My blood freezes in my veins as I take stock of them—Lyra’s easy gait, the braids in her mane matching the one Lucas tied his own hair into beneath his cowboy hat. He looks nervous as all hell, but Lyra is a champ, rock solid beneath him. The pattern he takes her in is simpler than even some of the younger kids took, avoiding the jumps entirely and looking absolutely terrified by the time he exits the rings.
It’s only when he disappears from my sight that I realize I’m standing, my hands balled into fists at my side.
I’m not angry.
Even when I look for it, I can’t find a single drop of the fury that’s been mixing with pain in my chest for the past week. The only thing I feel right now isjoy.
Lucas is here, making a fool of himself as he tries to learn something new—something he never cared about but was always important tome—and all I can think about is how fucking happy I am to see him. I dash out of the stands before I have a chance to think about what I’m doing.
I need to find him. I need to see him.
I need to… I don’t evenknow, but I need to be in front of him again. A fragile, stupid part of me screams that I need to fix things between us, and I can’t help but agree with it. If there’s any chance, I have to take it. I’ve never been so miserable in my life, and I’m realizing now that it wasn’t because I was upset.
It was because I missed him.
I missed him so much I’ve been sick with it, and he’sright fucking here.
I rush toward the back where all of the trailers are set up, apologizing as I shove my way through the gathering crowds. My heart skips several beats when I catch sight of him slipping off Lyra’s back. He reaches into his back pocket and produces a mint, holding it out for her to crunch at.
Mary and Dad are in front of him, and I catch a bit of them congratulating him, but when I skid to a stop beside them, the whole world goes quiet. There’s nothing left but me and Lucas, the shock written across his face. Shock that slowly morphs into a blinding smile as he drinks in the sight of me.
I can hardly breathe.
The world comes rushing back suddenly at the sound of Mary’s voice.
“Everett, honey, you wanted to get back home early, didn’t you?” Mary asks, entirely unsubtle, already tugging at his arm. “Why don’t we take Lyra off Lucas’s hands and head back?”
“What?” Dad looks down at her, his brow creasing in confusion, then back up to where Lucas and I are standing in front of each other, both near vibrating with anxiety and unspoken words. “Right! Yes. Yes, I said that. Let’s do that. We’ll see you two later.”
It’s painfully awkward, but that somehow makes it easier to huff out a laugh and meet Lucas’s eyes properly as they take Lyra’s reins and disappear to the trailers.
Pain lances through my chest at the gentle look on his face, the way he maps every single one of my features like he thought he’d never see me again. To be fair, I didn’t exactly intend him to, but I couldn’t ignore the need to be close to him even if there was a gun to my head. It feels like gravity pulling us together, yanking at every fiber of my being and begging for closeness.
This is as close as we’re going to get.
It’s fine. It’s enough.
It has to be.
“You did good out there.” My voice sounds ragged, which makes sense, since I’m forcing it out through the tightness in my throat. I can’t tell if the pressure is from tears or overwhelming hope, and I’m almost scared to find out. “I didn’t expect to see you riding anymore.”
I didn’t expect to see him anymore at all, but he knows what I mean.
“Lyra’s been rubbing off on me. I wanted to get more comfortable on her.” He chuckles, sounding just as nervous as I am. “I didn’t know you were watching. Probably would’ve done a shit job if I did.”
“Glad I didn’t call your name out from the stands, then,” I tease.
I immediately wince, uncertainty and the mess between us making me wish I’d kept my mouth shut. It sounds like something a girlfriend would do, and that’s not what I am to him. I’m probably not even afriendanymore, and I?—
“Fuck, Jenny, I can’t do this.”
I snap out of my thoughts to find an absolutely ruined expression on his face, his brows twisted together in pain I know all too well. I open my mouth, close it, struggle for what to say as he stares down at my boots. When he finally looks up at me, there’s steel in his eyes, a determination that I don’t know what to think of.
“I can’t pretend everything is fine between us,” he says, his voice utterly shattered even as he offers me a shadow of a smile. “I’m sorry. I wish I could, because I don’t want to lose the chance to have you in my life, however you’ll let me, but I can’t pretend that I don’t love you.”
What?
What?
