“Yeah, well, we’re both out of luck there. Suck it up, asshole.”
I wet my lips, nostrils flaring. “You’re pissing me off.”
“Oh, we don’t want that. Would you like an apology?”
Trapping my response behind clenched teeth, I let it go. An apology won’t do shit now. Not for her coming back here, and not for what kept her away. AnI’m sorrywouldn’t make sense, anyway. It would only make shit worse.
I fixate on the grass beneath us. It’s thick and green, unbothered and untouched for the most part. It’s not used for much of anything this far from the stables, which sums up most of the ranch. Besides the training rings, arenas, and pens, Painted Sky is just something pretty to look at. It’s what makes the rides so peaceful. The land is lush and never-ending. You can saddle up and ride for hours—days even—without running into another person.
There are no roads that weren’t made by us, for us.
Mom wanted to expand a few years back and build a few rental cabins. Dad refused. The business idea was good, but he’s old-fashioned. He bristled at the thought of strangers onhisranch, regardless of how far they were kept from what actually matters here. Until he dies, this place will stay the same.
That only ever started bothering me these last couple of years.
“Don’t you want to know why I’m back? Or are you still holding a grudge?” she asks, getting close enough that her suitcase threatens to smack Diesel’s ass when it starts slipping.
I ignore her first question. “Aren’t you?”
“Aren’t I what?”
“Holding a grudge. Or was threatening to stab me just how you say hello now?”
“You pissed me off. That wasn’t because of a grudge,” she smarts, drawing my eyes.
The quirk of her lips is frustrating enough to have my scowl burning. She’s just as arrogant as she was in high school, but there’s more confidence to her now, and that makes it worse. Back then, she was a hellcat in her own right, yet there was still a part of her that sought approval from those around her. That part of her is nowhere to be found now.
“I only pissed you off because of your whatever’s buried in your ass.”
Her smirk vanishes in a blink, the edges of fading smugness sharpening. “I stopped caring about you the second you told me to. Don’t think me being here changes that.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I snap through my teeth.
“Good. We both know I didn’t mean what I said in that ridiculous letter, anyway.”
My muscles bunch so tightly they burn. Diesel twitches beneath me, feeling the shift in my energy. I glance at the sky, not bothering to shield my eyes from the sun. It burns into my vision before I glance away to where I can make out the blotchy shapes of the trailers up ahead.
My instincts demand I leave her here now that she can see where she’s going. I need to create some distance here before I lose it. Tilly knows the ways to piss me off to the point ofmadness, and she’ll use that to her advantage every chance she gets.
Still, I hesitate. Diesel carries forward, his pace slowing slightly, waiting for a command. Tilly’s light brown brows are arched expectantly when I look at her again. The angry beast in my chest snarls a warning.
“Maybe not. But I did,” I say, my tone skillfully empty. “Everything I did was for your brother. Never for you.”
She smiles, but it’s a mask for something I’ve seen a thousand times. Her bare hand taps her thigh as she shuffles in the saddle. The stirrups whine under the pressure of her movements, and I start a countdown in my head.
Five, four, three . . . two . . .one.
“Fuck you, Rowe. There’s nothing I regret in my past as much as writing you those ridiculous letters. I should have let you spend every night alone in that cell without a word from any of us until you realized just how much of a pathetic liar you are.”
“Yeah, you should have. It would have made my life a whole hell of a lot easier. You made everything worse for me.”
Her laugh is cruel. It cuts through the land, tearing every peaceful inch of it to shreds.
She focuses straight ahead and reaches behind her to grip the handle of her suitcase. I stare at the thin fingers clutching onto it for a beat too long, and then she’s moving, pushing the mare into a gallop. Diesel holds himself back, waiting for me to give him the go-ahead to follow.
I don’t.
We turn instead, heading back the way we came. Let her find which trailer is hers and which isn’t. At this point, I don’t fucking care. Ihaven’tcared.
