Page 146 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I froze.

“I’m gonna fight,” he continued, stepping closer, like the words were dragging straight from his chest. “I’ll fight because after all this? You’re worth it. After everything.”

“Me too,” I murmured, voice trembling as I stepped closer, closing the distance between us.

My fingers twitched at my sides. “I’m sorry I never answered the door, Beau. I’m so sorry.”

His jaw flexed, and his eyes—God, those eyes—held so much pain I could hardly stand to look at them.

“What happened, Fable? What happened to us?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” My shoulder sagged.

“Harleigh answered the door and told me you couldn’t come to it. Not wouldn’t, but couldn’t. All I could think about was that night on the porch, the anniversary of my mom’s death. You sat with me. Didn’t say much. Didn’t try to fix it. You simply stayed.” His voice cracked, soft and broken. “So I thought I was doing the same for you. I thought I was sitting with you in your grief . . . just giving you space the way you gave it to me.”

Tears burned my eyes. Guilt twisted so tight in my chest it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“I did want space, but I ended up drowning in it.”

That was the truth—ugly, raw, all of it. I thought space would help me breathe, but it only made the silence louder, the voices screaming inside my head. I didn’t know how to ask for help without feeling like a burden.

“Come on, it’s cold out here. Let’s get you inside.”

I nodded without thinking, letting him guide me back into the house. His arm hovered close, steering me forward without ever touching my skin, until I stopped in the foyer.

“Wait.” I spun around so I was facing outside. “The bulls were in the arena. I was going to see if Kl⁠—”

“We’ve got it under control. They got out when you were sleeping earlier, but Kline, the guys, and I managed to corral them back.”

My lower lip trembled. “I-I’m sorry,” I murmured as my knees buckled and I fell into his arms.

54

Beau

My mother always said a shower could cure anything. When Dad came home grumpy, weighed down by a bad ride or a rough loss on the circuit, she’d send him straight to the shower. Sure enough, he’d come out calmer, ready to talk about what went wrong.

That was exactly what I did with Fable.

She collapsed into my arms, her body shaking, and I held her for a moment, then led her straight to the shower.

She lifted her arms without hesitation when she realized what I was doing, letting me undress her slowly. I guided her forward, stepping her into the steady stream of hot water.

If we were at my house, I’d have drawn her a bath, let her soak while I sat beside her, rubbing circles on her back, washing the weight of the night off her myself.

“I’ll be right outside.”

She nodded slowly and silently, and it killed me to watch her so broken.

Moving into the kitchen, I pulled open the fridge and grabbed what I could for a quick sandwich. It wasn’t much, but she needed to eat, and after the night she’d had, I doubted she’d think about it on her own.

Before anything else, I went to the sink and washed my hands. Thoroughly.

Because it mattered to her. Because she trusted me too.

I dried them off and made her sandwich. I set it on a small plate, then grabbed a glass and filled it with cold water.

Ex-fiancé.