He hadn't waited a month. He was squeezing me now. A warning shot. See how far you get without me.
"No," I managed, my voice tight. "No other card. Cash is fine."
I forced a laugh that sounded jagged in my own ears, pulling the wad of bills from the hidden compartment of my wallet. Thank God I had it. Thank God I hadn't trusted him. I counted out three hundred and fifty, my hands steady despite the adrenaline spiking in my blood.
"Keep the change, Earl."
"Appreciate it." Earl gave me a long look, sensing the shift in the air, but he was too polite to ask. "You sure you're alright?"
"Never better. Just... banking glitches."
I shoved the useless black card back into my wallet, feeling the weight of the lie settle on my shoulders. I loaded the truck in a haze of anger. This was real now. The safety net wasn't just frayed; it was gone.
"Beau?"
I froze, a grain bag on my shoulder.
Tyler stood by the tailgate, holding a clipboard, wearing a feed store polo and that easy, nice-guy smile that made me want to punch him.
"Tyler. Hey." I tossed the bag into the bed, turning to face him.
"Didn't expect to see you doing the grunt work. Winnie usually handles the runs." He glanced at the supplies. "She doing okay? Haven't seen her around."
"She's great," I said, my voice clipped. "Training for regionals. Broke her record."
"Damn. Sixteen-nine?" He whistled low. "Impressive. But then, she always was talented." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as they focused on my neck.
His smirk turned sharp. "Looks like she’s been riding more than just horses lately."
I instinctively reached up, my fingers brushing the spot just below my jaw where Winnie’s teeth had grazed yesterday in the barn. It was tender. A mark.
Possessiveness roared to life in my chest. I didn't cover it. I dropped my hand, letting him see it. Letting him see exactly who she belonged to.
"Yeah, well," I said, holding his gaze, my voice dropping to a low rumble. "She's enthusiastic. Can you blame her?"
Tyler’s smile faltered. The 'nice guy' mask slipped for a second, revealing the jealousy underneath.
"Right," he laughed, hollow and short. "Good for you, man. Just... don't mess it up. She’s got a big heart."
I'm not you, I thought viciously.
"Not planning on it."
He nodded once, stiffly, and walked back inside. I watched him go, feeling a savage sense of victory that did nothing to fix the declined card burning a hole in my pocket.
The drive back was slower. The cash in my pocket felt lighter. The reality of the situation was settling in—feed runs, vet bills, competition fees... it all added up. And if Dad was freezing accounts now, I was on a countdown clock.
But I couldn't tell Winnie. Not yet. Not when she was finally looking at me without walls. Telling her meant admitting I was a liability.
I pulled up to the ranch, the truck rattling. And then I heard it. Her voice.
"Good boy, Bandit! That's it!"
She was in the round pen, dusty and focused. The knot in my chest loosened instantly. Just the sound of her was enough to ground me.
I parked and started unloading the bags, stacking them in the shed with a punishing rhythm. Sweat soaked my t-shirt, turning it transparent, my muscles burning. It felt good. It felt like honest work. This life—the dirt, the sweat, the struggle—it was worth a thousand black cards.
"Ayee, City Boy."
