Page 101 of Saddle Storm

I swallow like I might be on the verge of tears. “Let’s get you changed and into bed,” I mutter low, my voice failing me.

I get Max ready for bed in a blur and sit at his bedside minutes after he’s fallen asleep. I’ve always known that once I found someone serious, Max would have questions. But I never expected the internet to be the one answering them. With speculations, assumptions and photographic “proof.”

Closing his door gently, I step out to the living room. Silas is still on the edge of the sofa where we left him. A phone in one hand. The other rubbing his bottom lip as he scrolls through what I’m assuming are more posts from tonight.

The night that was supposed to be about him.

“I’m sorry,” I say with a sharp breath.

He looks up confused. “What?”

I look at his phone. “Tonight . . . was supposed to be about you . . . and I—”

He stands and is in front of me in a flash. “Storm.” He says my name with an edge. “Don’t you dare apologize for this.”

I bite my bottom lip.

He strokes my cheek and breathes an apology of his own. “I knew the risks—somewhere in the back of my mind, I guess. And I should have warned you.” He grins devilishly, throwing me off. “But if doing that would’ve changed anything about tonight, I’m glad I didn’t.”

I smile, coyly.

He rubs my arms and kisses me softly. “I haven’t seen Max in any of the posts. He wasn’t sitting with you, so they assumed he was with Levi and Tess.”

I nod. “It was the first thing I realized too.”

His face twists. “I don’t know how long we can protect him from it though.”

My stomach flips, because it’s almost a promise that he’s got plans to keep us around.

“I know. But this is who you are. It’s what you love. I never truly understood it until tonight.” I shrug. “And Max and I are a part of it.”

Relief washes over him as he releases a breath. “I was afraid this was a deal-breaker for you.”

“Really?”

“I was gearing up for the fight of my life over here if you tried to walk away now.”

“The fight of your life?” I tease with a wide smile.

He holds my hands in his. “I guess I thought you’d be . . . protective of him, worry about the exposure . . . decide this . . . isn’t what you signed up for.”

“You’re not wrong there,” I whisper, slipping my hands out of his and walking to the kitchen, grabbing a beer I’ve wanted all night. “I’ve spent nine years protecting that kid from all kinds of things that come along with being a single mom.” I glance at his bedroom. “Especially with a boy. But I’ve always worried that because I did, he won’t grow up knowing right from wrong, good friends from bad, to trust, to love, to live.” Overcome heartbreak. “I’ve always thought he was a little bit awkward and quiet. Only in these past few weeks with you have I seen him come out of his shell. Laugh, joke, have fun.” I shrug and offer him a beer.

He takes it and twists the cap, handing it back, then reaches for the other. “For what it’s worth, Jeremy’s thirteen. His dad is Patrick Rhodes—if anyone has seen firsthand how many women pass through reserved seats, it’s that kid.”

I frown. “How sad. Rhodes should be more careful.” I take a swig and Silas lifts me onto the counter, stepping between my legs.

I giggle and set the bottle down. “You want to spend the night, don’t you?”

“Always, but that’s not what I was going to ask. About tonight . . . did I do all right? We didn’t exactly have a chance to discuss how to tell Max about us.”

“You were perfect. I mean, I’m assuming. This is kinda my first rodeo too. Well—not really, been to plenty of those, but you know what I mean.”

He laughs, taking a sip of my beer, then handing it back, his eyes glimmering. “I meant what I said. You’ll always be my best friend—no matter what.”

I roll my eyes. “How many of your best friends do you sneak into Coach’s office?”

He winks “Just the one.” Then backs away toward the fridge. “Then again, I also don’t share a bottle of beer with my best friends. Oh, except for my first bottle—shared it with Jasper when we were sixteen.” He dips to lift one out of the fridge and twists the cap. “Man, it’s been years since I’ve spoken to that guy—you remember him?”