I look over at her. “Why?”
“I was encouraging Cabe.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I kept telling him to keep the faith.” She watches the arena. “I thought things would work out between you two one day.”
I don’t know what to say. Because for so long, I thought that too.
“I honestly thought you were each other’s endgame. I know it sounds cliché for your first crush to be the one.”
Charli snickers. “But Waylon turned out to be yours,” she quips.
“Yeah, he did.”
For a moment, I watch Axle canter across the arena. Dust rises behind his horse. Sunlight flashes off his buckle. And suddenly, I remember all the reasons I fought this. All the reasons I tried not to fall for him. The reasons that didn’t matter in the end.
“I thought we were too,” I admit. “Until Axle kind of snuck up on me.”
Shelby and Charli both look at me.
“It caught both of us by surprise. I didn’t even think he liked me very much. All these years I’ve known him, he’s just sort of looked past me or, at most, grunted at me.”
Both women burst out laughing.
“What?” I ask.
Charli actually wheezes. “Honey, that man has looked at you like you’re the last piece of pie at Sunday supper for months. He’s just always grumpy,” Charli says.
“Since the day he was born,” Shelby agrees.
Charli points a finger at me, and a smug smile spreads across her face. “None of this would have happened if I hadn’t moved him into the cabin beside yours. Right?”
I nod, and she spreads her arms.
“You’re welcome. Even though I didn’t realize I was playing matchmaker at the time, I’m definitely taking credit for it at your wedding.”
I choke on my own laugh.
Wedding.I catch myself liking the sound of that—someday.
I shake my head while she continues grinning like she’s already planning her speech.
The arena erupts in cheers, bringing our attention back to the action. The student finally gets a decent run. Not perfect, but much better than the last two attempts.
Royce nods his approval, and the kid practically glows.
Then Shelby glances at me. “How’s Axle healing?”
I roll my eyes. “According to him?” I scowl and deepen my voice. “He’s fine.”
The truth is, the injuries still worry me—the broken ribs and how easily he dismisses the pain, pretending it doesn’t exist, as if acknowledging it is a sign of weakness.
A commotion pulls our attention back to the arena. The student misses again. The steer jerks away, and before anyone else can move, Axle swings off his horse.
My breath catches as he jogs past the student, takes hold of the steer’s horns, and demonstrates the positioning. Shows him where his feet need to go and where his weight should shift while the boy watches carefully.
Charli notices, and she follows my gaze. Then slowly gestures toward the arena. “Well, he does look fine.”
