.
I can resent him and still like his ass. That’s perfectly acceptable.
“Fuck. He is hot, isn’t he?” Willa takes a sip of her orange drink without sparing Summer or me a glance. Then she carries on with, “What? I’m still allowed to window shop.”
My sister snorts, but I feel wooden. Hollowed out. Theo climbs into the chute, bull jostling around between the metal gates. But he’s unaffected.
He gives zero fucks.
