Page 55 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I didn’t understand completely—but at the same time, I did. It was like a foreign language I suddenly knew how to translate. Because wasn’t that the same reason I’d left Mike? Even if I was doomed to be alone, I’d ended it because I wanted a chance to feel like myself again.

“Yeah. To feel like I’m doing something impossible. A challenge I know I can beat. It’s freeing up there. Man versus animal.”

His words lingered in the air. That one night with Beau in the hotel, I’d felt it too. The rush of something raw, something real, something that made the rest of the world blur into the background, even if it didn’t last long.

It was the same reason I’d walked away from everything in Chicago so easily. I wasn’t running from the past—I was chasing that feeling. That fleeting, freeing moment of relief. Even if it only lasted for a little while, it was worth it, and I wanted to experience it again. It made me forget about the pain that ached deeply in my chest.

“I, uh, I need to go pee.”

I pushed past him and shut the door to the restroom, closing off the view of the bedroom. My brain chose this very moment—albeit an illogical one—to start spiraling. Though I was tucked into a perfectly warm, safe house, my body felt like it was under attack. Heat clawed up my chest, and my hands burned with the sharp sting of pins and needles.

Turning, I hurried to the sink and cranked on the water, not waiting for it to warm. My hands moved automatically, scrubbing at the dirt. I couldn’t shake the thought: I was dirty.

No one was ever going to love me.

I had no family.

I was alone.

The water rushed over my skin as I rubbed harder, my nails biting into my palms.

Dirty, dirty, dirty.

My chest tightened, and I couldn’t get a full breath, and the edges of my vision began to blur.

A knock at the door jolted me, snapping me halfway out of the panic.

“I found a pair of sweatpants,” Beau called from the other side.

He had no idea what was going through my mind. The guilt that gnawed at me for being fucked up was insurmountable.

I froze, staring at my red, raw hands under the running water, the sound of his voice grounding me just enough to breathe again.

“I’ll leave them here,” he added after a pause.

The rustle of fabric against the floor let me know he’d done just that.

I closed my eyes, taking slow, shaky breaths as the water continued to pour over my hands. I wondered if he knew I was fucked up. If men had some sixth sense about my tendencies, which made me unlovable.

“Thanks,” I whispered, knowing he probably couldn’t hear me, but saying it anyway.

18

Fable

“You cannot fucking laugh because this is your fault,” I grumbled as I opened the bathroom door.

Once I’d calmed down enough, I reminded myself that I was safe, and thankfully, the panic stayed at bay. I tugged the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my hands so he couldn’t see the raw skin underneath.

“My fault?”

“Yes, because of that weird show of affection earlier, I was forced to wear a pair of your pants or freeze, and freezing seemed silly.”

“Come on, Cowgirl. Let’s see what you got.”

I huffed, stepping out into the room, gripping the waistband of the sweats like my life depended on it. Beau was far taller than me—though shorter than Mike—and much stockier. The pants were practically falling off me, even after I tied them as tightly as possible. If I wasn’t careful, I’d give him a show I definitely wasn’t planning on.

“You didn’t have to take me up on the offer,” he started, planting his palms behind him on the bed and reclining back. “I mean, coming out here without anything⁠—”