Page 13 of Hard To Fall
I get out and walk, carefully, over to where she sits. “Well,” she says lightly, pushing up to stand. “You look thrilled.”
“Should’ve seen the other guy,” I mutter and continue walking.
She falls into step beside me. “Let me guess. ‘Ice it, rest it, stop being stupid.’”
I glance at her. “Something like that.”
“Are you going to listen?”
“No.”
She hums. “Shocking.”
We walk in silence for a few steps. It’s warm today, and I didn’t notice it until I got here— with her. Either way, the breeze makes it tolerable.
“Are you going to tell me or what?” she asks.
I stop, and she does, too, turning to face me. She’s calm but strong—like no matter what I tell her, she’ll have the right words. “How’d you know I went to the doctor?”
“Levi told me.”
“That guy’s got a big fucking mouth.”
She snorts. “He’s worried, is all.” She pauses. “He knows you’ve been hiding this injury for quite some time.”
I ignore her comment because if I don’t, it means I have to admit out loud that I know my little brother has been sick with worry. I have to admit that being the older brother, I should be taking care of him and my parents, yet I’m too stubborn to do the right thing by them.
Because I want to ride.
Because I’m selfish.
The breeze whips around us again, flipping her hair around her shoulders. Her cowboy hat is on, and she looks sexy as fuck in painted-on jeans and a red t-shirt. “He didn’t say anything I didn’t know,” I say.
She studies me. “But you were hoping for something different.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“I’m considering his advice.”
“Men who say that are usually lying,” she replies.
“Good thing I’m not most men.”
She smirks. “You’re worse.”
I turn away, but she still follows, because, of course, she does.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” I snap.
“I’m not,” she says. “I’m walking.”
“Somewhere specific?”
“Right now?” She glances around. “Toward the grumpy cowboy with control issues.”
I bark a laugh. “Lucky him.”
