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There’s no fixing what he broke…
Gemma
Accidents happen and mine took me out of the race.
After months of recuperation, I’m finally ready to get back in the saddle. But the rodeo circuit isn’t what it used to be.
Chance Benson isn’t either. The broody cowboy I once considered my best friend seems more interested in riding buckle bunnies than broncos. His reputation is a scandal I’ve unsubscribed from.
At least until the truth comes out. What Chance really needs is a lesson in love. Maybe I can find it in my broken heart to teach him.
Chance
I’m in love with my best friend. Actually, scratch that. Gemma Keaton considers herself more of an enemy these days, which I accept full responsibility for.
It was a gamble and I ended up losing it all. Well, everything except my virginity. That I’m saving for Gemma. She just has to forgive me first.
Or maybe not.
As it turns out, my former friend is very interested in being my first. The only catch? Gemma refuses to be more than that.
I’m nothing if not up for a challenge, but the stakes are higher than ever. Especially when the past is determined to destroy us.
It comes down to proving myself and this time, I won’t let anything stop me from claiming Gemma as mine.
“Scars are a cruel, permanent reminder that you can’t erase. At least you can hide a broken heart.”—Gemma Keaton
“Do you know what tomorrow is?”
I giggle when Chance tickles my nose with a daisy he just plucked. “It’s Friday.”
“Smart-ass,” my best friend scolds. “It’s also our anniversary.”
My heart flutters into a flurry fit for a romance movie. “We have an anniversary?”
The green in his unwavering gaze twinkles. “Several, but this one is most important.”
I have to swallow the glee trying to burst out of me. Chance Benson is the love of my life. Many might say that’s ridiculous since we’re only teenagers, but I know he’s the one for me. I’m perfectly capable of making adult decisions at the age of sixteen.
“What’s so special about this secret anniversary?”
He turns onto his side next to me, propping himself up on a bent elbow. “The eleventh of July is when we officially became Meadow Masters.”
As if I didn’t know that. The silly nickname was my idea. I try to tame my smile, but it stretches wide.
We first met in elementary school like many kids do in a small town. I was in kindergarten and he was the cool older kid in second grade. There was always something a bit different about him for me, but it took years for my young mind to figure it out. Our bond started to truly take shape when sixth grade rolled around for me.
I’d had an awful day at school and needed somewhere to just be alone. That’s when I first found this slice of rustic paradise. But I wasn’t the only one. Chance chose this exact spot as an escape too. There are hundreds of acres around us, and we sought solitude where the wildflowers grow the tallest.
From there, he chased off the mean girl bullies who insisted on making my life miserable. I became his trusted support system whenever he needed to vent about his family drama. We’ve been there for each other when the challenges of growing up get too tough.
Middle school was a nightmare I barely survived. High school isn’t much better, but my elective classes with Chance made it tolerable. It didn’t take long for the margins in my notebooks to be filled with doodles and memories of our moments in this very meadow. Somewhere along the line, those random scribbles bloomed into confessions of my unconditional love for him.
When he graduated in the beginning of June, I feared it would put a strain on our connection. He’s two years older than me. That’s never been more glaringly obvious. I could lose him to the opportunities laid out at his feet. But so far, Chance has stuck by me like the loyal boy he’s proved to be.
Our friendship has remained steady through it all, waiting for the time to be just right.
I peek over at him, sprawled next to me in the prairie grass by the thick brush that acts as a barrier from the outside world. “You kept track of the date we became Meadow Masters?”
