He grins, like he knows I’m holding in a smartass reply, before jogging off.
I’m packing my bag and my phone lights up. Kacey is calling. “Hey, Knox, look.” I show him my phone screen. “Must be calling to complain about you again.” I smile at his scowl before answering. “Hello?”
“Are you okay?” she asks, and now I feel bad. I know Kacey doesn’t handle the wrecks and dangers of the sport well. Knox and I both try to be safe and always assure her that we’re okay. I should’ve texted her tonight, but I didn’t think about it. My head has been all over the place lately.
“I’m good, Kace. I promise.”
“Do not lie to me, Trey Bennett,” she demands, practically shouting. “He smashed you and then threw you around like a rag doll. He could’ve broken your back or worse.”
I wince and hold the phone away from my ear. “Rubber bones?” I offer. Unfortunately, she doesn’t laugh. I hear someone in the background. “Am I on speaker?”
I move away from the back of the chutes, finding a quieter spot. I hear more mumbling in the background. “Uh—Don’tchange the subject. What hurts where and how bad on a scale of one to ten?”
Wait, a scale of one to ten?
Jessie.
She’s there. I can feel it. “Kacey, I won’t lie, it fucking hurt. But you can tell Jessie I’m fine. I’ll ride again tomorrow; I just didn’t want the re-ride.”
There’s a long, silent pause—she might have muted the phone—before Kacey replies. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I know she’s there, Kace. Can I . . .” I hesitate.Can I what? Talk to her?She clearly doesn’t want to talk to me, or she could’ve fucking called me herself. It gives me a small glimmer of hope—hope I’m truly terrified to hang on to—she’s watching and cared enough to make Kacey call on speaker phone to check in. “Never mind. But next time she’s worried about me, tell her to call me herself.” Silence is my only answer. I didn’t expect anything less, and I feel like shit putting Kacey in the middle of it. “You better go call Knox—I told him you were calling to complain about him.”
She chuckles, but it’s half-hearted. “Yeah, okay. Bye, Trey.”
I rub my eyes. Fighting the urge to call Jessie’s cell. I’msuchan idiot. If she wanted to talk to me, she’d reach out. The fact that I was on speaker phone, and she never said a word is proof enough she has no desire to talk to me. I still worry about her and wonder what’s going on with Daryl every day. I’ve come so close to caving and telling Knox or calling Carson so he can watch out for her, but I can’t bring myself to break her trust again—I have to believe she can handle this. Because she said so. At least until I can get home and win her back.
Chapter 38
Jessie
My saddle creaks under me and the familiar scent of leather and horses floats around me. It’s my day off, and Kacey invited me out to the ranch for a ride. She’s been mother-henning me a lot lately, between inviting me to the ranch, feeding me, and even stopping at the hospital to drop off coffee. The coffee drops are the biggest indicator she’sreallyworried about me. She hates hospitals.
She hasn’t said a word, but she knows I’m struggling. I’ve never had trouble getting over a boy like this before. It’s been two months, and I feel like I’ve made zero progress. I still hate going home to an empty house, sleeping in a cold bed alone, and knowing the one person I want to talk to about my day is out of my reach now. And it’s my fault.
I did the right thing—my father will always be a threat—but I still hate that I hurt Trey. Hurt myself. And I hate my father for making me do it. Even if I can find a way to stop payinghim like Carson wants, he’ll always be there, lurking around my hometown.
I still haven’t come up with a plan, and Carson hasn’t pushed me. He’s checked in and offered support, but he never goes further than that and right now, I appreciate it. I need time to work out what my next steps will be, and how I’ll handle Daryl while keeping everyone I love safe.
The Rocky Mountains stretch up to the sky as the first fall breeze blows through the air. My horse, Bear, navigates these mountains so well I barely have to guide him along the trail. Kacey and her horse Hooch follow close behind us with a picnic lunch packed in her saddlebags.
“I love this time of year. The days are the perfect mix of fall in the morning and evenings, but summer in the afternoons,” Kacey says as she tilts her head skyward, soaking in the sun.
“Honestly, I love it out here anytime of the year.”
Her head lolls forward. “You hate winter and literally hide indoors.”
“I don’t hate winter; I hate snow. I like to look out of the window, though. It’s pretty.”
This makes her laugh, and we continue our climb. She tells me how Knox is doing, carefully avoiding mentioning Trey at all—even going as far to stop herself when she almost says his name.
“It’s okay, Kacey. You can say his name. I know he still exists.”
“I know. I just feel bad. I had him move in with you, and now you’re both sad.”
You’re both sad.
That’s not her fault, it’s mine. I let him get too close, and it hurt us both. I hate knowing he’s hurting, too. He doesn’t deserve it. “We’ll be fine. It’s not your fault.”
