She's beautiful, but that's not why I made the worst mistake of my life with her. Affairs are rarely straightforward. So I've learned.
She comes to me, smiling, and tries to put her hands on my shoulders. I flinch away from her. Now that I've come up for air and seen the trail of hurt I've caused, I can't tolerate her touch.
She blinks, confused, her smile dropping a fraction. "What's wrong?"
I glance around, though I know we're alone. Juliette and my mom have gone to town to take the boys to school and run errands. The cowboys are all off to check the cattle. Normally I'd go with them, but I told them I needed to pay taxes. I really do need to pay taxes, but that's besides the point. The only person in the house is my dad, and he can't see us from here.
"Listen," I tell her, keeping my eyes on hers but taking great care not to touch her. "We need to talk."
She balks. I wait, watching as her body freezes, then draws in a long breath. "Talk about what?"
"Us."There is no us.
"Did you read my note?" She reaches for me again, undeterred when I attempt to shrug her off. Her fingers dig into my shoulders. I would have to physically push her away now, and I don't want to hurt her. Not any more than I'm about to.
"I read the note. Listen to me, please." I look into her eyes. I feel terrible for the words I haven't yet spoken but must. "We need to end this. Immediately. I'm not leaving my wife."
She rips her body away. Tears fill her eyes. "You said you were going to."
My hands rake through my hair. There is so much for me to feel guilty about, but I think those words might be my biggest regret. They were uttered in the heat of the moment, and I didn't mean them. I never had any intention of leaving Juliette.
"I'm sorry," I tell her, and I mean it. I will be sorry for the rest of my life, for what I've done to both women.
"Sorry?" She laughs at the word, disbelief and fury seeping through. "You're sorry?"
"Yes. Deeply."
Her fist balls at her side. I see it coming, and I allow it. I deserve it. The punch lands on my chest. It's not terribly painful, but it still hurts.
"You motherfucker," she screams, making me thankful I sent the cowboys out. Her hands sail through the air as she yells. "Oh my God." She rubs her face. "Oh my God, oh my God." She lifts her hands and I see her tear-soaked cheeks. "I hate you." She points at her heart. "I was in love with you, Beau. And now Ihateyou."
I reach out a hand, I don't know why. It's hard to see someone in such pain. She smacks it away. "Don't touch me," she yells. "I have to get out of here." She wipes at her eyes and spins toward the horses, pulling herself up.
My response is delayed, my thought process clogged.
"Wait," I yell after her. But she is gone. And she's on the wrong horse.
I climb onto Lilly and click my tongue, squeezing her middle with my legs. She starts forward, and I ease her into a trot. Cynthia looks back, sees me, and I stick out a hand to stop her. Not from leaving, but from what she's about to do.
"Don't," I shout, but it's too late. She has already kicked Brutus's sides to make him go faster.
She doesn't know Brutus came from a place where he was mistreated and kicking him is the worst thing someone can do. He rears back, and Cynthia leans out of the saddle.
"Hold on," I scream, urging Lilly into a gallop.
Brutus twists his body, trying to throw off his rider. Cynthia holds tight, her body too rigid. She is not experienced enough to handle this. He jumps, bucks again, and Cynthia lets go. She glides through the air like a rag doll, landing five feet from Brutus. I arrive a few seconds later, scrambling from Lilly before she's come to a stop. Cynthia's on her side, and I crouch over her, not sure I can move her. I brush her hair back from her face and see it.
The gash.
The blood.
The rock.
I drop to the ground, my hands press to my thighs, and I sway back and forth. There's a sound, it's so loud, and then I understand. It's me. I'm screaming.
Hands grip my shoulders. "Son. Be quiet."
My dad's face blocks out the sun, its rays emanating from his head.
