‘We haven’t been together in years,’ I mumble. ‘I thought you’d moved on, been with other guys; I really thought we were just friends, like always.’
She doesn’t reassure me, doesn’t tell me I’m right. I feel like an A-grade moron, and an asshole to boot.
‘How can I fix this?’
She shakes her head softly. ‘There’s nothing to fix. I know you love me, probably as much as you’ll ever love any woman. But I also know there’s no future for us. I just hate seeing you get hurt is all.’
I put my hand on her knee, recognising how different it feels compared to when I touch Bailey and my whole body catches alight. Bailey’s the only person I’ve ever felt that with—not just normal chemistry, but the sort of whole-body explosion that makes me think my skin’s gonna catch fire. I stand up, guilty at the betrayal to Ash, to be thinking about Bailey, and to Bailey, in being here with Ash.
‘I feel the same about you,’ I say belatedly. ‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘I know that. Listen, Beau, I’m okay. I’ve known I love you for years; this isn’t new for me.’
‘I would have had this talk a long time ago, if I’d realised.’
‘Exactly. And we’d have been over. Because you’d never have slept with me if you knew how I felt.’
I try to take comfort from that. From the fact that Ash sees me as a decent guy, even if Bailey doesn’t.
‘What does this mean?’ I turn to face her, hands on my hips.
She smiles up at me, a smile that changes her eyes and makes her face glow. ‘It doesn’t change a damn thing, Beau Donovan, and don’t you think I won’t kill you if it does.’ She stands up, walks toward me, puts her hands loosely around my waist. ‘We’re friends, and always will be. I just want you to be happy, like I know you want for me. I gave up on us being togethera long time ago, okay? You don’t need to worry about me. I’m going to be okay, I promise.’
Two days later, as I throw my bags into the pick-up, I’m in a foul mood and can’t shake it. Austin has one hip propped against the truck bed, to favour his good leg, and he’s watching me in a way that gets right under my skin.
‘You don’t have to compete if you don’t want to.’
I stare at him, not understanding.
‘You just seem pissed as all hell is all. If it’s about Vegas, pull out.’
I shake my head. My life is in turmoil. None of the familiar feels right anymore. Even being here at the ranch has been wrong. But riding? That’s the one thing I can count on, the one thing I know will get everything making sense again.
‘I’m not quitting.’
He holds his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. Or ‘calm the fuck down’. ‘I’m not asking you to. I’m just saying, if you’re dreading it or whatever, take some time. It would be totally normal for you to have some concerns, after that ride. Given what you went through before …’
‘This isn’t some form of PTSD, bro,’ I snap, then wish I could eat those words up. Austin knows more than the average guy about PTSD, after the number of tours he’s served, the guys he’s lost.
‘Christ, I’m sorry.’ I drag a hand through my hair. He looks unfazed though, eyes holding mine.
He ignores my apology, homes in on my denial. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘No.’
‘You sure?’
‘Every rider gets thrown; it’s part of the business. That wasn’t even a bad fall.’
‘Sure, but after your accident?—’
‘Y’all were more worried about that than I was.’ I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice. ‘I didn’t quit riding becauseIhad trauma, it was because everyone else did.’
He nods once, but his eyes don’t leave mine. ‘So what’s going on then?’
‘Nothing,’ I say flatly, refusing to let his words in.
‘Bullshit.’
