“Space.” She backed away. “I need space. I need to think. And you need to figure out what you actually want. Because I can’t do this if you’re still one foot in Dallas.”
“I want you—”
“Then prove it.” She stopped, eyes hard. “Don’t just say it. Don’t show up with declarations. Actually do it. Call your dad. Right now. Tell him no. Choose me with witnesses and no take-backs.”
My hand went to my phone.
All I had to do was call. One conversation. Burn the bridge.
But I hesitated.
One second.
One terrible second where my brain flashed to Pops’ $25,000 bill. To the foreclosure notices. To the weight of everything a million dollars could fix. One second where taking the deal felt like the way to save her, even if she hated me for it.
One second where Winnie saw me hesitate.
Something in her face shattered.
“That’s what I thought.” Her voice went hollow. All fight drained. “You can’t do it. Maybe you love me. But you love the safety net more. The option.”
“Winnie, it’s not that—”
“I can’t be with someone who has one foot out the door.” She backed toward the arena. “I need space. And you need to figure out what you want.”
“Winnie, wait—”
I reached, but she turned. Walked away, shoulders set in that stubborn line. Cassie handed her Bandit’s rope and shot me a glare before following.
I stood in the dusty parking lot, phone in hand, my father’s deadline looming.
I watched the woman I loved disappear.
I’d said I loved her. Out loud. For the first time.
And she hadn’t said it back.
Because love without action was noise. And I’d proven, in one second of hesitation, that I was still my father’s son.
Monday was thirty-six hours away.
And I still didn’t know what I was going to say.
WINNIE
En route towards a better future
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
16H47
"Healing doesn't mean the damage never existed. It means it no longer controls you."
– Unknown
***
The physical therapy equipment Pops refused to use properly sat in the corner of the living room like an expensive monument to stubbornness.
