“Hux,” I cut in, unable to rein in my annoyance any longer. “His. Name. Is. Hux.”
Georgette rocked back at my tone, a little hiccup escaping her. “Sorry, I’m just the worst with names, sweetie.”
I bristled, God, I was so tired of her calling me sweetie, acting like she was that much older than me when really there was only six years between us. Hux replied before I could say anything more. “Yes, ma’am?”
“So, Carl was telling me earlier that Quinn told him you were a bull rider. Is that true?”
Hux stilled beside me, and I swear it's like a blanket of silence descended on the backyard. He turned toward me, his voice low, sharp, as he asked, “You knew?”
Trepidation knotted in my stomach once more, guilt so great crashing like a tidal wave all around me. “Whit and I tried to look up your socials and I saw.”
“Saw what?” he growled out, his grip on my hand tightening a fraction. I don’t even think he realized it, but he trembled beneath my touch.
“Everything,” I breathed.
And just like that, he let go of my hand. Just like that, it felt like a rug had slipped out from beneath me.
Chapter sixteen
High Road
Hux
Everything.
She’d seen everything. She knew about my past. The accident.
Fuck.
I wrenched my hand from hers. Not out of anger, but because I trembled so fucking badly there was no way she couldn’t feel it. Why hadn’t she said anything about the accident? I mean, really we hadn’t had much time to talk about it, to be honest, so maybe that’s why.
Of course, she’d looked me up. I didn’t blame her, I’d have probably done the same thing if I could see. I should have deleted my socials a long time ago.Fuck.
I unscrewed the cap to the bottle of whiskey and didn’t even bother being polite as I pressed it to my lips. I’d more than likelyspill more of it all over me while trying to get it in the tumbler, so, fuck it.
The whiskey burned a fiery path down my throat before settling in the pit of my stomach. Carl might have shit taste in women but he sure as hell had good taste in whiskey. I chugged down far more than was socially acceptable, but I needed the liquid courage if I was going to make it through the rest of this dinner.
Quinn made a little sound—so small and imperceptible I doubt she even realized she’d made it. It was like a mixture of a squeak and a gasp. I wondered what she thought. I’m sure she suspected I was mad at her.
Trying to calm the racing of my heart with a slow exhale, I reached for her hand once more. Her answering squeeze back eased some of the worry in my chest. As much as I hated the thought of talking to her about my past, of dredging up all the ghosts and skeletons in my closet, I’d tell her everything. Not that she didn’t already know the majority of it. But it was always better to come straight from the source.
I fixed my attention Georgette’s way and managed to get out, “Yes, ma’am. I used to ride bulls.”
“Were you any good?”
Another sip of whiskey. Another scorching path trailing down my throat. At least it was kicking in. My limbs felt a bit lighter, my usual aches, pains, and hurts dulling to mere whispers. “I mean, I certainly wasn’t one of the greats, but I was pretty big in my prime. Had two World Champion titles under my belt.”
“Wow. And you chose a life as a ranch hand over fame?”
A muscle in my jaw feathered as I forced a smile to my lips. What a fucking ignorant bitch. I wondered if she even realized what she was saying or if she was just that stupid. I couldhonestly see it going either way. “I didn’t choose anything. I had to give it up when I got hurt.”
“Why?”
I paused at that. Was she serious? Maybe shewasactually that stupid. “I mean…It’s pretty obvious, ma’am.”
Quinn quaked beside me, her body trembling so hard she nearly vibrated in her seat. She gripped my hand with both of hers.
“Oh, yeah, right,” Georgette’s words were slightly slurred as she continued, but it didn’t give her an excuse for what came out of her mouth next. “But I mean, it’s not like you gothurt-hurt. You’re just blind.”
