Page 124 of Arrogant Bastard
I didn’t outrun my past at all.
Cat
Iturned off my phone, put my stuff in Uncle Beau’s spare room, and have been curled up on the couch watching bad romantic TV on the Hallmark channel—and crying intermittently. I wanted to drink to blot out the shitshow of the last couple of hours, but I couldn’t manage even the first sip of the whiskey I poured. Instinct told me alcohol would lead to a swell of emotions I don’t have the stomach to process.
As crazy as it sounds, I believe Caden has a story that will make sense of this mess. Maybe it’s a story that is even plausible, that will make sense to me.
He wants to rush in and explain it all away, to convince me that woman has nothing to do with us, and maybe he’s right.
Only his story doesn’t fucking matter to me right now.
His story—the details and who did and said what—makes no difference. What matters to me are two things he can’t change: One, he didn’t tell me he’d been engaged. And two, regardless of why, he left that woman in the middle of the night. He might feel justified, but he abandoned her. He disappeared instead of facing the situation, no matter how hard it was.
It makes me think of the day we visited his mom, how I had to force him to go.
If it hadn’t been for me, he’d have avoided the whole thing.
And I can’t escape the truth, no matter how much I want to.
This entire mess has made me see Caden for who he really is—a man who runs when things get hard. He’s been telling me all along. Warning me. But I ignored it, because like my momma before me, I wanted to believe it would be different with me, that everything had clicked into place for him the way it had for me and we’d change—for ourselves and for each other.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I wasn’t vigilant, and I am once again paying the price for my stupidity. Now that my eyes are open, I can’t even pretend it doesn’t make sense.
The delusion fed in to all the things I secretly still hope for…and I see it all clearly now.
I’ve been spending my time trying to figure out what my dreams are, what I want my life to be—ignoring that deep down I already know.
All I really want is to belong, to invest in something that feels like it’s mine—to feel safe. Loved. Special.
It’s what I couldn’t articulate with my horse-breeding fantasy. The horses weren’t the real fantasy. They aren’t what I was after. Yes, I do love them, and Caden is right that I should get back in touch with that, but breeding horses was merely the package I assigned to something I couldn’t explain.
I want a connection to that time in my life when I felt at peace.
The Spencers doted on me. I didn’t have to compete with Wyatt and Jackson. They made me feel important. Riding horses made me happy and free, and when I’d come in from the stables Mrs. Spencer would give me a slice of warm apple pie and homemade whipped cream.
We’d sit at the table and talk. And when I spoke, I felt heard. I didn’t have to be talented like Jackson, or smart and strong like Wyatt. I could be me.
Thatwas the dream.
Feeling whole.
When they died, it was a blow. And the horse they left me was the only thing I had left of the dream. Then my daddy sold it, and that was ripped away too. Things only got worse from there.
I’ve never felt that way since. Life is just too hard for softness.
I believed that. Lived it. Accepted that that would always be the way it was for me. I shielded myself from anything that brought me excitement or happiness, kept myself separate from the business and my brothers, because anytime I experienced a moment of contentment, comfortable and safe, life pulled the rug out from under me.
All the defenses and walls I built to protect myself worked.
Until Caden came along.
He gave me all those things I’d convinced myself I didn’t need. With him, I feel loved and safe enough to be a little wild. He made me feel like I mattered, that I was the most important person in the world. He made me want to dream again, made me believe there was something and someone that belonged to me, and that I deserved to have my own life, not operate on the fringes of everyone else’s.
Just at the moment I began to see a future, to love him the way I’ve always wanted to love someone, it’s been ripped away. Now I don’t know what to do, so I’m sitting here, contemplating my options, seeing if I can salvage anything from the rubble.
My uncle walks in and sits down on his ancient recliner, moving the lever to lift his feet. “How are you doing, girl?”
Tears sting my eyes, and I shake my head. “How’d you do it, Uncle Beau? Love her even though she didn’t deserve you?”
